Moonlight on Water (11 page)

Again sounds came from the Community Hall. Rachel knew she must put an end to this before anyone came close enough to eavesdrop. “I'll check with Mr. Dow for you tomorrow. As soon as I have some information, I'll send it to
The Ohio Star
. Good afternoon, Wyatt.”

“Wait!” he called as she turned to leave. He reached out and took her arm.

Rachel pulled back, but he refused to release her. “I must ask you to take your hand off me.” She would not let him compel her to forget
her
manners.

He drew her closer to the chair. His eyes sparked with irritation. “Not until you're willing to act sensibly!”

“Me? I'm not the one who's manhandling someone.”

“You couldn't.”

“I assure you that I—”

“You aren't a man.” His hand on her arm gentled. “A fact that I noticed right away.”

“I'm sure you did. Let me go!”

Wyatt smiled at Rachel's command, but took her other arm. Standing face-to-face, he enjoyed a leisurely perusal of her. His first shock at her odd outfit had faded, and now he could admire how the mother-of-pearl buttons along the navy front accented her intriguing form. She did not need frills and jewelry.

But he needed to kiss her. Slowly he slid her hands up his chest while he drew her closer. Her eyes grew wide, then softened as her lips parted in an invitation he could not ignore, no matter how many members of this strange community were watching. With a groan that came from deep in his gut, he captured her mouth, feasting on every flavor it offered.

Her arms rose to his shoulders, and he pulled her tighter to him. When his lips traced a dazzling path along her neck, she trembled but pressed even nearer. Her ragged breath brushed his ear, and he was sure he had never wanted anything more than he wanted her at this moment. Guiding her mouth back to his, he tasted its sweetness with a hunger he was finding more and more difficult to govern. And why did he want to stifle this yearning for her? She was everything he should want in a woman—lusciously beautiful and sensual as well as tied to the shore as he was to his boat. She would not be begging to come and share his life on
The Ohio Star
.

All thoughts vanished from his head as he slowly glided his hands up her back, pressing her soft breasts against him. Then he let his fingers amble lower as he held her hips tight to his.

Suddenly she stiffened, and he heard what she had. Footsteps coming closer to this room. Blast! He had to get her away from this place where there were too many people. Maybe in her cottage while K. C. was busy elsewhere.

He smiled as he lifted his mouth from hers. Sending the kid into Haven to work on the decorations for Independence Day would be the very answer to two problems. He could have Rachel to himself away from the little girl and all the rest of the folks here.

A soft denial bubbled from her lips, and he looked down to see diffused pleasure in her eyes. She brushed hair back from his forehead with trembling fingers. He could not resist taking her hand and running his tongue across her palm and up her longest finger.

Wyatt was not surprised when Rachel pulled her hand away and walked across the room to put the books back on the shelves. Even though his pulse pounded through him with the fury of wind-driven rain against
The Ohio Star
's bow, he had heard those footsteps coming directly toward the room.

“Miss Browning?” came a voice from the doorway. “Oh, I didn't realize your guest was still here.”

He turned to see a woman, a pair of decades older than Rachel. She was dressed in a dark gray dress, and her face was blank of any emotion.

“I assume you are Mr. Colton,” she said.

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied with the courtesy he knew Rachel doubted he possessed. He glanced at Rachel, but she was looking at the older woman.

“I'm Miss Hanson, Miss Browning's friend,” said the woman in the doorway. “I trust you'll understand why it's important that Miss Browning not receive an outsider alone.” She smiled at Rachel. “Mr. Atlee was sidetracked and failed to deliver the message to me that Mr. Colton was visiting.”

Rachel's cheeks turned a charming pink. His hand tingled with the longing to touch that warm color, but he did not move.

“You may sit there, Mr. Colton.” Miss Hanson pointed to the sofa.

Wyatt made no attempt to hide his smile. Miss Hanson spoke even more bluntly than Rachel. If all the women in River's Haven shared this trait, he could not figure out why the men had not fled in both directions along the river.

