Moonlight on Water (23 page)

“Stand up!” he ordered. “This thing is too bulky. I never thought I'd say I preferred your other dress, but it has its advantages.”

Rising to her knees, she pushed his hand away as she untied her skirt and petticoats. She unbuttoned her shoes. Then she slid to the edge of the bed and kicked the heavy garments and her shoes to the floor to leave her dressed only in her shift and pantalets.

“Better?” she asked.

His voice was raw with passion as he hooked his arm around her and tugged her back to him. “Much better, honey, but it can be better yet.”

“I know.” She drew his shirt out of his trousers and slipped her hands up beneath it, eager to let her palms learn every inch of his chest. His heart thudded against her fingertips, its speed increasing as she slid her tongue against the rough, bristly skin of his jaw.

He groaned and brought her to lie atop him. Thrilled at how she could please him as he had her, she continued her exploration as she loosened each button on his shirt. When she was undoing the final one, his hands curved up her legs, raising her shift over her knees. She gripped his shoulders, overwhelmed by the sensations battering her.

Then everything vanished into laughter as his hands coursed up her thighs. “No!” she cried. “No! Stop, Wyatt! Please stop!”

“Honey, we haven't even started yet.”

“You are tick—You're tickling me!” She collapsed on the bed, unable to stop laughing.

“Tickling you? Where?”

She pointed to her upper leg. “It tickles me when you touch me there.”

“It tickles me, too.” He pulled off his boots, dropped them on the floor, and then rose onto all fours on the bed to look down at her. “You have no idea how much, honey.” He laughed before he silenced her with kisses.

Suddenly, with all her heart, she wanted to know the love that should have been theirs. Locking her fingers together at his nape, she closed her eyes as he drew off her stockings. He took care not to tickle her again, but she did not trust the humor glinting in his eyes. When he entangled his legs with hers, she wondered when he had removed the rest of his clothes. She did not let the thought bother her as she savored the sensation of his skin on hers.

“Better?” he whispered.

“Much better.”

He looped one finger over the lace at the very center of her chemise's neckline. “It still can be even better, honey. You need to get rid of this.”

She sat, his gaze holding hers while she lifted the hem of her chemise and drew it over her head. When she had tossed it aside, he knelt on either side of her legs and put his hands on her shoulders, leaning her back again into the pillow.

His eyes burned with silver desire as he ran a single finger across her lips and over her chin. When his hand cupped her breast, he bent to caress it with his lips. She writhed when his tongue teased its very tip. His other hand slid along her stomach to curve over her hips. When she moaned his name, he bent forward to taste the heat on her lips. As lightly as his fingers had moved along her, his tongue stroked her lips, then flicked dazzling heat along her, taking the same sensual journey his fingers had.

He raised his head to whisper, “Let's see exactly where you are ticklish, honey.”

“Wyatt, don't …”

“Trust me.”

“I do trust you,” she murmured, again elated to know that was true. She trusted him as she had trusted no one else, not just so she could be here like this, but so she could give him her heart.

His hands slipped beneath her bottom as his mouth explored her inner thigh. If it was ticklish, she could not tell because she was consumed by the craving that was beyond anything she had experienced before. Her fingers clutched the blanket beneath her as his tongue laved her with a wave of incredible, intimate ecstasy.

Was that her voice calling out to him in such a desperate tone? She was unsure of anything but the escalating fire erupting through her. Then, she was the fire, untamed and unquenched, scalding away every thought and emotion.

When his arm slipped around her shoulders, shifting her beneath him, she raised trembling fingers to bring his mouth to hers. The musky scents of both him and her surrounded her as he whispered something. She could not understand what it was. She could only see his eyes, his eyes that burned with the same fire that had engulfed her.

She gasped as he pushed deep within her. The glow in his eyes dimmed for a moment, and she knew he feared he had hurt her. How could he when she had waited so long for this moment? She pressed her hands against his hips, bringing him even deeper.

