Ignatius harrumphed in disapproval. “That is the crew of the Tagus, if I’m not mistaken.”
“The Tagus?” Selena asked, following the retreating crowd with her gaze.
He nodded. “An American schooner of four hundred tons. Put in today.” The solicitor emitted another sound, which resembled a grunt. “See the man they are carrying, the one with the chestnut hair? That, my dear, is Captain Ramsey. Even for an American, such behavior is disgraceful in a man of authority. I expect the governor must be relieved to claim no connection.”
Selena recognized the name then. The American captain shared the same last name with the governor of the Leeward Islands, Major General George Ramsay, although the spelling was different. She remembered her father, who had been a close friend of the governor, remarking on it.
Curious to at last glimpse the man who had so often been the object of such fierce interest among the ladies of the island, Selena leaned forward. The captain’s back was turned toward her as he was borne away by the laughing, jeering crew, but even at this distance, she could tell that his dark chestnut hair was thick and waving. He appeared as tall and muscular as she had heard him described, though not as powerfully built as the black-haired giant who shared his swaying throne.
Kyle Ramsey was a regular visitor to Antigua, she knew—regular meaning one or two times a year. Whenever he was on the island, he stayed at the home of one of his friends, an absentee planter who owned a plantation on the leeward coast, near her own. To Selena’s knowledge, half the females of her acquaintance had pursued Captain Ramsey at one time or another. He was accepted in the finest homes, but generally he avoided island society, preferring the company of his rowdy crew.
Indeed, it looked as if Captain Ramsey had joined his men in partaking rather freely at the grogshop down the street. He was making as much noise as any of them, his deep timbred voice raised in song as he thumped his airborne companion heartily on the back.
When Ignatius turned away in disgust, Selena withdrew from the window. She was disappointed, however, when the solicitor returned to their discussion of Edith Markham, for he informed her that there was little he could do.
“I greatly regret, my dear, that I couldn’t be of more help. Fortunately, though, you will shortly have a new home. When is the happy occasion to be?”
Selena found it hard to repress a sigh at the thought of her engagement. “We haven’t set a date yet. It seems somewhat callous to marry so soon after Papa’s death.”
Ignatius presumed on the familiarity of his long acquaintance to shake a fatherly finger under her nose. “It has been nearly two years, my dear. You don’t want to lose Mr. Warner by delaying longer. You’re past the first blush of youth,” he pointed out, his kindly tone taking the sting from the words.
Selena declined to respond as she gathered up her reticule and parasol, well aware that at four and twenty she was considered almost an old maid. It wasn’t that men found her unattractive. She possessed an ethereal kind of beauty: a tall, slender figure; hair that was more silver than blond, as pale and fine as corn silk; and light blue eyes that seemed gray in certain lights. Nor was it that she disliked the idea of marriage. Her first engagement had been to a British naval officer whom she had loved with all the ardor of her eighteen-year-old heart. Their love had survived the ravages of war with America but had ended in tragedy when her betrothed’s ship foundered in a storm off Dominica.
She hadn’t completely recovered from her loss when Thomas Markham’s yacht had gone down in the same hurricane that laid waste to much of Saint Lucia. That calamity, following so close on the heels of the first, had left her with a fear, not of storms, but of ships.
After a lengthy period of mourning, she had accepted the suit of the wealthiest planter on the island. The Honorable Avery Warner was a widower twenty years her senior and a member of Antigua’s House of Assembly.
Selena wasn’t in love with Avery, but she greatly respected his ability as a legislator and his skill at managing his vast holdings, and while she sometimes chafed at Avery’s high-handed conduct toward her, she was willing to honor her father’s wishes. Thomas Markham had favored the match and had often expressed his desire to see her settled with such an estimable gentleman for a husband. In any event, marriage was the expected course for well-bred young ladies. And in marrying Avery, she would finally become mistress of her own home—without a harping stepmother to contend with.
Remembering Edith, Selena found herself fighting the urge to clench her fists. Instead, she extended a slender hand to the solicitor while struggling to maintain the quiet air of authority that had stood her in good stead when managing her vast sugar plantation.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Foulkes,” she said, forcing a smile. If he couldn’t help her, she would have to find a solution to her problem herself. She rarely opposed her stepmother, for Edith usually came out the winner in any open confrontation. But in this instance, it was her family home that was at stake—her one link to the father and mother she had lost. Even if it would no longer be her home after her marriage, she didn’t intend to let Edith sell it to strangers.
Ignatius seemed to understand her predicament, for he gave her a look of condolence as he took her hand. “Of course, my dear, if any ideas occur to me, I’ll let you know at once. Shall I escort you somewhere, or is your servant waiting downstairs?”
“Samuel is meeting me at the milliner’s with the carriage.”
“Very well, then. I shall see you at the ball tomorrow evening and beg a place on your dance card—if you will indulge an old man.”
Selena agreed with a strained smile and allowed the solicitor to show her out. As she descended the wrought iron stairs, a cooling sea breeze tugged at the neat coil of pale hair beneath her bonnet, loosening a few strands to wisp around her face. Impatiently she restored them to their proper place, then opened her parasol to shield her face from the harsh glare of the May sun as she made her way up Long Street toward the milliner’s shop.
She had only gone a short distance when she heard the chorus of cheers and wagers coming from the yard of the old arsenal across from the courthouse. There seemed to be some kind of brawl taking place, for she could see the rowdy crew of the Tagus. They had formed a large ring around the yard, and their gestures and shouts indicated they were deriving great enjoyment from the spectacle.
As she moved closer, raising the skirts of her blue muslin gown slightly to avoid the dust, she could see what held their attention. Two men were engaged in a hand-to-hand combat—a strange combination of fisticuffs and grappling. Selena recognized the black-haired giant she had seen earlier and knew by the shouts that his name must, ironically, be Tiny. The other man was Kyle Ramsey.
Captain Ramsey might be the smaller of the two, yet he was powerfully built, tall and perfectly proportioned. His shoulders were a yard wide and molded bronze, while his narrow waist tapered to lean hips and long, muscular legs that only added to the impression of limitless strength. Both men had stripped off their shirts and boots, and their glistening, rippling muscles provided a brazen display of sheer male virility.
Selena had been raised under a strict code of deportment and knew better than to linger, but the sailors’ excitement was contagious. She paused to watch, standing well back from the crowd.
It wasn’t a brawl so much as a contest of strength, she realized. The two men circled each other warily, then suddenly charged. They came together with a thud and bounced apart, neither able to gain the advantage by knocking the other off balance.
The captain got the best of the next encounter, managing to duck the giant’s flailing fist and land a blow in Tiny’s rock-hard belly, then dance away out of range. Grinning, the captain issued a jovial taunt to the giant. “You’re slipping, lad,” he called amiably. “You’ll want to aim lower next time.”
His te
eth flashed white against his bronzed complexion, and as he stood there poised for combat, all taut muscle and lean power and pulsing strength, Selena studied him. His overwhelming masculinity tugged at some deeply rooted feminine instinct that her engagement didn’t give her the liberty to acknowledge. Yet she could understand quite well why the captain had aroused the ladies’ interest. His sheer size and vitality was fascinating. He moved with litheness and grace for all his imposing height and powerful physique, and there was a lust for life about him that was extremely appealing.
Her gaze moved to Captain Ramsey’s face. It too was attractive. Roughly carved, it had a high forehead, heavy eyebrows, lean cheeks creased by laughter and a strong chin. The next moment, that same chin received a blow that made the captain stagger backward.