Moonlight on Water (13 page)

He motioned in the direction she had pointed. “Then tend to business. Show me the metal shop, honey.”

“Wyatt, I told you not to call me that here.”

“I heard you, and I'll try not to call you that here again, although it's difficult when your lips are as sweet as honey.”

Rachel turned to walk away. This man refused to see sense in any form. She faltered when he said to her back, “I want to apologize.”

“You? Apologize?” She faced him.

“It has been known to happen,” he said, walking to her.

She glanced away, for she was not prepared to confront either the longing in his eyes or the need it brought to life within her. “I should apologize to you as well. I should have believed you when you spoke about Kit—about her going to
The Ohio Star
. I don't make a habit of calling visitors to River's Haven liars to their faces.”

His roguish grin returned to match the twinkle in his eyes. “Do you make it a habit of calling visitors to River's Haven liars behind their backs?”

Rachel stared at him, then laughed. “I guess I deserved that.”

“You deserve more than that.” His smile warmed, and that enchantment he spun threatened to engulf her again.

And she was tempted to let it. A single glance from him, and she had to fight not to press up against him, drawing his mouth to hers.

Rachel said nothing, and she was surprised when Wyatt was silent, too, while they walked toward the metal shop. As they approached it, the odors of heated metal and the clang of the tools reached out to guide them into the shop.

The shop was longer than the stable. Even though there were windows every couple of feet along the walls, the interior was dim. Dirt strained any light that tried to reach inside. The floor, tables, and every flat surface were littered with filings and ruined pieces of whatever the shopworkers had been trying to make. Machines that reached nearly to the roof obscured the workers.

“There are women working in here!” Wyatt gasped from beside her.

She laughed. “I thought you would have realized by now that we don't do things like everyone else. I handle the finances, and these ladies run machinery.”

“It's not—”

“Natural?” she asked.

“I was going to say, it's not a bad idea to teach everyone to work the machines.” He grinned. “You're as prickly as a porcupine about this Community, aren't you?”

“Only because I've had to defend it too often. In my position, I meet a lot of people who do business with River's Haven, but with about as much pleasure as if they were doing business with the devil.”

He laughed. “I've done business with the devil, and it's not like this.”

Rachel wanted to ask him what he meant, but bit back her question when Mr. Dow rushed over to greet them. The man looked as if he had been stretched through one of his machines, for he was the tallest man in the metal shop and not much wider than Kitty Cat. His canvas apron had several pockets that were filled to overflowing with tools, measuring devices, and slips of paper.

Mr. Dow barely waited for her to introduce him to Wyatt before he held his hand out for the bag. “What do you have in there, son?”

Wyatt opened the bag and laid the broken parts on a nearby table. Dow mumbled to himself as he examined each piece, and Wyatt watched Rachel, who was waiting with a patience he had not guessed she had. He listened when she answered several questions for Dow. She had not been bragging when she had said that she was deeply involved with the work done at River's Haven. Picking up a piece of paper, she shook bits of metal and dust off it. She found a bottle of ink and began to make notes as Dow continued to appraise each piece.

She was smiling when she looked up. “I've got good news for you, Mr. Colton.”

He was momentarily startled by what she called him, then remembered what she had said about formality in the Community. It seemed ludicrous to him, but it apparently worked for these people.

“And what good news is that,
Miss
Browning?” he asked in the most innocuous voice he could manage.

Her eyes glittered with laughter that she did not free as she held out the page to him. “I'm happy to be able to tell you that Mr. Dow believes he can do the job for even less than I estimated. Nearly ten dollars less.”

He tore his gaze from her smile to look at Dow who was gathering up the pieces to take to his workers. Knowing he should not risk a good thing, he had to ask, “You can make all those parts in the same grade metal for
this
price?”

“All our work at the River's Haven Community is of the highest quality,” Dow said in a tone that suggested he was the schoolmaster about to rein in a much younger Wyatt.

“He didn't mean any insult,” Rachel said quickly. “I guess I'm so accustomed to the question, Mr. Dow, that I forget you don't hear it from our other customers.”

He harrumphed and walked away.

Wyatt shook his head. “I apparently said the wrong thing.”

“The very worst thing.” When she put her hand on his arm and steered him toward the door, he realized he had disparaged Dow even more than he had guessed. Her laugh sounded as young as K. C.'s giggle when they stepped out of the shop. “Mr. Dow is very, very proud of the work that comes out of his metal shop.”

“I guess I was luckier than I'd imagined when I tied up
The Ohio Star
in Haven.”

“You were.” She paused on the walkway and said, “Now I must leave you here and go to my office to finish up some work.”

“Where is it?”

She pointed to the uppermost floor. “The fourth window from the left.”

He whistled with awe. “You must have quite a view of the river from up there.”

“It's nice, but the best one is from the bedroom window in my cottage.”

“Your bedroom? Care to let me take a gander?”

Color soared up her face as if she had come in contact with the sun. “Wyatt, please remember where you are.”

“I remember quite well. Otherwise, do you think I would have let you go so long without a kiss?”

He could not mistake the pleasure and the craving in her eyes as she said, “I appreciate your restraint.”

“You've got no idea how much restraint, hon—Miss Browning.” He laughed when she did. Good, he liked seeing her happy, because there was something so scintillating about her smile. “Which cottage is yours?”

“The one with the red door.”

“Red door?” He laughed harder, even as he took note of which one it was. The cottage was closer to the riverbank than he had expected. If he stole along the shore from his boat and climbed up the bank, he could slip into her house without anyone in the Community—but K. C.—being the wiser. And if he was lucky, even the little girl would not know of his call on Rachel on a starlit night when he could persuade her to forget about all the restrictions of River's Haven and surrender to her passions.

