The thought of going to her now and removing her clothes, one by one, pressing her back upon the settee and burying himself in her enchanting body, beckoned him like a strong spell. And the visual image of Selena naked and writhing beneath him, long, slender legs clasping his hips, her quicksilver eyes liquid with heat, brought him to a pulsing arousal.
Kyle’s fingers slowly curled into fists. He couldn’t indulge in his inviting fantasies. Selena would be shocked to the depths of her proper little soul. Nor could he make love to her in the more conventional way, in his bed or hers, not when she had so clearly demonstrated she wouldn’t welcome his advances. He would have to control his moonstruck lust long enough to finish this conversation and escape.
But it was Selena who took the initiative. After a moment, she rose to her feet.
And yet she knew she couldn’t leave it at that. Not when she felt such a burden of guilt for forcing him into marriage. Kyle had made a bigger sacrifice than she knew when he wed her. “Kyle… I am sorry you had to marry me.”
He shook his head. “No, Selena, don’t. There’s no point in wallowing in regrets. What’s done is done. We’re married now, and we’ll have to make the best of it.” Realizing then how insensitive he sounded, Kyle added quickly, “We didn’t have the best beginning, I know, but perhaps now that we’re here, we can make a fresh start.”
“I would like that,” she said softly. And because he had made the first overture, she gathered up enough courage to ask a question that any wife had the right to ask. “Are you coming to bed?”
She wasn’t looking at him, though, so he didn’t see the flush on her cheeks or realize her discomfort with her boldness. “No, not yet,” Kyle said with a sigh. “I need to review the plantation books and see if I can make any sense of them. You go on. I’ll see you in the morning.”
So much for starting over, Selena thought miserably. And later, as she lay alone in her bed, recalling what Kyle had told her, going over and over the nuances of his voice in her mind, she felt sick at heart. She wanted to believe Kyle’s assurances that there was nothing in his relationship with Danielle. But whether or not Kyle had ever loved the woman wasn’t the only issue. Danielle shared something with him that she, Selena, couldn’t. A son.
And it didn’t seem as if she would ever get the chance.
She didn’t see Kyle in the morning, or even in the afternoon, for when she came downstairs for breakfast, she learned from the servants that Kyle had gone out to the fields and wasn’t expected back till late. She spent the day touring the rest of her new home and becoming familiar with the house staff and their customary manner of operation. Martha, a large-boned, large-bosomed black woman, who had been the head cook before assuming charge of the house staff, was her guide.
The outbuildings were just as impressive as the main house. Selena was pleased to see that the house slaves’ quarters were immaculate and relatively comfortable, while the dairy, stables and carriage house were clean and in good repair. There was also a henhouse, a large vegetable garden and a small orchard, all of which were well tended and highly productive.
Martha had saved the kitchens for last. She beamed with pride when Selena admired the giant fireplace with its cranes and pots and the spit where meats were roasted.
“And now,” Selena said after inspecting the storage pantries and smokehouse, “if I might see the rest of the outbuildings.”
Martha pursed her large lips in surprise. “That be Mista Whitfield’s place. I don’ wanna be accused of steppin’ in his business.”
The name Whitfield introduced a jarring note into Selena’s otherwise pleasant day. Danielle’s brother-in-law, she surmised. She didn’t particularly want to meet with him, though she knew she would have to do so sooner or later if he was factor at Montrose. But for today, at least, she would likely be spared that duty, since Whitfield was no doubt giving Kyle a tour of the fields.
“I don’t see why Mr. Whitfield would object to you showing me around the plantation, but if he should, I will speak to him.”
Martha didn’t seem totally satisfied with such an assurance, however. And as they passed the factor’s office and the small brick house where he lived, she answered Selena’s questions with a wariness that hadn’t been noticeable before.
Selena herself was silent as they toured the smithy, carpenter’s shop, cotton gin and plantation store. She was intimately familiar with the workings of a well-run plantation, and here, unlike the main outbuildings under Martha’s charge, Selena could see evidence of neglect. What was worse, the few slaves whom she saw at work were old men who gazed at her with sullen eyes.
