by Bobbi Smith
When the music stopped, Chance was pleased to find that they were standing close to Rori and Evan. He turned deliberately to speak with Rori, his gaze harsh upon her.
"Did you enjoy the waltz?" Chance asked her in an icy tone that surprised Rori. She'd expected him to be pleased that she'd managed so well.
"Yes, Evan was wonderful. He taught me the proper steps and how to move and . . ." Rori answered, not the least bit cowed by his attitude.
"So I saw," he cut her off tersely as Bethany came close to take his arm.
"Did you enjoy your dance?" Rori asked Chance pointedly, but it was Bethany who responded.
"Oh, yes," Bethany cooed, hugging his arm to her breast as she gazed up at him adoringly. "Chance is the most marvelous dancer."
Rori's stomach churned, and she felt like throwing up. Bethany made her positively sick with all her gushing over Chance. She wished there was some way she could knock that disgustingly self-satisfied expression off the other woman's face, but she could think of no ladylike way to do it. "So I've seen."
"You mean you didn't dance together when you were in Arizona?" Bethany lifted one expressive brow at Rori's revealing statement, and she gave a throaty laugh of relief. All night she'd had the suspicion that there was more to their relationship than just ward and guardian, but now it seemed she'd been wrong and she was delighted. She gave Chance a heated look, believing the path to his heart to be clear. "It's good to know that you weren't dancing with other women while you were gone."
Rori saw the look and couldn't stay quiet any longer. She hated this woman with a passion. "Chance didn't have much time for dancing, but he did speak of you often."
"I'm glad I was on your mind. I know I was thinking about you constantly," Bethany breathed huskily.
Chance could have groaned. He knew Bethany thought he'd been counting the hours that they were apart, but nothing could have been further from the truth. Suddenly, he felt very, very cornered and decidedly uncomfortable.
"You were on his mind, all right," Rori went on, desperately needing to put the blond in her place. "Why, that night when I was in his room with him, right after he'd been stabbed . . ."
"You were stabbed?" Bethany gasped in horror.
Before Chance could answer, Rori continued.
"Well, it wasn't life-threatening or anything, just a little cut on the arm. Anyway, he was saying just how much he missed you and how much he would have liked to . . . "
"Rori!" Chance finally ground out in exasperation just as the musicians began another waltz. "I wouldn't want to bore Bethany and Evan with details of our exploits in Phoenix. Besides, this is our dance, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," she declared, feeling particularly triumphant.
"Bethany, if you and Evan will excuse us?"
Rori was pleased to see a look of anger flit across the other young woman's face for an instant before being carefully hidden behind a mask of civility.
"Of course."
Chance didn't hesitate another second to whisk his ward out among the other dancing couples. His anger was such that his movements were tense and jerky. Damn Rori, anyway! What the hell did she think she was trying to do, first dancing with Strickland and then blurting out about being in his room in Phoenix? Didn't she realize statements like that could ruin her reputation before she even had the chance to establish herself?
Chance had been holding himself stiffly as they'd waltzed until he realized that this was not the time or the place to try to explain the intimate workings of gossip in society to Rori. He forced himself to try to enjoy the rest of their dance together. It surprised him to find that she was keeping up with him so easily, seeming to float along with his guidance, rarely missing a step. It felt right holding her this way, moving to the sensual sway of the melody.
Then Chance glanced down at Rori to find that her eyes were closed and her expression was almost rapt. It startled him even as it suddenly, sharply aroused him. His anger vanished, and in its place came a fierce, hot awareness of her as a woman. The heady scent of her perfume surrounded him. He became conscious of the slender curve of her waist beneath his hand and of her breasts swelling temptingly above her décolletage. He was mesmerized by her nearness, enthralled by the feel of her in his arms. He suddenly wanted to crush her to his chest and kiss her. Chance gave himself a mental shake, warning himself against those kinds of thoughts. He had brought her back to Boston to help her start a new life, not to seduce her again. With an effort, Chance focused on her dancing and how well she was doing for only her second attempt.
