"I am William Stedman," the older man said, taking her hand. "And this is my wife, Martha."
Annalisa accepted his hand and smiled at the older woman.
"Our daughter, Melissa," Mrs. Stedman said stiffly.
Melissa smiled, but only with her lips. Her eyes, like her mother’s, Annalisa noted, were wary.
"This is her intended, Henry Watkins."
Annalisa nodded to the blond young man who seemed eager to make her acquaintance.
"And my name is Chase Masters," the gambler said, before seating himself beside her. "What is yours?"
"Annalisa Montgomery."
Annalisa. The name whispered over his senses just as her sultry voice did.
"You’re traveling alone, Miss Montgomery?" Mrs. Stedman’s tone spoke her disapproval.
"I’ve finished school and am on my way home to my family."
"Ah." The older woman seemed impressed that this young lady was educated. "What school did you attend?"
"The Convent of the Holy Trinity, in Natchez."
The older woman’s eyebrows went up another notch. A proper, convent-bred lady. "How nice. Where is your family?"
Annalisa felt the man beside her watching her closely. She inhaled the faint scent of tobacco and thought again how pleasant it was after the sterile, antiseptic smells of the convent. "New Orleans."
"Montgomery." The woman turned to her husband. "Do we know a Montgomery family in New Orleans, William?"
He shrugged. "Charles Montgomery, president of the bank."
"Of course." The woman beamed. "So that’s your father."
"No." Annalisa bit her lip. Why wouldn’t they let it alone? "My father is dead." At least, that’s what the sisters had told her. But they had always seemed evasive about the subject.
"I see." Mrs. Stedman did some calculations. The convent was a very exclusive boarding school. A widowed mother would have to be very wealthy to afford such a luxury.
"What will you do with your life, now that you’ve finished your education? Has your family made a suitable match?"
Chase turned his head to watch her as she spoke.
"I plan to enter the convent," she said simply.
Annalisa felt Chase stiffen beside her. With a barely perceptible movement, she turned to meet his appraising look. His hand holding the fork paused in midair.
A hint of a smile curled his lips. "You intend to become a nun?"
His eyes were too dark and knowing, his manner too intense. For one brief moment she felt herself caught and held fast by a simple look. Glancing down at her hands folded primly in her lap, she strove to break the spell of this man.
She was relieved when a waiter approached to take her order. When he walked away, she allowed the conversation at the table to flow around her. Perhaps, if she was very quiet, this man, this Chase Masters, would ignore her, and her heart could resume its normal rhythm.
"What did you think of it, Miss Montgomery?"
Annalisa’s head came up sharply. Lost in her own thoughts, she had completely missed the point of the conversation going on around her. She could feel the man beside her watching her with new interest.
"I’m sorry. About what?"
"The newspaper," Mrs. Stedman said with a sigh.
"I’m afraid I didn’t see it."
"A member of the crew told me that each passenger gets a daily newspaper every morning. It’s printed right here on board the City of Memphis. You should have received one with your breakfast plate. On it is listed the bill of fare and what has transpired in the past twenty-four hours."
Annalisa’s heart sank. Would the newspaper have carried an account of her embarrassing accident?
"I’m afraid I didn’t get breakfast," she said softly. Why had no one bothered to tell her she could have her meals sent to her cabin? Right now she could be enjoying her lunch in the privacy of her own room, without these awkward questions.
"What do you do, Mr. Masters?" Melissa Stedman was staring at Chase with wide-eyed fascination.
"A little of everything," he said evasively. "I arrange for shipments of goods to be brought through various ports. I’m also engaged in finance."
"You’re a banker?" her mother asked.
"Of sorts. I get together groups of businessmen who want to invest their money."
"Have you been on the City of Memphis before?" Melissa Stedman asked.
"Several times. Each time proves more—beneficial," he said with a smile. His gaze caught Annalisa’s, and again she felt the strange pull of his charm.
"You’re a Northerner." Mrs. Stedman spoke the word as if it tasted foul in her mouth.
