Moonwitch

A petite and sultry brunette, Edith Markham scarcely looked like a grieving widow. Nor was she old enough to be Selena’s mother. Only ten years separated them in age, but a vast difference existed between them in temperament and form. While Selena was sensitive and reserved, Edith was callous and outspoken. And while Selena was slender and pale, Edith was full figured and as dark as a Gypsy. They had never gotten along well, neither during the five years before Thomas Markham’s death, nor in the two years since.

It never occurred to Selena that her stepmother might be jealous of her elusive beauty or her managerial talents. She only saw that Edith rarely lost an opportunity to undermine her confidence and belittle her efforts. So she wasn’t surprised when during the soup course Edith immediately brought up the subject she had been dreading.

“I understand you made quite a spectacle of yourself this afternoon,” Edith remarked, giving her an accusing stare. “Really, Selena, I feel I must take you to task. Your want of conduct is embarrassing me dreadfully. No less than three of my acquaintances commented on you

r scandalous display.”

Selena stiffened at the rebuke, but she said nothing, knowing any argument would only make Edith more determined to be unpleasant. The best way to deal with her stepmother, she’d found, was to ignore her when possible and treat her with cool civility when not.

“If you insist on behaving so disgracefully,” Edith continued, “I’m afraid I will have to ask you to refrain from visiting town.”

“It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

“I should hope not! If you aren’t careful, you will give Avery a disgust of you. I’m sure he is quite aware of your preference for seamen after you cut such a figure of pity a few years back, pining after that naval officer.”

In spite of her determination to maintain her composure, Selena felt a painful flush rise to her cheeks; Edith had struck at her most vulnerable point—her lost love.

Edward had survived the war with America, for Selena had received a letter from him shortly afterward, full of plans for their impending nuptials and hope for their future life together. After learning that his ship had gone down in a storm, she had developed the habit of riding the long distance to English Harbor each day to inquire of the admiralty about incoming vessels, searching for news of her betrothed. No survivors of the downed ship had ever been found, yet without physical proof of Edward’s death, Selena had found it harder to recover from her grief. Even after so many years, she would sometimes dream that the report had simply been a terrible mistake.

“I suppose,” Edith commented in the silence, “it could have been worse. At least Captain Ramsey isn’t a common sailor. Rumor has it that he is every bit as wealthy as your father was. Though why any man would continue to captain a ship when he could enjoy the comforts of dry land is beyond me.”

“Perhaps he likes the sea,” Selena suggested coolly.

Edith shot her an unfriendly stare. “If Captain Ramsey is wealthy enough to settle down, then as a gentleman he should invest in an estate.”

When Selena made no reply, Edith left off eating her soup to give her stepdaughter a penetrating look. “Of course he will be staying at Five Islands. I suggest you keep well away from there, unless you mean to disgrace yourself entirely.”

Selena’s expression turned frosty. Certainly she owed it to her father’s memory to treat Edith with polite deference, but filial duty only went so far. There was a limit to how far she could be pushed, and Edith had nearly reached it. “I hardly need your warning,” Selena replied with chilling politeness.

Edith seemed to recognize the limit, for she finally dropped the subject and spoke of other things. Selena, her eyes quietly flashing, returned her attention to her soup plate and said little throughout the rest of the meal.

Perhaps it was Edith’s scolding that made Selena so wideawake and restless that night, or perhaps it was the mention of her lost love, or even the shocking kiss she had received earlier that day, but when she retired to her room, sleep wouldn’t come. Drawing on a wrapper over her white muslin nightdress, she slipped through the French doors of her bedroom and onto the gallery.

A full moon shone brightly through the slats of the louvered jalousies, while a soft breeze caressed her skin and stirred her pale tresses. She hadn’t braided her hair that night, and it hung fine and straight down her back, like a silver mantle. Resting her head against the cool stone of a gallery arch, Selena stared out at the shadows of a towering silk-cotton tree.