"You've learned very quickly," he complimented, trying to keep his voice from sounding strangled as he dragged his gaze away from where the pearls nestled between the tops of her breasts.
At the sound of his voice, Rori's eyes flew open to find him gazing down at her. For a moment, she had allowed herself to forget everything but the wonder of dancing with Chance and being held by him. It had been so long . . . The fury she'd been feeling over the way he'd let Bethany hang all over him reasserted itself, burning through the haze of contentment that had surrounded her, and she stiffened in his arms.
"Thanks," she responded curtly.
"Rori . . ." Chance pressed, knowing that he had to set her straight about Evan Strickland.
"What?" she snapped.
"I want you to steer clear of Strickland. He's no good for you. Keep away from him."
Rori bristled. She was in no frame of mind to listen to any of his pronouncements from on high. Who did he think he was, trying to dictate who she could and could not dance with? "I'll make my own friends, Chance. I'm sure I don't need your advice about companions."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he shot back, trying to ignore the way their bodies were moving in unison to the gentle, swaying rhythm.
"It means that you're not such a great judge of character!" she told him pointedly, her eyes flashing fire. "Just look at who you're spending your evening with—Bethany . . ." Rori grimaced in distaste. "How can you stand her? All she does is gaze up at you with goo-goo eyes!"
"Goo-goo eyes?" Chance repeated, stunned, and then grinned at her ridiculous sounding description.
"Don't you dare laugh, Chance Broderick! It's the way cows look at bulls when they're wantin' somethin', and, trust me, I ain't never seen a cow wantin' a bull more than that one," Rori finished in disgust, blushing a bit as she realized that she'd reverted back to her old way of talking.
Chance was suddenly serious again. "I don't need any criticism from you about my life-style. I am your guardian. You are not mine. Is that clear?"
Rori glared up at him mutinously, but didn't answer as they continued to dance.
"I want you to stay away from Strickland," he commanded.
"Sometimes we don't always get what we want in life," she retorted.
"I do, Rori," Chance told her sternly.
"Look, Chance. I make my own decisions."
"Just make sure they're the right ones, Rori, and we'll get along just fine," he bit out tersely.
The music stopped then, and, as if by magic, Bethany reappeared at Chance's side.
"Chance, darling, there are some guests who have to leave a bit early. Could you come and bid them good-bye?" She took his arm and drew him away with an apologetic glance toward Rori.
"Of course, Bethany. Rori, I'll speak with you later," he told her in a semi-threatening tone.
"Don't bet on it," Rori muttered under her breath so he couldn't understand her. She turned away from the sight of him with Bethany on his arm once again, strolling leisurely across the floor. Pasting a smile on her face, she deliberately sought out Evan.
Chance was never quite sure how Bethany managed it, but one minute they'd been bidding some departing guests good-bye and the next they were alone, outside on the veranda.
The night was a beautiful one. Stars spangled the black velvet sky, and a sliver of a moon hung heavily on the horizon. Bethany knew it was now or never. She had to lure him into her arm
s and make him profess his love for her. She was almost positive that he loved her, for he'd been very attentive all night long.
Bethany gazed up at him longingly as she moved closer to him. "It's a perfect night."
"Good sailing weather," he remarked casually, wondering why all he could think about was getting away from Bethany and getting back to Rori.
"Sailing weather?" Bethany asked flirtatiously as she nestled against him. "Would you really rather be sailing right now?"
A resounding yes thundered in his mind. He wanted to be anywhere, but here—sailing, back in the desert, anywhere! Still, gentleman that he was, Chance knew he couldn't tell her the truth.
It occurred to him then what he'd been avoiding for some time now. He didn't love Bethany Sutcliffe, and he never had. Chance knew that it was ridiculous to let her go on thinking that he cared. He had to end this, to let her down, but he had to do it as gracefully as possible.
"Oh Chance, darling . . ." Bethany drew him back into the shadows and pulled him down for a flaming kiss. She'd been waiting forever to have a moment alone with him so she could kiss him. She put everything she had into the embrace, arching heatedly against him in a sensual offering that she hoped he would not ignore.
