He bit his tongue. She hadn’t even offered her name. The fright in her eyes kept him from asking. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea about him. They would have to share his room though. Although reserved for the ship’s officers he couldn’t stay in the pilot house all night long.
When he returned to his room he’d make a bed on the floor. He stayed away for hours until his lids felt as heavy as lead.
Matt slowly opened the door and winced when it creaked. He didn’t want to wake her. He stepped inside and shut the door, holding his breath when it clicked. She didn’t stir.
He stood his back against the door, unmoving. After a long minute his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he worked his way around the small, sparsely furnished room, pulling his extra clothes out of his trunk.
The colored woman had stripped, her black dress lay over the back of his chair. He moistened his lips. That meant underneath those blankets she was only wearing a chemise or a nightgown. Briefly he imagined her nearly naked and then shook his head.
She’d be terrified enough in the morning when she woke and found him there. He didn’t need to look at her with a lustful gaze to make matters worse. The woman had curled up on her side on the left side of the bed, her body molding against the sheets.
If only she’d nestle against him.
He rubbed his forehead. There he went again. Damn. I’m too old to be behaving like a randy schoolboy.
He laid his extra clothes on the floor on the right side of the bed, as far away from the temptress as possible.
In the summer heat he didn’t need a sheet on top of him. Just thinking about the woman in his bed would keep him hot. Too hot. He grunted, wishing he could splash cold water on his face.
He closed his eyes and mouthed his prayers. Lord, my attempts at finding a wife have been futile. I leave it up to you now.
*
April woke in the middle of the night and her stomach coiled; her surroundings unfamiliar. She fought through the swell of panic. She sat up and looked around the small dark room. It wasn’t Mrs. Clement’s attic. It smelled different—lightly fishy and smoky. Oh that’s right, I’m on a steamboat and hopefully headed to St. Louis.
She examined the tossed bed. Had she had a knock out fight with the sheets? Guess she’d won. The joke helped unravel the last of her tension. She breathed easily for a few seconds and then her lungs constricted. Soft snoring alerted her of another’s presence. I am not alone. She sprang out of the bed and stepped on flesh—a man’s leg.
“Ow!” the man shouted.
April’s eyes flared and she screamed.
The man got to his feet. “Shh. It is all right.”
All right? He was in her room. Granted, on the floor, but it still wasn’t proper.
“What are you doing in my room?” she asked, steel coating her words.
He exhaled loudly and lit the lamp on the table. In the soft light she found the same white man who had showed her to the room.
He eyed her with an appraising gaze. It donned on her she was standing in the middle of the room in nothing, but her nightgown. Oh Lord, the lamplight so close to her made the thin material see-through. She dove under the covers, but he’d already gotten an eyeful.
Mr. Seever rubbed his neck, his skin turning red. He cleared his throat. “Actually, miss, you are in my room.”
“What?”
“You wouldn’t be safe on the main deck even if I paid your passage. A good-looking woman like yourself would be asking for trouble.”
She put a hand on her chest. Each thump of her heart echoed through her body. He’d given a compliment cloaked in lust. The man had seen her nearly naked. The more she thought about it the faster her pulse sped.
Mr. Seever looked like he wanted to help her, but didn’t know what to do.
Leave. Just leave. The words screamed in her head but did not reach her mouth. His speech and logic finally sunk into her tired brain. This was his room—he had every right to be here. She was the stowaway.
“I won’t hurt you, ma’am,” he said, his posture slightly bowed.
Humph. Having a man imagining her naked was bad enough.
“Ma’am, can I get you something? A glass of water?”
She didn’t respond.
He must have taken her silence as agreement. He moved to the washstand and picked up a porcelain pitcher, filling her a glass of water. “Here. Please try to relax. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Actually she’d startled him. Well, they both gave each other quite a scare. She sipped the water, the whole time giving him a pointed stare.
He didn’t seem too taken aback by her unfriendly exterior.
“If you don’t mind, ma’am, I’d like to get some more sleep. I have to work again in a few hours.”
“Oh.”
“I’m staying on the floor if that’s worrying you.” He lay on his makeshift pallet of clothes. It didn’t look very comfortable, but she wasn’t about to invite him to sleep next to her.
“How many days does it take to get to St. Louis, sir?”
“If we’re going to be rooming together you can at least call me, Mr. Seever,” he said, an undertone of laughter to his voice. “From here it will take about a week.”
She’d spend seven days in this man’s room?
She pushed herself up, resting on her elbows, and peered down at him. Equal parts rugged and refined, he embodied her version of handsome. She wanted to run her fingers through his already tousled sandy brown hair. His lips were sunburned. She could soothe them with kisses.
White men had never stirred such feelings before. Her instant attraction unsettled her stomach. A fantasy. Yes, it was just a fantasy because she had been alone too long, and he’d treated her kindly. She reached over to the lamp and blew out the light. She did not need to see his features any more. Still, in the darkness her forbidden thoughts remained.
