Moonwitch

by Nicole Jordan

  “See, I told you!” Lydia said darkly. “Zoe isn’t capable of eating with the grown-ups. She’s far too clumsy.”

  Selena suspected that Lydia was still smarting from her quarrel with her brother and didn’t truly mean to be unkind, but Zoe obviously took the remark to heart. With stricken eyes, the young girl glanced quickly at Kyle, then at Selena.

  “If you will excuse me, please…?” she asked, her lower lip trembling as she rose from the table. She fled the room before anyone could say a word.

  Kyle scowled at Lydia while Bea struggled to her feet. “I’d better see to her.”

  “No, please,” Selena interjected. “Would you allow me?”

  Bea looked surprised, but she nodded at once, and so Selena laid down her napkin and followed the trail of wine drops up the stairs.

  She found Zoe in her room, sobbing softly into her pillows. Quietly, she sat beside the girl and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know anyone who hasn’t drenched themselves with wine at one time or another,” Selena said gently. “I’ve done it myself dozens of times.”

  It took a long moment, but Zoe’s sobs eventually quieted. Selena reached up to stroke Zoe’s hair, and another long moment later she heard her sigh.

  “I did so want to make a good impression on you,” Zoe said in a muffled voice.

  “I know. And I wanted to do the same with you. Do you realize how mortified I was to hear Horatio swearing? I never taught him those words, I promise you. I suspect he learned them on your brother’s ship. I should have put cotton in his ears, I suppose…Horatio’s ears, not Kyle’s.”

  There was a pause, then a muffled chortle.

  “Zoe, my love, I don’t think Lydia meant to hurt your feelings. Indeed, she was probably very grateful to you.”

  Puzzled, Zoe lifted her tearstained face.

  “For diverting everyone’s attention from her problems,” Selena explained.

  Zoe cocked her head, seeming to consider that. “Lydia has been so mean since Mama and Papa died. She used to be nice.”

  “I expect she misses your parents.”

  “I suppose. I miss them, too, but sometimes I wish I didn’t have Lydia for a sister.”

  “Well, I’ve often wished I had any kind of sister. I’ve never had any, or brothers, either.”

  “You don’t have any family?” Her tone sounded shocked. “You must be lonesome.”

  Selena smiled softly. “Not any longer. That is…I was hoping you would be my family.”

  Shyly, Zoe returned her smile. “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, why don’t you change your gown and splash some water on your face, then come down and join us?”

  Zoe glanced down at her wine-stained bosom, then flushed with guilt when she saw the red splotches on the yellow counterpane.

  “I expect we can get the stains out,” Selena assured her as she rose. “I brought some excellent soap with me from the island.”

  “Selena?”

  She turned as she reached the door, raising a delicate eyebrow.

  “I’m glad you’ve come.”

  “I am, too,” Selena said gently, before leaving the room and pulling the door closed behind her.

  She was startled when she nearly ran into Kyle’s tall figure. He had obviously been waiting in the hall, listening to her console his sister. But what surprised Selena more was the look in his eyes. Kyle was gazing down at her with the same tender light that she had seen the night of the storm.

  She wished he wouldn’t. It flustered her to have him looking at her so, as if she had accomplished some great deed rather than simply comforted a weeping child. And his simple words flustered her more.

  “Thank you,” he said softly, his husky tone vibrating through her, warming her.

  She swallowed, her voice suddenly deserting her as she gazed into Kyle’s green-gold eyes. She felt herself being drawn into his gaze, into the vital, rugged aura that was so much a part of him. Being this close to him was having a strange effect on her senses. She was too aware of him as a man… of his heat, his power, his strength.

  She couldn’t stay there any longer, Selena thought. Not without doing something foolish, like pressing herself against his muscular chest and raising her lips for his kiss. But when she made to pass him, Kyle reached out a hand to stay her.

  “Selena… I need to talk to you later.”