His smile brought forth those uncontrollable feelings again. As he captured her mouth, he moved against her, then with her. So slow was each motion, she panted against his lips in anticipation. She clasped his shoulders and gave herself to the rhythm. As she was enveloped once more in the fiery ecstasy, he shuddered against her. His groan surrounded her as she gave herself to the perfection and to him.

Rachel was unsure what woke her from sleep. The storm must have gone past, for starlight now filtered through the fog. The air remained hot, and no sound of thunder suggested any rain was on the way. If thunder had not intruded on her sleep, then what had?

The bed shifted, and she looked at Wyatt, who was sleeping with his arm around her, his fingers draped across her breast. She smiled. For whatever had woken her, she was grateful, because she could marvel in the memory of his sumptuous seduction before she took them with her into her dreams.

Wyatt had awakened her once to make love with her again. That time had been more exquisite than the first time, for they did not hurry. Her fingers ran along her arm, and she wondered at how his touch made her come alive in a way she had never known.

She closed her eyes. Tonight she had learned many lessons from him. His mouth on her and his body against hers had created a spell of love. A small moan escaped her lips as she fought her need to rejoice in his touch again. Having discovered joy in his arms, she would yearn for it for the rest of her life.

She buried her face in the pillow and breathed in Wyatt's male essence. Had she been a fool to surrender to his spell when she knew this ecstasy could never be hers again once she left the boat? She must go back to River's Haven, and he would return to his life on the river.

No, she would not let any thoughts of the future ruin this night. This one incomparable night. Turning to face him, she was not surprised to see his eyes were open. They crinkled in a grin as he rose far enough to find her lips and draw her into the splendor once more.

Fifteen

A fist pounded on the door.

Wyatt opened his eyes and yawned. The dawn's gray was only beginning to chase away the darkness. Or was that fog or rain? A second storm had ripped along the river valley less than an hour ago. It had been more violent than the first.

He started to swing his feet over the side of the bed, then paused. A smile curved along his lips as he gazed at how his blanket followed Rachel's beguiling body. Her passion had not surprised him, for he had seen her leap to the defense of River's Haven so often, but her eagerness had thrilled him. She might wear puritanical dress when she visited
The Ohio Star
, but she was a wanton who was receptive to every pleasure he had taught her.

And she had taught him, he reminded himself with a silent laugh. He had not guessed that
he
had so much to learn from this sweet innocent.

He forced his hand not to slip along her, for he wanted to watch her sleep a moment longer. Her black hair was spread beneath her, but he could admire the glistening warmth of her cheek and her soft pink lips that had been so luscious beneath his.

He could no longer resist. He ran a single finger along her cheek, and, opening her eyes, she rolled onto her back to smile drowsily up at him. Her hand raised toward him, but she stiffened when someone struck the door again.

“Wait here,” Wyatt said, pulling on his trousers as he went to the door. He looked back at the bed. Rachel held the blanket up to her chin, and her hair flowed down over her like melted chocolate. He doubted if he had ever seen a more appealing sight.

The fist hit the door a third time.

Throwing it open, he was astonished to see Horace on the other side. He started to ask his partner why he was bothering him now, but Horace gasped, “Fire!”

“Fire?” He cursed as the unmistakable odor of smoke curled around him. It had not been fog clouding the windows. “Where?”

“At the bow.”

“The boiler room—”

“Not there. On this deck and the one above. We've got to get help to put it out.”

“K. C.?”

“She's right here.” Horace tugged the little girl around him. K. C.'s eyes were heavy with sleep and fear.

“Go! I'll be right behind you.”

His partner nodded and raced away.

Wyatt turned. Rachel had pulled on her dress and was buttoning it into place. Taking K. C. by the hand, he drew the little girl into his quarters.

“Honey, the boat's on fire.” He stuffed his feet into his boots.

“I heard,” Rachel replied. “Do you think lightning hit it?”

“No, I suspect heaven's wrath was less involved than men's fury.”

She choked out a denial, then turned to pick his gun up off the windowsill. She handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he said. “Finish dressing and head for the stern.”

“I can help—”

“Just get to the stairs right away.”

