The hundreds of boats that lay alongside the miles of levee were also strange compared to the seafaring merchant ships and naval vessels she was used to seeing in English Harbor. These wooden vessels were long and squat, without sails—flatboats and bateaux, Hardwick called them. Or keelboats, if they had a sail. According to him, these flat-bottomed boats floated downriver laden with cotton, sugar, tobacco, leather and furs for exporting to Europe. The ones that were long and narrow like bananas were pirogues, which Hardwick said were used in navigating the bayous.
“‘Bayous’?” Selena asked, unfamiliar with the word.
“It’s like a swamp that’s been overrun by a river,” Hardwick explained. “This area is full of them. And until recently the bayous provided a haven for pirates.”
“Pirates?”
Hardwick grinned at Selena’s tone. “All the notorious ones are gone now, though a few smugglers are still actively engaged in illegal trading.”
Relieved, Selena gestured upriver at a big, ungainly boat that sported two tall chimneys and an odd lump at the stern. “What is that one called? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“That’s a steamboat, ma’am. It’s powered by steam instead of wind. We’ll be seeing more and more of them on the river, I’ll wager. Steamboats will never take the place of a good sailing ship, of course, but here on Western waters, they’re catching on. They have a great advantage over flatboats, since they’re so much faster and they can go upstream as well as downstream. That one’s the Washington, if I’m not mistaken. She’s about the biggest there is. You may even get a chance to travel on her if she’s headed for Natchez. Now if you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Ramsey,” he said as the schooner’s gangway was run out, “I’d better be seeing to my duties. The captain will have my head, else.”
At the mention of the captain, Selena glanced toward the forecastle, where Kyle was deep in conversation with his cabin boy. She was always aware of where he was on the ship, even though they had scarcely spoken since she’d returned to her own cabin.
Despite the warmth of the day, he wore a pristine white cravat and had donned, over a waistcoat of embroidered silk, a superbly tailored bottle-green coat that molded his powerful shoulders to perfection. When he lifted his high-crowned beaver hat to his head, he looked every inch the gentleman, ruggedly handsome and refined. A man any woman would be proud to call her husband. Or lover.
Selena clenched her gloved hands, fighting the memory that thought aroused. She didn’t like to remember their night of lovemaking. Sometimes she forgot for hours at a time the incredibly wanton things they’d done, the pleasures they’d shared. And then an accidental touch or the sound of Kyle’s voice would send them rushing back again. Yet he seemed to have dismissed that devastating night so easily—
Just then Kyle shifted his gaze momentarily and met her eyes across the stretch of polished deck, and Selena blushed to have been caught watching him. Her blush deepened when his scrutiny dropped to her breasts. She felt half-naked without the restraints of a corset but had left off wearing it ever since Kyle had refused to help her with her laces. Worse, though, was the way that her nipples hardened instantly whenever Kyle merely looked at her—as he was doing now, his hazel gaze lingering on the spencer jacket that covered her rose-colored gown. She could almost feel the quick strokes of his tongue pleasurably tormenting the bare crests, the gentle tugging of his lips arousing her desire.
Hot-cheeked, Selena turned away and focused her gaze on the bustling levee, trying to remember that she had been comparing the wharves of New Orleans to those of Antigua. At least the sight of stevedores and slaves loading and unloading goods and cargo was familiar to her.
She managed to distract her thoughts momentarily, yet one corner of her mind was still attuned to Kyle. She was relieved to see him shortly leave the ship. He was followed by the cabin boy, and while the lad went off in one direction, Kyle strode off toward the steamship Selena had noticed earlier. To make arrangements for accommodations, she presumed, wondering if those accommodations included her.
It was nearly half an hour later when her attention was directed beyond the levee to the arrival of an elegant chaise drawn by a pair of high-stepping chestnuts. The lone occupant of the carriage was a woman, and even from the distance, Selena could tell she was beautiful. Her figure was voluptuous yet graceful, draped becomingly in an expensive high-necked gown of jonquil-colored silk, while her lustrou
s Titian hair was secured in a sedate chignon beneath a tall bonnet with a sweeping plume.
“Oh, Lord,” said Hardwick softly from close behind her. Selena turned to see him standing frozen as the beautiful red-haired woman secured the reins and stepped down from the carriage. Then, as if recovering from a shock, he leaped into action. Despite the stiffness warranted by his bandaged ribs, he hastened down the gangplank to greet her.
He intercepted her at the foot of the gangway, successfully preventing her from boarding the ship.
The beauty bestowed a charming smile on him and offered her gloved hand for him to kiss. “How good to see you, M’sieur Hardwick,” she proclaimed in a lilting tone that was obviously French, belying Selena’s initial hope that she was one of Kyle’s sisters. “How fortunate that my carriage was passing just at this moment, n’est-ce pas? I shall be able to greet Kyle properly.”
“He isn’t here, Mademoiselle Rouvier,” Hardwick said quickly—or at least that was what Selena thought he said. He had lowered his voice so that she could barely make out his words above the normal din of the levee.
The French lady’s accented voice carried easily, however, striking a discordant note in Selena’s ears, despite its musical quality.
“But of course! M’sieur Kyle does not care to have women on his ship, is that not so? I am an imbecile, me, to have forgotten. D’accord, perhaps you will tell him to pay me a call as soon as he is able. I shall wait anxiously, please tell him.”
Hardwick glanced uncomfortably over his shoulder, up at the rail, where Selena stood. The red-haired beauty started to follow his gaze, but then she spotted Kyle’s tall figure moving through the crowd toward them. With a glad little cry, she launched herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck and pressing her mouth ardently against his.
One of Kyle’s sisters, indeed, Selena thought with a fierce stab of jealousy. There was nothing sisterly about the embrace the woman was giving him. Even the most naive of wives would have realized the beautiful redhead was his mistress.
“Veronique!” Kyle said firmly, grasping her affectionate arms and holding them away, at the same time casting an uneasy glance up at his ship. When he caught sight of Selena, he disengaged himself entirely from Veronique’s embrace and, taking her by the arm, directed her away from the levee. “Where is your carriage?” Selena heard him say before his words were lost in the general chorus of activity.
Selena followed their progress, unable to tear her eyes away. And although she couldn’t hear him, she could tell from the look on Veronique’s face that Kyle was telling her about his marriage.
Selena hardly noticed when Hardwick addressed her.
“Perhaps you should return to your cabin, Mrs. Ramsey,” he urged, looking highly embarrassed. “I’m sure you’ll want to make certain all your belongings are packed.”
“I’ve already done so.” She was proud that her voice scarcely trembled.
“Then perhaps you could show one of the men which trunks you want delivered to your hotel.”
She had already done that, as well, but to refuse his suggestion of a graceful exit would be to acknowledge the incident she had just witnessed—which a well-bred woman would never do. She would also be denying Hardwick’s kindness in trying to spare her humiliation. That he hadn’t succeeded wasn’t his fault, Selena reflected as she allowed herself to be led away.