  Disturbed by his touch, Selena looked down and found herself staring at his hands—strong, callused hands that had the power to tame a wildly plunging ship yet could be gentle and caressing and arousing....

  Arousing not just herself, Selena remembered, but someone named Veronique. And Angel. And perhaps someone named Danielle.

  She wanted desperately to know about Danielle—or rather she wanted Kyle to reassure her that there was nothing to substantiate her jealous imaginings. But she hadn’t seen him alone until now. Kyle had missed tea, only returning from town shortly before supper.

  Selena took a deep breath, summoning her courage. “Bea wouldn’t discuss Danielle. She told me to ask you.”

  Kyle released her arm as if he had been burned, his expression wary and oddly grim at the same time. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  She waited expectantly, watching him, but he didn’t say anything more. Instead he looked away, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t know how to say this.” Finally, after glancing at his sister’s closed door, he turned back to Selena, meeting her gaze directly. “We can’t discuss it here.”

  She wouldn’t like what he was going to tell her, she could see it on his face. “Where can we discuss it?” Selena asked quietly.

  He raked a hand through his chestnut hair in agitation. “Devil take it.” Then, “Very well, come with me.” Grasping her hand, he pulled Selena down the hall into a deserted bedchamber and shut the door behind him.

  The windows were shuttered against the setting rays of the sun, and the unlighted room was dim. Selena had difficulty reading Kyle’s expression, but she could see his features were taut with some kind of emotional struggle.

  “There just isn’t any good way to say this,” he muttered, again running his fingers through his hair.

  His hesitation was beginning to alarm her. “Perhaps you should just tell me outright.”

  “Very well. You have a right to know.” His voice was so low Selena hardly heard. “Danielle…Danielle is the mother of my son.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Selena stared at Kyle, feeling as if the breath had been knocked from her body. It shouldn’t have been so painful discovering that Kyle had a son, some small part of her mind rationalized. She belonged to a privileged class where gentlemen frequently sired children outside of marriage, where ladies turned a blind eye to their husbands’ transgressions. She had always believed herself willing to accept this. But somehow it was different now—when it was Kyle. Stunned, sickened, Selena regarded him without speaking. Was it her feelings for him that made such bitter jealousy twist her heart?

  “Selena…don’t… Please don’t look that way.”

  Shakily, she raised a hand to her temple. Kyle wasn’t trying to hurt her, she realized. The rigid muscles of his jaw showed his dismay clearly.

  “Look… I didn’t mean to bring it up now… It came out all wrong—”

  He broke off as a soft rap sounded at the door. When Zoe called to them, asking if they were coming down to supper, Kyle muttered a frustrated oath under his breath and answered curtly that yes, they would be down in a minute. Then he peered down at Selena with concern. “Can we talk about this after supper?”

  Selena nodded. Perhaps there was an explanation…mitigating circumstances that would make the fact that Kyle had a son less painful to accept. And if not, by then she at least would have had time to collect herself.

  She managed to school her facial muscles into a semblance of equanimity as they returned to the dining room, but the sparkle had gone out of the evening for her. Indeed, the whole company was
subdued. Lydia quietly apologized to her sister and lapsed into silence, and even chatterbox Felicity, who had caused the initial contretemps, found little to say. It was left for Thaddeus and Bea to carry the conversation. Selena was grateful when Kyle ordered a servant to refill everyone’s glass so they could drink a toast to Bea’s expected child, for the wine helped calm the turmoil she was feeling.

  Kyle had intended just that, judging that Selena needed something to help sustain her nerves. He wasn’t fooled by her apparent composure. She had been shocked and hurt by his disclosure, he knew. He hadn’t expected that reaction. Anger, perhaps. Scorn, haughtiness, certainly stiffness. Those he could have contended with. But not her look of wounded distress, which made him feel as if he were tormenting something weak and fragile.

