Chapter 7

7

Sullivan eyed the wide doorway of the parlor. Where was Enya?

He'd arrived at the Shanahans' home over an hour ago with Bellamy, and he hadn't seen her once. Not that he was thinking about her or eager to see her again.

No, he'd done well keeping his mind from drifting to her too often since the wedding at the cathedral last night. He'd been occupied helping the runaway slave into the rowboat that had silently crept alongside the steamer at two in the morning as planned. After that, he'd had to make arrangements for another captain to take over the Morning Star 's voyage back to New Orleans.

This morning, he'd run several errands, including speaking with one of their family's attorneys about the accusations from smaller steamboat companies claiming that the New Orleans Steamboat Packet Company's lower prices for passenger fares were putting them out of business. Captain Fitch of the Memphis Packet had been the most vocal, in sisting that eventually Sullivan and his father would have a monopoly.

Sullivan rationalized that there was enough room on the river for everyone. But the other truth was that he and his father ran a sound business with fair practices, and they shouldn't be penalized for their success by little companies who were still struggling.

Though the morning had been busy, now that he was at the Shanahan residence, he did hope to have the opportunity to speak with Enya. They hadn't had any time last night to converse because everything had been rushed and she'd been tired. But today, he wanted to get to know her better.

She wasn't the wife he'd anticipated. Regardless, he was trying to stifle a voice inside that told him he wasn't enough for her, that she wouldn't like him after she got to know him. And he'd decided he had to do whatever he could to prove himself a worthy husband.

Sullivan shifted on the settee, half tempted to rise and go seek her out. It probably wouldn't be difficult. The big home had a quiet, empty feel to it since apparently most of the Shanahan family had moved to the country.

One older daughter and her new husband were living in the home, but they'd been gone before Sullivan arrived, apparently taking food, clothing, and even medicinal supplies to the newly arrived immigrants who had so little and were often weak and sick.

Sullivan knew exactly how weak and sick the immigrants were. He transported them upriver from New Orleans after they arrived on steamboats from eastern cities or on ships that poured in directly from Europe.

Many of the immigrants had to stop over and work for a short while in New Orleans before saving enough to afford passage into the heartland of the United States, where they hoped they would find cheap land, good jobs, clean air, and plenty of food.

Unfortunately, upon reaching St. Louis, most immigrants had to stop again to work and save. Eventually some went farther, either north to the Midwest or west on the Missouri River. But plenty stayed in St. Louis, lured by the demand for workers, not only on the levee but in the many factories and industries that populated the frontier city.

The Shanahans were clearly kind and generous people in their willingness to help the poor immigrants. His esteem of both James and Kiernan had risen throughout the past hour of conversing.

But he was done with talking. All he wanted to do now was see Enya.

As if sensing his growing unrest, Bellamy rose and lifted a brow at him while gathering up the papers they'd signed with all the details of the marriage arrangement. "'Tis time for me to be going."

Sullivan released a breath and pushed up to his feet. He'd groomed carefully earlier in the morning, had even called for a bath and asked for a shave. Not because he wanted to impress Enya in any way. But it had simply been a while, and he was due for one.

"We can't thank you enough." James Shanahan stood and shook Bellamy's hand. Kiernan did likewise.

"Ach, I'm happy I could help bring the two together."

"You're turning into a right fine matchmaker, that you are." James took a final drag on his Cuban cigar before he snuffed the tip in a green glass ashtray on the table beside his chair. The room was decorated in light green and gold with fancy gilded decorations, and Sullivan had felt right at home since his own family's residence in New Orleans was styled in much the same way.

"We'll be calling on you again soon, Bellamy." James cocked his head toward Kiernan. "Oh aye, Kiernan's getting the matrimonial itch himself."

"Is that a fact?" Bellamy held Kiernan's gaze, and Kiernan looked back almost defiantly. "I'll be ready to lend a hand if you need it."

"Soon. But not too soon." James grinned, revealing the same dimple in his chin that Enya had. "I'd like a wee bit of a breath between marriages."

Bellamy tucked the papers into his coat before he turned to Sullivan. "Remember, Captain. You're just the man Enya needs. If anyone can rise to the challenge of helping her, you can."

Sullivan nodded. He hoped with time and patience he could help her. He'd sensed her hurt and guessed it ran deep even though he still didn't know much about what had happened.

Bellamy gave him a final nod. "You know where to find me if you need a wee bit more advice."

"I'll be fine."

"Naturally."

James and Kiernan walked Bellamy to the door in the spacious entryway. As they did so, Sullivan eyed the curved marble stairway that led to the second floor. A chandelier with oil globes hung above it but was unlit since the morning sunshine streaming through the arched window above the door provided enough light.

