Time After Time

by Elizabeth Boyce

  “If you like.” Christie searched over his shoulder beyond the crowd. “I mean, yes! That sounds lovely.” After three dances with Antonio, his grip had grown too tight, and his body too close. His amorous attentions made her squirm.

  She needed some air.

  “Oh, I think I see Ellie,” Christie stretched on her tip toes. “Please excuse me. Thank you for the dance.”

  As she headed for the buffet tables, her gaze swept over the crowd for Nat. Where could he be? When she caught up with him, she planned to give him a piece of her mind.

  After all, he was the host. What did he mean by disappearing like that? Oh, he’d made a brief appearance at the onset of the evening for courtesy sake, only to slink off a few moments later with the flimsy excuse of checking on the guards he’d posted around the perimeter of the property. She understood it was necessary. But did it have to take so long?

  She poured a glass of fruity punch then stood idly fingering one of the tissue-paper flowers she and Inez had made. Somewhere beyond the colorful lanterns, draped in the branches of the trees, Nat and dozens of his vaqueros stalked the terrain — searching for any sign of the Everetts.

  A complete waste of time, as far as she was concerned.

  Why was she getting so worked up? What had she expected? Nat wasn’t the sort to stroll about on anyone’s arm, making introductions and polite chit chat.

  But that didn’t stop her from hoping. During the weeks he was absent, she’d conjured an unrealistic image of him praising her efforts and taking her by the arm to introduce her to all of his friends — a silly and childish notion. She knew that now. He hadn’t the foggiest idea of the preparation involved in pulling off such an event. Men never cared about such things.

  Ellie had warned her, saying Nat wouldn’t mind what they did as long as the pig got roasted and there was enough sangria to drown an army. But somehow Christie had expected more — an acknowledgment or a tribute in the form of a speech or a dance. Inez told her how he loved to dance, but he’d shown little interest when the caballeros dressed in their charro suits, took up their guitars and vihuelas. Instead, he strode off into the darkness without a glance, leaving her to play hostess to his friends.

  Well, if Nat wanted to sneak around in the woods with his men while his guests celebrated without him, it was fine by her. She certainly didn’t need his approval to tell her everyone was having a good time.

  As if to prove her thoughts, a cheer rose up from the crowd.

  When she managed to edge her way through the crowd, she spotted Inez swaying to the sultry beat of the plucking guitars. It wasn’t a shock, since Inez had demonstrated this sensual method of dancing to Christie, even instructed her on several occasions. Of course they’d had no music, except Inez’s clicking tongue, and no cheering, just a great deal of laughter as they spun around her bedchamber, like a couple of birds falling from a nest.

  It was magical to watch Inez, as she stomped and clicked her fingers, circling Heriberto to the throbbing Spanish beat. Her face projected a haughty distain but her body told another story. It looked like a primitive mating dance. It was mesmerizing. And for the life of her, Christie couldn’t keep her eyes off it. When the music began to build her breath came faster. Her heart tapped along — faster, and faster, until the beat reached a rising crescendo.

  She didn’t realize her body was moving until the dance ended and the whooping and cheering brought her back to earth. She raised her hands over her head and clapped just as loud as the rest of the guests.

  Ellie waved and began threading her way toward her through the crowd. She looked like a Spanish princess in her silk burgundy gown. It fell off her shoulders to reveal an abundance of translucent skin, dipping provocatively in the bodice to reveal a great deal more. Roscoe didn’t seem to mind. He’d been glued to her most of the evening.

  “Where is Nat?” Ellie demanded of Holt as he sauntered up to them. “He’s missing all the fun.”

  “You know him,” Holt drawled. “Always on patrol.”

  Roscoe and Holt went in search of more sangria.

  Ellie took Christie by the arm, leading her to a more private spot under one of the big oaks. “I wished you’d allowed Inez to lower the back of your gown as I suggested. You must be roasting in that thing.”

