“Mr. Lancer,” she replied, equally polite, intensely aware of the score of eyes trained in their direction—and intensely aware of his eyes perusing more than the smile on her face.
“Right nice evenin’, isn’t it, ma’am?” he parried, his gaze focusing on the lips she nervously moistened.
“Yes, Mr. Lancer, it is,” Cassie answered, uncomfortably aware of the townspeople’s scrutiny, searingly aware of the heat his presence evoked. His gaze raked the form-fitting bodice of her taffeta dress, his appreciation evident in the smile slowly touching his lips.
“May I have the next dance, ma’am?”
“Sounds like more fun than shearing sheep,” she replied tartly, wishing his nearness wouldn’t make her feel as though she were about to melt into a puddle.
“Try not to sound too excited,” he murmured.
They swept onto the dance floor. Cassie wasn’t surprised at the natural grace Shane displayed as he led her around the makeshift dance floor. She tried unsuccessfully to squelch the jolt of feeling that ignited when he grasped her hand and they weaved to the music. How could his simple touch alone cause such a flood of emotion?
She lowered her eyes, hoping to control the sudden throbbing in her veins she felt must be visible, trying to remember she must not lose control with this man. Cassie wondered when he’d decided to try this tack of persuasion. Since threats, the friendly-neighbor act, and killing her sheep hadn’t worked, he must have decided to overwhelm a poor spinster with his flirting. She ignored the niggling jabs of a guilty conscience that reminded her Shane was not the sort of man to do any of those things.
“You’re almost as fetching in a dress as in trousers,” he commented, whirling her about the dance floor, pulling her so close the tips of her breasts grazed his chest. Her eyes widened in reproach as well as pleasure when he leaned closer to reassure her. “Everyone will just think I’m whispering sweet nothings in your ear.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she whispered back, deciding to play his game, trying to find the detachment that seemed to come so naturally to him. Whirling with him to avoid another couple, she continued, “If looks could kill, I’d have a quiver of arrows in my back right now.”
“Oh?” he asked, rounding the corner of the dance floor and expertly avoiding the better lit areas of the room.
“Such well-acted surprise. You know as well as I do that every unattached female in the room, not to mention their mothers, would like to run me out of town on a rail.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to keep you off the tracks,” he replied evenly as they whirled to the music.
She looked at him in disbelief because he’d be the first in line to get rid of her. “I haven’t even met these people yet and I’ve already given reason for half the population—the female half—to dislike me,” she chided him.
“In that case, we’ll have to introduce you before they misjudge you.” As the tune ended, he grasped her hand before she could reply and led her off the dance floor to the nearest group of indignant women.
“Ladies, let me introduce my neighbor, Miss Cassandra Dalton,” he began as the women visibly puffed up. “Mrs. Jenkins, you get prettier every time I see you.” The scrawny, washed-out woman blushed unbecomingly as he turned to her companion. “And Mrs. Underwood, that Laura Mae of yours is going to steal the young men’s hearts tonight.”
Practicing his easy charm on all the women, Shane wheedled smiles out of even the grumpiest ones. Cassie watched, silently amused despite herself, as he cajoled the women out of their immediate anger.
Shane finally turned to Cassie. “I don’t know about you, but I’m right parched. Would you care for a glass of punch, ma’am?” Cassie agreed to the refreshment, and he turned to the still somewhat peeved group of women. “Ladies?” They declined his offer, and Shane led Cassie to the punch bowl on a table in the corner of the barn.
“I suppose you know they’d still like to snatch me bald-headed,” Cassie said pleasantly, smiling over her punch glass at the women who were watching them intently.
“Their daughters have been after me for years and I wouldn’t be caught within ten miles of any of them.” He then nodded and smiled at Mrs. Jenkins.
“They seem like such nice girls,” Cassie protested, thinking of all the younger women she’d seen that night. Women younger than she. “Much nicer than you,” she finished with a wicked smile, as Mrs. Underwood seemed to visibly strain closer.
“Spare me.” Shane refilled her punch glass and surveyed the room.