Chase gave her his most charming smile. "My mother was a Yankee. From proper Boston." He watched the way her lips thinned. "My father was from New Orleans. That’s where I spent most of my youth."
"I knew you were a Southern gentleman," Melissa purred.
Henry Watkins, stung by Melissa’s open interest in another man, seemed eager to finish his meal and take leave of his company. As soon as they enjoyed their coffee and desserts, he urged the Stedmans to depart.
Alone at the table with this strange, compelling man, Annalisa sipped her coffee and avoided Chase’s gaze as he quietly studied her.
"This—desire of yours, to be a nun. Is this something you’ve always wanted?"
Annalisa ran a finger along the delicate lace of the table cover. "No. It’s something I decided when my studies were completed. Mother Superior said I had to decide what to do with the rest of my life."
"I see." He was smiling wider now. "And did Mother Superior suggest that the convent would shelter you from the cruel world beyond its gates?"
She heard the edge of sarcasm in his tone and forced herself to look up. Seeing his gaze center on her mouth, she quickly looked away. "She may have mentioned that. But the decision was mine."
"Does your family approve?"
She could feel the heat stain her cheeks. His questions were impertinent. He had no right. "Mother Superior said any mother would be proud to give a daughter to God’s work."
"And what work is that? Teaching the ignorant? Washing the unwashed?" His gaze swept the mass of curls. "Hiding yourself under a veil?"
"Among other things." She was beginning to resent his baiting tone. "If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Masters."
"Forgive me, Miss Montgomery. My teasing has upset you."
"Not at all. But I do wish to leave."
As she began to stand, he put his hand beneath her elbow to assist her. Instantly her head came up. Her eyes widened as they looked into his. She had never before had a man touch her. The shock was instantaneous.
Chase felt her slight tremor at this casual contact and wondered about it. Attempting to put her at ease, he said, "Have you ever been aboard a steamship before, Miss Montgomery?"
Gripping her hands together tightly, she swallowed and lectured herself on her foolishness. The man was only being gallant.
"No. This is my first trip."
"Then allow me to point out a few items of interest," he said, walking along beside her.
As they left the elegant salon and approached the rail, he turned and pointed. "Have you been up to the third deck?"
She breathed deeply of the fresh breeze and shook her head.
"Then you must go. There are staterooms, of course, as there are on this deck. But there is also a ballroom, a billiard room," he gave her a knowing smile, "where ladies are not permitted, and even a second dining salon, nearly as elegant as the one on this deck."
As he spoke, he pulled a cigar from his breast pocket and held a match to the tip. As he puffed, Annalisa found herself inhaling the sharp bite of tobacco.
"Atop the third deck," he went on, "are quarters for the boat’s officers. It’s called ‘the Texas.’"
Annalisa arched an eyebrow. "Why the Texas?"
"Because it was added as an afterthought, much as Texas was added to the Union."
Annalisa laughed, and Chase smile
d his pleasure. She had a wonderful, rich laugh.
"The pilothouse perches above the Texas."
She shielded her eyes from the sun and stared high above them. "It certainly gives the pilot a good view of the river from any direction."
"Umm." He watched the stream of smoke from his cigar until it drifted away, then added, "It also allows him to be buffeted by tremendous winds. I wouldn’t relish his job in a storm."
While he lazily smoked his cigar, Annalisa’s glance sidled toward the upper decks. Her eyes narrowed slightly as a tall shadow moved away from the railing above. The hair at her nape prickled. Someone had been watching her. Intently. She felt the chill even in the heat of the sun. Shivering, she glanced once more toward the upper deck. A shadow slanted, then withdrew. Someone—a man, from the shape of the angular shadow, had been watching her. But why? The feeling was unsettling.
"Would you care to stroll along the deck, Miss Montgomery?"
Chase offered his arm, and Annalisa had no choice but to accept it. Placing her hand lightly on his sleeve, she took a hesitant step. Without even seeming to be aware of it, Chase covered her hand with his and led her through the crowds to the stern. He glanced around until he found a section that was completely private.
