His mouth covered hers, sending tiny shock waves tumbling through her. One moment she was cold, so cold from the night air that streamed through the open window. In the next instant she was on fire.
Chase was a master at seduction. It was a game he enjoyed almost as much as poker. But it had been too many years since he had kissed someone as inexperienced as this. She kept her lips tightly closed. Her hands were two balled fists which she held firmly against her chest. Still, as his mouth found hers, she felt the jolt as fire and ice collided.
Surprised, he held her a little away, staring down into her eyes. She had them squeezed tightly shut.
His voice was gruff. "Annalisa."
She blinked, then closed her eyes again.
"Open your eyes."
Her lashes fluttered. She stared up into those midnight eyes that seemed even darker than the night sky.
"You act like you’ve never kissed a man before."
She swallowed, too ashamed to speak.
With his thumb and finger he caught her trembling chin and tilted her face for his inspection. Her eyes were troubled. A tiny frown marred her forehead.
His tone deepened. "I want to see your eyes. And I want you to see yourself in mine while I kiss you."
He bent forward. His warm breath feathered her face. She stared, mesmerized, as his lips lowered.
When his mouth found hers, Annalisa savored the strange sensations. She had always wondered what it would be like to kiss a man. Would his lips be open or closed? Would their teeth bump? Would she forget to breathe? Could a man and woman suffocate while they were locked in a kiss?
His lips now were gentle, brushing hers with feather-light kisses. She relaxed slightly and sighed, though she wasn’t even aware she’d made a sound. As he took the kiss deeper, all thought vanished. She no longer had to wonder what it would be like. His mustache was a soft whisper on her skin. His lips were warm, firm. She was amazed at the heat that seemed to spread from his hands at her shoulders, from his mouth on hers, to her blood, which coursed like liquid fire through her.
Annalisa breathed in the strange, musky scent of him, the warmth of his breath as it mingled with hers. He changed the angle of the kiss. Their heads were turned slightly, just enough so that their noses didn’t touch. She was surprised, and pleased, at the way the angles and planes of his body accentuated the softness of hers. Tentatively she brought her arms around his waist beneath his jacket, allowing her hands to play along the corded muscles of his back and shoulders.
His hands on her shoulders tightened, pulling her firmly against him. She gave a little gasp of surprise and felt his tongue trace the outline of her lips. Her hands clutched at his back, feeling the heat of his skin through the fine fabric.
Lifting his head, Chase stared down at the woman in his arms. She tasted sweet, alluring. Her eyes were wide, luminous, looking too big for her face. He could read the confusion in those eyes, and something more; the first flush of desire. Was she really an innocent? he wondered.
His arms came around her, drawing her tightly against him until he felt the softness of her melting into him. His lips covered hers in a searing kiss, leaving her dazed and breathless.
Her breath caught in her throat. The heat became a furnace, leaving her weak and clinging. Fear became excitement. Pleasure became need, a need she had never before experienced.
He felt her resistance fade into acquiescence. With her breasts flattened against his chest, he could feel her, warm and pliant in his arms.
Something deep inside him tightened, and he felt the rush of desire, swift, pulsing, before he banked the need. With one sweeping motion, he pushed her from him and took a step back.
Her mouth opened in surprise. Her lips were still moist and swollen from his kiss. Dark curls danced on her shoulders and kissed her cheeks. He caught a strand of her hair and watched through narrowed eyes as it sifted through his fingers.
"You don’t kiss like a nun, Annalisa Montgomery."
Desire vanished. Her eyes blazed. "How could you know? Have you ever kissed one?" The words nearly caught in her throat. She was surprised at how difficult it was to speak.
"No. But I’ve kissed enough women." His lips split into a grin. "You kiss like a woman, Annalisa. A warm, willing woman."
"Get out of here. Get out before I scream loud enough to wake the whole boat."
He threw back his head and roared. "Did I say a woman? I meant to say a wildcat." Catching her chin he brushed his lips over hers, then turned away and opened the door. "We’re going to have to do something about that temper of yours," he said.