“Perhaps it’s the girls who’ve been spared,” she retorted, spying one of the matrons advancing toward them.
“Perhaps,” he agreed too readily, grasping her punch glass in one hand and depositing it on the table. He used his other hand to pull her onto the dance floor, without asking permission. So he’d seen the dowager too.
“And am I supposed to spare you from all of your admirers and their mothers?” Cassie taunted carelessly, wondering how she could stick him with the plainest of the lot.
He laughed as though remembering a private joke. “If only you knew.”
“You could try convincing me,” she offered, following his tack, her midnight-blue taffeta dress rustling as they circled the floor.
“I suppose I could. Just remember—you asked. First, there’s the lovely Laura Mae. That’s her over there by her mother, the one who distinctly resembles a scarecrow.” Cassie and Shane smiled in Laura’s direction as they glided by.
“If you overlook her buckteeth and perpetual desperation, you discover the true vixen she tries so hard to conceal,” Shane continued.
Cassie stifled an unexpected giggle and tried to appear appropriately serious. She did her best to give him a glare of disapproving reproach but instead found herself swallowing her amusement. “Go on.”
“And then there’s Herminnie.” Cassie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Yes, that’s really her name. I don’t want to be unkind, but I’ve met more sincere girls in the saloon. She can’t see past my money, a ring on her finger, and one through my nose.”
“You flatter yourself,” Cassie countered, trying to remember who she was dancing with and why she shouldn’t let down her guard, even for a moment. “When I’m no longer the new attraction in town, you’ll squire another woman around the dance floor while amusing her with tales of the crazy lady sheepherder who wears trousers and shears sheep for fun.”
The glib answer she’d expected didn’t emerge. Cassie’s mouth opened slightly, and her eyes widened, meeting his autumn-green eyes that deepened in color as they held her captive in their depths. This game of his was becoming increasingly dangerous. Cassie felt a fear that reached into her soul. She was afraid he was a master at this artifice. As a novice, she might lose not only her land but her heart as well to a man who cared not a whit for her.
“Circle ’round!” the caller shouted. “Alamand left, swing your lady. All join hands, circle to the right.”
Cassie stumbled into position as Shane released his hold. She tried to pour her concentration into the dance. But she found herself dwelling on Shane instead of the caller, stepping on more than one partner’s booted toes. When the round ended, Cassie felt an overwhelming sense of relief as she escaped the dance floor after a perfunctory thank you to a surprised Shane. Spotting Millicent standing under a rafter, Cassie approached her, dropping lightly onto one of the bales of hay that served as chairs.
“Oh, Cass. Isn’t it a lovely dance?”
Cassie smiled softly at her friend. Millicent hadn’t acted so young and happy in years. “Yes, it is, Milly. Your Mr. Bond seems quite taken with you.”
Millicent blushed, bringing a rosy glow to her already happy face. “I wouldn’t say that,” she protested. “I’m simply new in town, and he’s being neighborly.”
Too bad the same thing couldn’t be said for Shane. But Cassie knew his attention wasn’t prompted by true interest. Her value lay in the land that bordered his. Why was that sud
denly the most distasteful thought in the world?
Lost in her musings, she was startled by the voice she heard over her shoulder.
“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Evan apologized as she rose to her feet.
“I was woolgathering, to use an unpopular pun,” she explained with a laugh. “It’s nice to see you again, Evan.”
“You, too, ma’am.” Cassie easily recognized his interest in her and wondered how to direct his enthusiasm to one of the younger ladies at the dance. His attention was flattering, but, she realized with a start, her feelings were already tied in knots by Shane.
“May I have this dance, ma’am?”
She started to refuse, but didn’t want to crush his eagerness. Perhaps one dance wouldn’t encourage him too much. She held out her hand to him as the music changed. She almost groaned aloud when she realized it was a romantic waltz. Forcing a smile on her face, Cassie swirled about the room to Evan’s graceful lead.
