Elizabeth Grayson (31 page)

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” she murmured without so much as opening her eyes.

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me making love could be so wonderful?”

She heard a smile come into his voice. “Would you have believed me?”

What had gone before was as different from what she’d discovered with Chase as daylight was from dark, as love from hate. As different from the girl she was when she’d married him from the woman she’d become.

“Thank you,” she whispered, raising her head so she could look into his eyes, “for what you’ve given me.”

He reached up and stroked her cheek. “You mean the world to me, Annie.”

His hands were gentle on her skin, at the turn of her jaw, along the slope of her neck and the rise of her collar-bone. He drew her down and kissed her.

At the core where his body was still joined to hers, Ann felt him stir. Her own body responded to his with a provocative, carnal tightening. She hadn’t expected that response, hadn’t expected to want him so soon again.

“Is it possible for us to—to do that—” The heat of a blush ran into her cheeks, “—more than once?”

“Did you like what we did?” he asked her. His voice deepened to a husky timbre she had begun to associate with desire.

She flushed darker. “Y-y-yes.”

He was growing inside her, swelling, hardening. It was both a strange and heady sensation.

“Would you like to do—that again?”

His hands crept up inside her chemise, stroking the sensitive skin of her chest and belly. At the spot where they were joined, her body pulsed.

“Yes.” The single word turned her breathless.

“I’d like to, too,” he told her. “But this time I’d like to see all of you.”

“You—you would?” He was touching her intimately, pressing himself more deeply inside her.

“So could you take off your chemise?” he asked her.

Ann’s head was muzzy with wanting him. There was such respect and tenderness and longing in her husband’s eyes, that she couldn’t refuse.

She reached for the hem of the chemise and pulled the garment over her head.

chapter fifteen

THERE WAS NO GOING BACK.

Ann knew it the moment she opened her eyes, the moment she heard the blast of the
Andromeda
’s departure whistle. The instant she recollected where she was—ensconced all rosy and naked amidst the tumbled bedclothes in the captain’s berth—she realized how irrevocably she’d altered her future.

She dragged the covers over her head and considered what she and Chase had done right here last night to change it. Her lips still tingled with the remnants of what might have been a thousand kisses. She could feel the slow, sensual glide of Chase’s hands along her skin. Low in her belly lay the thick, sweet weight of remembered desire.

She’d spent last night in Chase’s arms, and she refused to regret what she had done. Still, it
had
changed everything.

Most especially it changed her.

Chase had stroked her hair and her face, touched her with praise on his lips and reverence in his hands. He had told her she was beautiful, not just with words, but with the glow in his eyes, and the homage in his kisses. He had taught her how to accept the gift of delight, and how to give it back again. He had let her discover she had nothing to fear from him and held her safe in his arms as she abandoned herself to pleasure.

She blushed now, just remembering.

Chase had made her his wife last night, and Ann had finally allowed Chase to be her husband. No matter what she’d planned before, she could never leave him after this. But there was so much in her past she had to confront in order to stay with him.

Right now, there were more pressing things to see to— namely Christina. Hastily, she wrapped a sheet around herself, and went to look for her daughter. Neither the baby nor her basket were in the usual place. Chase must have taken her with him when he left. But how long ago was that? And where exactly was her daughter now that Chase was undoubtedly busy with his departure duties?

Ann found Christina squalling in Frenchy’s arms a few minutes later.

“It is good you came to get this poor girl,” he scolded as he handed her the baby. “I rocked her and sang to her—”

“You
sang
to her?”

“Christina likes it when I sing in French,” the cook said with a sniff. “I also gave her a sugar tit. What she wants is her mother.”

“I’m sorry you ended up looking after her,” Ann apologized and lifted the baby against her shoulder. “I’m afraid I—overslept.”

“Oui.”

It was a single word, but Ann recognized his inflection.
Frenchy knew.

A flush blossomed at her sternum and bloomed all the way to the roots of her hair. “What did he say?” she asked furiously.

Frenchy didn’t even ask her what she meant.

“Nothing,
chéri.
A gentleman never speaks of his
amours.
But you
did
kiss him right there on deck where anyone could see, and he
didn’t
sleep in the officers’ quarters.”

