His hand shook as he poured the punch for Abigail. The woman clung to him like a cornhusk to a tamale, but for tonight, he threw his usual precaution about such women to the winds. Anything to keep from looking at Elizabeth, dancing with man after man in a green swirl of fine silk.
The dress had been Elena’s. He had ordered it from Paris when he’d learned she was pregnant, hoping to appease her anger. He knew how she loved fine things and he’d prayed that once the baby was born, a mother’s instincts would take over. By the time the dress arrived, she was too large to wear it, but she had promised him, with shining eyes, that it would be the first one she’d wear once she was through with childbed. She had been so delighted with his gift that it had made him hope the marriage might work.
She never did get to wear it.
He should have burned the damn thing, he reflected as he watched Elizabeth covertly. His eyes narrowed as the dandy lawyer dipped her low. He hoped Elizabeth was sensible enough not to believe those flowery Southern phrases dripping like honey from the man’s mouth. He sighed as Elizabeth pirouetted across the floor. The dress would never have done Elena the justice it did Elizabeth. The color, the style, the way it molded to her slim curves…everything made it hers. He just wished it didn't stir the memories of his guilt, trying to buy his wife’s affections.
He returned to Abigail and handed her the cup. Her fingers lingered on his hand and she tilted her head and looked up at him through long eyelashes. She took a sip of punch and licked her lips, her eyes not leaving his face.
If there was ever an invitation from a woman, this was it. A thought flitted through his mind that Miss Parsons should be working for Lily, not teaching school. Then again, maybe he needed to feel another woman in his arms. All he could think of was enveloping a frightened Elizabeth that night in Fort Worth and how soft and vulnerable she felt. Damnation. Another woman was what he needed. He was about to offer to take a walk outside when movement near the door caught his eye.
He turned and straightened. Swift Hawk had arrived and was talking to Elizabeth. He saw a look of near terror flashed across Elizabeth’s face when Swift Hawk put an arm around her for the dance. Why did the Indian frighten her so? Lily must have been right; perhaps a Comanche had abducted her from a wagon train. As he watched, she tried to push free, but Swift Hawk pulled her closer.
“Excuse me,” Miguel said to Abigail, and left her standing there with a look of shock on her face. All he saw were Swift Hawk’s hands sliding down to where they had no business being.
“This waltz is mine, I believe.” Miguel put a hand on the young man’s shoulder and spun him off Elizabeth so quickly she nearly lost her balance. “I’ve told you, Hawk, leave her alone.”
The Indian glared at him, balling his fists. Miguel held his gaze unwavering. With a snarl, Swift Hawk turned and stalked out the door.
Miguel took Elizabeth into his embrace and moved away. By God, she felt good. Her fingers were soft and slender in his, her back smooth and straight beneath his touch. He wanted to take the hand she rested on his shoulder and move it to encircle his neck. He wanted to feel her fingers playing with his hair, her breath sweet on his cheek as he nibbled her ear and trailed kisses down her throat.
She was looking at him strangely. Had his intentions been so obvious on his face? “What is it?” he asked.
She gave him a mischievous smile. “The music’s stopped.”
“So it has.” Reality returned abruptly, and he released her. “Walk with me. I think you have some explaining to do about that dress.”
• ♥ •
Elizabeth felt, more than saw, the aloofness engulf him again. One minute he was holding her in his arms, looking like he wanted to devour her, and the next, he was as cold as ashes.
He grabbed her cloak from near the door and handed it to her. “It’s cool out.”
Suddenly, she realized he wanted her dress hidden. Obviously, her plan to arouse his interest hadn’t worked. Had he cared so much for Katy that he couldn’t stand to see the dress?
Elizabeth followed him outside and around a small hill to an apple orchard, hidden from the crowded barn. He leaned against a tree, arms folded across his chest.
“You’re a guest in my house. What were you doing in my attic?” he asked.
“I wasn’t in your attic.”
“No? It’s not polite to snoop.”
