Elizabeth Grayson (6 page)

Before he could move, Ann stepped back. “Have a good trip,” she said.

It was a chilly dismissal, and any hope Chase might have had of kissing his wife abruptly evaporated. “Take care of yourself and the baby while I’m gone,” he offered. “I’ll be back—”

“Yes, I know. In July.”

“July,” he echoed. They certainly weren’t parting the way he’d hoped, yet somehow they’d maneuvered through the morass of misunderstandings and expectations and had clear water ahead.

He took his leave, making sure to close the door to the commodore’s study behind him. He was three strides down the hall when he heard something fragile, and probably expensive, shatter against the opposite side of the wide wooden panel.

chapter three

CHASE BRACED BOTH HANDS AGAINST THE
Andromeda’s
big wooden wheel and watched the last of the passengers straggling aboard the steamer, three decks below. He’d already looked over the distribution of the cargo and checked the manifests. He’d greeted most of the cabin passengers. Not five minutes before, he’d rung the bells that connected the pilothouse to the engine room and signaled Cal Watkins to build up steam in the boiler and limber up the engine.

Soon they’d be getting underway, beginning Chase’s first run as the
Andromeda
’s captain. He’d been dreaming about this moment all his life. He imagined the way he’d stand with his feet planted on the deck of his own boat, how he’d watch the Missouri River country unfurl before him as if he owned that, too.

He drew in a long satisfied breath and let it go. He was a man in command of his own riverboat, a man in command of his own destiny. What Chase couldn’t seem to control was his brother’s curiosity—or his impertinence.

While Chase gave the orders that would ready the
Andromeda
for departure, Rue had settled into one corner of the lazy bench that ran across the back of the wheelhouse.

“So,” he drawled as Chase consulted his river charts for what must have been the twentieth time, “when exactly do you mean to tell Pa and Ma about the new Mrs. Hardesty?”

Chase was concentrating on the maps, not on his new wife. Still, he knew better than to ignore Rue’s question outright. He marked his place with his finger and raised his head. “I’ll tell them about Ann when the time comes.”

“When we stop home on our way upriver?” Rue pressed him.

“I expect.”

“Are you going to mention that Ann’s in the family way?” Rue wanted to know. “Or are you going to spring that on them the way you did on me?”

Chase could hear the scorn in his brother’s voice that masked his hurt. He truly had meant to tell Rue about Ann, about Ann’s baby, and the agreement he’d made with the commodore. He just hadn’t been able to find the words.

The bargain sounded so cold-blooded when you said it straight-out. Yet even if his wedding to Ann Rossiter had been more a transaction than a love match, what was wrong with that if both parties were satisfied with the outcome? Though after their interview in the commodore’s study, Chase couldn’t say Ann seemed all that satisfied.

As much to cover his own discomfort as to get on with his duties, Chase strode to the wheelhouse doorway and shouted for the mate to ring the departure bell, signaling any passengers lingering on the levee to get aboard. He returned to the wheel and stepped on the peddle to blow the departure whistle
—th-oo-op, thoop, thoop, th-oo-op,
thoop—
to let the other steamers know they were preparing to leave the levee.

“What I mean is—” Rue continued, never one to be put off. “Well, I wondered about Ann’s baby. It isn’t yours, is it? You and I must have been at Ma and Pa’s about the time she...”

In the last two days Chase had spent more time than he cared to admit wondering about Ann, Ann’s baby, and especially about Ann’s baby’s father. Who was he? What kind of man would seduce a respectable, gently reared woman, get her with child, then refuse to marry her?

Chase might speculate about that, but he didn’t want anyone else doing it. He turned and faced his brother, meeting his dark gaze head-on. “Ann’s baby is mine now,” he said simply. “That’s all that matters.”

Rue paused, then inclined his head. “I see what you mean.”

“Good,” Chase answered. “Good. And if anybody starts asking questions—especially Ma—I’d be obliged if you tell them that baby belongs to me.”

“But if I was able to count back far enough to figure out you aren’t that baby’s father,” Rue pointed out, “don’t you think Ma—”

“Let me handle Ma,” Chase warned him.