  Concerned, he glanced at the far end of the table, where Selena was sitting so quietly. She seemed shaken and withdrawn, and the sight tugged at his heart. He wished there had been some way to spare her, but she would have heard the rumors sooner or later. With Bea’s help he had managed to keep the knowledge of his impropriety from the tender ears of his younger sisters, but there were a dozen well-meaning citizens in the district who would have made sure Selena heard every sordid word of gossip and innuendo. No, it was better that the story came from him.

  He hadn’t handled it at all well, Kyle thought, watching her over the rim of his glass. But then, was there any good way to tell your wife that you had sired a child with a married woman you barely knew? Put that baldly, it sounded terrible. But it hadn’t really been like that.

  And he had paid for his sin in his own way—and was still paying. Repressing the rumors had meant he couldn’t lavish affection on his offspring, which was a father’s right. For Danielle’s sake, he had struggled to quell his own need to be with his son, his yearning to share the joys and trials of Clay’s boyhood, to watch him grow, to teach and guide him.

  At least Danielle hadn’t suffered too greatly. There had been gossip, but no one had ever been able to prove that Danielle’s invalid husband wasn’t capable of fathering a child. Jeremiah had supported their story with bitter magnanimity because of his deep love for Danielle, saying he couldn’t begrudge her a child when he could no longer be a husband to her.

  But now Selena would have to be told the truth. Kyle’s fingers tightened around his wineglass. She didn’t deserve to be confronted with this, he thought grimly. It wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t fair, either, to expect her to care for his sisters. But she would be a good mother to them. He had already come to admire her courage and resilience, and seeing her with the girls, he was learning the extent of her kindness and her generous heart. He could only trust and hope Selena would extend the same generosity to him.

  When supper ended, the ladies removed to the drawing room while the gentlemen remained at the table. Over a glass of port, Thaddeus shared all the news and events that had occurred since Kyle’s last visit four months ago. Kyle wasn’t much interested in how many acts the General Assembly had passed or what issues the legislature planned to address, but he hung on every word, wanting to draw out the interval as long as possible. When it was time to join the ladies, he drained his glass, feeling the need to bolster his courage for the upcoming ordeal with Selena.

  He didn’t have an opportunity to speak with her at once, however, for when he entered the drawing room, his younger sisters were gathered around Horatio, engaged in an effort to expand the bird’s vocabulary. For two hours Kyle had to listen to their giggling attempts to teach the parrot to say “minuet” and “cotillion” and “Scotch reel..” When they finally retired to bed, followed shortly by Bea and Thaddeus, he was left alone with Selena.

  The silence hung heavily between them. For a moment Kyle watched her, wondering how to begin. Selena was sitting on the settee across from him, slender back straight, hands folded in her lap, soft lamplight playing on her hair.

  She was waiting for his explanation, he knew. When she cast him a brief, somewhat nervous glance, he suddenly realized how important it was to him that she know the truth. He wanted her to understand.

  Selena was the first to peak, though. “What is your son’s name?” she asked quietly, looking away.

  Kyle took a deep breath. “Clayton…but everyone calls him Clay.”

  “Does he favor you?”

  He hadn’t expected that question, but he answered it honestly. “A little, I guess. Danielle says so, at any rate. He’s a beautiful child. Blond hair and green eyes. I was planning…hoping… to give him my name one day.”

  “You intended to marry Danielle.” It was a statement, murmured in a small voice that wrenched his heart.

  “Yes,” he admitted helplessly.

  “But what of her husband?”

  “Jeremiah…isn’t expected to live much longer. The doctor is surprised he’s lasted this long…” Kyle raked a hand through his hair. He was making a hash of this, stumbling over himself, searching for the right words. “I know it sounds callous to be discussing such things when her husband isn’t even in his grave yet, but Danielle has been concerned about how she would manage. I wanted her to know she didn’t have to worry, that I was willing to take responsibility for my son… and for her.”

  Selena looked down at her hands. That was why Kyle hadn’t been free to accept her proposal of marriage. She remembered him speaking of a duty he was obliged to fulfill. At the time she had thought he meant his duty toward his sisters. “Danielle…must have been very upset to learn about me.”