When they advanced across the floor, Cassie spotted Shane’s thunderous face glaring at them. Apparently he didn’t want her to taint his precious baby brother. Still, his anger seemed out of proportion to the circumstances. She might not be a master at his game, but she could learn as she played. Still smiling, she turned her attention to Evan.
As the music faded, Evan held out his hand, hoping for a second dance. Unable to resist the temptation, Cassie accepted and deliberately kept her complete attention on Shane’s brother while she floated across the room.
Afraid she would give Evan the wrong idea, she refused a third dance, insisting she needed a breather. Cassie’s eyes swept the room, wondering where Shane was and who he was entertaining. She’d noticed a bevy of girls at least ten years her junior, at the height of their appeal. Girls that were very marriageable. Girls that a handsome, wealthy man like Shane could have in a moment. Girls that a man like him would certainly choose over a twenty-eight-year-old spinster. He’d all but said he’d move heaven and earth to get rid of her.
Unable to spot him, she felt an unexpected twinge of disappointment and mentally kicked herself for the unwelcome feeling. She headed toward the punch bowl when his deep voice startled her.
“Allow me.” Shane’s voice washed over her as she spun around. She glanced at the two punch glasses in his hand and wordlessly accepted one, hoping the cool liquid would ease the sudden burning in her cheeks. She searched for the hard, relentless glare in his eyes that she’d come to expect. Instead his eyes were cool, unrevealing.
Finally, she raised her amethyst gaze and managed to smile at him, holding up her punch glass. “Just what I needed. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Perhaps we could step out for a bit of air. I have a surprise for you.”
Cassie glanced around at the collection of dowagers and their charges and decided they wouldn’t approve of her, regardless of her actions, and threw caution to the wind. “Thank you. That would be nice.”
They slipped into the inky darkness, and Cassie breathed deeply of the cleansing air that greeted them. The cool night breeze stirred the long tresses she’d left loosened down her back. Cassie shivered deliciously as the same wind whispered against her skin. Tilting her head backward, she studied the profusion of stars that danced across the moonlit sky.
To forestall the emotions she knew he could cause, Cassie mused dreamily, “When I was small, my father would sit with me on the balcony of our house and tell me the name of each star. See that one?” She pointed to the north as Shane’s eyes moved with hers. “That one was my special star. He told me that as long as that star shone, I would shine too. When I was sad, he’d tell me to cheer up. ‘Look at how bright your star is,’ he would say. ‘Can you be any less?’” Gazing into Shane’s eyes, she smiled in memory. “And I believed him. I thought that explained why there were so many stars in the sky, because there were so many people they belonged to.”
“He sounds like a special man,” Shane offered quietly.
“He was, Shane. He always believed in me. And see there—despite everything—my star’s still shining bright.” She was startled by the unexpected gentleness in his eyes before he shuttered the telltale emotion, reminded for a fleeting moment of the kindness that always shone in her father’s eyes.
“I have a feeling that your star will always shine, Cassie girl.”
Cassie heard his endearment with amusement, as if at her age she could ever be considered a girl.
She was unable to disguise her curiosity when Shane reached into his pocket and pulled out his “surprise.” Cassie’s eyes widened as he unfolded the light pink stockings in his hand. She gasped. They were the most beautiful stockings she’d ever seen. Since all she could afford were practical cotton hose, she’d never let herself dream of unmentionables so fine, so elegant, so irresistible. These must have been confected by elves. She’d never seen such delicate clocking embracing the sides: scrolled ivy and roses had been embroidered at the ankles and tapered up to the knee. Her breath caught as she reached out to touch them reverently. Silk! They were actually silk.
Just when she thought she’d surpassed her limit of incredulousness, Shane reached his other hand into his pocket. Her eyes were riveted on the satin garter centered in the palm of his tanned hand. As he held it up, the delicate rose-colored ribbons unfolded gently against the pearl beading and wine-colored tassels surrounding the edging.
Cassie swallowed against the conflicting emotions she was experiencing. Shane had overstepped all bounds of propriety. She shouldn’t even be looking at the marvelous creations he offered, much less touching them as though she wanted to keep them. She opened her mouth to refuse his gift indignantly and then snapped her lips back together. Damn, she wanted them!