It was a distant walk to the quarters that housed the field slaves, but when she had inspected the small village of wooden buildings set in long rows, Selena was glad she had made the long trek. Here, too, were signs of patent neglect.
“Is Miss Bea aware of the condition of these houses?” she asked Martha.
“Miss Bea ain’t been here fo’ some time. That be Mista Whitfield’s place, like I said.”
“I see.” And Selena thought she did see. Bea was fully occupied with her house and family and wouldn’t have time to ensure that Whitfield adequately carried out his duties as factor.
“That Mista Whitfield, there be trouble with that man that Miss Bea don’ know nothin’ about,” Martha muttered cryptically. “I been in this family fo’ twenty-one years, and I ain’t seen nothing like it allowed roun’ here befo’.”
That was all Martha would say about the factor, and Selena knew better than to press her to inform on a white man. But she took such complaints seriously. She contemplated discussing the situation with Kyle that evening, but when he came home, weary from being in the saddle all day, she decided it could wait. She ordered him a hot bath and asked Martha to hold supper back for an hour.
Then, on second thought, she sought out Bea and asked if she objected. Bea laughed, however, and said she was pleased to see Selena slipping so easily into the role of mistress of Montrose.
Selena knew it was true; she felt comfortable in her new position and was already behaving as if she belonged. Yet she didn’t think the same could be said of Kyle. He seemed dispirited by his first day as master, and even though he didn’t say it in so many words, she suspected he hadn’t found any pleasure in being a farmer. Selena would have liked to discuss that with him, too, but Kyle retired early and was already gone the next morning when she rose.
She did manage to find out more about the factor from Bea, however. After setting Zoe and Felicity to work on their lessons in the schoolroom, the two ladies retired to Bea’s office, where they spent the morning reviewing the domestic affairs of the plantation in detail. Bea and Thaddeus wanted to leave for their town house in Natchez as soon as practical, and Selena intended to be well prepared to take over her sister-in-law’s duties.
What she learned about the factor did not satisfy her. As she suspected, Bea had left the running of the plantation entirely to Gideon Whitfield. Yet nothing Selena had seen convinced her that he was qualified to manage a large, complex operation like Montrose.
The factor was not the only Whitfield who troubled Selena, either. She had lain awake most of the night, tossing restlessly, unable to drive thoughts of Danielle Whitfield from her mind. The thoughts wouldn’t go away that morning, either. Nor would the doubts and fears. Selena couldn’t help remembering how her stepmother had successfully conspired to steal Avery from her and how naive she had been then. This was worse, though, for she hadn’t loved Avery. Moreover, now she had only a faceless, formless image on which to focus her fears—like an enemy one couldn’t see or fight.
As she reviewed Bea’s household accounts, the issue so preoccupied Selena that she couldn’t concentrate. When she found herself scanning a column of figures for the third time, she came to a decision. That afternoon, after asking some subtle questions of Bea, she ordered the gig from the stables and drove into town.
Upper Natchez was just as neat and
pleasant as she remembered, and the shops were just as prosperous. Many of the shop owners followed the Creole custom of bringing their wares out into the street, but Selena scarcely noted the produce a grocer had on display or the bolts of calico and silk a mercer had stacked on a table. At the moment there was only one shop that interested her—Chandler’s General Mercantile.
When the gig drew up before the shop, Selena sat there in her seat for a long moment, staring at the storefront window. She recognized her jealousy, but like a tongue probing a sore tooth, she couldn’t keep away.
Finally she stepped down from the gig. At the door, however, she hesitated another long moment. The dampness of her palms beneath her gloves had nothing to do with the warmth of the late-May afternoon.
She had dressed in one of her best walking dresses, a gown of lilac lutestring with a high waist banded in deep plum. Armor, she thought with little humor as she took a deep breath and entered the shop.