He was tempted to barrel past the tall, silver-haired butler attired in a black suit who stood near the stairway, eyeing Sullivan warily.

Not only was Sullivan done with talking, but he was reaching his limits of being polite. He'd waited long enough to see Enya.

He started toward the stairway.

The butler intervened and moved to the center of the bottom step. "May I help you, sir?"

"No." He didn't hesitate in his stride and attempted to go around.

The tall man maneuvered himself quickly to block Sullivan's way. "No guests are allowed in the private chambers, sir."

"I'd like to visit with Enya." He sidestepped the man again.

The butler was more agile than Sullivan expected and moved with him, his eyes narrowing with censure. "I'll go speak with her and let her know of your request. Perhaps a meeting in the parlor, sir?"

Sullivan shifted once more, and the butler did the same. Finally Sullivan ceased his efforts, crossed his arms, and leveled a stern glare that usually got him what he wanted. Just to make sure the butler knew he was serious, he lowered his voice. "I'm going up to see my wife ."

The hallway behind him had grown quiet.

Sullivan didn't bother to turn around and see the reaction of the other men. He had every right to visit with Enya anywhere he pleased.

In fact, he could have stayed the night in her room and in her bed if he'd chosen to. After he'd placed Enya in the car riage last night, James had been surprised about the decision to return to the steamboat. He'd expressed concern about the lack of consummation, as if without it the marriage wouldn't be real.

Sullivan had assured his new father-in-law that he would have a real marriage with Enya but that they both deserved the chance to get to know each other first. Although James had reluctantly relented to one night apart, he'd made it clear Sullivan needed to be with his new wife every night thereafter.

In some ways, Sullivan agreed. If they hoped to protect Enya from scandal, then he had to make people believe her baby was his. On the other hand, he didn't want to push Enya too quickly. He wasn't a brute. No matter how desirable she was—and there was no doubt on that score—he didn't intend to use her to satiate his needs.

"Thank you for your concern, Winston." James spoke from near the door. "But Captain O'Brien will be staying with Enya here at the house until they depart for New Orleans."

The butler eyed Sullivan from his hatless head to his shiny black shoes, and Sullivan was relieved he'd donned a freshly laundered and ironed day suit. It was one of his best, with a stylish frock coat, double-breasted vest, and a white shirt with a high collar sporting a cravat tied into a bow.

"If you must ascend," Winston said through pinched lips, "then I shall accompany you and announce your presence to Miss Shanahan."

"Mrs. O'Brien." Sullivan held the butler's gaze, refusing to look away.

After several tense seconds, the butler pivoted and began to ascend the stairway. Sullivan followed. He could appreciate the butler's protective nature. In fact, he liked the man for it. But he wasn't in the practice of letting anyone intimidate him.

As he neared the top of the stairway, a low hum began to flow through his blood. He was on his way to be with Enya. His wife.

He still couldn't believe he was a married man. After putting marriage off for so long, he'd finally done it. Now that the wedding had come and gone, he was tempted to knock himself in the head to wake up from a dream.

He supposed that was part of the reason he was eager to see Enya again, to ascertain whether she was supportive of their union. After all, it was possible she'd been so exhausted last night that she hadn't known what she was doing. Maybe today she regretted her decision to be with him.

Or maybe the dimly lit cathedral had prevented her from seeing him. And now in the full daylight she'd view all his flaws and wish she hadn't married a giant like him.

Whatever the case, he needed to see her, and the need was mounting with each step he took. He didn't want to feel the need. He was a weakling for allowing it, especially now after keeping his emotions under solid lock and key for the past hours.

But the closer he drew to her, the faster his pulse pounded, until as he started down the carpeted hallway, he felt as though his heart were about to beat through his rib cage and out of his body.

He'd never had this sort of reaction or anticipation for any other woman. Why now with Enya?

He ought to muster the anger and frustration he'd felt ini tially upon meeting her yesterday. He didn't want so beautiful a woman in his life, one who would always make him feel insecure and aware of his own shortcomings. And he didn't want a woman who was stubborn and demanding so that he never had a moment of peace.

However, even if Enya was all those things and more, he wanted her anyway. He couldn't deny it. His heart betrayed him with desire for this woman that went beyond logical explanation.

Oh, he was trying to reduce the explanation down to the fact that she was in trouble and he planned to be there for her during the trial she'd fallen into. But deep inside, he couldn't fool himself. Even if she hadn't been in the family way and requiring his help, he would have been smitten with her just like every lovesick fool who ever saw her.

As Winston paused outside one of the doorways, he shot Sullivan a glare that warned him to stay back.