No white man wanted to settle down with a colored woman. Such relationships were shunned. There was one socially acceptable option. She shot it down as soon as it flashed through her mind. She didn’t want to spend her life as someone’s mistress. Even if she did, she should eye some businessman, a big property owner, not a sailor.
Those emerald green eyes watched her closely. “Do you have another question?” he asked, spacing a mile between his words.
Her heart fluttered and her gaze moved to the sheets. Had he caught her staring? “I…um. Will you be able to sneak me some food? If it is going to be a week I’ll get mighty hungry.”
“I won’t need to sneak. A waiter will knock on the door and bring me breakfast. I’ll share it with you.”
How considerate. Her chest warmed and the heat spread up her neck. Would this be an intimate meal?
She kept that question to herself, asking the next question on her mind. “Will I need to hide from this waiter?”
“No. I doubt your presence will cause much of a stir.”
It wouldn’t? Did that mean he took colored women to his room regularly? She wasn’t interested in being one of his conquests.
The lean muscles hiding under his shirt would give her something to dream about. Only dream. The last time she almost gave her heart to a white man it ended in disaster.
She’d learned from her mistake. A colored woman could not live happily ever after with a white man. Happy for a few months maybe, a few years if she was lucky, but not for a lifetime.
She couldn’t tell if he sensed her attraction. She didn’t know how to mask her feelings except by wrapping them in a prickly demeanor. Would that be enough?
She felt drawn to him like a hummingbird to honeysuckle.
Could they really stay apart for seven days?
Chapter 3
The knock at the door forced Matt to get up. He hadn’t slept well on the floor, fully clothed out of modesty for the woman in his room. He bit back a curse and stretched his long legs. His back ached and he rubbed a particularly tender spot.
Another knock.
The waiter probably thought he’d had one too many drinks last night.
A loud thump drew his attention, and his head whipped around in time to see the lady drop to the floor. She didn’t believe him when he’d said it would be all right. It rankled him a little. Everyone who knew him recognized he was a man of his word. She didn’t know him, though. Not yet.
He pulled off his white shirt and picked a blue one off the floor, putting it on. After laying on all night long it was just as wrinkled as the white one.
He opened the door and smiled at the waiter. “Sorry I took so long,” he mumbled. “I was all thumbs this morning.”
“Your breakfast, sir.”
Matt salivated at the plate of ham, eggs, and two slices of thick toast. The portions had been larger and the food even better since he gave his notice to the captain. Perhaps the man thought he could bribe him to stay? His personal cooking skills were merely tolerable. Another reason to find a wife.
“Thank you, Amos.”
The slim black man with a fresh shave and haircut reminded him of his own rugged appearance. He was in sore need of a shave himself.
“Getting spruced up for some special reason?”
The waiter grinned. “I reckon you haven’t looked at any of the colored ladies on this ride.”
Matt held his breath to keep from saying he’d eyed one in particular.
“Well,” Amos continued. “I’m going to see if I can smooth talk one of them tonight.”
“I see. Well, good luck.” That woman didn’t stand a chance. Amos’s speech was as polished as his appearance; he could charm an ice princess into his bed.
Matt stood outside the door drinking his coffee. Halfway through his cup he opened the door and was pleased to see she had dressed in a cheerful pink dress.
“That smells delicious, Mr. Seever.”
“Yes, it does.” He set the plate on his desk and motioned for her to come over. His room wasn’t meant for two. He pulled back the only chair, and her gaze shifted to the floor as if she was shy.
“Thank you, Mr. Seever,” she said folding her skirts and sitting. Her back straight, she looked more self-assured than last night.
“Since you know my name,” Matt said, a lump forming in his throat, “would you mind telling me yours?”
“I only know your last name.”
Was she arguing or asking to know his full name? Being friendly never hurt. And she looked like she needed a friend. “Mathew Seever, but I go by Matt. Now your turn.”
She laughed, the sweet noise echoing off the walls. “April Windmire.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Windmire.”
She cringed. “Please call me April.”
“Pleased to meet you, April.”
She reached for a piece of toast and took a bite clearly avoiding conversation.
He picked up the other piece of toast and sat on the bed, giving her distance. He didn’t want her feeling uncomfortable.
Many questions swirled through his head, but they’d keep. He had a whole week to get to know Miss April Windmire. With her proper speech, he figured she worked as a house servant, perhaps as a maid or seamstress or cook.
Or a nanny.
He stole a glance at her. She’d already finished her piece of toast, now eating some of the ham. Her eyes sparkled, and every time she said “mmm” his heart thumped harder.
He was glad April was enjoying his breakfast. She licked her lips and his cock strained against the confines of his trousers. Damn. She didn’t know what she was doing to him.
He should eat some of the ham and eggs. With April using the fork and knife, he could struggle through with the spoon. He stood behind her and reached for the spoon. She stopped eating and pushed the plate aside, giving it to him.
He spooned a few bites of egg in his mouth, chewed and swallowed so quickly he barely tasted it. April’s feminine scent drove him crazy.
“I-I need to go,” he said. He pushed the plate back to her. “Enjoy the rest of the meal.”