“All right. If I can help, call me. Please.”

He nodded, caressing her cheek. “Can you swim?”

“Yes.” Her eyes widened in horror. “Is the fire that bad?”

“It's at the prow. The planks to shore and the pier are at that end. You need to get off
The Ohio Star
immediately.” His voice gentled. “Don't argue with me, Rachel.”

Wanting to plead with him to come with her and Kitty Cat, Rachel bit her lower lip as Wyatt rushed out onto the deck.

“Are we going ashore?” Kitty Cat asked.

“It looks like it.” Rachel glanced back at her shoes and petticoats on the floor. Drawing on her shoes, she buttoned them only partway. If she had to kick them off, she could. “C'mon. We've got to go.”

“Your petticoats!”

Rachel scooped them up. She glanced toward the bow as she hurried Kitty Cat out of Wyatt's quarters and onto the deck. Flames crackled in the predawn darkness, but they did not reach high above the pilothouse as she had feared.

She grabbed a lantern that Wyatt must have left for her, holding it up as she led the little girl to the rear stairs. They were steeper than the ones at the front. More of a ladder than a staircase, so Rachel had to keep Kitty Cat from tumbling down them.

She heard a bell clanging. Something was reeling down the bluff. A trail of men followed behind it. They must be bringing Haven's pumper. She wondered how long it would take to get a head of steam up so they could take water from the river to put out the fire.

Embers floated on the air. Kitty Cat yelped, and Rachel hurried to brush one from the little girl's sleeve. They could not stay here.

“Put this over your head,” she ordered, handing Kitty Cat one of her petticoats.

“Why?”

“It will act as a sort of umbrella.”

Kitty Cat copied Rachel as she tossed a petticoat over her head. Going to the railing at the stern, Rachel ran her hands along the top. Was there a break in it, so she did not have to clamber over the railing? If so, she could not find it. She glanced to her right. The railing opened there, for that was where Kitty Cat had been fishing. She did not want to swim any farther than she had to.

“Take this.” She handed Kitty Cat the lantern, trying not to see the tears on the child's face. From fear or because she had been burned?

Keeping the petticoat over her head, Rachel bunched up her skirt and struggled to climb over the railing. Balancing on the narrow edge of the deck on the other side, she held out her hands to Kitty Cat.

“Put down the lantern,” she ordered.

“Rachel, we can't go until—”

“Wyatt and Horace will be fine.”

“But, Rachel—”

“Katherine Mulligan! Don't argue! Come now!”

The little girl hurried to obey, and Rachel knew that she had finally convinced Kitty Cat not to linger. Rachel sat on the narrow strip of wood. At her order, Kitty Cat stepped behind her. The little girl clamped her arms around Rachel's shoulders, leaning against her back. Again Rachel looked toward the front of
The Ohio Star
, hoping that she could set Kitty Cat back on the other side of the railing because the fire was under control.

Flames were visible over the upper railing. She scanned the deck but could not see Wyatt. He would be close to the fire, fighting to save the boat. Something snapped, and a shower of embers flew up before raining down on the lower deck and into the river.

“Hold on, Kitty Cat,” she called, knowing that she must not wait any longer.

Sliding off the deck, she fought to keep her head—and Kitty Cat's—above water. The little girl squealed and began kicking her feet. Right into Rachel's legs.

“Don't help,” Rachel gasped as she began to swim toward shore. Her skirt tried to coil around her legs, keeping her from moving.

Shouts came from the shore, and she heard the clatter of the pumper's steam engine. That strange whoosh must be the pumper spraying water onto the fire.

She stretched her toes toward the bottom, but the water was still too deep. Kitty Cat cried out in terror. Had she gotten water in her face or was it the lightning that sliced across the sky? Another storm?

Rachel wanted to tell the little girl to hold on tightly but Rachel did not waste her energy. They had to get out of the water and to shelter before the storm was over them. Stroking awkwardly, she edged toward shore. She had not realized how far the back end of the boat could drift from the shore while the front was bound to the pier.