“Don’t be concerned, Miss Markham,” he rasped, his voice low and harsh in the silence, “that my barbaric display will be repeated. I don’t intend to touch you again. This is one marriage that will never be consummated. The first thing I intend to do when we reach the States is to begin proceedings for an annulment.”
He turned on his heel and stormed from the room, leaving Selena to stare at the sheer draperies that swayed in his aftermath.
Shakily, she raised a hand to her lips. A dozen conflicting emotions warred within her: anger, humiliation, wounded pride, regret… She had truly wanted the opportunity to make this ill-fated marriage work. Her feelings were nebulous, chaotic, yet one stood out clearly: frustrated desire. She hadn’t wanted Kyle to stop kissing her.
And she recognized another emotion: bewilderment. Bewilderment at herself. For amid her whirling thoughts was one that made no sense to her: Why was it that Kyle Ramsey’s resolution not to touch her disturbed her more than his threat to have her at his every whim?
Chapter Five
They spoke their vows in the Markham garden, since news of Selena’s marriage to Captain Kyle Ramsey had spread like a cane fire and neither the Anglican church in St. John’s nor any house on the island was large enough to hold the many guests. Even on such short notice, most of Antigua’s ruling class was in attendance, as were Thomas Markham’s friends from the nearest islands. Owing to the governor, the higher ranking naval officers from English Harbor also had been invited.
The governor’s hand could be seen at work elsewhere in the arrangements. The vicar had been persuaded to dispense with the reading of the banns, and a special license had been arranged. And from all over the Caribbean, gifts began pouring in.
Selena’s own people had done their share, as well. Slaves had labored without ceasing, roasting pigs and preparing food for the celebration that would follow the ceremony. Even Edith had been surprisingly helpful, cataloging the gifts, supervising the kitchen servants and directing the construction of a makeshift altar in the garden.
A wedding on the island was always a merry occasion—an opportunity to socialize for the planters and their families, a holiday from labor for the slaves. But as Selena stood beside the tall, broad-shouldered stranger who was about to become her husband, she felt anything but merry. Tense, wary, desperate, better described what she was feeling.
She cast an uneasy glance up at Kyle. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw set and rigid, as he listened to the vicar pronounce the words that would bind them together until death’s parting—or until he could be granted an annulment.
How odd, Selena reflected bleakly as she watched his grim expression, that the only people not enjoying themselves were the bride and groom.
Kyle had been right about the futility of attempting to cancel the wedding. Even so, she had tried—albeit not with much fervor. At first light she had sent Governor Ramsay a note, requesting an audience with him. And surprisingly, that distinguished gentleman responded to her request in person.
From the first moment, she realized her task would be difficult; when she broached the subject of her marriage, the governor assumed she meant to thank him for his efforts on her behalf.
“No, no, my dear,” he said gruffly but with a fond smile. “There’s no need to thank me. I wouldn’t be doing my duty as a friend to your late father, or as His Majesty’s loyal servant, if I failed to see this matter settled quickly.”
Selena then asked if perhaps the wedding plans weren’t going forth with unseemly haste, and when that brought no results, she allowed that she might be having second thoughts about marriage to the captain.
Governor Ramsay merely patted her shoulder in an avuncular fashion. “Nerves, my dear, nerves. All young brides have them. Better to get it over with at once, especially since we came a shade too near to having a scandal on our hands last night, what with Warner making a cake of himself. No, this will quiet the wagging tongues. A bit odd, perhaps, to be switching intended husbands at this late date, but not unheard of, nor regrettable, in this case. It would be different if the captain had no prospects, of course, but I’ve inquired at length into his background, and I’m satisfied. He’s as wealthy as you can stare, and a gentleman, for all that he’s an American and a sea captain at that. I liked the fellow, I must say. Besides, Andrew Thorpe vouches for him. Captain Ramsey will make you a fine husband—but you’d already come to that conclusion, hadn’t you? A ‘love match,’ wasn’t that what Mrs. Thorpe called it?”