She lifted her gaze from the delicate pink of the stockings to rest on his face. When she saw his mouth twitch with ill-concealed amusement, she knew she ought to be angered by his blatant disregard for convention. Instead, his shared knowledge of her quandary made her want the blasted things that much more.
Even as she tried to form the words of refusal, she reached out again to touch the silk and satin—and was lost. Worse, he knew it.
Just as she started to sputter out a reply, he reached back into his pocket. Holding up the garter he’d taken that day in the meadow, he leaned closer, his eyes dancing devilishly. “Trust me, it’s more than a fair trade.”
“But I can’t…”
“Yes, you can. Don’t forget I owe you a pair.”
“But not ones like these.” Cassie’s eyes clung to the proffered luxuries. “And you know I shouldn’t even be discussing unmentionables—”
Shane held a finger to her lips. “Then don’t.”
Cassie battled her conscience for another agonizing moment before she snatched them away from his grasp. Ignoring the significance of her action, Cassie stuffed the delightful concoctions in the pocket of her skirt before she could change her mind. If her mother could see her now…
Shane felt a bittersweet moment of regret as he tried to read the messages hidden in the depths of Cassie’s eyes. It was a foolhardy game he was playing. But the stakes were high, he reminded himself, high enough to warrant his actions. If he couldn’t convince her to sell any other way, maybe she’d do it for love.
But even as he tried to justify the reasons, his hand gently touched the satin of her cheek, edging ever so sweetly to her lips. Just one touch, one taste before he drew away. Only to convince her, he told himself.
He ran his roughened thumb over her full lower lip, surprised at the trembling it caused. He wondered if the ragged breaths he heard being drawn were his own or hers. Cassie’s shallow breathing had brought her trembling body even closer to his. The air seemed too heavy to breathe; the fluidity of his thoughts seemed to turn to slow-moving molasses. Each minuscule step closer seemed to bring him nearer to the whisper of her hair in the breeze, to the pliant flesh he remembered so well.
With agonizing slowness he lowered his lips to hers, and she felt th
e sudden heat rushing through her veins. One hand crept up to embrace his neck. His skin when she touched it was not rough as she expected; rather it was surprisingly silky. Surprisingly sensual. Her fingertips grazed the pulse point of his throat, feeling a ragged beat that matched hers.
Shane deepened his kiss, and Cassie moved her head back, allowing him access, accepting his seeking tongue with shudders of pleasure. She tasted the cleanliness of him and breathed in the lingering aroma of cheroots, fresh soap, and an unidentifiable maleness that assaulted her already quaking senses. She knew only that she wanted the sensations to continue on and on…She felt his hands clasp her shoulders and pull her away, and first she felt only disappointment. Then reality returned, and her cheeks burned in humiliation. He’d had to wrest her away again.
“Cassie,” he whispered urgently.
She lifted her head reluctantly, unable to bear the censure she supposed was in his eyes—as if accepting his gifts and forgetting he represented everything she was fighting wasn’t bad enough.
“I think there’s trouble.”
Only then did she hear the scuffling and shouts. She looked into his face and saw the reluctant flush of desire still reflected in his eyes.
“I’d best go see what it is,” he continued, his voice still husky with the seeds of unwanted passion.
He headed toward the noise. She followed him as he shouldered his way through the group of youngsters who formed a circle near the side of the barn. Searching through the faces, Cassie didn’t see Andrew. Filled with unnamed dread, she pushed her way through the group and gasped in shock when she saw Andrew’s bloodied face. Shane grasped Andrew and another boy by their collars and pulled them apart. Cassie rushed up to Andrew, horrified by his battered face.
“Andrew! Zack! What’s going on, boys?” Shane demanded.
Andrew remained silent. Shane turned toward his opponent. “What’s the story, fellas?”
“He started it!” the other boy accused, kicking to get away from Shane’s ironclad grip.
Cassie stared at the youngster in disbelief. “Is that true, Andrew?”
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