Elizabeth bristled. “I wasn’t snooping! Cactus Flower had been up there, looking for something to wear to the dance and she found this.” She watched as the hard lines in his face eased a little. “I guess I should have checked with you first.”
“You should have.”
She felt her temper simmer. “You weren’t home, remember? You’ve been avoiding me ever since that visit to Fort Worth and I don’t know why.”
He stared at her, his dark eyes reflecting the moonlight that filtered through the branches of the trees. His full mouth softened and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. The thought of his lips on hers made muscles deep inside her ache and contract. Her anger melted into desire. She hadn’t been this near to him in two weeks. She laid her hands on his folded arms and thought she felt him tense. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know wearing Katy’s dress would upset you so much.”
His voice sounded husky. “Katy?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Your mistress. If you bought it for her, I thought maybe wearing it would make you—” She stopped.
His expression changed and a corner of his mouth quirked up. When he spoke, he sounded like the Miguel she knew. “What is it you want to make me do, Red?”
She shook her head, thankful he couldn’t see her blush in the moonlight. “It’s—nothing. Forget it.”
He lifted her arms around his neck and encircled her waist beneath the cape with his hands, pulling her against his chest. “Something like this, maybe?”
For a moment she struggled with the idea of pushing away from him or giving in. In spite of herself, she found her fingers curling through his hair where it touched his collar. His hair was softer than she imagined, and she inhaled the clean scent of him.
“Tell me what you want me to do, Red.” His voice was raspy. “In detail.”
In detail? How could she explain she wanted to have his hands on her naked body, stroking her breasts and stomach and the insides of her thighs until his fingers found the very essence of her? How could she tell him she wanted his mouth to follow the path, sucking her breasts until she cried in ecstasy and then moving downward— She felt the warmth of fluid between her legs. Oh, God, she couldn’t tell him that.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
Obligingly, he lightly brushed his lips against hers and leaned back. “Like that?”
“No. More—” He was going to make this difficult, standing there with a smirk on his face. Why couldn’t he just take over? “More like— Well, whatever you’d have done with her.” There. Now let him take charge. He was the one with experience.
His voice changed imperceptibly. “You want me to do with you what I did with Katy? All of it?”
Again, she was thankful the moon was in shadow. “Um. Yes. I mean—” She didn’t get the chance to finish for he’d covered her mouth with his, his lips crushing hers, sucking on her upper lip then her lower one before probing with his tongue. She separated her lips willingly, enticed by the taste of him as he explored her mouth.
His hand kneaded a breast gently as he trailed kisses down her throat. With his other hand he pulled back a petal of the neckline, exposing a nipple which immediately budded under his touch. Elizabeth whimpered as he flicked his tongue over it, flaying it from right to left and back, like exquisite torture, and then he began suckling as he pressed her hips to his groin.
She felt the length and thickness of him through his jeans as her hips began to undulate against him instinctively. She pressed his head closer to her breast, wanting more of him.
He broke away with a small groan and tugged the dress up, cov
ering her breast with the silk. “Ah, it’s too cold here to be naked,” he said, “but when I return home tomorrow, we’ll rectify that. You please me, Red. I knew you would once you remembered what you know how to do.”
Remembered? Elizabeth dully came to her senses. He still thought— “I won’t be your mistress!” she said, trying to hold back tears.
“No? You said you wanted to be like Katy.”
“I did not!”
“You wore the dress, thinking it would arouse me. Isn’t that true?”
Elizabeth cringed. It had come across like that. But the last thing she wanted him to think was that she was willing to be kept and used.
“You can’t deny you didn’t want me as much as I wanted you, just now.” He pulled her toward him again. “Come to my room tomorrow night. You’ll see.”
She pushed away and pulled the cloak tightly around herself. “Not as your whore!”
His face darkened and he frowned. “Don’t trifle with me, Red. ‘Tis not wise to tease. Didn’t you learn that?” He turned to walk away. “And don’t wear that dress again unless you want me to follow through on what I started.”
“Did you love her?”
He stopped and turned back. “Who?”
“Katy. Is that why this dress bothers you so much?”