  “I don’t know… There never was anything between us. I knew Danielle, though not well. She had always been a friend of the family. When I came home a few years ago for a visit…she had been through a lot. Her husband had almost died from a bullet wound, and when he managed to recover, he was left paralyzed and in such pain that he had to be kept dosed with laudanum. Danielle had had a rough time nursing him constantly and finding money to pay the doctor’s bills.” Kyle paused, taking a deep breath. “The last week I was in Natchez, Bea coerced me into attending a revival meeting at a neighboring plantation, and Danielle was there. She was lonely and unhappy and crying, and so I comforted her, and, well… one thing led to another. It only happened once.”

  Selena didn’t need to be given a more explicit explanation of what had occurred between them. She could picture it clearly: a desperately lonely woman weary of struggle and a strong, vital man who was more than capable of momentarily shouldering burdens on his powerful shoulders. Oh, yes, she could understand. She had been in a similar situation with Kyle herself.

  “I should never have let it go so far,” he was saying. “I suppose I was careless…stupid. I didn’t even know about Clay until I returned the next year and Bea told me about the rumors. I wanted to make it right then, but Danielle couldn’t marry me. She didn’t want to accept money, either, for fear of how it would look, but I discovered a way. By then she was working at Chandler’s General Mercantile in town—Orrin Chandler is a friend of mine—and I gave him the money to increase her salary. And I did everything else I could—sent Clay gifts through Bea, talked my father into giving Jeremiah’s brother a job here as factor so he could help support them, saw to it that Danielle had a competent Negro woman to stay with Jeremiah full-time. And I’ve stayed away. That’s been the hardest part…that I can’t claim Clay as my son. I can’t hold him or play with him or even visit without providing more food for the town gossips.”

  Hearing the note of despair in Kyle’s voice, Selena recalled how adamant he had been in his refusal to marry her, how he had almost pleaded with her to intercede with the governor. She had misunderstood his reasons then. Kyle hadn’t wanted to marry her, that was true, but it wasn’t his loss of freedom that had so disturbed him. It was the loss of his son. And she hadn’t given him any way out.

  “I ought to regret what happened,” he said softly. “And I do—for causing Danielle more hardship. Yet I can’t wish the damage undone, for that would mean wishing Clay had never been born. Y
ou like children… so perhaps you can understand.”

  She nodded, her clasped fingers tightening in her lap.

  “Selena, maybe I don’t have the right to ask this of you—” he plowed his fingers through his hair again “—but if you could manage to overlook Clay’s existence, to pretend that nothing is wrong, at least in front of our neighbors, we could manage to avoid a scandal. And I could still see Clay once in a while.”

  She finally met Kyle’s gaze, her eyes troubled, as his were.

  “I can’t give him up, Selena,” he said with quiet anguish. “He’s my son.”

  “Of course not. I could never ask you to.” Her own voice was husky with emotion. She thought it must have reassured him, for his intense expression relaxed infinitesimally.

  “I don’t want my younger sisters to know, either. Obviously Lydia has guessed at least a little, but Zoe and Cissy are too young to find out.”

  “I… I will do my best to see they never have reason to suspect.”

  “Thank you.” He gave her a faint smile, of relief and gratitude, thinking the words inadequate to express his appreciation for her compassion.

  They both fell silent then; there didn’t seem to be anything more to say, though Kyle wished there was.

  She was so different from any of the women in his past, he thought, watching the lamplight glint on her hair like a silver halo. Observing her quiet, cool beauty, he could hardly remember what he had seen in any other woman.

  Kyle shifted in his chair, feeling his body begin to throb as it always did lately when he was near her. He was bewitched by Selena’s ethereal loveliness, he knew. Her pale features and deceptive hint of fragility held such powerful allure that he found it harder and harder to remain alone in the same room with her. Making love to her had been like reveling in moonbeams—silver, sensuous rays that bathed him in magic and wrapped around his heart like slim fingers of light.