It took a moment, but when her eyes adjusted from the brightness outside to the cool, dimmer light inside, she could see tables laden with goods—everything from bullet molds and leather goods to cutlery and tinware. After gazing around the shop, Selena glanced beyond a line of barrels to where a waist-high counter stood. Then she spotted Danielle.
Red hair. Of course. The lustrous auburn hair of the woman behind the counter gleamed like the heart of a fire.
Selena’s heart sank. Danielle wasn’t voluptuous, precisely, but her breasts were full and her features strikingly beautiful. She wore her richly colored hair pinned in a thick knot, and while her brown muslin gown was plain and serviceable, it took on new life when adorned by such glowing locks.
Her head was bent since she was engaged in counting nails. She paused after saying “thirty-seven” and looked up, smiling pleasantly. It was a preoccupied smile, but even so, it was breathtaking.
Selena’s heart dropped to the vicinity of her knees.
“I shall be with you in a moment,” Danielle said sweetly. “Oh, no—now where was I?”
“Thirty-seven,” Selena supplied, wishing she had never come. She turned away, gazing blindly down at a display of candles.
When Danielle reached one hundred and said, “Now, how may I be of assistance?” Selena gathered up a handful of the candles and took them to the counter for purchase. She had to have some pretense for coming.
But her effort was wasted. Danielle glimpsed the pale hair under Selena’s wide-brimmed straw hat, and her smile slowly faded. “You must be Selena,” she said quietly.
The two women stared at each other for a long moment, brown eyes gazing at blue.
Finally Selena broke the silence. “I had to come…to see…”
She didn’t complete the sentence, but Danielle nodded slowly. Selena realized then that words weren’t needed, that Danielle understood. The powerful instincts that had driven her to search out her rival were as old as human existence: a female protecting her claim to her mate. And in a strange way, the understanding bonded them together. Selena felt it like a tangible force between them. They were two women linked by the same man.
Danielle spoke next. “I don’t know what to say…Explanations seem inadequate.”
“No, there’s no need to explain anything. As Kyle says… what’s done is done.”
“I want to assure you there is nothing now between me and Kyle.”
“You—” Selena broke off, her throat tight. “You have a son between you.”
Just then there came a scrambling sound from behind the counter and the patter of small feet. Danielle glanced down quickly, then gave a soft cry of dismay. “Clay, no! Come back here this instant.”
Even as she spoke, a towheaded child dressed in a floor-length nankeen shirt ran around the corner of the counter. He came to an abrupt halt when he saw Selena, staring at her with bright green eyes. Then he grinned at her, and Selena’s heart fell to her feet. She could fight against another woman, perhaps, but not this beautiful child.
And he was beautiful, with the same breathtaking smile of his mother and the masculine charm that belonged to his father. In the dimpling creases in his cheeks, in the lively directness of his gaze, Selena could clearly see the young boy’s resemblance to Kyle.
Danielle came around the counter then, to place one hand on Clay’s small, blond head. Selena didn’t miss the significance of the action: a mother protecting her son.
Selena felt the ache in her throat swell further as Clay wrapped his short arms around his mother’s knees.
He clung to Danielle’s skirts as he pointed at Selena. “Lady?”
“Yes, that is a lady,” Danielle said, bending to scoop him up. “Come now, you know you aren’t allowed to play in the store.”
Selena tore her gaze away, trying to get hold of her emotions, ashamed because they were so unadmirable. It wasn’t commendable to be jealous of a two-year-old child just because he could command Kyle’s affection when she couldn’t. Nor was it commendable to envy a woman her son. But she couldn’t deny she would have liked to have claimed Kyle’s love or that she would have liked to have Clay as her own.
As Danielle was returning Clay to his authorized play area, a man appeared in the door behind the counter, his arms filled with a large bundle of cane baskets lashed together.
“Danielle, where do you want these?”
Danielle straightened and, for the first time, appeared a little flustered. “The counter is fine. Orrin, we have a customer. This is Mrs. Ramsey, Kyle’s new wife.”
His gaze shot to Selena.
He was attractive, Selena noted. Perhaps thirty-five, with brown hair and eyes.
