Nearly noon the next day, Cole exited his cabin clean-shaven, impeccably dressed, and softly whistling an unrecognizable melody. He intended to look especially debonair today because he had a plan. He not only intended to encounter Mrs. Higgins, but to occupy most of her day. He had to get to know her better. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, but there was something more intriguing than her beauty. Something he could not pinpoint, as yet.
He had slept fitfully with his hand on his gun in case of a robbery attempt, and his mind in a jumble with thoughts of the redheaded lass he had met last night. No one attempted to burglarize him, but it would be necessary to remain vigilant for the remainder of the trip. He was going all the way to New Orleans, so several days remained on board.
Upon entering the dining room for a late breakfast, he sat at a table on the far side of the room, facing the entryway so he could see everyone who entered. His entrance started a buzz of whispers and wagging tongues. Word had apparently spread about his windfall winnings; however, his notoriety was of no interest to him. He had something more pressing on his mind.
Soon coppery hair gleamed in the sunlight as it passed the window of the dining room, meaning Mrs. Higgins was coming to dine. As expected, her manservant was at her heels. She looked exquisite today in a billowing gown of bright yellow silk with a matching chapeau that was all feathers and silk roses and had a small dotted veil that came just to her nose. White lace gloves covered her dainty hands, and she held a matching yellow parasol to protect her from the noonday sun. Her green Irish eyes were not smiling however, as she spotted him ogling her from his vantage point.
That flawless peaches and cream skin was begging to be tasted, and her lips were as inviting as moist, sweet, red cherries, ripe for devouring. He was becoming more than just interested; he was becoming obsessed with her. Where was this lady’s husband? Why would any man let this lovely flower wander from his garden? If she were mine, she would never be farther than arms’ length away from me.
She entered and took a seat at a table near the door. Her manservant stood a short ways off. Cole ordered his meal then sauntered over to her table, keeping a wary eye on the black man towering over him.
“Good morning, Mrs. Higgins.” He doffed his hat and bowed low in a greeting to her. Something in his tone smacked of familiarity he had no right to presume at this point. She glared up at him.
“Yes, good day, sir. If you don’t mind I would like to eat my breakfast in solitude.”
“Ouch! I fear I am mortally wounded by your dismissal. I had my heart set on dining with you this morning. I am sure you are aware, my dear, that eating alone is not good for the digestion. Some company and scintillating conversation are much better for the body and the mind.”
“I am not ‘your dear’, sir.” Her words were ice cold. “And I would appreciate it if you would leave me alone and quit bothering me before I have to ask Sylvester to intervene.”
Cole paused, stood up straight, and took a long look at the black man who, like a huge black panther, was tensed and ready to spring if needed. After perusing his would-be opponent, he determined surrender would be the greater form of valor in this instance.
“As you wish, Mrs. Higgins.” Again, he bowed ever so slightly this time, as if mocking her with his formal farewell. “I will be seeing you later. Enjoy your meal.”
Cole turned and strolled back to his table where the waiter was serving his plate of steaming food. He felt the need for a gallon of coffee after the late night and poor sleep. He observed the object of his fascination as he downed cup after cup of coffee along with the country ham, gravy and biscuits, eggs, and grits. That would hold him all day, as he did not like to mix drink with food, and it would be time for his first drink in a few, short hours.
He surmised his constant staring was making her uncomfortable, but he could not stop watching her. She picked at the fresh fruit then lifted the fork to her lips. His imagination transformed such simple, mundane actions into erotic gestures as she bit into her beignet. When she sipped her tea in a lovely ladylike fashion, all he could think of was how he envied that cup as she placed those seductive, red lips to its brim.
His baffled mind searched for a strategy to get closer to her because the direct approach, which had always worked before, was failing miserably. Smiling to himself as he wiped his mouth with his napkin, he relished the challenge she presented. He left a generous tip and stopped at her table as he walked past.
“Good day, Mrs. Higgins. By the way, I believe I forgot to mention that you played remarkably well last night. My compliments to a worthy opponent.” He gave her a slanted nod of his head. “I do hope I get to play with you again sometime.” Her eyebrows shot up, and she quickly turned away but not quick enough to prevent him seeing her face color bright crimson. She did not honor his remark with a response.
She was being a tough nut to crack, but he had nothing else to occupy his time. Whistling to himself once again, he stepped briskly out into the blinding midday sun.
Darcy could barely taste her brunch due to the ogling of that man across the room. If this man keeps making advances toward me, I may be in for serious consequences from Edgar when I get home. Sylvester is like a scribe, mentally recording all of this to retell to his master. She glanced up at her bodyguard who stared at the gambler as he left the dining area.
But despite her cautiousness, Darcy was in awe of how his powerful demeanor had taken command of the room last night, all the while keeping his voice soft and serene, like spreading oil on troubled waters. Now she was glad she had not given in to her trepidations to abandon the card game. She had done very well for herself, and the game had been the most fun she had known in her life. It was a relief to know she was not going to have to waste her first taste of freedom by staying cooped up in her cabin for the whole trip.
