why himself as he looked at Selena standing there, wide-eyed and vulnerable and trembling. And lovely. God, she was lovely. He wanted her with a fierceness that took his breath away.
Marriage, he reminded himself, trying to regain some semblance of control over his throbbing body. That was why he couldn’t have her. He would have to marry her then, and he couldn’t do that and claim his son, too. He wanted his son more. Didn’t he?
Kyle shook his head to clear his reeling senses. His strategy had backfired with a vengeance. He had begun by trying to frighten and threaten her and had wound up with his own resolutions threatened, instead. He had wanted nothing more than to carry her to her bed and take up where they had left off the previous night, to show her just what depths of passion could be found in her proper lady’s body.
Perhaps, he thought disparagingly as his inner turmoil turned to self-scorn, he was the fool he kept insisting that he wasn’t. He should never have gotten so near Selena, should have kept his distance. Hadn’t his past encounters with her taught him that he had no self-command where she was concerned, that he couldn’t resist her?
But not again. From now on, he would stay well away from her. He wouldn’t lose control of himself again.
But there was still the problem of the wedding. Kyle clenched his fists, anger sweeping through him again as he remembered the governor’s ultimatum. Fiend seize it, he would not be forced into marriage, not even to a woman as lovely and bewitching as Selena Markham.
He gave her a hard look, his mouth tightening as he stared at her softly heaving bosom and the tantalizing mouth that was still full and hot from his angry kisses. She might look fragile, but he was beginning to suspect she was as strong as steel inside. He wouldn’t persuade her to change her mind.
But just because he would be required to go through with the ceremony didn’t mean he had to go through with the marriage.
“Don’t be concerned, Miss Markham,” he rasped, his voice low and harsh in the silence, “that my barbaric display will be repeated. I don’t intend to touch you again. This is one marriage that will never be consummated. The first thing I intend to do when we reach the States is to begin proceedings for an annulment.”
He turned on his heel and stormed from the room, leaving Selena to stare at the sheer draperies that swayed in his aftermath.
Shakily, she raised a hand to her lips. A dozen conflicting emotions warred within her: anger, humiliation, wounded pride, regret… She had truly wanted the opportunity to make this ill-fated marriage work. Her feelings were nebulous, chaotic, yet one stood out clearly: frustrated desire. She hadn’t wanted Kyle to stop kissing her.
And she recognized another emotion: bewilderment. Bewilderment at herself. For amid her whirling thoughts was one that made no sense to her: Why was it that Kyle Ramsey’s resolution not to touch her disturbed her more than his threat to have her at his every whim?
Chapter Five
They spoke their vows in the Markham garden, since news of Selena’s marriage to Captain Kyle Ramsey had spread like a cane fire and neither the Anglican church in St. John’s nor any house on the island was large enough to hold the many guests. Even on such short notice, most of Antigua’s ruling class was in attendance, as were Thomas Markham’s friends from the nearest islands. Owing to the governor, the higher ranking naval officers from English Harbor also had been invited.
The governor’s hand could be seen at work elsewhere in the arrangements. The vicar had been persuaded to dispense with the reading of the banns, and a special license had been arranged. And from all over the Caribbean, gifts began pouring in.
Selena’s own people had done their share, as well. Slaves had labored without ceasing, roasting pigs and preparing food for the celebration that would follow the ceremony. Even Edith had been surprisingly helpful, cataloging the gifts, supervising the kitchen servants and directing the construction of a makeshift altar in the garden.
A wedding on the island was always a merry occasion—an opportunity to socialize for the planters and their families, a holiday from labor for the slaves. But as Selena stood beside the tall, broad-shouldered stranger who was about to become her husband, she felt anything but merry. Tense, wary, desperate, better described what she was feeling.
She cast an uneasy glance up at Kyle. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw set and rigid, as he listened to the vicar pronounce the words that would bind them together until death’s parting—or until he could be granted an annulment.
How odd, Selena reflected bleakly as she watched his grim expression, that the only people not enjoying themselves were the bride and groom.
Kyle had been right about the futility of attempting to cancel the wedding. Even so, she had tried—albeit not with much fervor. At first light she had sent Governor Ramsay a note, requesting an audience with him. And surprisingly, that distinguished gentleman responded to her request in person.
From the first moment, she realized her task would be difficult; when she broached the subject of her marriage, the governor assumed she meant to thank him for his efforts on her behalf.
“No, no, my dear,” he said gruffly but with a fond smile. “There’s no need to thank me. I wouldn’t be doing my duty as a friend to your late father, or as His Majesty’s loyal servant, if I failed to see this matter settled quickly.”
Selena then asked if perhaps the wedding plans weren’t going forth with unseemly haste, and when that brought no results, she allowed that she might be having second thoughts about marriage to the captain.
Governor Ramsay merely patted her shoulder in an avuncular fashion. “Nerves, my dear, nerves. All young brides have them. Better to get it over with at once, especially since we came a shade too near to having a scandal on our hands last night, what with Warner making a cake of himself. No, this will quiet the wagging tongues. A bit odd, perhaps, to be switching intended husbands at this late date, but not unheard of, nor regrettable, in this case. It would be different if the captain had no prospects, of course, but I’ve inquired at length into his background, and I’m satisfied. He’s as wealthy as you can stare, and a gentleman, for all that he’s an American and a sea captain at that. I liked the fellow, I must say. Besides, Andrew Thorpe vouches for him. Captain Ramsey will make you a fine husband—but you’d already come to that conclusion, hadn’t you? A ‘love match,’ wasn’t that what Mrs. Thorpe called it?”
Experiencing that same helpless feeling of being swept along by a too-powerful current, Selena had at last mentioned the captain’s wish that his sisters be present for his wedding. But Governor Ramsay merely suggested that a second ceremony be held later for their benefit. He remained adamant that the arrangements would proceed as planned and wouldn’t hear of a postponement, the captain’s sisters notwithstanding. Her marriage to Kyle would take place the following morning at eleven o’clock in the garden.
Short of refusing outright to wed the captain and creating an even larger scandal than the one that had threatened last night, or disappearing from the island for an indefinite period—neither of which would guarantee that the captain could leave Antigua with his ship and crew intact—Selena had no choice but to accede.
When she had returned home from the ball, Edith had presumed to attempt to convince Selena of her good fortune. And for once her stepmother had seemed anxious to reconcile their differences. “You are angry with me now for pushing you into marriage with that American,” Edith said, her tone conciliatory, “but you’ll thank me one day. You and Avery were never meant for each other.”
Selena was hard-pressed to keep a civil tone when she replied. “I am already thanking you,” she said stiffly. “Indeed, you did me a favor, showing me what kind of man Avery is.”
Edith had left the subject at that and returned to the task of organizing the festivities.
And so when her wedding day dawned, Selena allowed her hair to be dressed and her body to be bathed and perfumed. With the help of three maids and Beth, who had taken command of the bride since for once dear Selena didn’t seem capable of making the simplest decision, Selena donned her mother’s wedding dress—a wide-skirted gown of antique-white lutestring silk and exquisite Valenciennes lace. The beautiful gown sported vandyked sleeves and a long train, which could be caught up over one arm. A diaphanous veil cascading from a crown of pearls added to the appearance of fragility. Her only concession to color was a vivid red spray of bougainvillea blossoms, which she wore tucked behind one ear, an exotic contrast to her ivory gown and ivory skin.