"Would you like me to find a place sheltered from the sun?" he asked.
"Oh no. Please. I love the feel of the sun on my skin."
Yes, she would love the sunshine. Like the sun, she seemed to glow with some inner radiance. He pressed his hand over hers and stared down at her. God, but she was beautiful. And she seemed to be completely unaware of it. That made her all the more intriguing.
He searched his mind for casual topics that would overcome her reticence. "You should see the huge furnaces below decks. They’re fed a continuous meal of bituminous Pittsburgh coal to keep this boat moving."
"You seem to know a great deal about steamships, Mr. Masters."
He settled her comfortably in a chair near the rail and pulled a second one close beside her. "Why don’t we forego the formalities, Miss Montgomery. My name is Chase."
"All right—Chase." She watched as he crossed his leg and drew deeply on the cigar.
The strength in his thigh seemed to fascinate her. With an effort she pulled her gaze back to his face.
"I guess I’ve traveled the length of the Mississippi aboard riverboats. I enjoy them. Enjoy the passengers too." He turned to study her. "I like learning all about them. For instance, I find you enchanting."
"Me?" Her eyes widened. "But I’m so—ordinary." In confusion, she stood and walked to the rail.
Chase followed her. "Are you? Ordinary?" He nearly laughed aloud. Her hair, that wild mane of dark curls, was unlike any woman’s hair he’d ever seen. Thick gypsy tangles that begged to be touched. Her eyes were as tawny as the golden sun reflecting off the waters of the Mississippi. As clear and intense as those of a stalking cat.
The wind whipped her hair, prying loose little tendrils. Without thinking, Chase reached out and caught a strand. It was as soft as he had imagined it would be. As he lifted it and allowed it to sift through his fingers, his eyes narrowed. Staring down at her he murmured, "Just who and what are you, Annalisa Montgomery?"
A flame raced along her spine, heating her skin, making her blood run hot. She felt a strange contraction deep inside. She swallowed and stared at the collar of his shirt, avoiding his eyes.
He tugged on her curl, forcing her head up. Her gaze met his, and the fire turned to ice.
"I’ve told you who I am."
His gaze centered on her mouth. Her lower lip trembled slightly, and he felt a rush of desire that left him shaken. "You’re no nun. At least not like any I’ve ever known. And you’re no innocent schoolgirl. I realized that when I saw you work last night."
Puzzled, she arched an eyebrow. "I don’t know what you mean."
"Don’t you? You recognized the code. You returned my wink. I don’t know how you dreamed it up so quickly, but that was a neat piece of work. You created the perfect diversion."
Code? Wink? She heard those words, then immediately dismissed them. The only thing that stayed in her mind was last night’s incident. How could he dare to mention last night? He was referring to her humiliation in the salon. Heat stained her cheeks. Her eyebrows knit into a frown. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."
He studied the incriminating blush that colored her throat, and crept slowly over her face.
"Oh, I think you do, Annalisa. What’s more, I’d like to make you a proposition."
As she tried to pull away, he caught her shoulder, holding her still. At his touch her heart slammed against her ribs. She felt as if her breath had been squeezed from her lungs. It almost hurt to breathe. And yet. And yet she wished he would keep on holding her, just to see if the effect would stay the same.
"What do you think about carpetbaggers, Annalisa?"
She pushed against his chest. He tightened his grip on her shoulders. "I’m sure the good sisters have taught you current history. You must know all about the intruders here in your homeland."
In the convent, Annalisa had been sheltered from the cruelties of the war that ravaged the countryside. Although she had been well taught, the reality of it hadn’t touched her.
"I resent them. Everyone does."
"That’s right," he hissed against her temple.
She felt the warmth of his breath feather her hair, and fought down the little splinters of fire and ice that raced through her veins.
"They’ve swarmed over this land like a band of locusts, grabbing up farms and plantations, stripping the South of everything of value."
"I don’t see what that has to do with me."
"I’m going to be involved in a game tonight in the salon. One of the men is a thieving carpetbagger, who has stolen, lied, and cheated his way to the top. Some of the money in his pocket is mine. And I want it back."