“What's wrong with a red door?” she asked.

“Don't you know that a red door along the river means the same as a red light?” When she gave him a puzzled frown, he explained, “That's like putting out a sign that you're running a brothel.”

“A brothel?” She chuckled. “Not likely. Wyatt, I'll send you a message when the parts are ready.”

“Before you go …” He took her hand, shifting so that no one could see that he held it. She glanced around, but he put his finger under her chin and tipped her face back toward him. “There's a social being held in Haven for the Fourth of July.” He smiled. “Reverend Faulkner tells me it is to celebrate the Centennial as well as the children in the school finishing their term. He wants to invite the kids from the River's Haven school, too.”

“I haven't gotten permission yet for Kitty Cat to work on the parade decorations, so I doubt if the Assembly of Elders would be willing to let the students from River's Haven participate in the exercises in Haven.”

“I wasn't mentioning it because of the children. I was asking if
you
wanted to go.”

“With you?”

“That's usually how it works when a man asks a woman to a social event.”

“Why are you asking me?”

“I could tell you that Reverend Faulkner suggested that I ask you.”

“He did?”

“The good reverend said it'd help your ankle get some needed exercise so it will heal.”

“Wyatt,” she said, with a pleading look on her face, “you know I should tell you no right now.”

“I know, but you haven't.”

She dampened her lips with her tongue, which he wished was touching him. “Let me think about it.”

He tossed caution aside and let his hands frame her face. “No, don't think about it. Then you'll think of all the reasons why you shouldn't go to it with me. Say yes now, because of the only reason you
should
go to it with me.” His thumb followed the same path her tongue had. “Say yes, honey.”

“You're putting me in a difficult position.”

“It isn't my intention to put you in a difficult position.” He chuckled. “I have a few other positions—very pleasant ones—I'd like to have you in.”

“You're a rascal, Wyatt Colton.”

“I readily admit that, so why don't you admit just as readily that you want to go with me to the social?”

“I do want to go with you,” she answered in a husky whisper that sent a tightening quiver all along him.

“Then come with me.”

“I should—”

“You should do what you want to do for once. You work hard for this Community. It's time it let you have a night to kick up your heels.”

Happiness blossomed in her eyes. “Yes, I should.”

“Then it's settled.”

“Wyatt,” she gasped, “I didn't—”

He put his finger to her lips. “Let me know when the parts will be ready, and get your prettiest bonnet ready to wear to the social.” As his thumb stroked her lower lip, he whispered, “In the meantime, I'll try not to let my lips envy my thumb too much.”

He bid her a good day and walked away before she could give him
another reason why she should obey the stifling rules that she so obviously found as chafing as K. C. did. As he passed the end of the common house, he looked back over his shoulder. She was standing just where she had been when he headed back toward the river.

All alone.

As he stared across the empty river, Wyatt was sure that walking away from her had been the most difficult thing he had ever done. If he could convince her to succumb to the need he had seen in her eyes and felt in her innocent touch, she would not be spending too many more nights alone while he and Horace finished the repairs on the boat.

He was insane to want her. She was one of the fools at River's Haven. Yet he wanted her in his bed.

Was he mad? He had made a vow a long time ago never to get mixed up heart deep with some woman. It was just inviting trouble. If he had not known that before, he was learning that now. He must keep her out of his heart, but that did not mean he had to keep her out of his bed. He began to whistle again as he strode along the riverbank. He
had
been lucky when he tied up the steamboat to the Haven pier, and he was going to enjoy every bit of this good fortune as long as he was here.

Nine

While drying the dishes, Rachel sang a song she had heard Kitty Cat sharing with her friends earlier in the day. It was a nonsense song, but the words suited Rachel's mood. Agreeing to go to the Centennial social with Wyatt yesterday might have been the silliest thing she had ever done. No matter. She was going to enjoy the anticipation.

She put the final dish back onto the shelf over the table. The last social gathering at River's Haven had been only days after Kitty Cat had been placed out with her, and Rachel had not wanted to leave the little girl alone. She had gone to the barn raising at the Sawyer farm after the spring flood, but, if there had been any dancing there, Merrill had insisted that they leave before it began. Going to Haven to the Centennial social would make up for missing those two chances to swirl about to music.

The front door opened, and she smiled as her brother walked in. She wanted to run to him and share her joyous news. She must be careful how she let him know of Wyatt's invitation. Merrill always treated her as if she were still a child who tagged after him wherever he went, wanting to share whatever mischief he might find. He had not been pleased with how often she had to leave River's Haven to do the Community's business. So she teased him that he should not be so old-fashioned when the rest of the Community accepted her role in it.

Merrill was smiling even more broadly than she was. He pulled out a chair by the table and sat.

“You look to be in an uncommonly cheerful mood this morning, Merrill,” Rachel said as she poured a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove and set it in front of him.

“That's because I am an uncommonly happy man.”

She sat beside him. “Can it be that you're bringing me the tidings I've been expecting to hear all week?”

“Probably.”

“So you finally had the courage to ask Miss Page to be your next wife?” She laughed when he gave her a playful frown. Pushing the sugar bowl toward him, she added, “I know this is what you had hoped for.”

He stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into his cup, but did not take a taste. “It is.”

“Tell me what she said when you asked her.” She leaned her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. “I'm sure she wasn't surprised.”

“No, and she was very pleased. Now that the Assembly of Elders has approved—”

“Already?”

He continued to stir his coffee, paying no attention to what he was doing. “I asked Miss Page to marry me a few days ago. I didn't want to tell anyone until the marriage was approved.”