Sullivan halted and crossed his hands behind him, not sure what else to do with them.

Winston rapped his knuckles against the door lightly. "Miss Shanahan?"

"Mrs. O'Brien." Sullivan ground out the name.

"What is it?" she called.

At her soft answer, Sullivan's pulse pattered forward with a rush of fresh desire.

Winston opened her door a crack and peeked inside. "Captain O'Brien would like to see you. If you're agreeable."

Sullivan couldn't hear Enya's response.

"Very well." Winston closed the door, and with his hand still on the knob, as though guarding it, he leveled a haughty I-told-you-so glare at Sullivan. "She's having her hair styled, and indicated that when she's done, she'll come down to the parlor."

Sullivan had two younger sisters, and he'd seen them getting their hair styled by a maidservant a time or two in his life. There was nothing indecent about it, nothing that would be embarrassing or improper for him to witness, especially not as her husband.

No, Enya was offering the excuse to put him off. And the butler was too.

Well, she was about to learn—and so was this smug butler—that he didn't accept excuses.

Sullivan stepped forward so that he was only an inch from Winston.

The man didn't blink. Again, Sullivan had to give the fellow credit for his tenacity in defending Enya. Hopefully, he'd soon learn Sullivan was on his side and would do anything to defend Enya too.

But today, at this moment, he intended to see his wife. And he intended to show everyone that he was in charge, that no one and nothing would stop him from doing and having what he wanted when he wanted it.

He didn't have to exert much pressure on Winston's hand to remove it from the doorknob. All the while he held Winston's gaze, he turned the knob and tossed the door open wide. Then he stepped past the man into Enya's room.

With the draperies pulled back, sunlight flooded the spacious chamber, spilling over the unmade bed at the center. It was a decidedly feminine room, with everything a shade of pink—the wallpaper, chair cushions, decorative pillows, even the rugs.

Enya sat at a dressing table on a bench in front of an oval mirror, a maidservant at her side using a hot iron to curl her hair, which hadn't yet been pulled up into a chignon and instead hung almost to her waist.

At the sight of him, both Enya and the maidservant froze. Enya's reflection in the mirror revealed that she was already attired in a dark blue gown, tighter than the one she'd worn to the wedding. Or maybe her corset was laced more firmly. All he knew was that a tantalizing amount of her bust showed above her neckline. And the tight bodice was off the shoulders, as was the style, leaving her neck and shoulders bare, showing miles of her smooth skin.

His mouth went dry, as it had last night. She was divine. No earthly words could come close to describing her. For a moment, he could only stare at her like a dumbfounded mortal at the appearance of a brilliant celestial being.

Her eyes were rounded and filled with surprise. She clearly hadn't expected him to barge past Winston and enter her chamber uninvited. But those wide green eyes added to her allure, making her too pretty for any man, especially for him.

What was he doing here? She'd take one look at him in the light of day and realize her mistake in marrying him. And if not today, then she would sometime.

He clenched his jaw, fighting against the urge to get out of their marriage first before she rejected him. After all, they hadn't consummated their union. They still had a chance to part ways, and no one would need to know.

Except that if he did so, he'd humiliate her and her family. Then she'd be back in the same position she was yesterday: pregnant and without a husband. Her father and brother would be forced to return to Bellamy. And Bellamy would have to find someone else for Enya. Who would he choose next?

Sullivan's mind played through all the possibilities of eligible bachelors around St. Louis. He didn't know many, but his gut cinched tight at the thought of another man standing in her room like this and getting to see her at her dressing table.

He didn't want any other man alive to lay his eyes upon her ever again. And touch her? The very thought of someone else approaching her and trailing his fingers across her smooth skin sent a hot burst of protest through his chest. Was it jealousy?

The undeniable truth was that now that Enya belonged to him, he didn't want to give her up.

Swallowing past his dry throat, he nodded at the maidservant. "You're dismissed."

The woman bobbed her head, then scurried from the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, he approached the vanity table.

Enya didn't move, had even seemed to stop breathing.

The long, thick auburn waves of her hair beckoned to him. He wanted to touch just one. The spot of her creamy shoulder also seemed to call him to graze her there.

But he wouldn't. She wasn't a possession he owned. She wasn't an object for satisfying his lust. And she wasn't a showpiece or prize he'd won.

She was a real person with real hurts and real needs, and she deserved someone she could trust and lean upon. Someone who would be there for her, who would stay solid, who would dive in and help save her after she'd been left to drown all alone.

Was he willing to dive in?

The puckered skin on his back twitched. The truth was, diving in was dangerous. He could end up badly burned. He could even end up losing a part of himself in the process.

But staying with her and learning to be a good husband was the right thing to do.