Gallant Match (13 page)

“Nothing. It was done only to annoy me, as I am well aware. But you can't be surprised if another admirer chances to take issue with it.”

“
Another
admirer, is it?”

She gave him a glare of exasperation, though her features seemed to have taken on a deeper color. “An admirer, period. I do realize you are not in that camp.”

“Just so,” he agreed, inclining his head. “As to my…encroachments, I will promise to be more discreet. Will that suffice?”

“By no means.”

“You don't want me to be discreet?”

“You are not to encroach! You are not to touch me at all. Do you understand?”

Oh, he understood all right, but some devil inside him refused to make the concession.

It was not required. With the inevitability of tides and
timing, they finally left the Mississippi behind at that moment, broaching the first swells of the gulf. These were sizable where they clashed with the great river's final surge into the sea.

Sonia's attention was on him instead of the water. As the ship lifted with the first wave, she tottered a step in her heeled slippers, trying to keep her balance.

There was only one thing to be done. With a tight grin curving his mouth, Kerr clamped one hand to the railing beside him and snagged her narrow waist with the other. Contracting muscles gone suddenly as hard as steel, he snatched her against him.

She was a glorious armful in her silk and lace and whalebone, delicious with the scent of violets, fresh sea air and warm female. She went to his head like the finest cognac, tripping impulses he hardly knew he possessed. He wanted to plunder her mouth, to taste the very essence of her. He would give his soul for the right to take her below to some private cabin and peel away all the feminine furbelows that protected her. He longed to hold her as she turned to him, naked, willing and languid in her passion. He yearned to trace with hands, lips and tongue every sweet curve and delectable hollow of her body, delicately questing while she panted, writhing with need in his arms. Need of him.

Her eyes were darkly mysterious, her face was open and vulnerable, her lips parted with unconscious enticement. Her heart throbbed against the wall of his chest, between the resilient mounds of her breasts.

She was temptation personified.

She was forbidden to him.

The effort required to release her strained sinew, made rigid muscles creak with protest. He did it because he must, because he had taken on a commission and would not abandon it, because she was likely to scream and demand he be clapped in irons if he didn't. He did it because it was right.

“Thank you,” she whispered, when she stood on her own feet once more, holding to the railing for support.

Kerr gave her a truncated bow of acknowledgment though uncertain whether her gratitude was for saving her from a fall or for abandoning his more ferocious impulses. That she suspected them, he had no doubt. She was neither stupid nor insensitive. He could only hope she was not so desperate for escape that she thought to forge them into a weapon against him.

It cost nothing to hope.

He watched her turn away without another word between them, moving toward the companionway that led to her cabin. Only when she disappeared from sight did he swing back to the railing, grasping its chill, damp wood with hard hands while he stared into the darkness. Ahead of him lay the black and heaving surface of the sea and the limitless horizon.

Oh, yes, and Mexico, where Rouillard waited for his bride.

O
n the morning following the
Lime Rock
's entrance into the gulf, Tante Lily refused to rise from her bunk. It was more than her usual inclination to lie abed until well after breakfast. Moaning about the terrible wallowing of the ship and her imminent death from
mal de mer,
she squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face to the wall.

Sonia did everything in her power to make her aunt more comfortable, bathing her face with a cool cloth, holding the china slop jar while she was thoroughly ill, bringing watered wine and dry biscuits to help settle her stomach. Nothing made any difference. When she offered to rub her aunt's temples with perfume, Tante Lily begged her to go away and stop tormenting her so she could die in peace. Sonia complied, since it seemed she might rest better if left alone.

The fresh wind sweeping along the deck was a vivid reminder of how close and noxious the air had become below. Sonia stood breathing it with gratitude while watching the steady rise and fall of the horizon with the
ship's movement. The motion caused her no discomfort. Truth to tell, she enjoyed it. The deep blue waves that stretched to the horizon also pleased her. There was a profound sense of peace in their eternal movement and the light that danced over them.

It was impossible to sink into true reverie, however. She was too aware that Kerr could appear at any moment. She wasn't anxious to face him after the night before. It had to happen sometime, but the longer she could put it off, the happier she would be.

How the man unsettled her. She would like to think it was deliberate. The turmoil that shook her to her feminine core when he was near would be more excusable then. She was sure that brand of practiced seduction had never crossed his mind, however. As with last night, he simply responded to the moment.

So had she, and far too easily.