"You haven’t even tasted my temper yet," she snarled.
"No, but I’ve tasted you, little nun. You have the sweetest lips I’ve ever known. And I intend to do more than taste. If you’re not careful, I’ll devour you."
Still chuckling, he closed the door a second before she picked up a shoe and sent it flying. The sound reverberated along the darkened deck as Chase made his way to his own cabin.
Inside her cabin, Annalisa scooped up the hated money he had left on her bunk and tossed it out the window. It gave her a perverse sense of satisfaction to think that some unsuspecting fisherman on the Mississippi would benefit from Chase’s vile deeds.
Chapter Four
The man drew on a shirt of finest lawn and carefully adjusted the jewels at his cuffs. The night had not gone as he’d planned. First the little innocent had slipped away from him once again, because some fool gambler had stumbled across him before he could break into her cabin. He’d had to make do with one of the more available women aboard. She hadn’t satisfied him. The loose ones never did. The pleasure was in the battle. He wanted a woman who would be shocked, outraged, shamed. He wanted her to fight, to scream, to cry and beg. Pulling on his impeccably tailored jacket, he strode across the room and slammed the door. At the upper railing he studied the crowd milling about below and felt his blood begin to heat. He wouldn’t lose her this time.
* * *
Early morning light filtered through the small window of the cabin, warming the figure curled in the bunk. The shuffling of footsteps, the muffled voices outside her cabin brought her to an instant awareness. Annalisa sat up, rubbing her eyes. New Orleans. The ship had docked.
As she tossed back the covers and swung her feet to the floor, the memory of last night came rushing back. She froze. A member of the crew would be coming to take her to the captain. He would want to know all about that horrible scene in the salon. What would she say? What defense could she offer for her behavior? She’d already decided she couldn’t tell him about Chase and possibly incriminate herself as well. With a sigh of disgust, she began dressing. There was only one thing to do. She had to get off this ship before they came for her.
Pulling on a dark gingham traveling dress and bonnet, she finished packing. When she was through, she opened her cabin door and glanced about carefully. Seeing no one, she dragged the heavy trunk from her cabin and began inching along the narrow companionway toward the prow of the ship where a gangway bustled with activity.
With her back and knees bent in an awkward position, she struggled under the weight of the trunk, refusing to stop or even slow down. Her only hope was to escape before the crew had a chance to discover her missing. With her breath coming in short gasps, she tugged her heavy burden around the comer and slammed into a solid wall of muscle.
"Going somewhere?"
Strong arms caught and pinned her. Even before she looked up, she knew that the deep voice could only belong to Chase.
"I’m going home." She saw the gleam in his eye and pushed herself free of his grasp.
He found himself staring at her as if seeing her in a new light. Something strange had happened last night in her cabin. The moment he’d kissed her, this little slip of a girl had left him stunned and reeling. A spark had ignited between them that was still smoldering this clear, bright morning. Chase Masters wasn’t the sort of man who was knocked off his feet by a wom
an. And especially one as young as this. More girl than woman, he suspected. But he still couldn’t quite convince himself that she wasn’t just a cunning actress.
"In a bit of a hurry, aren’t you?"
"Yes. Now let me pass."
He glanced down at the trunk. "There are crew members to take care of that."
Avoiding his eyes, she muttered, "I didn’t want to bother them. I can manage."
She heard the warmth of laughter in his voice. "I do declare, Miss Montgomery. I believe you’re trying to avoid meeting with the captain of this vessel."
Her eyes flashed. "And what if I am? Do you want me to tell him about you?"
"Just what would you be able to tell him about a fellow passenger?"
"That you’re a cheat, Chase Masters. A low-down, dirty, thieving gambler who tried to enlist my aid in your little scheme."
Chase threw back his head and roared. "My, my, sister. How you do talk. Does everyone in the convent use such slanderous language?"
Catching up the handle of the trunk, she ignored his taunts. "Let me pass."
"There’s no need to worry."