When she finished eating, Darcy strolled along the deck, taking in the scenery along the banks of the mighty river. A man fished for his dinner, children played on the banks, otters romped like devil-may-care clowns, and a fox sunned itself on a fallen log. All the while, she pondered the persistence of the handsome man whose attention she had obviously garnered. He was indeed a bold and rather unconventional character, his identity still a secret. She had no experience around men, especially one who appeared as interested in her as he did. She wished he would cease this behavior as she feared it could cause her much trouble later.
Enjoying this long overdue reprieve from her isolation, she found she loved to travel. She decided her favorite method of conveyance was watercraft, although she knew no other mode of travel. One of her favorite pastimes aboard the large paddle wheeler was to stand and watch the paddles come around again and again dipping into the thick, muddy water like a spoon stirring chocolate cake batter. She could stand there for hours mesmerized by the power of the revolving paddles that looked so deceptively slow and gentle but in actuality were incredibly strong and lethal. Just another example of how things are often not the way they seem.
Cole was busy trying to engineer his next meeting with the beautiful Darcy Decker Higgins. Icy as a cod and slippery as an eel, she had avoided all his hooks thus far, but he was not easily deterred. He sauntered along the decks, never going near the paddles whose action of dipping into the muddy river painfully reminded him of seeing his brother sucked beneath the churning water. They had just passed Vicksburg, and being this close to his boyhood home made his mind flash back to that unforgettable day.
He had relived it a thousand times in nightmares and in moments of reflection and recrimination. At night, he would often dream he was the one who was drowning and awake gasping for air, unable to catch his breath. The memory was still inconceivable of how his brother was alive, laughing and running with him one minute, and in the next moment, his body disappeared beneath the muddy water never to resurface.
As they chugged down river past familiar surroundings, Cole wondered, but only for an instant, what his parents wer
e doing, or if they were still on this side of the grave. Grief, like a cancer, had eaten so fiercely at them, he doubted either was still above ground. He felt no animosity toward his parents; neither did he feel any fondness. His memories consisted only of hard work, rejection, isolation, and ultimately abandonment.
He was glad to be away from them and their poisonous blame for his brother’s death. Even when they were not speaking of it, their silent blame had screamed at him from their bitter, hardened faces along with treating Cole as if he had committed some terrible sin by being alive when his little brother Billy was not.
Awaiting the start of a late afternoon card game, Cole surprised Mrs. Higgins and himself when he happened upon her along the promenade. Pleased at his good fortune, he paused to speak.
“Good day to you again, Mrs. Higgins.” Doffing his hat with a flourish, he bowed to the beauty in front of him. Sylvester was, of course, not far behind. “May I walk with you for a ways?”
She frowned. Her initial reaction was annoyance, but something in his voice drew her in despite a built-in resistance, and to her amazement, she acquiesced. Those coal black eyes created a desire to know this man better, although she had to be extremely careful in order to escape Edgar’s wrath. She could be beaten, or cast out penniless, or even jailed should he find out and accuse her of infidelity. “It is a free country, sir, and I cannot stop you from walking where you will.”
“Well, this is true, and I find it just so happens I am walking where you are walking, Mrs. Higgins.” Her face lit up with an amused smile at the ridiculousness of his comment, making his heart soar.
Side by side, with Sylvester close behind, they strolled along the deck. Forcing any thoughts of Billy from his mind, he turned his attention to the beautiful maiden on his left. “Are you heading back to your home in New Orleans?”
“Yes.” She continued, refusing to make eye contact with him.
“Well, I am certain your husband will be happy and relieved at your return. I cannot imagine any man allowing a woman as breathtaking as you to be out of his sight for such a long time. He must be very trusting and very indulgent to let you travel so far without him.”
“He is both, not that it is any of your concern. He knows no harm will befall me with Sylvester always near, and that I am not a woman to stray from my vows.” She answered pointedly, then changed the subject. “Do you think that since we are continually running into each other that I could at least know your name, sir?”
Cole smiled broadly and hung his head as if she had caught him in his own joke.
“Yes, I think you deserve that much, since that is most likely all you will take from me. My name is Cole Evans, ma’am, and I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Oh…well, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, too, Mr. Cole Evans.” She kept her chin lifted high and her tone, like a bottle of champagne, well chilled.
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you my dear lady.”
Her gaze snapped at him again. “You seem to have forgotten again, I told you I am not ‘your dear’ anything.” She took one step ahead as if she intended to walk off and leave him behind.
“Ah, yes you did. My apologies again, ma’am, for being so presumptuous. I am just so anxious to become better acquainted with such a unique individual as yourself. Lovely, young, female poker players are rare indeed, and you made an excellent showing last night. I find you quite fascinating, and mean that only as the highest compliment.”
She slowed her pace to match his once again and allowed a sideways glance at the dashing figure of a man.
“You are forgiven.” Her tone softening somewhat. “By the way, how is it you already knew my name?”
Stroking the curled points of his moustache, he smiled mischievously,
“Oh, I have my ways. When I want something bad enough, I usually find a way to get it.”
