himself.
The
Magnolia Belle
left Baton Rouge promptly at dawn, though Lottie had to take Captain Woodruff’s word on that since she was asleep at the
time. A few hours after sunup, the deck was mostly deserted, except for the few passengers who took the opportunity to enjoy
the scenery as the
Belle
’s paddle wheel pushed the boat through the current of the mighty Mississippi. The thump, thump of the wheel hitting the water
sounded like a heartbeat, giving an odd sense of life to the large wooden vessel.
Lottie closed her eyes to enjoy the breeze and the rich fragrances of the river and the vegetation on its shores. The huge
smokestacks carried the thick black wood smoke of the
Belle
’s boilers high above the heads of those on deck, so none of the pungent odors interfered with the pleasures of their journey.
It was so peaceful at times like this she could almost forget the burden she carried. Almost.
“Beautiful morning, isn’t it, Lottie?” Newt’s voice brought her back to earth and its ugly realities.
She opened her eyes and smiled. “Yes, it’s quite lovely.”
He took a place beside her at the rail. “How did your lessons go with Dyer?”
“Oh, well . . .” She hesitated. “I found them enlightening.”
Newt chuckled. “Why do I get the feeling that if I asked Dyer the same question, I’d get a different answer?”
She knitted her brow. Newt had a rather uncanny way of getting to the heart of a matter. “He seemed a bit tired.”
“Before or after the lesson?” His teasing grin brought a smile to her lips.
“It’s not very gentlemanly of you to ask such a thing.”
“My apologies, fair lady.” He turned to look out at the river, then added as an afterthought, “You’re good for him.”
“I doubt he would agree with you.” She wasn’t sure where Newt came up with such a notion. Most of the time Dyer acted as though
she was a curse.
“Only because he doesn’t know you’re good for him yet.” He glanced at Lottie out of the corner of his eye. “Be patient with
him, Lottie. Don’t give up.”
“I think you’re giving that advice to the wrong person.”
Something over Lottie’s shoulder caught Newt’s attention. “Speak of the devil.” He nodded once in a greeting to someone behind
her. “We won’t be in Natchez for a few more hours. Now might be a good time to continue with those lessons.”
She turned around to see Dyer walking toward them on the deck. His suit was immaculate, and his white shirt was starched and
crisp against the tanned skin of his neck. He wore no vest, perhaps in deference to the heat of the day, but the lack of the
extra garment allowed the outline of his chest to show against the thin fabric of his shirt. She pulled her eyes, and mind,
away from his chest and glanced over to Newt, silently willing him to say something.
“I’ll leave you two to your lessons,” he said as he left her alone with Dyer. Not exactly what she’d hoped he’d say.
“I see you and Newt have become quite close.” Dyer’scomment surprised her. It had a tone to it that, if she didn’t know better, she would swear was jealous.
“He’s a true gentleman.”
Dyer snorted. “Anytime you begin to think of a riverboat gambler as a gentleman, you are walking precariously close to trouble.”
She looked up at his profile while he stared out across the river. There was a rugged handsomeness about the man that never
failed to give her a start. “Does that go for you too?”
Slowly, he turned his face toward her, narrowing his gaze. “That, Miss Mace, goes double for me.”
He leaned close enough to her that she could smell the pleasant mix of shaving soap and bay rum from his morning toiletries.
Her heart pounded wildly as she watched his face for a clue as to what he was going to do next. He had leaned far too close
for it to be anything proper.
The corner of his mouth turned up. “How about some lessons?”
She didn’t miss the
The
Magnolia Belle
left Baton Rouge promptly at dawn, though Lottie had to take Captain Woodruff’s word on that since she was asleep at the
time. A few hours after sunup, the deck was mostly deserted, except for the few passengers who took the opportunity to enjoy
the scenery as the
Belle
’s paddle wheel pushed the boat through the current of the mighty Mississippi. The thump, thump of the wheel hitting the water
sounded like a heartbeat, giving an odd sense of life to the large wooden vessel.
Lottie closed her eyes to enjoy the breeze and the rich fragrances of the river and the vegetation on its shores. The huge
smokestacks carried the thick black wood smoke of the
Belle
’s boilers high above the heads of those on deck, so none of the pungent odors interfered with the pleasures of their journey.
It was so peaceful at times like this she could almost forget the burden she carried. Almost.
“Beautiful morning, isn’t it, Lottie?” Newt’s voice brought her back to earth and its ugly realities.
She opened her eyes and smiled. “Yes, it’s quite lovely.”
He took a place beside her at the rail. “How did your lessons go with Dyer?”
“Oh, well . . .” She hesitated. “I found them enlightening.”
Newt chuckled. “Why do I get the feeling that if I asked Dyer the same question, I’d get a different answer?”
She knitted her brow. Newt had a rather uncanny way of getting to the heart of a matter. “He seemed a bit tired.”
“Before or after the lesson?” His teasing grin brought a smile to her lips.
“It’s not very gentlemanly of you to ask such a thing.”
“My apologies, fair lady.” He turned to look out at the river, then added as an afterthought, “You’re good for him.”
“I doubt he would agree with you.” She wasn’t sure where Newt came up with such a notion. Most of the time Dyer acted as though
she was a curse.
“Only because he doesn’t know you’re good for him yet.” He glanced at Lottie out of the corner of his eye. “Be patient with
him, Lottie. Don’t give up.”
“I think you’re giving that advice to the wrong person.”
Something over Lottie’s shoulder caught Newt’s attention. “Speak of the devil.” He nodded once in a greeting to someone behind
her. “We won’t be in Natchez for a few more hours. Now might be a good time to continue with those lessons.”
She turned around to see Dyer walking toward them on the deck. His suit was immaculate, and his white shirt was starched and
crisp against the tanned skin of his neck. He wore no vest, perhaps in deference to the heat of the day, but the lack of the
extra garment allowed the outline of his chest to show against the thin fabric of his shirt. She pulled her eyes, and mind,
away from his chest and glanced over to Newt, silently willing him to say something.
“I’ll leave you two to your lessons,” he said as he left her alone with Dyer. Not exactly what she’d hoped he’d say.
“I see you and Newt have become quite close.” Dyer’scomment surprised her. It had a tone to it that, if she didn’t know better, she would swear was jealous.
“He’s a true gentleman.”
Dyer snorted. “Anytime you begin to think of a riverboat gambler as a gentleman, you are walking precariously close to trouble.”
She looked up at his profile while he stared out across the river. There was a rugged handsomeness about the man that never
failed to give her a start. “Does that go for you too?”
Slowly, he turned his face toward her, narrowing his gaze. “That, Miss Mace, goes double for me.”
He leaned close enough to her that she could smell the pleasant mix of shaving soap and bay rum from his morning toiletries.
Her heart pounded wildly as she watched his face for a clue as to what he was going to do next. He had leaned far too close
for it to be anything proper.
The corner of his mouth turned up. “How about some lessons?”
She didn’t miss the
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