Which meant every crewman she saw today would have a very good idea how she and Chase had spent last night. Ann buried her face in her daughter’s neck. She’d learned months before that there were no secrets aboard the
Andromeda.
Still, she’d hoped to keep what passed between Chase and her private, at least until she’d figured out how she felt about it.

And how Chase felt.

“We are all very happy for you and the captain,” Frenchy went on. “He is a good man,
chéri,
the kind of man I would be glad to see my own dear daughters wed when their time comes. And you love him,
non?”

That was something else Ann wasn’t ready to discuss—much less with Frenchy Bertin.

“I’m taking Christina back to the cabin,” Ann told him and wheeled toward the door. She nearly collided with Jake Skirlin as she burst outside.

Though the two of them usually stepped around each other like hissing cats, Skirlin hesitated, a sly, knowing quirk pulling at one corner of his mouth. “Mornin’, Mrs. Hardesty. You sleep well last night?”

Ann reined in the impulse to turn and run. She made herself face him instead—the first of many confrontations. “How I slept, Mr. Skirlin, is none of your concern. And I’ll thank you not to ask such impertinent questions in the future!”

Ann turned with a sniff of dismissal and made her way to the cabin—where she holed up for the rest of the day.

Chase dropped by at mid-afternoon with Christina’s basket tucked under his arm. “I thought you might be needing this.”

Ann was more conscious of him standing over her than she had ever been of anyone. It was a ripe kind of awareness, heady and filled with possibilities—but new and intense and utterly overwhelming.

She refused to look up from the button she was sewing onto one of his shirts. “Thank you for bringing up the basket.”

She couldn’t think what else to say to him. She’d exposed parts of herself last night she never let anyone see, lost herself to sensations she hadn’t even known existed. How could she carry on a conversation with him when he knew her body so intimately and had shared so much of her pleasure?

Chase seemed unaffected—or undeterred—by this new familiarity. He set the basket on the table. “I missed seeing you at noontime.”

“Frenchy sent something up.”

He paused, still standing over her. “The weather’s particularly fine this afternoon. Will you take a turn around the deck with me?”

She glanced out the door to the cloudless sky and the gold-leafed trees visible at the lip of the horizon. She thought about the serenity of the river, the freshness of the wind in her face. She considered her encounter with Skirlin, and what each crewman would think as she and Chase passed by.

Ann shook her head. “Christina will be waking soon, and I need to be here when she does.”

Nodding with what looked like resignation, Chase folded himself into the chair beside her.

That made Ann bend even more intently over her mending.

Finally he reached across and took her hand. “Annie...” he said holding her, thimble, thread, and all. “I know that making love wasn’t something you planned to do. Maybe it wasn’t something you were even really ready for...”

Ruddy heat washed up her throat.

“... which is why I want to thank you—”

“Thank me?”
Ann looked up in spite of herself.

“I want to thank you for giving me so much of yourself when I needed you. For giving me so much comfort—and so much joy.”

He took a breath before he went on. “Some things that happened yesterday—just didn’t turn out the way I hoped. That you believed in me and were willing to stand by me when I needed...” He raised his gaze to hers, and she was caught by the bright blue sincerity of his eyes. “Well, it made a world of difference that you did what you did last night.”

Ann clasped her free hand over his. How many times had Chase stood by her when
she
needed
him
? How many times had he fought her battles and lent her his strength?
And how many times had she thought to thank him?

“Oh, Chase,” she murmured, her throat closing around the words. “I wanted to be with you last night. I wanted to help. But it changed—Oh, Chase—it changed so much.”

Chase held her hand a little tighter. “It changed things for me, too, Annie. It made me realize I needed to tell you how much I love you. That you ought to know how much you and Christina mean to me.”

He looked up at her again. “I’m so proud of you, Annie, so proud you’re my wife, so proud you’re such a fine mother to our little girl. I’m so proud of the way you’ve befriended my crew and become such a gracious hostess to our passengers.”

Ann hastily lowered her lashes. No one had ever said the things to her that Chase was saying. No one had ever praised her or complimented her. No one but her mother had ever told her that she loved her. Ann wasn’t prepared for the power in those words, how they washed over her and left her breathless. She hadn’t expected the joy they lit inside or the tears they brought to her eyes.

“I know I haven’t done anything to deserve a woman like you, Annie,” Chase went on, “but I’m doing the best I can to provide for you—for you and Christina.”