Just then, a horsecab came clattering across the cobblestones at a speed that sent stevedores, transfer agents, and passengers sprinting out of the way. It came to a swaying stop at the foot of the
Andromeda
’s landing stage.

“If that’s one of our passengers,” Rue observed, coming to stand at Chase’s shoulder, “he’s cut things pretty damn close.”

Chase nodded in agreement and watched the small, bandy-legged driver clamber down from his box. Against a heavy wind, he battled his way back to the carriage door and heaved it open.

A woman emerged somewhat gracelessly, then clamped one hand to the top of her head to batten down her broad-brimmed hat. She glanced once at the ship, then gestured for the driver to gather up her baggage.

Chase didn’t recall seeing the name of any lone women on the passenger list, which meant this lady was joining her husband, probably after a day of perusing St. Louis’s shops.

As the woman started up the
Andromeda
’s landing stage, her overloaded driver bobbing in her wake, a particularly strong gust of wind molded her deep-blue cloak close against her body.

Chase saw at once that she was pregnant.
“Oh, dear
God!”
he breathed.

Rue squinted and bent closer to the window. “Is that Ann?”

“I sure as hell hope not,” Chase muttered, then bolted out of the pilothouse. When he reached the main deck the woman in the wide-brimmed hat was standing at the lip of the gangway.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Jake Skirlin, the
Andromeda
’s clerk, was saying. “We’re all sold out of first-class cabins, and even deck passage is at a minimum. Perhaps I can direct you to another...”

Just then the woman raised her head, and Chase saw his worst fears realized. It was Ann Rossiter.

Ann
Hardesty,
he corrected himself.

Before she answered, Ann tipped her chin in that prim, ladylike way Chase was coming to recognize—and detest.

“You misunderstand me, sir. I don’t need first class accommodations. I’d like to be shown to the captain’s cabin.”

“To the captain’s cabin?” Skirlin echoed.

For a moment, Chase wondered if he could simply disavow her, say he’d never seen this woman before in his life. He didn’t know what Ann was doing here or what she hoped to accomplish, but there was something about the rigidity of her stance and the way the green leather gloves pulled across her knuckles as she balled her fists that made him think he didn’t have much choice about claiming her.

“It’s all right, Skirlin,” he said, coming toward them around the tall, finialed post at the foot of the grand staircase. “This lady is my wife.”

Chase saw the clerk’s mouth drop open in astonishment before he turned his full attention on Ann. “Go home,” he told her.

“I won’t!” The words were sharp, clipped, and, judging from her tone, nonnegotiable.

“We’re casting off in ten minutes. I don’t want you aboard the
Andromeda
when we do.”

Ann gave her head a quick, dismissing shake. “I don’t care what you want. I’m coming with you.”

He could see by the taut line of her jaw that she meant it and was fully prepared to fight to win her way. Chase didn’t have the time or patience to convince her otherwise.

He wasn’t about to stand here on the deck with half the crew looking on and argue with her, either. He wasn’t going to let Ann Rossiter—Ann
Hardesty,
damn it—ruin one of the most important moments of his life.

He caught her arm and escorted her, none too gently, in the direction of the stairs.

“If we’re not back before you hear the order to cast off,” he told Skirlin, “load Mrs. Hardesty’s baggage and pay her driver. Give him a generous tip, too; those valises look to weigh half as much as he does.”

Chase all but dragged Ann up two flights of stairs to where his cabin sat at the front of the Texas deck. Once they were alone he’d set things straight with her, then pack her and her valises back to Lucas Place.

As they approached his stateroom, Chase saw Rue leaning over the railing outside the wheelhouse on the deck above, his face bright with interest. Chase shot his brother the kind of glare that usually set stevedores trembling, then escorted Ann into his cabin.

The office/sitting room and adjoining bedroom were compact but luxuriously appointed, as suited the master of such a fast and graceful steamer. It was certainly the fanciest place Chase had ever lived. But since he’d taken command, he’d barely had time to notice the intricate millwork, the turkey-red carpets, and the elegant furnishings. For a moment he saw them through Ann’s eyes and was pleased at their understated elegance.