The feel of his arm around her, the unfaltering strength of his hold and incredible security of being caught against him had seeped into her dreams during the night. The promise of sweet, hot bliss had been there as well, beckoning with painful intensity. She feared she might have surrendered in sleeping fantasy but could not be sure, refused to be sure. Still, the urgency of the need had returned since she was awake, as it did now while she stood near where it had happened, as she breathed salt-flavored air into her lungs and felt the soft sea breeze in her face.

It would not do. She shook her head, forcing such visions from her.

She must keep her mind on what lay ahead, when she reached Vera Cruz. Three possibilities existed, as far as she could see. The first was simply to do nothing and hope that Jean Pierre had changed his mind. Second, she could attempt to elude her escort in the confusion of docking, hiding away until she could arrange passage to Mobile. Finally, she could allow herself to be escorted to her new home while trusting some avenue of escape would present itself once Kerr had gone.

Of the two men, Jean Pierre and Kerr, she fancied her future husband should be easier to deceive. He would not dream she objected to the match, so was unlikely to be on his guard.

That was, of course, unless her father had sent some advance warning along with the message to expect her arrival. The possibility of an alliance had been explained to her months ago, before Christmas, along with instructions to complete the trousseau that every young girl began to collect the moment she was born. She could not think that had been the first her father knew of it. There would have been negotiations concerning her dowry, terms and agreements sent back and forth about her personal allowance, the budget for housekeeping, the allocation of her property and the sum that would come to her one day by inheritance. Yes, her recalcitrance could easily have been mentioned at some point.

What if Jean Pierre met her at the docks and hustled her off to the church and a priest? That would be the end of it, the end of everything.

“Good day,
mademoiselle.
”

She turned with a start to greet Alexander Tremont as he strolled toward her. Hatless in deference to the brisk wind, he touched his brow in token of what would have been removal of his headgear in her presence. He was dressed in shades of brown and cream, the only discordant note being orange flowers embroidered among the trailing vines on his waistcoat.

“I understand from the dining-salon steward that your aunt may be a bit under the weather.”

His smile was as warm as the look in his dark eyes as they moved over her. It was a shade too calculating, Sonia thought, his perusal of her form beneath the sea-blue poplin of her day gown a little too comprehensive. “A touch of seasickness,” she replied. “I'm sure she will soon recover.”

“In the meantime, you are also without your large, sword-wielding protector. Perhaps you will allow me to keep you company. I could read to you, sort your embroidery silks or some such task. Oh, and pick up whatever you drop.”

“I don't expect to be clumsy today.”

Amused comprehension curved to his lips. “A great disappointment, but I'll survive it. As long, that is, as Monsieur Wallace remains at cards in the gentleman's parlor.”

“Is that where he is? I did wonder.”

“No doubt you did, having grown used to walking in his sizable shadow. May I ask…? But, no, it's none of my affair.”

“What isn't?”

He seemed to take that as permission to continue. “If the gentleman isn't related, perhaps he's a friend of your father's that he's entrusted with your welfare?”

“By no means.”

“I will admit it seemed unlikely. On the other hand, he's hardly the sort to hire out his services.”

“What sort would he be instead?” She searched his face even as she tried valiantly to remain unmoved by the thought of how she and Kerr had met, and all that had happened since that moment.

“Independent, able beyond most, a commanding personality—”

“Ruthless, stubborn to the point of pigheadedness,” she supplied.

Tremont accepted her additions with a brief inclination of his head. “His size must give him a fearsome presence on the fencing strip. His concentration would be hard to match as well. I'd have thought his salon would be overrun with clients.”

“Assuming he has any skill with a sword.”

“That's a given. I mean to say, he'd not have earned a place on the Passage de la Bourse otherwise.”

She hesitated then plunged ahead with the question in her mind. “You seem to have some knowledge of swordplay,
monsieur.
Have you perhaps spent time in the Passage?”

“I can claim some small facility, though it was gained in other venues.”

“So you have never faced Monsieur Wallace with sword in hand.”

“Thankfully, no.” His expression turned wry and he averted his gaze to the sea around them. “It was more than enough to face him over the card table this morning.”

It was a change of subject, but she was inclined to allow it. “He defeated you there, did he?”

“Let us add the devil's own luck to the list of his assets. But my question is why he is here with you. With all due respect for your charm and beauty, it's difficult to understand what attracted him to the post.”

“He's being well paid for his trouble.”

“Yet will almost certainly lose as much or more in the time spent away from his salon.”

It was a point she had not considered. Resentment had kept her from any attempt to understand Kerr Wallace's presence. She essayed it now with some reluctance.