Experiencing that same helpless feeling of being swept along by a too-powerful current, Selena had at last mentioned the captain’s wish that his sisters be present for his wedding. But Governor Ramsay merely suggested that a second ceremony be held later for their benefit. He remained adamant that the arrangements would proceed as planned and wouldn’t hear of a postponement, the captain’s sisters notwithstanding. Her marriage to Kyle would take place the following morning at eleven o’clock in the garden.
Short of refusing outright to wed the captain and creating an even larger scandal than the one that had threatened last night, or disappearing from the island for an indefinite period—neither of which would guarantee that the captain could leave Antigua with his ship and crew intact—Selena had no choice but to accede.
When she had returned home from the ball, Edith had presumed to attempt to convince Selena of her good fortune. And for once her stepmother had seemed anxious to reconcile their differences. “You are angry with me now for pushing you into marriage with that American,” Edith said, her tone conciliatory, “but you’ll thank me one day. You and Avery were never meant for each other.”
Selena was hard-pressed to keep a civil tone when she replied. “I am already thanking you,” she said stiffly. “Indeed, you did me a favor, showing me what kind of man Avery is.”
Edith had left the subject at that and returned to the task of organizing the festivities.
And so when her wedding day dawned, Selena allowed her hair to be dressed and her body to be bathed and perfumed. With the help of three maids and Beth, who had taken command of the bride since for once dear Selena didn’t seem capable of making the simplest decision, Selena donned her mother’s wedding dress—a wide-skirted gown of antique-white lutestring silk and exquisite Valenciennes lace. The beautiful gown sported vandyked sleeves and a long train, which could be caught up over one arm. A diaphanous veil cascading from a crown of pearls added to the appearance of fragility. Her only concession to color was a vivid red spray of bougainvillea blossoms, which she wore tucked behind one ear, an exotic contrast to her ivory gown and ivory skin.
She looked lovely, everyone said so. Everyone except her intended husband. He gave her a sharp and unfriendly stare when she came into view at the head of the gallery stairs. Selena was the only one who noted it, however, for all eyes were on her.
She was unable to quell the ache that his grim expression aroused in her or the sorrow she felt when she remembered her girlhood dreams of her wedding day. How different this was from those young dreams! She had always hoped to go to her future husband with love and joy in her heart. And instead…there was only anger and dread and regret. But somehow she managed to keep her own expression cool and serene as she descended the stairs on the governor’s arm and took her place beside the captain.
Kyle, Selena amended in her thoughts as she listened to the droning words of the ceremony. She would have to cease thinking of him as “the captain” now that they were to be married.
Yet he still appeared every inch a captain, she thought, gazing up at him wistfully. The deep tan on his face above the pristine cravat, as well as his dark blue captain’s coat, underscored his claim to the sea. His rugged elegance was extremely attractive, Selena thought absently before Kyle turned his head briefly to glance down at her. The hard gold light in his hazel eyes deepened as he repeated the vows in response to the vicar’s prompting, promising to love and cherish her.
Embarrassed to have been caught w
atching Kyle so intently, Selena looked away, focusing her gaze beyond the vicar’s shoulder, watching instead a small yellow bird flit across the garden. Not for the first time she was grateful for the cooling effect of the trade winds, for the breeze fanned her flushed cheeks as she promised in return to love, cherish and obey. But still she felt uncomfortable beneath the layers of silk and lace. The morning was sunny, the garden warm and bright, even shaded as it was by the gnarled silk-cotton trees.
In contrast, the slim gold band that Kyle slipped onto the third finger of her left hand felt cool to the touch. His lips were cool, too, as he bent and kissed her briefly on the lips. As was the smile he bestowed on her for the benefit of the governor and the wedding guests, since it never reached his eyes. And so were the words he spoke after they signed the documents that made their union legal in the eyes of the law as well as God. His voice was so low that only she could hear.