Caught by surprise, Chance responded for an instant, but then suddenly realized that this was all wrong. This wasn't the woman he wanted in his arms. This wasn't Rori. The last thought shocked him to the depths of his soul. Rori? Was it Rori he really wanted? In confusion, Chance took Bethany by her upper arms and set her from him.
"Chance? What is it?" Bethany asked worriedly, thinking she'd done something wrong.
"Nothing, Bethany, or maybe everything. I'm sorry, but this isn't going to work."
"What do you mean?" Her heart constricted painfully in her breast.
"You deserve more than I can give you, Bethany."
"What are you talking about?"
"I don't love you."
"You don't?" She had feared as much all along, but had never had the nerve to face up to the possibility. "But we meant so much to each other."
"We shared passion, Bethany. That's all. I'm sorry." He gave a negative, regretful shake of his head and then turned, disappearing down the steps and away from the house and leaving her standing there, alone in the pale moonlight.
Evan had been thoroughly delighted when Rori had come back to him after dancing with Broderick. He'd plied her with champagne, seeing to it that her glass was continually filled. He thought her a delightful companion and couldn't wait to take her in his arms and kiss her.
Evan had made several inquiries about Aurora and had been slightly disappointed to discover that she had no funds of her own to speak of, but was totally dependent on the Brodericks for her well-being. He thought Aurora a woman he could fall in love with, but, unfortunately, the bride he chose would have to have a substantial fortune behind her if they were to live in the style to which he'd become accustomed. Still, Aurora's lack of funds did not diminish his interest or his desire for her, and he wondered hungrily if she could be encouraged into a dalliance. Certainly it was worth a try for she truly was a beauty.
"Would you care to step out into the hall for a breath of fresh air?" he invited after they'd shared several more champagnes.
Rori was flushed from the effect of the potent wine and thought his suggestion a good idea. "Yes, thank you, Evan. I would."
He guided her from the crowded ballroom out into the main hallway, but there were still several couples around. Frustrated, he walked her without apparent intent across the wide hall to the entrance to the study. To his delight, it was empty.
"There are some windows open in here. Perhaps there might by a breeze," Evan told her as he manipulated her into the privacy of the semi-darkened room.
Rori entered ahead of him and then she heard Bethany speaking.
Would you really rather be sailing right now? Oh, Chance, darling . . .
She looked out one of the floor-to-ceiling casement windows that faced the veranda on the front of the house to see Bethany in Chance's arms and him kissing her passionately. It was very obvious that the amorous couple thought they were unobserved there in the shadows of the night.
In that fraction of a second, Rori's heart was shattered. She backed miserably away, accidentally bumping into Evan. She turned to face him, struggling to keep from revealing too much to him.
"Excuse me . . . I just remembered that I have to see Agatha about something . . ." Without waiting for him to speak, she fled the room.
Agatha had seen Evan and Aurora disappear out into the hall. Knowing the young man's reputation, she had decided to follow after them. She had just reached the ballroom door when she came across Aurora looking very pale and very distressed. Luckily, the hall was deserted at that moment, and no one saw them.
"Aurora, dear . . ." She put a supporting arm around her as she drew her aside for a moment of privacy. "Did Evan do something?"
"Oh, no. Evan was a perfect gentleman. I just . . . I'm not feeling too well. Would you mind if we left now?" Rori asked.
"Not at all. I'll just go find Chance and . . ."
"No!" She grabbed Agatha's arm to stop her. "No. There's no need to spoil the party for him. It is his party, after all. In fact, if you want to stay, I could just go on alone."
Agatha was far more perceptive than Rori gave her credit for, but she said nothing. "I'll just leave word for him that we're going. I'm sure he'll be able to find another way home."
Rori gave a tight nod as she fought for control. She wouldn't break down and cry! She wouldn't! She was relieved when Agatha returned a short time later with the news that their carriage had been brought around. The older woman was surprised that Bethany was not there to bid them good night, but said nothing as she ushed her young ward into the waiting conveyance and headed home.
