Moonwitch

Still, she had difficulty regaining her composure, even in the privacy of her cabin. Her cheeks felt hot and flushed, and the ache in her breast wouldn’t go away, especially when she remembered Veronique’s fervent embrace. She could never behave so boldly with Kyle, Selena thought, forgetting how she had propositioned him that night on the beach. And the redhead’s lush figure… Her own figure was willowy at best—no doubt too meager for a man of Kyle’s lusty appetites.

Selena’s conjecture, however, was very much mistaken; Kyle found her slender body more than capable of arousing him. The sudden tautness of his own body whenever he came near her proclaimed louder than words how much he was attracted to Selena, meager figure or not, and how difficult he was finding it to control his physical reactions to her.

Kyle had been puzzled and frankly astonished that after all the exquisite passion she had shown him, Selena had suddenly turned so cold. Her response had disturbed him, as had the way she’d flinched at his touch.

He wasn’t quite sure what had happened, but he didn’t like to consider the possibilities. That night Selena had become his wife in more than name only, and the thought that she might have used her body to secure her position and the use of his name was acutely distasteful to him. His instincts told him he was wrong. Another kind of woman might have been so calculating, but while Selena might be cold, he didn’t think she was cold-blooded. Yet he couldn’t dismiss the thought entirely. The moment he had agreed to accept Selena as his wife, she had retreated into her chilly shell of reserve, making it quite clear she wouldn’t accept his attentions.

Perhaps she truly was too prim and cold natured to accept her own passion. But whatever her reasons, it was clear she didn’t want him for her husband—at least not physically.

He wasn’t going to try to press the issue, though, Kyle decided, at least not yet. He needed time to come to terms with the situation himself. And he needed to determine what he was going to do about his son. He couldn’t seek an annulment now, and that left him limited alternatives.

And unlimited frustration.

He was disgusted that their passionate night together had left him throbbing for Selena like a youth hungering for his first woman. Yet there was little he could do to control either the lust licking at his veins or the disquietingly tender feelings that were prodding at his heart. He took refuge in silence, keeping his highly aroused body rigid and tightly restrained whenever it wasn’t possible to avoid her.

It was no different when Hardwick shortly escorted Selena to the hired carriage that would transport the Ramseys to their hotel; Kyle sat stiffly in the driver’s seat, his muscles taut, his expression wary as he waited for her reaction to what had happened back there on the docks. Selena wouldn’t look at him, Kyle noted with chagrin, though as she took her place beside him, he glimpsed that wounded look in her eyes that he had learned to dread.

But if he expected her to take him to task, he was far off, he realized. Selena wasn’t playing the betrayed wife. Except for the fact that she placed Horatio’s cage between them, she seemed to be ignoring the incident altogether, pretending that it hadn’t happened, as she observed the passing scenery of New Orleans.

Somehow her indifference stung him more than anger would have. And it frustrated him that as a gentleman, he couldn’t bring up the subject. He wished she would say something so he could at least defend himself.

They were both silent as they drove along the narrow streets of New Orleans, Kyle focusing his attention on the horses, Selena focusing hers on the architecture. The two-story houses stood flush with wooden sidewalks that lined the unpaved streets. Nearly all were built of stuccoed brick and decorated with lacy ironwork, while many possessed galleries.

Kyle finally spoke as they drew up before a large, three-story building on Chartres Street. “Here we are,” he said needlessly, “the Hotel des Etrangers. They accept Americans here. When I’m in town I usually stay at a public house that caters to Creoles—a business acquaintance of mine sponsors my visits. But with you along, I thought this would be better.”

“It is very handsome.”

“Look, Selena, about what happened back there…”

When he faltered, Selena looked down at her gloved hands. “She is your mistress, isn’t she?”

It was said in a low, calm voice that made the directness of her conjecture all the more startling. Kyle ran a finger along the edge of his cravat, for the cloth suddenly felt too tight. His relationship with Veronique had never been as permanent as that, though he had paid well for the courtesan’s favors. “The sea has always been my mistress,” he muttered

, providing what he thought was a diplomatic answer.

“She is very beautiful,” Selena observed, not allowing him to escape the issue so easily.

“Not more beautiful than you.”

He meant it, but his hasty gallantry was wasted, for Selena slanted a glance at him that said she clearly didn’t believe him. Kyle felt like squirming in his seat. He hadn’t meant to expose either his wife or his sometime mistress to such an embarrassment. Indeed, he never intended for Selena to find out at all about his affaire with the beautiful redhead. He had meant to pay Veronique a visit, tell her of his marriage and sever their relationship—in private, not with dozens of bystanders looking on, watching them embrace…including his wife, for God’s sake. Chagrined by his inability to finesse this awkward situation, he made an attempt at an apology.

“Listen, I’m sorry you had to witness that. I’ve known Veronique for a long time—”

“No doubt.”

At Selena’s dry-voiced interruption, Kyle shot her a hard look, suddenly angry at having to defend himself, even if he had just been hoping for the opportunity to do just that. “But I’ve ended the connection,” he continued, forcing the words between his teeth. “I have every intention of respecting our marriage vows.”

“That is a matter of supreme indifference to me.”

This time his heavy brows snapped together. “Look, I wasn’t a saint before I met you, I admit it. I’ve always enjoyed the pleasures of life, and women happen to be one of the pleasures.”

Selena raised her chin as she returned his glare. “Must you be so blunt?”

“I, blunt? Lady, you take the cake for bluntness. When you deign to speak, that is.”

“At least I am never crude!”

“No, you’re just the coldest, most unresponsive woman I’ve ever known,” Kyle shot back, ignoring the fact that he had once had her shuddering against him and gasping with passion. “You don’t even seem to have the faintest wish to make love to a man.”