Why had Kerr applied for the position as her escort? It was nothing personal she was certain. He had hardly been aware of her existence before arriving at the town house, and she had known nothing of him beyond mention of his name as a notorious sword master. If her father was acquainted with him at all, she had no knowledge of it, and nothing in their manner at that first meeting suggested it.

She frowned as memory stirred. Hadn't Hippolyte, on the night of the ball at the Hotel Saint Louis, suggested Kerr might be in search of some man in a personal vendetta? The sword master himself had made some reference as well, something about a sworn oath.

“It may be he has reasons of his own,” she said finally.

“So we must suppose.”

“And the question exercises your mind because you have so little else to occupy it?”

“As you say,” he answered, then hesitated a moment before he went on. “I also had it in mind to…to issue a word of caution.”

“Did you.” Her tone was not encouraging, but he was not deterred.

“Men such as Wallace are not always bound by the rules that constrain the rest of us. They are too used to putting their lives on the line for a whim or misspoken word, carving their own paths by main force, so matters turn out to suit their ends. They have little regard for the tender or the innocent. In short, Mademoiselle Bonneval, your protector on this voyage could become your greatest danger.”

“It's kind of you to trouble yourself.” The comment was perfunctory as Sonia's thoughts moved in rapid surmise about the purpose behind Tremont's warning. She acquitted him of mere flirtation; his manner was too serious, his face too grave.

“You are a lady to whom it's impossible for a true gentleman to be unkind.”

She inclined her head in acceptance of that bit of gallantry, but walked on without reply. Nor did her frown lighten.

It was peculiar, but serious regard on the part of the gentleman at her side left her unmoved. Her heart kept to its sedate beat and her breathing remained even. Though she was aware of him, it was merely as a person with whom she felt reasonable accord. Unlike the devil
of a sword master, he stirred nothing inside her, no doubt or alarm, indignation or fury—certainly not the near-unbearable exhilaration of battle.

It was disconcerting. She had not thought the physical presence of two men unrelated to her could affect her in such different ways. Was it possible that women stirred men in a similar fashion? Was there some basic difference that called to one and not to another?

Oh, she had known the thrill of secret infatuations during her teenage years, had whispered of such things with her friends in retiring rooms at house parties. All had agreed they soon passed, could have nothing to do with the enduring love between husband and wife which must be based on shared expectations, mutual respect and consideration. These were things that came with time, or so they had been told, and would be felt for whoever was chosen for them as a partner for life.

What if they were wrong?

What if Alexander Tremont felt something for her regardless of her response? His purpose in speaking to her of Kerr, then, could be to discredit him so he might take his place.

Yes, but to what purpose? He knew any acquaintance between them must be short-lived. What could he expect of her once they reached their journey's end? That was, if he expected anything at all.

Her pace slowed as her mind ranged in wider circles. Suppose Tremont knew Jean Pierre and had set himself to look after the betrothed of his friend. It was not impossible since they both had business interests in Mexico—
or so Tremont had said, though Tante Lily still insisted he had the look of a wastrel. Yet if it were so, would he not have claimed the acquaintance and spoken of their good fortune in traveling to Vera Cruz together?

It occurred to her, abruptly, that the munitions the gentlemen had noticed being loaded before they sailed might have been on Tremont's mind. Did he suspect some connection to Kerr? It was a startling concept, but not impossible on the face of it. The qualities that made the swordsman a formidable opponent on the fencing strip would stand him in good stead should he turn to criminal activity.

What a farce it would be if her father had sent her off on her wedding voyage under the protection of a traitor. She was almost willing to believe it was true for the fine jest it would make.

Anything was possible as a cause for Tremont's concern, including genuine distrust of Kerr, genuine concern for her well-being while in his company. If that was his position, might it not be to her advantage? An ally in eluding Kerr's escort when they touched land would be most welcome.

“I am grateful for the warning,” she said after a long moment, “but fail to see what use I'm to make of it. Monsieur Wallace was chosen by my father, so stands in his stead. Added to that, we are fixed on board here until the ship reaches port. Naturally, I shall be safeguarded from that point on by my future husband.”

“Forgive me, but you don't seem overjoyed at either prospect.”

“How discerning of you.” She could not prevent a dry note from creeping into her voice.

“Am I to assume you would escape both if you could?”

“Readily, though I have little hope of it.”

“Your future groom is quite unknown to you, then. Or is it rather that he's known but not highly regarded?”

“My father esteems him.”

“A telling indictment if ever I heard one.” He gazed out to sea an instant before turning back to her. “I should think it would be almost intolerable to know you must marry a virtual stranger.”