Of course, Selena thought. Naturally Kyle would want to inspect the boat. A seaman at heart, he would be interested in anything that floated—even a box that made unearthly noises.
She made herself comfortable in her small quarters, removing her gloves and bonnet and setting out her toilet articles. After checking to see that Horatio had plenty of water and seeds, she returned to the small, open gallery that faced the bow. Kyle was already there, observing the activity below, along with a few other of their fellow passengers.
Not wanting to disturb him, she occupied herself with scanning a printed list of regulations that had been posted at the cabin entrance: “Gentlemen” were forbidden to lie down in berths with boots on, the rules decreed, or to appear coat-less at the table, or to enter the ladies’ dormitory without the ladies’ consent.
She was instantly aware when Kyle came to stand behind her.
“I wonder what is allowed with consent,” he remarked dryly, reading over her shoulder.
Selena glanced up at him with amusement. “I’m afraid it doesn’t say.”
“I’ve heard some excellent reports about Captain Shreve, but it’s plain he’s a river man. On his vessel we males have no rights at all.”
“Do you mean to say you’re disappointed that you aren’t allowed to ‘whittle or otherwise injure the furniture’?”
Kyle laughed, a warm, resonant sound that caught Selena’s attention. His reply, though, was drowned out by another shriek of steam. Selena jumped and immediately his hands came up to steady h
er.
“It…sounds like an animal in dire pain,” she breathed, knowing her tension came far more from Kyle’s gentle grip on her arms than from the steamboat’s deafening clamor.
Kyle seemed to be aware of the intimacy as well, for something flickered in his eyes and his gaze dropped to her mouth. He was close. So close she could smell the clean, fresh scent of his shaving soap. So close she could see the green flecks swimming in his gold-brown eyes. She wondered with a sudden thudding of her heart if he meant to kiss her.
But disappointingly, he released her.
“More likely one of the sea gods protesting the ruination of a good ship,” Kyle said with a twisted grin.
Selena took a steadying breath, trying to recover her composure. “Are you sure it won’t sink?”
“Relatively sure. A demasted frigate like the Washington wouldn’t last two minutes at sea, for she’s got a shallow hull and no keel—” Kyle broke off when Selena’s blank look told him he was getting too technical. “But she’ll be fine on the river,” he continued, “where there aren’t waves or wind to contend with. And Shreve is reputed to be one of the best pilots around.”
Selena nodded, relieved to know Kyle’s opinion and even more relieved that he was finally speaking to her again. “Does that mean you’ve traveled on a steamboat before?” she asked, determined to keep him talking.
“Several, in fact. But they were all designed by Fulton’s group…I suppose I should tell you about that. You should be aware of our American politics if you’re going to live here.”
Selena thought that particular comment regarding her future somewhat encouraging, so she listened attentively as he told her about the steamboats that the easterners Robert Fulton and Robert Livingston had built, and how Shreve had successfully challenged the monopoly contract with Louisiana that had given them exclusive rights to navigate the Mississippi.
Kyle was about to tell Selena about the sudden boom in the steamboat industry the previous year, when the ship’s bell began to clang, followed by the grinding of the capstan as the anchor was weighed.
Feeling the Washington’s hull start to quiver, Selena quickly reached out to grab hold of the gallery rail. “What is that noise?” she asked nervously, hearing the slap of the paddles as the giant wheel began to turn.
Kyle gave a rueful shake of his head, as if wondering how she had ever managed to survive the storm at sea, let alone save the life of one of his men. His lips twitching in a smile, he took her hand and directed her attention toward the single waterwheel placed near the stern. The giant wheel worked in a recess, nearly out of sight, so Selena had to crane her neck around the long cabin to view it.
“That’s what drives a steamboat,” Kyle said gently. “I’ll show you more closely when Captain Shreve takes us around. You won’t be so apprehensive if you know more about how a vessel like this operates.”
Selena wasn’t so certain. The clanging bells, the panting engine and the thrashing paddle wheel all combined with the creaking and shaking of the vessel to make her extremely uneasy. But she did accompany Kyle on a tour of the boat. And she discovered he was right; the Washington wasn’t as alarming as she had expected. Indeed, the boiler that Captain Shreve pointed out was fired from both ends by furnaces similar to those of a sugar works.
Captain Shreve himself conducted them through the vessel. An energetic man of medium build, Shreve was perhaps five or ten years older than Kyle, and he gave the impression that he loved his avocation as much as Kyle loved the sea. Shreve seemed flattered by Kyle’s interest and answered all of his questions without reservation, explaining at length about the steamboat’s unique design.
Uninterested in the technical details of machinery, Selena let the captains’ words wash over her and instead watched her husband. A faint smile curved her lips at Kyle’s reaction to the steamboat. He was like a small boy with a new toy. He spent a long time poking his nose into every nook and corner, his face lighting up in an endearingly boyish way whenever he discovered something unusual. Not for the first time, Selena experienced a twinge of sorrow that he had had to give up his ship.
It was only when Kyle mentioned that his parents had been killed in the Merilinda’s accident the previous year that Selena began to pay attention once more. Kyle hadn’t told her precisely how his parents had died, but the information that he had lost them to a steamboat explosion only heightened her concern about the safety of such vessels and made her wonder how he could be so casual about it. She didn’t understand him—but then he really was a stranger to her.
She studied Kyle intently as they climbed the stairs to the high-perched wheelhouse, realizing how little she knew about him. The captain talked about the financial rewards the business had brought him. In one good season, the captain claimed, an owner could return his entire investment and then some. Selena was surprised when Kyle’s thoughtful gaze sought her out absently, surprised, too, by the wistfulness in his expression as their eyes met across the short width of the wheelhouse.
When Kyle finished peppering the captain with questions about steamboats and river navigation, he escorted Selena back to her cabin.
“Why did you ask the captain how much a vessel like this would cost?” she asked as they descended the stairway to the passenger deck.