  “The front was quite enough, thank you.” Christie blushed at the thought of having any more skin exposed. “As it is, I’m almost spilling out over the top. Inez got a bit carried away with her alterations. An inch or two more and I’d be wearing nothing but strings.”

  Ellie’s irresistible laughter tinkled over the music. “But you have to admit the yellow muslin is perfect. You look as fresh as a lemon drop and good enough to eat.”

  “Except I’m not on the menu tonight.”

  “Here comes someone who wishes you were.” Ellie fluttered her black lace fan in front of her face to hide her smile. “Good evening, Antonio.”

  Christie made a grab for Ellie’s arm to haul her back, but it was too late; she’d gotten away. Christie felt an uncontrollable urge to kick Ellie’s retreating backside as she watched Ellie prance away. Ellie knew how she felt about Antonio. She couldn’t account for Ellie’s sudden change of camp.

  “Come, dance with me, chica.” Antonio held out his hand. “It will wipe that sad look from your face.” Before she knew it, he’d taken her by the arm to lead her toward the dancers. It wasn’t until she found herself in the middle of the fray that she spotted Nat and realized Ellie’s game. She was up to her matchmaking tricks again. Well if she hoped to make Nat jealous, she was in for a terrible shock.

  Nat Randall hadn’t so much as spoken a word to her all evening, let alone looked her way. Why should he care if she danced with Antonio? And, for that matter, why should she care if he did?

  She was tired of living up to other people’s expectations. For once in her life she would please herself.

  Whether from the sangria or the gaiety in the air, she was feeling strangely reckless.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The loud strum of guitars made it difficult for Nat to concentrate on Ellie’s chatter. Or maybe it was the thought of enjoying himself while his men sat alone in the dark. It was impossible to relax. He’d only come to make a brief appearance. After a quick round of greeting the guests, he’d be gone. If the Everetts showed up, he wanted to be the one holding a gun to their backs, not the other way around.

  But when he spotted Christie dancing with Antonio, all thought of the Everetts fled.

  The sight of her breasts heaving over the top of her gown, brushing against Antonio’s chest, made Nat’s back go ram-rod straight. The laughter and music turned to a steady hum in his ears. He had an uncommon urge to stalk over there and snatch her away.

  “I declare!” Ellie said with a huff. “I don’t believe you’ve heard a word I’ve said.”

  Nat blinked, returning his focus to her face. “I wish you’d set that fan down. You’re going to put an eye out with that thing.”

  “I said,” Ellie snapped the black lace fan shut, then settled one hand on her hip, “It’s about time you got here. The guests have been looking for you. Christie must be lost playing hostess all on her own.”

  His gaze strayed to the dancers. “She doesn’t look lost.”

  “You mean Antonio?” Ellie made a depreciating sound. “He’s just a convenient distraction.”

  “Look, I know what you’re up to.” Nat sliced Ellie a sidelong glance. “But you might as well put it right out of your head.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She flicked the fan opened to begin waving it like a giant eyelash. “There’s nothing in my head.”

  “Clearly,” he said dryly. He grabbed the fan to still it, giving her no choice but to look at him. “Give it up Ellie. It’s not going to work.”

  “Give what up?”r />
  “Trying to marry me off. You’ve been doing it since the moment I met you. I’d have thought you’d have learned your lesson by now. I’m not looking for a wife,” he said with distinct enunciation. Then seeing her hurt expression, he tempered his tone. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate your efforts. But there are lots of other lonely people out there in need of your expertise.”

  “Like who?” She spun around, eyeing his guests, no doubt all too eager to pounce on the next victim.

  Spying Holt lounging by the buffet tables, Nat shrugged, attempting to control a smile. “Holt, for instance.”

  “Holt?” Ellie gave a snort of disbelief. “Why would I waste my time on him? He’ll never marry. He’s high on charm and low on responsibility. You, on the other hand, have potential.”

  “What are you saying?” He took a swing of sangria. “I have no charm.”