“I suggest, Miss Markham, that you use what remains of the day to pack your belongings and to make your goodbyes. We sail on the evening tide.”
His announcement left her stunned, bereft of speech, so it was fortunate that Governor Ramsay chose that moment to congratulate Kyle on claiming the fairest pearl on the island. As the guests milled around them, Selena managed a faint smile, although with the tightness in her throat she found it hard to respond politely to their good wishes.
Finally Beth found her in the crush and pulled her aside, eyeing her with an odd look. “Selena, are you quite all right?”
“Oh, Beth…” Selena paused, knowing there was nothing her friend could do. She had brought this on herself. Indeed, she had expected to leave the island with her new husband, just not so very soon. “I expect I am overly warm,” she prevaricated. “The heat…”
“It is rather close, with all these people. Here, take my fan, it should help. Perhaps you should change your gown, as well. You cannot leave yet, since you will have to open the dancing, but I shall accompany you back to the house after the celebration gets under way.” Beth glanced at the throng of guests. “Good, Drew is directing the company toward the refreshments. It should be cooler away from the garden.”
The crowd began to move then, toward the clearing beyond the garden. The wedding celebration—a sort of outdoor ball—was to be held there for the guests, but later in the afternoon, the plantation Negroes would hold their own ball there, and many of the gentry would stay. Such occasions—weddings and sugar harvests—were among the few times when blacks and whites mingled.
Selena was surprised when Kyle proffered his arm to escort her, until she realized he meant to keep up the pretense of theirs being a love match. No doubt, she thought glumly, he didn’t want to jeopardize his opportunity to escape the island and the governor’s authority.
When they arrived, the musicians were already playing a lively tune with fiddles and tambourines. The trestle tables that had been set out near a stand of mango trees were groaning with food, and servants were pouring tumblers of rum punch and sangaree for gentlemen and cups of watered lime juice for the ladies.
Selena found a cup being pressed into her hand as Beth whispered, “Look, the governor means to begin.”
“Ladies and gentlemen—” Governor Ramsay raised his voice above the chatter and laughter of the crowd “—if you will, please join me in a toast to the happy couple. To a long and happy life!”
“Ah yes,” Selena heard Kyle murmur as glasses were raised in salute, “‘the happy couple.’” The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable, and when she glanced up at him, she caught the bright mockery in his eyes.
It wounded her, that look. More so because she felt guilty for her role in bringing matters to such a pass. She regarded him in silence, her gaze trapped by his, until he took her glass from her numb fingers and handed it to Drew.
“Come, my dear,” Kyle invited as the musicians struck up a waltz. “I’m told we are to open the ball.” He led Selena to the center of the clearing and into the dance, and when his gaze fell again to her face, surveying her somber expression, he bent to whisper in her ear, looking the picture of the devoted husband. “Smile, damn it,” he said through gritted teeth. “We cannot disappoint these kind people, now can we?”
She flushed, which the guests mistakenly took for a maidenly blush, and pasted a stiff smile on her lips for the sake of appearance. She wished she could slip away from the crowd and the noise and the hostile, angry man who was whirling her around—she would give anything for a few moments’ peace.
It was not so easy, however, for the bride to leave her own wedding celebration. When her dance with Kyle ended, Drew claimed her hand for the next. Then the governor asked for the honor, followed by the solicitor, Ignatius Foulkes. After that she lost count, but the list included several planters and naval officers and even two senior members of Kyle’s crew.
Selena managed to keep up the charade of being a happy newlywed, though her face ached from the strain of smiling. Her left arm ached as well from the constant weight of her gown’s train, and so did her head. She was worried about the future of her plantation and was anxious to discuss its operation with her factor.
But even her strained smile faded when the latest cotillion ended and her partner returned her to the sidelines, for she caught sight of Avery Warner moving toward her. She hadn’t seen Avery since the altercation at Beth’s ball, and she didn’t want to see him now.