Ann stared at him, at this man who said such wondrous things to her, who’d held her with such tenderness and given her such delight. She couldn’t tell him that she loved him—at least not yet—but knowing how he felt reinforced her resolve to find a way to be with him.

“Your troubles are my troubles, Chase,” she said quietly, aware of the warmth of his flesh between her hands. “Just as you have always made my troubles your own. I know that whatever was bothering you last night can’t have gone away. Will you tell me what it is and let me help?”

He looked down at their clasped hands. “You’ve done so much for me already, Annie. More than I’ll ever be able to explain to you. What I need is for you to keep believing in me, keep believing that the choices I’ve made are for the best, no matter how they turn out.”

“I’ll never stop believing in you, Chase,” she whispered.

“The other thing I need, Annie,” he went on, “is for last night to be the true start of our life together.”

They were such sweet words, such romantic words, such persuasive words—words that made Ann ache with longing. For a moment she could do no more than stare at him. What Chase wanted was a union between them where they loved each other, trusted each other
—and
told the truth.

But how could she tell Chase the truth?

She knew his family, knew that Chase had been raised to believe that the world was good. How could a man who’d been sheltered from cruelty and deceit all his life understand the kind of betrayals she had suffered? If she told Chase the truth, would he look at her with the same warmth in his eyes? Would he love her when he knew everything? Would he still accept Christina as his daughter?

Chase tightened his grip on her hands, speaking intently. “Hard times come, Annie, and hard times go. Folks get through the worst of things by sticking together. They lie down together every night, wake up in each other’s arms every morning, and draw strength from being together. It’s what I want for us, Annie.”

Ann studied the planes and angles of her husband’s earnest face and wished she could open her heart to him. But before she could explain about her past, before she could be the kind of wife he wanted, she needed to face her demons on her own.

“That all sounds wonderful, Chase,” Ann said and reluctantly withdrew her hands from his. “But I need time—”

“Time?” The word was tinged with disappointment and, for the first time she could remember, a hint of reproach. “It’s been six months since we spoke our vows.”

“I know how long it’s been.” She looked into his eyes, willing him to trust her. “I’m sorry I’ve made you wait. I’m sorry I have to ask you to wait a little longer.”

He searched her face, the depths of her eyes, and it was as if he were charting every single one of the dark and hollow places inside her.

“All right, Annie,” he finally agreed on a sigh. “Take what time you need. I’d just hoped...”

Ann covered his hand with hers again and looked up at him. “Keep hoping, Chase,” she whispered. “Please keep hoping just a little while longer.”

THE ANDROMEDA WAS STILL HALF A DAY SHORT OF KANSAS City on the outbound run, and already Chase could see it was going to be a hell of a trip.

The river was low and, as the dawn light washed pink across the surface of the water, he could pick out the pale fingers of sand inching farther and farther into the channel. The Missouri was a treacherous river to navigate at the best of times, but with the summer’s dry spell stretching well into September, even the finest pilots swore they’d resorted to divining rods to find clear passage.

Lucien Boudreau exhibited no talent as a water witch. He’d already run the
Andromeda
aground more times than Chase could count. Sometimes they’d been able to back down and off a reef. More often, they were forced to use the spars—timbers mounted at the bow of the boat— to lever themselves over. Twice they’d had to discharge cargo to lighten the load.

Both times Chase had tried to dump the carbines in the river, but Curry was keeping too close an eye on them.

Those damn rifles.

Chase had been jerked awake almost every night since they’d left St. Louis by dreams of warriors attacking wagon trains, of homesteaders’ cabins in flames, of the lives that would be lost if he delivered those Spencers.

Somehow he had to prevent those guns from reaching the Indians. Somehow he had to keep Ann from discovering that the
Andromeda,
that all the Gold Star boats, were running contraband. Somehow he had to put an end to the smuggling without exposing everyone involved—including Ann’s father. But if any of that was possible, Chase hadn’t figured out how.

Just then the galley door swished open behind him and Chase turned, hoping it was his wife. It was one of the waiters instead, trudging up to the wheelhouse with Lucien Boudreau’s breakfast on a tray.

Chase swigged down a swallow of cooling coffee and scowled. He’d been standing right here for the last six mornings, waiting for Annie to come and share the dawn with him. She’d asked for time, and he’d promised her whatever she needed. But he’d have felt so much better able to face his worries about the low water and the smuggling if he had her to talk to.