Chapter Thirty-one
Rori thought the ride back to the Broderick house would never end. She tried desperately to keep from thinking of Chance and Bethany and the passionate kiss she'd witnessed, but it was impossible. The memory was burned into her consciousness, a vivid, painful reminder of Bethany's obvious victory and her own failure. When they finally reached the house, Rori wanted to bolt from the carriage, race inside and seek solace in the privacy of her room. The hindrance of her skirts, however, curbed her, and she was forced to descend from the conveyance with her newly acquired feminine grace and walk with Agatha at what she considered a snail's pace.
"Aurora, shall I send for the doctor to come see you?" Agatha asked, truly worried about her young companion. Aurora had been quiet all the way home, and she was concerned that she really might be ill.
"Oh, no," Rori answered hastily, knowing no doctor could cure what ailed her.
"Then would you care for a cup of tea before you go on up to bed? We could sit in the parlor and just relax for a while if you'd like," Agatha invited, wanting the young girl to open up to her and tell her what was troubling her.
"No, thank you, Agatha," Rori replied. She felt guilty that she wasn't being completely honest with the kind woman, but she wasn't used to sharing her deepest feelings with anyone. Besides, her agony over having lost Chance to Bethany was far too raw to be dealt with openly just yet. She needed some time alone—time to sort out all that had happened and figure out what she was going to do next. "I think I just need to go to bed. I'm probably just tired from all the excitement."
"It has been a busy day for you," she agreed sympathetically. "I'll send Jeannie up to help you undress."
"No, really, that won't be necessary tonight."
Agatha could see the almost distraught look in her eyes and knew it would be best to leave her alone for a while. "Well, dear, you go on up and get a good night's sleep. But, Aurora . . .?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"If you need me . . . if you need anything at all, you have but to ask." Agatha sensed there was far more to her upset than just a slight malady or weariness, but unless she was willing to shar
e it with her, there was nothing she could do.
Rori heaved a strained sigh of relief as she finally escaped to the sanctity of her own room, and she was thrilled to find Jake there, curled up at the foot of her bed. She closed the door behind her and dropped to the floor beside her dog, hugging him close, mindless of her expensive gown and fancy hairstyle.
"Jakie . . . oh, Jakie . . . what am I gonna do now?" she sobbed, finally giving vent to the misery that gripped her. She wrapped both arms around the big mongrel's neck and buried her face in his soft fur as she cried.
It was quite a while before she finally regained some semblance of control. She moved away from Jake just long enough to throw off her clothes. Dressed only in her chemise, she crawled up on the bed and patted the mattress beside her. The dog was eager to join her on the comfortable bed, and he jumped up with ease, snuggling close at her side where she sat.
"I don't know what to do, Jakie," Rori confided in a broken voice to her one and only friend. "Chance loves Bethany. I guess he always has." She sniffed loudly as she wiped the fresh tears from her cheeks. "You know, I thought I could make him love me. I thought if I was a good enough lady, he would love me and not her, but I guess I didn't do good enough."
Jake cocked his head and gave a soft whine.
Tears still streaming down her face, Rori clasped her knees to her chest and began to rock back and forth in anguish as she huddled there with her pet. "We have to leave, Jakie. We can't stay. I don't know where we're gonna go, but I can't just hang around here and watch Chance with her. She's so pretty . . . she's everything I'm not."
Again the dog whined, and this time he nudged her arm with his cold nose, forcing her to open up just a little and hug him again.
"Oh, Jakie, you're the only one left who really loves me." Rori's heart ached. "Grampa did, though . . . Grampa did . . ."
Getting up for a minute, she wandered miserably over to the big dresser where she'd placed Burr's things upon arriving. Opening the drawer, she drew out the small package of personal possessions that had belonged to her grampa. She had looked at them only once, right after he'd died, and hadn't had the heart to open them again since. Tonight, though, she needed them. She needed some reminder that she had been loved, that Burr had existed and that he had cared for her.
