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Authors: Marie Patrick
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skirts.
Captain Falstead brought an open carriage around to the front of the house and remained in the driver’s seat, the reins to the matched pair of bays held loosely in his hands.
She didn’t speak as she walked down the steps, but did allow him to hand her into the conveyance, her small hand resting in his much larger one. The warmth of her touch sent a thrill coursing through him, one he couldn’t deny…but should.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she adjusted her skirts and took a seat, her intent stare never leaving his face until she lowered her eyes to study her shoes.
Remy sucked in his breath as he climbed into the carriage and sat across from her. Jock had been so right when he’d claimed that her steady gaze could see into a man’s soul. Despite his cold bath earlier, desire surged through his veins, heating his blood. Her tempting lips curved into a smile and all he wanted at that moment was to taste them. Would her kiss be sweet? Or bitter like the vinegar in his coffee?
He had no time to learn the answer, as the rest of his officers came down the curving staircase and joined them, the carriage moving as they climbed in.
“Where’s Davenport?”
“Right here.” Captain Davenport rode up to the carriage astride a beautiful black stallion then tugged on the reins, bringing the horse to a stop. “I’m going to stop at Rosalie. I’ll meet you on board the riverboats.” He said nothing more as he nudged the horse, setting him in motion, and disappeared down the long drive in a cloud of dust.
The drive from Magnolia House to Natchez-Under-the-Hill took no time at all, and yet, time seemed to stop for Remy. Shaelyn sat across from him and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. Excitement reflected in her softly glowing eyes. Obviously, her riverboats were not simply a means to an end for her. They didn’t just provide for her livelihood.
They were something more.
She loved them, if the expression on her face was any indication. They were a part of her. Pride flickered in her eyes and despite being in a carriage filled with Union soldiers, she couldn’t hide the smile on her face.
She glanced in his direction and flushed to the tips of her ears, then focused her gaze on the steamers lining the quay.
He could see why she loved them. The Cavanaugh riverboats were a sight to behold. Tethered to huge stone moorings, they bobbed in the water as the carriage came to a halt. Both the
Lady Shae
and the
Brenna Rose
were side-wheelers, their huge paddles on the sides. The
Sweet Sassy
was a stern-wheeler, the big paddle, painted scarlet, in the back.
His men climbed down and stood on the wharf, talking among themselves. Remy climbed down as well, then reached up and offered his hand to help her. She laid warm, slim fingers against his, and again a tingle raced up his arm and settled in his chest. Her lips parted in surprise, as if she too felt that tingle.
Something flickered in her eyes as she pulled her hand from his grasp and walked toward the
Lady Shae
, lifting her skirts just enough to show the lacy white petticoats beneath the hem. Remy sucked in his breath, his gaze focused on her slim ankles.
He blinked, forcing his gaze away from her ankles, then grinned in spite of himself as his eyes found and settled on her backside, swaying beneath the yards of shimmering fabric. As if in a trance, he followed her up the landing stage, the cane in his hand tapping on the wooden planks beneath his feet.
He felt an intense stare and turned slightly to see Jock’s eyes on him, a huge grin stretching the ginger mustache across his upper lip. The older man said nothing, but he winked and picked up his pace, making his way toward the pilothouse aboard the
Lady Shae
.
One by one, they inspected the riverboats. All were in excellent shape, the paint new, the brass gleaming in the morning sun, the engines well oiled, and he wondered how Shae had managed it all. He’d seen the brighter squares on the
Captain Falstead brought an open carriage around to the front of the house and remained in the driver’s seat, the reins to the matched pair of bays held loosely in his hands.
She didn’t speak as she walked down the steps, but did allow him to hand her into the conveyance, her small hand resting in his much larger one. The warmth of her touch sent a thrill coursing through him, one he couldn’t deny…but should.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she adjusted her skirts and took a seat, her intent stare never leaving his face until she lowered her eyes to study her shoes.
Remy sucked in his breath as he climbed into the carriage and sat across from her. Jock had been so right when he’d claimed that her steady gaze could see into a man’s soul. Despite his cold bath earlier, desire surged through his veins, heating his blood. Her tempting lips curved into a smile and all he wanted at that moment was to taste them. Would her kiss be sweet? Or bitter like the vinegar in his coffee?
He had no time to learn the answer, as the rest of his officers came down the curving staircase and joined them, the carriage moving as they climbed in.
“Where’s Davenport?”
“Right here.” Captain Davenport rode up to the carriage astride a beautiful black stallion then tugged on the reins, bringing the horse to a stop. “I’m going to stop at Rosalie. I’ll meet you on board the riverboats.” He said nothing more as he nudged the horse, setting him in motion, and disappeared down the long drive in a cloud of dust.
The drive from Magnolia House to Natchez-Under-the-Hill took no time at all, and yet, time seemed to stop for Remy. Shaelyn sat across from him and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. Excitement reflected in her softly glowing eyes. Obviously, her riverboats were not simply a means to an end for her. They didn’t just provide for her livelihood.
They were something more.
She loved them, if the expression on her face was any indication. They were a part of her. Pride flickered in her eyes and despite being in a carriage filled with Union soldiers, she couldn’t hide the smile on her face.
She glanced in his direction and flushed to the tips of her ears, then focused her gaze on the steamers lining the quay.
He could see why she loved them. The Cavanaugh riverboats were a sight to behold. Tethered to huge stone moorings, they bobbed in the water as the carriage came to a halt. Both the
Lady Shae
and the
Brenna Rose
were side-wheelers, their huge paddles on the sides. The
Sweet Sassy
was a stern-wheeler, the big paddle, painted scarlet, in the back.
His men climbed down and stood on the wharf, talking among themselves. Remy climbed down as well, then reached up and offered his hand to help her. She laid warm, slim fingers against his, and again a tingle raced up his arm and settled in his chest. Her lips parted in surprise, as if she too felt that tingle.
Something flickered in her eyes as she pulled her hand from his grasp and walked toward the
Lady Shae
, lifting her skirts just enough to show the lacy white petticoats beneath the hem. Remy sucked in his breath, his gaze focused on her slim ankles.
He blinked, forcing his gaze away from her ankles, then grinned in spite of himself as his eyes found and settled on her backside, swaying beneath the yards of shimmering fabric. As if in a trance, he followed her up the landing stage, the cane in his hand tapping on the wooden planks beneath his feet.
He felt an intense stare and turned slightly to see Jock’s eyes on him, a huge grin stretching the ginger mustache across his upper lip. The older man said nothing, but he winked and picked up his pace, making his way toward the pilothouse aboard the
Lady Shae
.
One by one, they inspected the riverboats. All were in excellent shape, the paint new, the brass gleaming in the morning sun, the engines well oiled, and he wondered how Shae had managed it all. He’d seen the brighter squares on the
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