Annalisa heard the thread of steel in his tone. She found herself thinking that she would never wish to have that anger directed toward her. Chase Masters was not a man to cross.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I may need your help to win my money back."
Instinctively she covered her ears. "I don’t want to hear this. I don’t understand why you’re telling me."
His grip on her shoulders tightened. "Listen to me, Annalisa."
She stared at his offending hand, still clutching her shoulder. "First take your hands off me."
The command in her voice surprised him. His mustache twitched. A hint of a smile curled his lips. So he had been right. There was fire simmering just below the surface of this prim and proper little actress. Almost casually he dropped his hands to his sides.
With one hand she flicked her hair from her shoulder, then lifted her chin in a gesture of defiance. Without the warmth of his touch, she felt her strength, her determination return.
"Are you ready to listen?"
She nodded, boldly studying his face as he spoke. It was a handsome face, she realized. Almost too handsome. Her reaction to the nearness of him frightened her.
"Last night, my luck was going very badly. When you acknowledged my wink, I knew you would find some way to create a diversion."
"But I . . ."
He touched a finger to her lips to silence her. At once he felt a surge of desire as his finger brushed the velvet softness of her mouth. Swearing softly, he dropped his hand.
"That trick with the tablecloth was a stroke of genius. In those brief moments I was able to change cards, and change my luck."
"You cheated!" She was scandalized. The man was a villain.
"I simply—changed my luck," he said calmly. "Now. What I want is for you to arrange to be in the salon again tonight. If my luck is holding, I won’t need your help. But if I should wink, it will mean I need you to come up with another diversion."
"You want me to help you cheat?"
He flashed her his most charming smile. "I simply wa
nt you to help me change my luck."
"That’s disgusting." She whirled away and put some distance between them. Turning, she hissed, "I was raised to be a proper lady, Mr. Masters. I am insulted that you would even ask me to consider such a proposal. Please don’t speak to me again."
Chase leaned a hip against the rail and watched as she flounced away, her head held high, her feet tapping an angry rhythm. She would have made a fine Confederate soldier, he thought. Or a good candidate for mother superior.
Maybe he had miscalculated, he mused. Maybe she was what she claimed to be. His smile grew. And then again, maybe she was just a clever actress.
Chapter Three
In the dim light of the cabin, Annalisa lay on her bunk. The gentle lapping of the water lulled her, then caused her to stir. Eyelashes fluttered, then opened. Sitting up, she hurried across the room and threw open the small window. The setting sun was an orange globe on the horizon. Ribbons of firelight danced on the waves, trailing the wake of the boat.
Above the murky waters of the Mississippi, the sky darkened. The wind off the water was cool, breathing life into the humid cabin. The ship’s horn blasted a warning to oncoming boats. An answering signal sounded on the evening mist.
Once again, Annalisa had overslept the dinner hour. What was happening to her? She hadn’t slept in the middle of the day like this in years. It must be the fresh air and sunshine. Or perhaps this new sense of freedom, that permitted her to walk the decks, to explore, to prowl until she dropped from exhaustion. Whatever the reason, she thought as she removed a clean gown from her trunk, she felt more rested and refreshed than she could ever remember. And more alive.
The light of the cabin reflected off a small vial in the corner of the trunk. Annalisa picked up the graduation gift Yvette had given her. French perfume. Lifting the stopper, she inhaled the delicate floral scent. It was deliciously sensuous, reminding her of something from her almost-forgotten childhood. Touching the stopper to her throat and between her breasts as Yvette had taught her, she felt the fragrance envelop her. For long moments, she breathed deeply, feeling beautiful and just a little bit wicked.
She deliberately selected a cool, ice blue gown from the meager assortment the convent had provided. Buttoned primly to her throat, the long tapered sleeves had a dusting of lace at each wrist. With quick, practiced twists, she pulled her hair into a proper knot. As an afterthought, she added a bonnet and shawl.
Destiny's Daughter Page 3