Miss Hanson smiled. “Miss Browning, you may sit there as well while Mr. Colton finishes up his call.”

Rachel sat at the opposite end of the sofa, as far from him as she could. A single glance in her direction told him that she was putting space between them because she did not trust herself to sit closer to him. He could not keep from imagining her in one of those small cottages, welcoming him into her bed as the sun burnished her bare skin that lovely pink.

“Mr. Colton,” said Miss Hanson as she sat in the chair that he had been using, “I assume you came here to allow Miss Browning to speak of her gratitude at your help when she hurt her leg.”

“She expressed her gratitude at the time,” he replied. “I'm here to discuss business with her.”

“Business? What sort of business, Mr. Colton?”

Rachel hurried to answer before Wyatt could. If she let him take control of this conversation as she had let him take control of her senses, she was unsure what the result might be. “Mr. Colton and his partner are repairing a steamboat, and he's seeking the services of our metal shop to replace some broken parts.”

“Ah, I see.” Miss Hanson's smile returned. “River's Haven is fortunate to have Miss Browning's skills with business. She is, I believe, quite unique.”

Wyatt grinned. “I would—”

“Not so unique,” Rachel said, interrupting Wyatt before he could try to wheedle his way into Miss Hanson's good graces. “Mrs. Sawyer runs the store in Haven. What she does isn't so different from what I do.”

“That's true,” he agreed, his amusement drifting up into his fascinating eyes.

“I'll get the information you need from Mr. Dow and send it to you tomorrow.” Rachel stood.

“An approximate price is all I need.” Wyatt came to his feet, too.

His broad shoulders seemed to fill the room, and she went to a nearby table where paper and ink waited as she said, “All right. Give me a moment, and I'll give you a good idea of what the cost will be.”

As she scribbled some figures on a piece of paper and double-checked them to make sure she was not in error, she heard Wyatt say, “It's been a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hanson.”

“I may see you again when you come back here to work with the metal shop.” Miss Hanson glanced at Rachel before heaving herself to her feet. “I see Miss Stokes in the Community Hall. I must speak with her posthaste about an important matter. If you need me, Miss Browning, please call.”

Wyatt laughed quietly in Miss Hanson's wake. “In other words, if I fail to be the gentleman, she will swoop down on me like an avenging hawk.”

Rather than respond to his comment, Rachel closed the bottle of ink. “If you'll bring the parts you need replaced here as soon as you can, the metal shop should be able to begin work on them by the beginning of next week.” She handed him the piece of paper. “If you're willing to pay this much.”

His brows rose, and he whistled. “This is half of what the parts would have cost in Louisville.”

“With the cost of shipping—”

“Before the shipping.” He chuckled. “You could be charging more, but don't start raising your prices before you finish this job for me.”

“I'll let Mr. Dow know to expect you to bring the broken parts in—”

“Tomorrow.”

She started to the door, then realized he had positioned himself so she would have to crawl over the sofa to get past him. Pausing, she asked, “Will you be honest with me about something?”

“I'm always honest.” He lifted a strand of hair off her shoulder. “I'll be honest and tell you that I like when you wear your hair like this.”

She frowned. “Wyatt, please listen to what I'm saying.”

“I am. I told you I was being honest, right?”

Deciding that she needed to ask him outright, because he would continue to parry words with her as long as she gave him the opportunity, she asked, “Has Kitty Cat been back to your boat this week?”

“No.” He became serious. “Has she run away again?”

“I don't think so.”

“You don't
think
so?”

“No one has noticed her being gone, but she's giddy with happiness.”

“And you don't think she could be happy if she was here all the time?”

“I have to consider that as a possibility.”

His smile returned, but its edge was not as hard. “It's going to take me some time to get used to your honesty.”

She almost laughed. She was not being honest. She was letting this conversation continue because she did not want him to guess that every word he spoke, everything he did, every glance he gave her threatened to unsettle her completely.