As she struggled with her baggage, Chase’s voice deepened. "Let it go, Annalisa."
At his commanding tone she glanced up.
"I happen to know a few people in high places." He bit the end of a cigar. "I’ve arranged for you to avoid your—interrogation by the captain."
As he held a flame to the tip, she straightened and studied him. A little sigh of relief threatened to escape. She checked it. This wasn’t a man who would do such a thing merely out of the goodness of his heart. "You were afraid of what I’d tell him, weren’t you?"
"Afraid?" His eyes glittered with amusement. "And I foolishly thought you’d be grateful that I’d used my influence to keep your name free of scandal."
"Gratitude!" she sputtered. "I owe you nothing, Chase Masters. Whatever you did, you only did it because you stood to gain something from it."
Chase’s eyes narrowed as he watched her through a stream of smoke. "Let’s just say I thought it would be better for both of us if you could avoid discussing last night’s little incident."
As a member of the crew approached, Chase stopped him. "Take the lady’s trunk to the dock." Turning to Annalisa, he offered his arm. Once again, she found she had no choice but to accept. Placing her hand on his sleeve, she felt it engulfed in his warm, firm hand as she walked stiffly beside him. Her frown grew as he cheerfully acknowledged fellow passengers who strode by.
"You," she sneered under her breath, "passing yourself off as a fine gentleman."
"Then we have something in common," he said, glancing down at her.
"What?"
His smile widened as he tipped his hat to a beautiful woman who approached. In an aside, he whispered, "You almost had me believing you were a lady."
He felt her hand tighten, but she refused to take the bait. She offered instead stony silence.
As they neared the railing, Annalisa once again had the feeling that she was being watched. A chill passed through her, almost as if, she thought, a dark cloud had just covered the sun. The hair at her nape prickled.
Slowly turning, she scanned the sea of faces on the deck. A couple bent toward one another, she listening intently while he whispered in her ear. She giggled. He smiled knowingly. To Annalisa’s left, two gentlemen gestured toward the wharf. To Annalisa’s right, a father and mother fussed over their squalling baby. No one seemed to take any notice of the young woman with wind-tossed auburn curls who stood with her hand on Chase’s arm. Yet the feeling persisted. Someone was watching her. She trembled and glanced toward the upper deck. Instantly a shadow withdrew. He was there again. A man. A man watching her intently. Even though he was only a shadow, she sensed danger. Why did he watch her only from afar? Why did he not approach her, if he wanted to meet her? Did he mean her harm? The thought caused her to shiver and turn away.
"The breeze is cool. You should have brought a wrap."
Chase’s remark only angered her further. She wasn’t a child to be ordered about. And she certainly wasn’t his responsibility. She dismissed the feelings of gloom and shook her head. "I can take care of myself."
Only too well, he thought with grim amusement.
At the dock, Chase summoned a carriage. When her trunk was stowed, he helped her inside, then paid the driver. "Take the lady wherever she directs you," he said, emphasizing the word lady. Turning to Annalisa, he touched the rim of his hat. "It was a distinct pleasure meeting you, Miss Montgomery. Pleasant journey."
She shot him an icy stare. "Thank you, Mr. Masters."
The words nearly stuck in her throat. "I hope we don’t have the misfortune of meeting again."
He took a step back as the driver cracked his whip. The horse pranced smartly; the carriage lurched forward.
Nearby, a tall man in an expensive European waistcoat handed coins to a liveryman. "Follow the young lady’s carriage and report her residence to me."
At the glint of gold, the hungry driver smiled, showing gaping yellow teeth. "As good as done, sir."
Annalisa fought the urge to turn and glance one last time at the man who so infuriated her. It galled her to owe him even the slightest favor. Still, she thought with a sigh, he had spared her the humiliation of meeting with the captain. And he had arranged for her to leave with dignity. Impulsively, she turned. Chase was still standing on the dock, watching her. Then another rig blocked her view.