Several emotions warred across his face and in the dim light, Elizabeth wasn’t sure if he was angry or sorry or depressed, but his voice sounded strangled. “No. I didn’t love Katy. I did love my wife, in my own way. It’s her dress you’re wearing.”
• ♥ •
Much later, Elizabeth lay under her quilt, quietly sobbing. She had managed, in a single evening, to destroy any kind of budding relationship she might have had with Miguel. She should have known better than to wear clothing found in his attic. To flaunt his dead wife’s gown in front of him was unforgivable. No wonder he’d ignored her all night. And he still thought she was a prostitute. She’d nearly proved the point to him, brazenly asking for sex. She curled into the fetal position. What his hands and mouth had promised on her body was exactly what she wanted. So, was she any different from those women she’d turned her nose up at? Dear Lord, how had she gotten into this mess?
He’d be coming home tomorrow. How could she ever face him? What was she doing in this century, anyhow?
CHAPTER ELEVEN—TO BE OR NOT TO BE
Miguel arrived home late in the afternoon and Elizabeth kept busy with Olga in the kitchen, unsure of what to say to him. At dinner that evening, she wore another of the shirtwaist dresses with a high neckline and long sleeves.
His dark eyes swept over her and she thought she saw amusement in his glance. She tried to avoid looking at him. Did he really think she wanted to be his mistress? Did she? She wasn’t sure—she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. The nineteenth century was feeling more and more like home and memories of her empty apartment and the world of the future were fading rapidly. There was love here: Olga and Olaf and Miguel and Raul. She wanted to be a part of that. Wistfully, she wished there had been more warmth in her childhood. If only her father had lived—but would she be able to go back home if he had?
She sighed. On the other hand, she was getting nowhere with convincing Miguel who she was and with each passing day, she felt herself being drawn more and more toward him. Was it only go to be a matter of time before she gave in to him and accepted that being his mistress was better than not?
Suddenly, she heard her father’s voice in her head and recalled a conversation they’d had when she was an awkward teenager and had just discovered boys. The most popular one in class had asked her to do his homework. She’d been desperate to please him. Her father caught her and the look of sadness on his face haunted her for weeks. “Darlin’ o’ mine,” he’d said, “how proud of your wee self will you be in the mornin’?” Then they had “the talk” about respect, and she’d made her promise to wait for true love.
“Bad news,” Miguel said and broke into her thoughts. “The circuit judge has been laid low with lung fever. Chances are we won’t be seeing him before Easter.”
Swift Hawk looked up from his seat at the end of the table. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “That means my people will stay locked inside the white man’s jail.”
“No harm will come to them, Hawk,” Miguel said with certain weariness. “The Rangers will be standing watch.”
Elizabeth turned to him. “Does that mean you’ll be gone again?”
His eyes twinkled. “Will you miss me?”
Somehow the fiery retort she wanted to give him didn’t emerge. “I was merely asking a question.”
“How long will you be gone?” Swift Hawk asked in a careful monotone.
Miguel studied him before answering. “I don’t know. My job is to convince Chief Jim Ned to take his warriors home to the hills. Having them camped outside Fort Worth just stirs up trouble. I hope to put his mind to rest that those braves will be safe until trial.”
Swift Hawk’s smile gave Elizabeth the shivers. It was hard and calculating and didn’t reach his eyes. His slow gaze traveled from her face to her breasts and back to her face and did nothing to alleviate a sudden dread that swept over her. Hopefully, Miguel would take Swift Hawk along.
He pushed back his chair with wolfish grace and turned around at the door. “My people will not rest. They wait.”
• ♥ •
To complicate matters further, Abigail Parsons arrived the next morning. The plague that kept returning, wearing something looking like it belonged on one of the girls at Miss Lily’s.
She brushed by Elizabeth and Raul with scarcely a glance. “You dropped this at the dance,” she said as she handed Miguel his watch fob. “I thought I’d better bring it to you personally rather than send it with Raul. You know how small boys are.”
Elizabeth didn’t miss the sudden redness that spread over Raul’s face, even though he looked quickly away. How could a teacher be so insensitive?