He set his bundle down on the counter before nodding to her. “How do you do, ma’am? I’m Orrin Chandler.”
He was the proprietor of the mercantile, Selena knew. And a longtime friend of the Ramsey family, according to Bea. Selena murmured a polite reply, watching as Orrin stepped back to Danielle’s side and rested a hand lightly on her shoulder. It was the same protective gesture Danielle had used with Clay.
He thought she was going to cause Danielle trouble, Selena realized. Which only confirmed that he knew the truth about Kyle’s son. Selena wanted to reassure him, but she wasn’t sure of the appropriate way to phrase such a remark.
Orrin spoke before she could think of one. “Is there anything I may do to serve you?”
“No… thank you. Mrs. Whitfield has been very helpful.”
“Very well.” He glanced down at Danielle. “I’ll be in the back room if you need me.” Orrin turned then and bent down out of view. “Hello, young fellow. Are you keeping out of trouble?”
From the gurgle of laughter that followed, Selena guessed he had tickled the boy’s ribs.
“Do you still want the candles, Mrs. Ramsey?” Danielle asked when Orrin had disappeared through the door.
It took a moment for Selena to understand what she was talking about. “Oh, yes…of course.” Selena fumbled in her reticule for the American money Bea had given her.
“You don’t have to pay now. The Ramseys have a line of credit. I’ll just include the price on your monthly bill.”
She nodded, watching while Danielle tied the candles together with a piece of string. But when the task was done and it was time for her to leave, Selena hesitated. “Mrs. Whitfield…I want you to know… I would never willingly do anything to hurt you or Clay.”
“Thank you,” Danielle said quietly, meeting Selena’s eyes directly. “I don’t think I could be so generous, were I in your position.”
Selena went to the door then but turned back before she opened it. “Perhaps you would bring Clay to visit at Montrose sometime.”
Danielle tilted her head to one side, an odd look on her beautiful face. “I think you really mean that.”
“Yes…I do. I think it would please Kyle. And us being seen together would be the surest way to foil the gossips.”
The red-haired woman smiled softly. “Then I will.”
“Good,
” Selena said, returning the smile.
She left then, feeling better for having come. She might not have conquered the jealousy or envy that was gnawing at her heart, but at least now she thought she could deal with them with a semblance of equanimity.
Selena hoped that equanimity was in evidence when she joined Kyle at breakfast in the courtyard the next morning. She had risen at dawn in order to speak to him before he left for the fields.
He looked impossibly handsome, she thought, feeling her heartbeat quicken at the sight. He was dressed in close-fitting knit riding breeches and top boots and a loose-sleeved cambric shirt that showed the magnificent contours of his muscular torso. Distractedly, she wondered how she would manage to disregard the potent virility that he was emanating in such abundance.
He seemed surprised to see her and raised a quizzical eyebrow as he politely rose and held out her chair.
“It was too lovely a day to stay in bed,” Selena prevaricated, smiling brightly. As if to prove her point, she took a breath of the fresh morning air. The sharp, cool scent of the sweet olive trees was mixed with the fragrance of cape jasmine and roses.
The small breakfast table had been set up on the shaded portico off the small dining room. From that vantage point, Selena had a good view of the trellised garden in the center of the courtyard and the English myrtle and syringa shrubs that ringed it. She waited till she was served hot chocolate and muffins by a servant before asking Kyle how he had fared the past two days.
“Oh, wonderful.” Kyle made a wry face over his plate of beefsteak and eggs. “If you don’t count a dozen saddle sores and an aching head from trying to balance cotton receipts. I suppose I’ll become accustomed to riding for hours at a time, but I’ll never take to account books.”
“I could review the books for you, if you like.”
“Would you?” Kyle flashed Selena a relieved smile. “I’d be eternally grateful. So far all I’ve done is mix up bales and hundredweights and come up with figures that make no sense.” He hesitated. “That is, if you wouldn’t mind. I don’t want Montrose to be a burden to you.”
Moonwitch Page 21