For long moments Chase stood, drawing deeply on his cigar, studying the carriage until it turned a corner and was out of sight. He swallowed a low rumble of laughter. What a fascinating, beguiling creature. She had certainly made this riverboat journey an interesting one. And a profitable one. Tossing aside his cigar, he signaled for a coach. No time to reflect. There was work to be done.
* * *
Annalisa’s carriage rolled along streets alive with wagons, carts, and pedestrians. As they left the busy waterfront, she watched the passing parade of colorfully dressed men and women, wondering, as she had so often through the lonely years, what her life would have been like if she’d been allowed to grow up here in this vital, bustling city.
As they traveled the narrow, cobbled streets of the Vieux Carré, Annalisa gazed at the mingling of French and Spanish cultures evident in the elaborate doorways and exotic grill-work. Everywhere there were brightly dressed women chattering in French, English, and dozens of Creole dialects. Annalisa found herself smiling as she caught snatches of the conversations. Though it seemed like a lifetime since she’d heard them, the words were familiar to her.
Leaving the teeming city behind, the carriage turned onto a wide avenue lined with towering oak festooned with Spanish moss. The houses here were well kept, with spacious rolling lawns and whitewashed fences. Annalisa sat straighter, studying each structure for something, anything recognizable. Would her old house be familiar? Had it been spared during the war? Would she know her own mother? And what of the aunts and cousins, the music and laughter of her memories? Did they really exist, or was this all a child’s dream, born of loneliness and fear?
The driver slowed, then flicked the reins, turning the horse and carriage into a wide drive that circled an imposing white house. Majestic, moss-laden oaks offered shade. Magnolia trees were heavy with blooms. Pink and scarlet azaleas made a splash of color along the front of the house. As they approached the front veranda, Annalisa felt her throat go dry. Vague, half-forgotten memories stirred, then came into sharp focus. She could recall a wide porch that wrapped around all four sides of this rambling house. Glancing up to the top floor, she had a sudden impression of a large room, with exposed rafters and a big feather bed. The fragrance of hundreds of flowers wafted on the breeze on still summer nights. As a small child she’d been showered with love and attention. This house had offered her security. All through the night there were the comforting sounds of murmured voices and muffled laughter, and far below, on the main floor, soft music and the
tinkling of fine crystal.
Blinking, Annalisa realized the driver had halted the carriage and was holding out his hand. Accepting his help, she stepped down, all the while staring at the closed door at the top of the porch. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her skirts and climbed the steps of the veranda. She knocked and heard the sound reverberate inside. Hurried footsteps grew louder. And then the door was thrown open. A young girl dressed in a crisp white apron and cap opened the front door and stared silently. Before Annalisa could speak, a figure appeared behind the maid, motioning her away. Annalisa found herself staring at the strangest-looking woman she’d ever seen.
Of medium height, the woman wore a gaudy silk wrapper which showed off age-splotched arms. Her skin was no longer taut, falling in leathery wrinkles from her upper arms. Her breasts sagged, nearly meeting her bulging stomach. Every pudgy finger had a ring, all winking in the sunlight. Rubies, amethysts, emeralds, sapphires. Like her robe, they were a rainbow of colors. Her feet were bare, and her toenails were long and jagged. Her neck had little jowls that jiggled when she moved her head. A network of spidery lines etched the corners of her eyes and forehead. Her eyes seemed to contradict her body. Brilliant blue, they were alive, vital. But it was her hair that held Annalisa’s fascinated stare. Pulled into a scraggly topknot, it had been dyed nearly orange. Here and there, little tendrils of faded gray escaped, clinging damply to her neck and rouged cheeks.
"Are you Sara Montgomery?" Annalisa swallowed. Please, God, don’t let this creature be my mother.
"Me? Sara?" The old woman threw back her head and cackled. The wrinkles of her face lifted at the sound, and the folds of flesh at her neck bounced. "Nobody ever mistook me for Sara before."
At the sound of her laughter, a shadow appeared behind her and her smile faded. Touching a hand to her mouth, she said, "I forgot. I shouldn’t be making noise. I’ll disturb her."
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