“Actually, Raul is quite responsible,” Elizabeth said. “He was the man of the house while Miguel was barn-building and checked each morning with the foreman on what work needed to be done.” It was true, too. Raul had been so disappointed when Miguel had told him he couldn’t miss that much school for the barn raising. She had suggested Miguel give him some responsibility at home.
Raul scuffled the toe of his boot on the floor, a sure sign that, while he might be embarrassed, he was also pleased with the compliment.
Miguel placed a hand on Raul’s shoulder and looked at the schoolmarm. “Miss O’Malley is correct. I have a great deal of confidence in my son.”
“Well, of course.” Miss Parsons looked somewhat disconcerted. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. The watch looked expensive; I thought you’d appreciate having it returned as soon as possible.” She pouted, her lower lip trembling a bit.
Oh, great. Put on a show. What’s she going to try next? Elizabeth glanced at Miguel and found him looking confused. She hoped he wasn’t going to fall for that trick.
“I do appreciate it,” Miguel said. “It was very kind of you.”
The pout turned into a brilliant smile. “Well, I did feel somewhat responsible for its coming loose since I was ever so clumsy and nearly fell. I think it may have dropped when you caught me.”
Tripped? Elizabeth had seen the whole thing. A cleverly contrived act was what it had been.
“Might I share a cup of coffee with you before I leave?” Abigail asked.
“We have work to do,” Raul interrupted.
Miguel frowned at him. “Don’t be rude. Apologize.”
Raul looked down and his lip trembled, but he muttered, “I’m sorry.” Then, when Miguel grimaced, he reluctantly added, “Would you like some coffee?”
“Thank you, Raul. Yes, I would,” she said prettily and slipped her hand into the crook of Miguel’s arm.
He sent Raul to the kitchen and led them to the parlor. Miss Parsons sat down on the sofa and Elizabeth settled on the other end f
or the duration of the visit. If Miguel allowed a kiss this time, Elizabeth would have her answer, although she wasn’t quite sure really wanted it.
Miguel strategically took an armchair and left the sofa to the ladies. A wise move, Elizabeth thought wryly. Olga had just finished pouring the coffee when Swift Hawk appeared in the doorway, shirtless as usual.
The schoolmarm’s eyes widened as she looked him over appraisingly. When her gaze met his, she smiled slightly.
Elizabeth nearly dropped her cup. Swift Hawk’s eyes lit, and a corner of his mouth turned up. Whether in sarcasm or amusement, she couldn’t say, but it gave his usually sardonic face an actual friendly look. Slowly, he looked Miss Parsons up and down, his eyes lingering on the low neckline—and why was a schoolmarm dressed like that, anyhow?—before he nodded at Miguel.
“One of the mares is foaling. I thought you’d want to know.”
Miguel stood, looking relieved. “I’ll come at once. Will you ladies excuse me?”
“Well,” Miss Parsons said as she set her cup down, “I really must be going.”
Elizabeth almost grinned. So much for girl-talk, not that she would have kept the conversation going long. Anyway, she didn’t want to miss the foaling.
They saw Miss Parsons out and Elizabeth rushed upstairs to change into her jeans. She nearly collided with Miguel as she raced out the kitchen door.
“Why aren’t you in the barn?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you, Red. The mare’s in the pasture. I figured I’d not hear the end of it if you came looking in the barn and no one was there.”
“That was really nice of you,” Elizabeth said with genuine feeling. Maybe there was hope that he’d think of her as a real person.
“You’re the only woman I know who would enjoy this.” He grinned suddenly. “Did I ever tell you that you’re unique?”
She smiled back. “You have no idea.”
“Hmmm,” he said.
• ♥ •
Miguel had been gone over a week making sure the brig in Fort Worth was secure. Elizabeth grew restless as she brushed Plata. Miguel had told her never to go out riding by herself and Olaf had been too busy overseeing the ranch to accompany her. Today the sun warmed the hardened winter ground and the sky was a bright blue: a wonderful day for a wild gallop over dried, brown grassland.
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