“No, K. C. hasn't been out to
The Ohio Star
since last week.”

“Are you sure?”

“I just said I'd be honest with you, didn't I? Do you think I'd lie about something as important as that child is to you?”

“No.”

“Then believe me, honey, when I tell you that K. C. hasn't been back to
The Ohio Star
this week.”

“Don't say that!”

“What?”

“Don't call her K. C. here! And don't call me honey.”

“Could you get into trouble?” he asked, so abruptly serious that she was astonished.

“No … Yes … River's Haven Community has a certain level of formality that we all are supposed to respect.”

“I'll try to remember that.” He cupped her elbows and smiled.

When he bent to kiss her, she forced herself to turn her head away, so his lips found her hair instead of her mouth. As much as she wanted his kiss, she knew how easily he wooed her good sense from her. She must avoid further temptation.

“Don't play coy with me, Rachel,” he whispered. “Not when I want to kiss you so much.”

“I'm not being coy!”

“Then why don't you want me to kiss you? You sure enjoyed it a few minutes ago.”

“I don't know what I want.”

“I know exactly what I want!” he growled.

He grasped her chin and found her lips again. Although she should move away, she let the pleasure of his surprisingly gentle kiss enthrall her. She had thought this kiss would be as honed as his words. She swept her arms up his back, captured anew by the joy that weakened her determination to keep him away.

Was she mad? Miss Hanson—or someone else—could enter at any moment.

It took all her willpower to push him away. “We aren't thinking this through. Otherwise we'd know this is just making things more difficult.”

Wyatt snaked his arm around her waist and jerked her back against him. Squeezing her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he put his lips near hers as he whispered, his mustache brushing her mouth on each word, “Aren't thinking this through? Maybe you aren't, but I think of how exciting it is to hold you like this, Rachel. I think of how lonely it is in my quarters and how delectable you'd be in my bed.” He crushed her lips beneath his. Before she could push him away—or draw him nearer—he released her and said, “I'll bring those parts out tomorrow as soon as Horace wrestles the last few out of the boiler.”

Rachel blinked, trying to focus her mind on something other than his kiss. Her voice was as wobbly as her knees when she said, “That will give me time to check how long it'll take the metal shop to make the new parts for you.”

“Just don't let them make new parts for you.”

“Excuse me.”

“I like
your
parts just the way they are.” With a wink, he walked out of the room, leaving her to try to figure out how she was going to stay out of his arms when he came back tomorrow.

Eight

His hands curved along her face, and she held her mouth up for his kiss. As he leaned her back against the sofa, she whispered his name. His eyes glowed like two stars in a midnight sky. When he reached for the top button on her collar, she
—

Rachel came awake with a shriek when the bed bounced.

“Did I surprise you, Rachel?” asked Kitty Cat, curling up next to her like her namesake.

“Yes.” She laughed shakily. The dream of being in Wyatt's arms dissipated into nothingness as quickly as river fog on a sunny morning. Putting her arm around Kitty Cat and her rag doll, she said, “You're up early. Usually
I
have to shake
you
out of bed.”

“Today's the day you said you'd ask the Elders about me going to help Sean with his panorama for the Centennial Day parade.”

“Panorama?” She smiled and leaned back into the pillows with Kitty Cat's head against her breast. “That's a big word for a little girl.”

“What does it mean?”

“You don't know?”

She shook her head.

Rachel laughed in spite of herself. “Then why are you so eager to go into Haven?”

“So I can see Sean and Maeve and Brendan and Megan and Lottie and Jack and—”

“Now I understand,” she said before Kitty Cat could list the name of every child who had come with her on the orphan train. “I've got an appointment to speak with Mr. Foley this afternoon.”

Kitty Cat's nose wrinkled.

“What's wrong?” asked Rachel.

“He smells funny.”

Again she laughed. “That's because he stores his clothing in camphor to keep the bugs out.”

“The smell makes my eyes water.”