She should have been happy. It was crop season, when work was the hardest but spirits were highest for slaves and planters alike. The harvest had been good, not like some years when the lack of rainfall had resulted in barely enough output to keep the islanders from starving. And she was soon to be married. Avery might not be the essence of a young woman’s romantic dreams, but he cared for her in his fashion and would make her a good husband. And she would soon be mistress of her own home. She could leave behind the insecurity she had felt since Edith had usurped her mother’s place in Thomas Markham’s heart.

Yet an inexplicable heaviness weighed on her heart—probably, Selena thought, because she hadn’t yet determined what to do about saving her birthplace. It didn’t help, either, that her thoughts kept returning to that devastating kiss Kyle Ramsey had given her. His rugged strength had made her feel so very feminine, his earthy sensuousness, so very desirable. No doubt he hadn’t been affected by that embrace as she had been. Captain Ramsey was the kind of man to whom kisses meant little, the kind of seafaring adventurer with “a woman in every port.” By now he would have forgotten about it entirely.

Yet she couldn’t forget. She kept remembering the hardness of his sleekly muscled body, the musky male scent of him and the strange ache it had aroused in her, and kept wondering what would have followed his kiss if it hadn’t had to end. She had a general idea of what happened between men and women, so she could imagine—

Abruptly, Selena shook her head. Such fantasies weren’t acceptable for an unmarried young lady, especially one of her social standing, not when she was engaged to one of Antigua’s leading citizens.

She raised her gaze to the horizon. She couldn’t see the ocean, but she could smell its freshness mingled with the exotic scent of tropical flowers. The place where Captain Ramsey was staying as a guest was only a short distance away. Five Islands plantation, which got its name from the five small islands off the coast, was adjacent to her own land and near one of her favorite coves. She went there frequently to bathe in the sea. Not at night, of course, but in the early morning, before the sun was hot enough to burn her white skin.

The plantation house at Five Islands was less formal than her own, a low, rambling bungalow surrounded by spacious verandas and towering coconut palms. Would Kyle Ramsey be there now? Or would he have stayed in town and found a willing tavern wench to warm his bed?

Selena shrugged. She couldn’t imagine why she was thinking this way. She would do far better to try to sleep. She was turning toward her bedroom when she heard a sudden cry coming from around the corner of the gallery. It was softly uttered, as if someone were in pain but trying to hide it. Greatly concerned, Selena went to investigate, her slippered feet making no sound on the slatted wooden floor as she moved along the gallery.

Around the next corner, on the opposite side of the house from her own bedroom, a light was shining from Edith’s room. When Selena heard the soft moan again, she recognized her stepmother’s voice. Worried, she hastened her footsteps, but when she reached the French doors of Edith’s room, she halted abruptly, staring past the long, sheer curtains that billowed in the soft night breeze.

Edith lay sprawled on the huge master bed, still wearing the silk gown she had dined in, her face contorted with pleasure. Avery was lying on top of her, almost fully clothed, his body pumping between her legs while he held her arms stretched above her head.

Before Selena could move, he gave a final thrust, eliciting another muffled cry from Edith. “Be quiet, my dear,” Avery ordered hoarsely, “or you’ll wake the entire household.”

His back was to the door, so Selena couldn’t see his expression, but she could hear the annoyance in his tone. He shuddered once more, then withdrew abruptly and stood up. Pushing down the hem of Edith’s disheveled gown to cover her gartered thighs, he began fastening the buttons at the front of his pantaloons. Edith’s eyes opened then, and they were almost black with sensual pain.

Selena stood there frozen, trying to take in what she was seeing. When Avery carefully began brushing the marks Edith’s slippers had made on his silk waistcoat and his dove-gray pantaloons, though, Selena gasped and took an involuntary step back, her appalled mind finally comprehending. She had known she couldn’t demand fidelity from Avery, but to betray her with her own stepmother! In the very bed where she had been born!