Moonwitch

When she gave a start and whirled to face him, he grinned with quick, boyish warmth. “So here’s where you’ve been hiding yourself. I didn’t expect to find you up this early, after the night you had.”

He tho

ught she had simply been startled by his intimate gesture, but Selena visibly stiffened at his words. She didn’t seem at all pleased to see him. In fact, she almost looked as if she had been crying, since her eyes were faintly rimmed with red. Yet that could have been caused by the wind. When she quickly averted her gaze, though, his grin faded.

Selena had indeed been startled by his brief caress. Lost in thought, she hadn’t heard his approach. She cast a nervous glance around her to be sure no one else had seen his kiss, then turned away from Kyle, biting her lip to keep it from trembling.

The words she had so unfortunately overheard were still spinning in her mind. Kyle didn’t want a partner and helpmate. He wanted only what any women could give him—the means to slake his physical lust. And he had done just that the previous night. Her mind burned with the memory of the wild abandon with which she had given herself to him. She wouldn’t humiliate herself further by letting him know how much she craved his kisses, his touch.

“I was not hiding,” Selena replied stiffly, forcing the words past the tightness in her throat. “I believe I’ve mentioned before that I prefer being on deck to being confined below.”

Her tone, her very posture, was cool and aloof. Kyle peered down at her, trying to read her expression. He wasn’t sure what he had expected. An acknowledgment of what had passed between them, he supposed.

“You’ve mentioned it,” Kyle responded wryly. “And Hardwick for one is grateful for your preferences. He asked that you call on him, incidentally. He wants to thank you for saving his life.”

Selena caught the wry note in his voice and couldn’t help comparing it to the tender way Kyle had spoken about her bravery the night before. Had that been a mere pretense? It wasn’t that she required him to sing her praises, but she had developed a longing for his good opinion. It hurt dreadfully to think she hadn’t truly won it.

Forcibly, she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Mr. Hardwick didn’t seem to be seriously injured.”

“No, he’ll be good as new in a few weeks.”

“Then I trust he won’t object if I trade cabins with him again.”

“Trade cabins?” Sounding mildly startled, Kyle turned her to face him, his brows furrowing as he scrutinized her. “Selena…are you all right? You didn’t suffer any injuries other than the bruises I saw, did you?”

She flushed at the reminder that he had seen her entirely naked and at the memory of how he had gently kissed the discolored flesh covering her ribs. At the time, he had seemed to worship her bruises with his lips, as if they were symbols of her victory over the sea. Obviously she had been mistaken.

“I’m fine. I simply think it best if I return to my cabin. I… Horatio will be growing lonesome for my company.”

“Horatio…?” he began, but she had already turned and was quickly walking away.

Kyle watched her, his mouth half-open, until she had disappeared through the main hatch. Then he glanced up at the sky. The sun was still shining brightly, he noted with surprise.

How was that possible when the sunlight had suddenly gone out of his day?

He made one more attempt to approach her, that night at supper. As always, she had eaten with his officers, but he thought she seemed even more reserved than usual, and though she didn’t ignore him precisely, she never addressed him directly. And even her occasional comments to her other tablemates were cool and scrupulously polite.

When, at the conclusion of the meal, Kyle realized she meant to return to her cabin rather than stroll on deck as she regularly did, he followed Selena to the door and caught her arm as she prepared to leave. He released it immediately when she flinched at his touch, gazing down at her in puzzlement and concern. “Selena, would you mind telling me what is going on? Is there some problem I don’t know about?”

Selena managed to return her husband’s gaze briefly. For once she was grateful to Edith, for teaching her how to deal with rejection. She was able to answer Kyle’s question with scarcely a pause. “Problem? I don’t know what you mean.”

“The way you’re behaving…so stiff and formal. I thought after last night—”

“Am I being stiff? I didn’t realize it.”

If she sounded cool, perhaps even haughty, then she was glad. Glad that Kyle couldn’t see what an effort it was to be so near to him.

He searched her face, hesitating a long moment before he replied. “Would you like to stroll on deck, then? I could accompany you, since Hardwick is unavailable.”

“Thank you, but I fear I’m quite weary after being kept up so much of last night. I think I shall retire.”

“Well, if there’s nothing you need—”

“Your crew is seeing to my needs quite well. Thank you, Kyle… and good night.”

She fled, thinking that she’d managed to cover her hurt well—until she reached her cabin and couldn’t stop her tears.

Three afternoons later the Tagus docked at New Orleans. Selena stood at the rail, eyeing the colorful sights with the first interest she had felt in days. New Orleans differed in many respects from the seaports to which she was accustomed. The Mississippi was far wider than any river she had imagined, for one thing, and far muddier, as well. There were no docks, either, merely a high, earthen levee—to keep the city safe from floods, Hardwick had informed her. The natural wharf was bustling with commerce—piled with crates and barrels and bales and hogsheads and lined with drays and carriages.