Then he narrowed his focus to his wife, standing tall and poker-straight in the middle of his stateroom—where she most certainly didn’t belong.

“All right, Ann,” he said as reasonably as he could. “What’s this all about?”

Ann plucked a long ivory hatpin from her hat, removed the wide-brimmed velvety thing, then patted her hair into place.

The presumption in that gesture made Chase clench his teeth.

“I decided”—Ann tilted her chin up another notch— “that since you don’t keep rooms in town, I’d live aboard the
Andromeda.”

It took Chase a moment to catch his breath. “You can’t just move in here!” he protested.

“And why not?”

Several answers flashed across his mind: because women aboard a riverboat were as useless as bulls with udders; because no hothouse lady could bear up to the noise and dirt and rough companions. Because they were headed up the cantankerous Missouri, not on some picnic excursion. Because Ann was carrying a child and needed looking after.

Because he didn’t want her here.
He didn’t want her aboard the
Andromeda
because this moment was his, his alone. He wanted to savor every hoot of the whistle, every riffle of wind across the water. Every prickle of pride.

He didn’t want her here because it would be too damned difficult to have someone so young and lovely— and pregnant with someone else’s child—living in such proximity. Just thinking about having her here—sharing these rooms, for God’s sake—made him itch all over.

Since he couldn’t explain that to Ann, he did his best to be reasonable. “Now, Ann,” he cajoled, “it would certainly make more sense for you to stay at the town house where you have family to look after you.”

“I don’t care what makes sense.” She faced him, her hands knotted at her waist and color flaming in her cheeks. “I’m your responsibility.”

The thorn in his side is what she meant.

“I met my responsibilities,” Chase pointed out. “I made provision for you to stay on with your father while I was away.”

“Without even asking me what I wanted!”

He hadn’t had a chance to ask her; Ann had refused to see him. Besides, he’d done what was quite obviously best for her, and her inability to admit it infuriated him. Hadn’t she vowed to “honor and obey” him just this morning?

“You don’t belong on the
Andromeda,”
he told her baldly. “The idea of you living aboard is ridiculous, irresponsible.”

“Nevertheless,” she answered. “I mean to stay.”

“Goddamn it, Ann!” he shouted at her. “Why are you here? Why are you so bent on leaving your father’s house?”

“Do you think”—her words were harsh and bitten off short—“I’d have come to you if I had anywhere else to go?”

Chase felt the impact of that question in his chest.

“I’m here,” she went on, “because the commodore married me off to someone I’d never laid eyes on until two days ago. Because he sold me to a common steersman to save the Rossiter name from scandal.

“I’m here”—her voice thickened, darkened—“because after his doing that, I don’t trust him to put my best interests—or the best interests of this baby—ahead of his own.”

After his years on the river, Chase had seen Rossiter’s ruthlessness in the deals he’d made and the men he’d fired without a thought. That the commodore had married Ann off so hastily and to someone like him, reinforced that the commodore put his own needs and desires ahead of everyone else’s.

“So you’ll take your chances with me instead?” he asked.

“You’ve only betrayed me once—” she answered with more than a little bitterness. “At least so far.”

Her barb sank deep, and Chase couldn’t help grimacing.

“If you stayed aboard I wouldn’t have time to look after you,” he warned her. “I’m on duty twenty-four hours a day. I stand watches, supervise the navigation and engineering, and make sure the passengers’ needs are being taken care of. There are logs and ledgers to keep, decisions to make, and goods to sell at stops along the way.”

“You needn’t take so much as a moment away from your duties for my sake.” Ann stood perfectly still and watched him pace. “You’ll barely know I’m here.”

“Oh, Ann!” Chase stopped to laugh. “I’d know you were here if I were deaf and blind. Are you really going to be able to ignore me if we’re living in these two little rooms together?”

Ann’s eyes went wide, as if she hadn’t fully considered what their living arrangements were going to be.

“Perhaps you have a vacant cabin,” she suggested hopefully.

“Not a one.”

She hesitated and pressed her fingers to her lips as if she were casting about for an alternative.