  “Yes, you have charm. It’s … it’s subtler, that’s all.” Ellie waved a hand in the air. “You’re like a fine wine waiting to be uncorked.”

  Nat expelled a humorless laugh. “I’ve been uncorked thank you, and I’m afraid I didn’t like it very much.”

  “Oh don’t be such a coward. All women aren’t the same.” She flashed a coy smile. “Take me for instance. I’m as mild as a summer rain.”

  “Ha! I wonder if Roscoe would be willing to confirm that?” Nat tempered his censure with a smile. “Look, I’m flattered. However, I’d hate to see your efforts wasted when someone else is crying for help.”

  “Do you think so?” Her gaze slid to Holt.

  “Of course I think so. Why he’s so lonely he can hardly wait until we get to the next town to seek out female company.”

  “Oh my, I didn’t realize that.” Ellie cast a sympathetic look over her shoulder. “Perhaps I should go and speak with him.”

  “No time like the present.”

  Nat returned her happy little wave as she flounced away.

  When Nat turned around a few moments later it looked like Holt was mouthing something very much like ‘you bastard’.

  Nat chuckled.

  Poor Holt, his life wouldn’t be worth two bits once Ellie got her tentacles into him. What poetic justice, to set the two meddlers on each other. He’d have strolled over to gloat if something more important hadn’t caught his attention.

  The dancers had gathered around a single couple and were clapping their hands in a slow rhythmic beat. A flash of yellow muslin drew him forward. Christie’s laughter floated over the music like a bright tambourine. He’d rarely heard her laugh and never with such abandon.

  Discovering Antonio was the cause of it twisted Nat’s gut in knots. It stuck in his craw that after being the one to rescue her, that swarthy rake was reaping the benefits. Apparently the Everetts hadn’t turned her completely off men.

  Nat had the uncommon urge to grab Antonio by the collar and rearrange his perfect Spanish nose.

  The violence raging through veins shocked him back to reality. Such thoughts bordered on jealousy — a place he had no wish to go.

  He turned on his heel and stalked away.

  If Antonio wanted to take her off his hands, you could damn well have her. He had more important matters to attend to.

  • • •

  After two dances with Antonio, Christie was completely out of breath. She headed straight for the punch bowl, intent on quenching her thirst. But the sight of Nat standing beside Holt and Iago at the buffet table brought her up short.

  A sudden and unaccountable rush of pleasure turned her cheeks warm. So he had decided to make an appearance after all. She might have walked over to make her presence known, if not for the rigid set of his shoulders.

  Instead, she veered the other way.

  Likely he was still angry with her for pressing him into going ahead with the fiesta. Oh well, no matter. It was done, and as far as she was concerned, a complete success.

  What could be more fun than dancing the flamenco under the stars? Inez’s lessons and Antonio’s persistence had paid off. Christie smiled. She was having the night of her life. If Nat chose to brood and mope instead of enjoying himself, that was his concern. She wasn’t about to let him spoil her evening.

  As it turned out, hours passed before she saw him again.

  He appeared when Inez came to hug Christie goodnight.

  Morena stood behind them, urging Inez along like a clucking hen. “To bed, to bed, there will be much to do in the morning.”

  Nat’s voice drew them apart. “Saying goodnight so soon, niña? No wonder Heriberto’s face looks so long.”

  Inez detached herself from Christie, gushing, “There you are! I have not seen you all night since you showed me the little cabin. It is the best present you could give us. Heriberto is so pleased.”

  “I’ve been busy, querida.” Nat said, as Inez embraced him. “But I hope you’ve had a good time.”

  Christie firmed her lips in annoyance. He could have spent more time at the fiesta. There were guards patrolling the entire property. But instead he must do everything himself — arrogant scoundrel.

  Inez’s mouth dropped to a petulant pout. She looked at her mother, then back to Nat. “I cannot go to bed yet. Not until we have danced. Is that not so, Señor Randall?”

  “Inez!” Morena waggled one long brown finger at her. “You are too bold. The Señor has just told you he is very busy. If he had time to dance with you he would.”