He appeared less distinguished than usual, in spite of his formal attire, for he was sporting an angry black eye, which Selena knew must be paining him. She had difficulty, though, finding the compassion to feel sorry for him, even when he approached her humbly, hat in hand, looking nervous and extremely uncomfortable.
“Mrs. Ramsey,” he said stiffly, and Selena was mildly startled to realize that was her new name. “I should like to offer my sincere apologies for my behavior the other evening. It was unconscionable of me to strike you, and I ask your forgiveness.”
His apology surprised her, but before she could reply, she heard a soft footfall behind her and realized Kyle had come to stand at her side. She felt the gentle touch of his fingers as he rested his hand possessively on her shoulder.
“Yes,” she said distractedly, disturbed by the warmth of her new husband’s fingers through the silk of her gown. “Of course, Avery. It was a trying moment… for all of us.”
“May I offer my felicitations for your happiness, then? For both of you,” he added with a sullen glance at Kyle.
“You may,” Kyle responded for them both.
“Are you satisfied, then?”
The question seemed odd to Selena, but Kyle nodded brusquely. Avery made her a stiff bow before moving away and returning to Edith’s side.
Kyle’s gaze followed Avery’s retreating figure, watching as Edith clung to the planter’s arm. “You’re well rid of him,” Kyle said, letting his hand fall from Selena’s shoulder.
She stared up at him, realizing what the two men had been talking about. “You demanded that Avery apologize to me, didn’t you?”
The slight movement of his powerful shoulders could have been a shrug. “He owed it to you.”
“Kyle?” she said quickly as he made to turn away. When he glanced down at her, though, she almost faltered, for that hard look still was in his eyes. “I’m sorry…about the way things turned out.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed, but whatever he might have said to her was lost as Drew interrupted them with a jovial command to rejoin the company. “Come, you two lovebirds, you’re missing the feast. Kyle, when was the last time you sampled our native island fare? There’s baked fish still hot from the coals and roast pork that I vow will make your mouth water. And if you’re truly adventuresome, you can try the pepper pot…”
Selena sighed with frustration, knowing she had lost a prime opportunity to try to smooth things out between herself and Kyle. But she accompanied the two men to the tables.
As Drew pointed out to Kyle the native dishes that filled the calaba
shes or gourds, Selena helped her plate sparingly to some fish and fruit. After the stress and trials of the day, she had little appetite.
Which was just as well, since before she had finished her meal, the second phase of the celebration began, and Selena found herself surrounded again by well-wishers, the ebony-skinned people who worked her sugar plantation. They were all dressed in their best finery: the women wearing brightly patterned linen buoyed up by numerous petticoats, handkerchiefs around their heads and gold earrings and necklaces; the men in checked shirts and canvas trousers.
They swarmed around her, offering her smiles and felicitations, but they hung back from Kyle, skeptically eyeing the tall, powerful-looking man who was to be their new master.
Hoping to set them at ease, Selena began the introductions, starting first with the mulatto schoolmaster. Kyle shook his hand formally but raised an eyebrow at Selena, as if surprised that the plantation would have a school for slave children.
“Schools are a common practice on Antigua,” she said in reply, “though not on some of the other West Indian islands.”
Then she made Kyle known to Granny Sarah, who had been born in Africa some ninety-five years ago, to the best of anyone’s calculations, and who cared for the fifty-odd children on the estate, the ones too young to labor in the fields. Granny Sarah, having lived too long to fear any man or master, squinted up at Kyle, and after a long scrutiny, beamed him a toothless grin.
“You trickify mon,” she praised, her speech heavily accented by the island dialect. “You steal missy from Massa Warner when he not looking.”
That made Kyle chuckle, which made the entire group relax, including Selena. It was the first spark of humor she had seen from him since that disastrous scene in Beth’s garden.
Granny Sarah cackled in delight as she eyed Kyle’s tall, powerful physique with approval. “You fine mon,” the wizened woman pronounced. “You give missy fine children.”
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