Her glance shot up to his face, fury shining in her emerald eyes. “I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Evans, but nothing about me is fascinating, and you certainly would not find anything about me interesting.”
“I am quite sure you are mistaken on both points. Just looking at you is enough to keep me at your side forever.”
Her eyes showed a look of warning mixed with fear, and he finally realized his open flirtation may cause repercussions for her later.
“Mr. Evans, how dare you make such a preposterous remark?”
He had made an error.
“I can assure you my husband would not appreciate your forward manner. Good day, Mr. Evans!” Tossing her head, she marched off with Sylvester in tow. The sunlight glinting off her hair sent shafts of gold, bronze, and copper shimmering from her head.
He could not help himself. He truly could look at her all day. She was not some coy maiden whose head he could turn with a flattering word. Indeed, she was making his mission to get to know her more of a challenge with each passing meeting.
Darcy strode purposefully to the lounge, and seated comfortably, listened to the piano player as he moved from one song to another, playing raucous tunes and soulful ballads. She ordered a glass of whiskey and sipped slowly as she pondered the mysterious man who appeared wherever she went. She had never met such a debonair and overly self-confident man before, and despite the brash liberties he took, he was truly quite charming.
If only her circumstances were different and she was free, then she would be most pleased to find out more about the man with the mysterious eyes. But she was not free, so there was no reason to torture herself with such thoughts. He was someone she would never see again once they landed at New Orleans, so she would just put him out of her mind.
As the third glass of liquor began to take effect, her thoughts wandered back to the tall poker player she could not push out of her mind no matter how hard she tried. Why, when he knows I am married, is he so persistent in his interest in me? Obviously, he is some immoral cad who thinks nothing of pursuing married women. I would be jeopardizing everything to allow him to get too close. Still…
The sun was setting behind western clouds in a spectacular display of orange, red, lavender, and magenta hues as Cole stood puffing one of his luxurious cigars at the railing of the top deck of the steamship. It was a beautiful sight, but Cole was waiting and watching for an even more beautiful one. Slowly the lamps on the ship were being lit one-by-one as darkness fell, and a crowd started gathering for dinner. Before long, the reward for his long wait materialized.
Darcy had changed into a lovely gown of emerald green watered silk with black lace trim at the daringly low cut bodice, black lace gloves, and a black lace shawl. She sat at a table with the captain, two opulent men, and an elderly couple. Once everyone had eaten, the orchestra struck up playing. Cole could not stop glancing at her throughout the meal. There must be some way to engage her in conversation, or more. Think! Think!
He watched as her eyes remained fixed on the orchestra, and he caught sight of her little foot tapping to the rhythm of the music from beneath her elegant gown. Perhaps I have just discovered a way! Couples began drifting to the dance floor as the sounds of a beautiful waltz filled the salon.
Soon his physique cast a shadow across her table, and seeing it, she demurely raised her eyes to look at him. She literally takes my breath away!
“The night is too lovely, the music too enchanting, and you are entirely too beautiful to waste such a perfect piece of music. Certainly your husband could not object to your having a dance partner since he is not here to oblige you.” His tone was mocking; his eyes twinkling.
“As you wish, Mr. Evans. I would be delighted.” Extending her hand to Cole as Sylvester pulled back her chair, she rose into his awaiting arms. Like a valiant knight who had fought off the dragons of her surly attitude to rescue her from her reclusive dungeon of self-denial, Cole’s reward was her womanly scent and the feel of his arms around her firm body.
Initially, she held herself stiffly at a respectable distance, but as the music work
ed its magic, her steely resolve melted away, and she allowed him to draw her close. It was obvious to Cole that Darcy loved the sound of an orchestra. They floated together to the music as if they were one, his arms guiding her around the floor. It was as if they had been created to dance together. Oh, how he wished she could stay in his arms forever.
Her height was perfect as his dancing partner. His chin rested just above her ear, nestled in the sweet softness of her flaming hair. His arms felt as if holding her was the sole reason they existed. She fit perfectly against him. The light pressure of her breasts against his chest along with the heady scent of her perfume set his senses spinning, igniting fires of desire for her he had never experienced before. He had flirted with and bedded many women, but never had he encountered this overpowering sensation of not only a physical desire but also an incomparable need to be with her waking and sleeping, day in and day out. What had come over him? This was not the devilish cad who swore never to see the same woman more than once, or allow being caught in any web of female trickery. His mantra for life was to avoid matrimony completely, and that emotion should never extend above his waist. What was so different about this woman? She was clearly unobtainable, so what was this incredible urge to sweep her up in his arms, take her to his cabin, and make love to her?
The puzzling feeling kept him dancing the night away so he would not be forced to let her go. As one dance led to the next one and the next, he found her smiling up into his face. Her amazing green eyes dazzling like gems, and her body moving against him made him grateful that her skirts provided a barrier between her body and his. Could she feel how swollen he was as she pressed against him while they danced? No, surely not, he hoped, yet he had to wonder when her eyes flashed at him with a sultry softness as never before.
A Gentleman's Game Page 2
