Captive Innocence by Fern Michaels Page A

through her? Why did she find herself at a loss for words in his presence? Why was she acting like a schoolgirl instead of a poised widow who had had the benefit of an education and profited from a finishing school, not to mention the lovemaking they had shared? Why, when she wanted to be at her best, did she find her confidence in herself falter? But then, when he looked at her as he was doing now, her fears disappeared and she could feel herself preen under his attention. Her pulse would quicken and the very air she breathed would exhilarate her being. She felt herself fill out—a woman, nothing more, a woman. His kind of woman?
    Sebastian picked at his dinner, feeling nourished by Royall’s presence. He watched her. Slim and lithe, poised, quiet. Not babbling on, the way some girls did. She was gracious, almost queenly in her bearing. He, Sebastian Rivera, sometimes described as the most eligible bachelor in Manaus, felt as though he had feathers instead of a backbone. Yet, there were times when she looked at him, waiting for him to answer her question, or looking to him in conversation, when he felt he could be all she would ever want him to be. A man whose opinion was valued, whose words meant something. He believed she measured his words, listened to him. Not like most other women he had known, who patiently waited for him to finish his sentence just so they could lead the talk back to themselves. Or perhaps, while he was speaking, were wondering if their hats were on straight or their hair falling out from some of those outlandish coifs they wore, or were fidgeting with their gloves, or, worse, giggling in punctuation at the end of his every statement. This was a woman who was interested in him and what he had to say, what he was thinking. Nothing would ever convince him she was feigning interest. A man could tell those things. And in her deference to him, he found he weighed his words more carefully, pondered his judgments, considered his banter. He enjoyed himself, liked himself. He felt good to be with her, more a man, and always the memories of the night they had shared. Was she too remembering? He had been wrong. This young lady was different. If he wanted more to come of their relationship, and he admitted to himself that he did, he would have to tread softly.
    After dinner Sebastian escorted Royall to the top deck. The night was sultry, and from where they stood, the sound of the great paddle wheel was a low whoosh as it propelled the luxurious boat through the dark waters of the Amazon.
    The stars hung in the black sky, shining their dim, celestial light upon their faces. The moon at its first quarter was like an orange slice, precariously teetering in the heavens.
    Royall breathed in the heavy scent of the tropical air. She became lost in the moment, entranced in the magic of the Brazilian sky, warm in the nearness of Sebastian.
    He watched her as though from afar. Inwardly he groaned with longing for her and silently cursed himself for being at a loss for words. As he watched her, a breeze lifted itself across the water and blew against her. The soft folds of her gown were drawn against her, revealing the sensuous lines of her body. The breeze caressed her and wafted in his direction, bringing with it the scent she used. It reminded him of the earth, the sky, and the river he loved.
    She turned to face him, somewhat embarrassed by her long silence, shy that her emotions were all too evident, afraid he would sense her desire.
    His expression, as he looked at her, made her feel giddy; she was aware of his feelings and reveled in them. The embarrassing silence became a silent understanding—no words were needed. He approached her as she turned to look out over the water. His arms slipped around her and held her close. She could feel his warm breath against her cheek and she pressed herself closer to his chest.
    Suddenly, his lips came down hard on hers, straining, loving, wanting her more than