  The timbre of his throaty chuckle snaked up Christie’s spine like a warm tongue. “Come, we’ll dance, but then it’s off to bed.” He led her away by the hand.

  Christie strolled to where Ellie and Roscoe stood a few feet from the dancers, conversing with Holt. She wasn’t about to miss this, not after listening so often to Inez crow about Nat’s skill on the dance floor.

  But discovering Inez was right didn’t have the effect she hoped. His confident grace soon made her wish she was the one gliding in his arms to the strains of the Spanish guitars.

  She shifted her gaze away, only to meet Ellie’s half-knowing smile. “He’s a very good dancer, don’t you think?”

  Christie shrugged. “I suppose.”

  As luck would have it, Holt became afflicted with a powerful thirst, allowing her to adjourn to the buffet tables for refreshment as well. They laughed over one of Holt’s trail stories while sharing a glass of sangria.

  She could breathe again.

  “Well, I’d better relieve Evans before he falls asleep again.” Holt excused himself halfway through one of his tales.

  Christie turned from the buffet table to discover Nat striding toward her.

  Her mouth went dry.

  She wanted to call Holt back.

  But before she could think of a reason to do so, he’d disappeared through the trees.

  “Thank you for all that you’ve done for Inez,” Nat said stiffly. “She’s very happy.”

  “Of course.” Christie took a stumbling step back, shocked by the compliment. “I realize it wasn’t the best time.”

  “No. It wasn’t.” He leaned toward her and gave her a sniff. “You’re not drunk again, are you?”

  “Not yet.” She stepped away. “I’ve only had two glasses of sangria. And as you know, it takes al least three and a kidnapping to accomplish that.”

  “It must have been the dancing that threw me off,” he drawled.

  Had she embarrassed him? It was difficult to read his mood in the darkness. She wanted to point out that if he’d been there to keep her company, she wouldn’t have had to dance with Antonio or sidestep his sweaty advances. “You didn’t think I could dance?”

  “It usually requires Spanish blood, or copious amounts of alcohol to move like that.” His hot gaze licked over her, making her heart race.

  “Inez i
s a very good teacher.” She shrugged, telling herself she didn’t care what he thought. “I hear you’re not a bad dancer yourself.”

  “A waltz is a long way from the flamenco.”

  “I’m sorry if my dancing upset you.” It was a lie of course. In truth, she was secretly pleased.

  “It’s not up to me if you want to make a spectacle of yourself.” His lips curled disdainfully. “You’re hardly the first. Every puta in the neighborhood has thrown themselves at Antonio.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath.

  Her cheeks went hot.

  Was he jealous?

  Or just angry that she’d made a fool of him?

  Well!

  He could gnash his teeth and jump up and down for all she cared. It served him right for ignoring her all evening.

  She thought she saw a flicker of remorse pass over his face.

  With the grace of a hummingbird, she glided away.

  • • •

  A ray of sunlight leaked through between the curtains, slicing across Christie’s pillow, forcing her awake long before she wished. When her eyes fluttered open, the first thing she spied was the yellow muslin gown lying at the end of her bed. She glowered at the offending garment, pledging never try to please Nat Randall again.

  The easiest way to do that would be to return to Murdock on the first stage. But Nat was unlikely to approve with the Everetts lurking about. She tossed the bedcovers aside, then padded to the French doors to let in the morning breeze.

  Just as she did, Inez appeared. “Antonio is disappointed,” she said, hustling about to lay out Christie’s clothes. “Señor Randall says it is not safe to take morning rides until the Everetts are caught.”

  Christie felt like a bird in a cage, flapping at the wire with no hope of escape. But she managed a mild reply. “Have you seen Señor Randall this morning? I need to speak with him.”

  “No,” Inez breathed. “He has gone with Señor Holt to the south pasture where twenty longhorns were found killed. They left very early and did not say when they will return. But do not worry. Every vaquero on this rancho is out on patrol. We are safe.”