He rushed out the door, closing it behind him. Walking over to the railing he inhaled the fresh breeze. At least with it being summer no one would question the sweat on his forehead. In this heat it didn’t take long to perspire.
Lord, it didn’t take her long to get him worked up either. She wasn’t even trying to get his attention. Attention he sensed she didn’t want.
He had to keep himself in control around her. His mind, however, he couldn’t keep from drifting to some tantalizing places.
*
The tension between them soured April’s stomach. He’d distanced himself from her as if she was carrying a deadly disease. She pushed out a breath and rubbed the back of her neck. He escaped his room so fast the soles of his shoes were likely smoking.
The loud steamboat whistle sounded long and deep. Her heart leaped into her throat at the monstrous noise. The steamer pushed away from the dock and treaded through the water.
The jostling had her stomach on edge. She stared at the plate in front of her. In Mr. Seever’s haste, he’d left her most of the breakfast. Would he get hungry halfway through his shift? She shouldn’t care.
She should be thankful for the hearty meal. It was much better than what she ate at Mrs. Clement’s. The enticing scent of the ham and eggs wafted to her nose.
Her insides sloshed in time with the rolling waves. She set the plate aside unable to eat anymore.
If having a black woman in his room unnerved Mr. Seever that much why did he bother to hide her? Couldn’t he found a better place than his room?
She closed her eyes. Had the floor slid sideways? The contents of her stomach slammed against her side. She rose and gripped her middle. What she had eaten threatened to revolt. She moaned and eased down to her knees. Crawling over to the bed, she hugged the chamber pot, throwing up her meal.
Afterward, she sipped a glass of water to rid the acid from her throat. The burning aftertaste remained. Lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling she wondered if it would have been better to sneak on to a train.
Would she be miserable until she reached St. Louis? Or would her sickness and her feelings for Mr. Seever pass?
* * * *
Something cool placed on her forehead caused April to open her eyes. Mr. Seever’s concerned face hovered close to hers, his eyes as soft as his touch. He moved the cloth across her mouth and then down the side of her neck.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” he said, lying on the bed on his side. Close to her but not touching. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes.” It was comforting to be this close to him, to be cared for. Common sense told her to push him away. She didn’t feel strong enough to fight with her feelings.
“I’ve never been seasick, but many people are. All that rich food was not good for your stomach.”
She groaned. “Will it be like this the whole time until we land?”
“I hope you get used to the steamer’s rocking motion. We lay anchor at night so that will help at the least.”
She closed her eyes. She shouldn’t enjoy his presence…but she did. His masculine musk stirred her. He was so different than all the rich gentlemen she’d worked for. His manners were different, the way he looked at her was different, the way he spoke to her was different.
She liked being treated almost as his equal, spurring on her fantasy. She had dreamed of him last night lying in bed next to her much like this. He swiped the cloth across her forehead one more time, his fingers barely brushing her hair.
Gooseflesh covered her arms and her heart did a summersault in her chest. Whether he had meant to touch her hair or not, she did not know. He probably didn’t realize the affect his presence had on her.
She should keep it that way.
He needed to leave before he fanned the warmth burning in her core.
Forcing a smile, she hoped it hid some of her nerves. “I’m fine. Shouldn’t you be working?”
“I’ll go back to wo
rk in a minute. I had to check on you.”
“Oh.” Her ears burned. Why did he want to check on her? Was he worried she’d leave? And how long had he been lying next to her? “Well…um thank you for checking on me, Mr. Seever.”
He slid off the bed and she instantly missed his weight beside her, the heat from his body. He stood and ran his hands across his wrinkled gray coat. “Do you need anything, Miss April?”
She pushed herself to a sitting position and he walked around the side of the bed to move the pillow beneath her back. His ministrations confused her, excited her, and made her light-headed.
“Perhaps a weak cup of tea?” he suggested.
Having something in her empty stomach might help her feel stronger.
He squinted at her, gazing into her eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right? You look a little hazy.”
She licked her lips. “I feel a touch weak,” she admitted. “Some tea might help.”
He nodded. “I’ll be right back with that.”
April closed her eyes and rested until he returned. Why was he bringing her the tea? Shouldn’t one of the waiters do that? Maybe he didn’t want anyone to know she was in his room. After all a stowaway in a ship officer’s room could get him in trouble.
But he had said it didn’t matter if the waiter saw her in his room…she stopped trying to reason it out with the room spinning.
The door creaked and she opened her eyes to see Mr. Seever walk into the room, holding a steaming cup of tea. “I think you should wait till it cools,” he said, setting it on the bedside table next to the lamp. “I’d hate to have you burn your mouth.”
His concern surprised her. “Oh. All right. Thank you.”
A pale pink hue spread across his cheeks. “I didn’t know if you wanted any milk and sugar. I’m sorry I didn’t ask.”
“Straight tea is fine, sir. Thank you.”
He took a deep breath. “Good. Some of the men might have scratched their heads if I had doctored it up.” He laughed. “Rest, April and I will see you later.”
She could not think of any parting words, so she picked up the cup of tea and blew on the steaming brown liquid.
Midnight Kiss (Moonlight Romance) Page 2
