Deborah Camp (13 page)

“No more terrifying than what she was living with day after day,” Regina whispered, then shook her head when Eric waited for her to continue. “It’s not for me to divulge Lu’s past.”

“Of course.” The song ended and he stepped back to admire Regina. “You certainly are lovely tonight.” His hands slipped from hers as his gaze strayed. “Uh-oh. Stu is frowning mightily at me
and coming this way. If he had his gun, he’d shoot me.”

Regina faced the sheriff. “There you are. All finished with your men-only talk?”

“She’s all yours, Stu,” Eric said, then threaded through the crowd.

“Carmichael’s been making the rounds,” Stu grumbled, taking one of Regina’s hands in his and resting the other at her waist. “At least he has an excuse for dancing with every woman in the room, which is more than I can say for his cousin.”

“Theodore?”

Stu nodded. “Dane escorted Miss Cooper, but that hasn’t stopped him from dancing with every other young woman tonight.”

“Not every one,” Regina noted, feeling like a wallflower. What was wrong with her? Why hadn’t he sought her out?

“I imagine Miss Cooper is pretty put out with him. I think a gentleman should dance with the one he brought and no others.”

Regina looked at the sheriff through her lashes. “Are you scolding me, Stu, for dancing with another man?”

“It’s my own fault for leaving you to your own devices.”

“Stu, a lady usually fills her dance card with more than one name, unless of course, she’s betrothed. Just because a lady dances once with a gentleman doesn’t mean she fancies him.”

Stu jutted out his chin, but a smile softened his thin lips. “You’re right. It’s just that Carmichael and Dane are such well-bred gents they intimidate me.”

“Well, you shouldn’t feel that way. After all, you’re the sheriff of this town, which makes you a very important person. Perhaps the most important of all.”

“Oh, you’re joshing me now.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, smiling sweetly. It had been a long while since she’d massaged a man’s pride and she enjoyed watching Stu puff out his chest and grin confidently. “People look up to you.”

“Well, maybe …”

She laughed up at him. “You know they do, and I’m proud to be escorted by you.”

He fought a smile and lost. “That’s nice of you to say, Miss Regina. This is a pretty song, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

She let the music take her. The waltz was lively and her steps were light. Stu swung her in half circles. She felt young and free of life’s many burdens and she was so glad she’d come to the Spring Cotillion. It did her heart and spirit good to dance with an attractive man. She was reminded of her first dance, when she was barely thirteen. She’d taken in one of her mother’s dresses, redesigned it, and crept out while her mother was engaged with a new bottle of gin. Johnny Ketchum had waited for her at the end of the street and they’d walked three miles to the barn dance. The walk back, several hours later, had been difficult. She’d felt like a prisoner being returned to her cell, and she’d come close to begging Johnny to take her to his home instead. If only dances could last forever….

Popping sounds floated over the hum of voices and music, and then someone was tugging on Stu’s sleeve. Regina blinked away the past and found herself staring into the wide, frightened eyes of Reverend John Hampf.

“Sheriff Stu, Ben Johnson is outside shooting off his pistols. You’ve got to make him stop. He’s scaring everyone to death.”

“Okay, Reverend. Quit yanking on me. You’re
going to tear my suit and it’s borrowed. Miss Regina, I’d better see to this.”

“Yes, go on. I understand.” Regina sent the Reverend an icy glance, but sent Stu off with a smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen, last call,” one of the musicians announced. “It’s late and we must say good evening. Last dance, folks. Find your favorite partners for this nightcap.”

Melancholy engulfed Regina as she turned slowly, intent on leaving the dance floor to the couples. Then she saw him. First, she caught a glimpse of his gingery hair, glossy and clean, reflecting the candlelight overhead. Then she saw his blue-eyed gaze, pinned on her. As Theodore Dane wove through the crowd toward her, Regina thought she might faint from gratitude. Oh, it would have been bleak if she’d been forced to go home without having danced once with him. She would have always looked back on this night as bittersweet. But not now. Now he was advancing toward her, his expression a portrait in determination.

She felt the smile spread across her lips and she knew it gave him a clear indication of her feelings, but she didn’t care. He stopped before her and didn’t say a word. As the first notes sounded he took her hand in his. He didn’t rest his other hand lightly at her waist, as her other dance partners had done, but splayed his fingers along her spine, just above the lace rose. He held her close, but not so close that it was scandalous. However, Regina was certain Miss Cooper was wishing her dead. She could almost feel the woman’s burning glare.

Timing her steps to his, Regina found she couldn’t look away from his face, so she drank it in. She adored the blueness of his eyes, the slash of his brows, and the sensual curve of his mouth. She adored his height and breadth. She adored.

“Theodore,” she whispered, and his left brow answered by lifting. Regina shook her head, discouraging talk. She wanted only to relish the slide of muscles beneath his clothing and skin.

Spreading one hand at the back of his neck, she stroked a lock of his hair with one fingertip and explored his stiff shirt collar with another. He smelled of cedar and shaving cream. He was freshly shaven, but she could see the outline of his beard and would probably feel the rasp of it on her skin should he kiss her, caress her.

Regina’s heart crowded into her throat. One corner of his mouth quirked. His eyes appreciated her, moving slowly from her hair to her nose, her mouth, her chin, her throat. Could he see her heart pulsing there?

Never had a man danced so well, she thought, seeing herself as a fairy princess and Theo her charming prince. His movements were exact, measured, smooth as a ripple across water. She memorized the marbled design in the center of his eyes. She tried to count his lashes. She strove to remain outwardly calm while her insides shook.

Remotely, she was aware that the song was drawing to a close. A whimper of remorse worked its way past her beating heart. His hand tightened on hers and brought her fingers to his mouth. His lips stroked the back of her hand and the tip of his tongue moistened her second knuckle.

“Theodore …” She sipped in a breath and hoped her knees wouldn’t give way.

He straightened and his gaze finally lifted from her face. She knew before he spoke that their magic minutes together were over.

“Stu’s coming,” he said in a low, hoarse voice. He removed the white lily from the lapel of his dark gray suit and tucked it behind her left ear.

“Thank you, Theo.” She squeezed his hand. “Thank you for the dance.”

“You’re beautiful, Regina. Too beautiful for words.” His gaze held hers for another moment or two, speaking volumes, then he nodded at someone behind her and turned and melted into the crowd like a whisper in the wind.

“That sneaky coyote,” Stu said, stepping around to face Regina. “I knew he’d slip up on you the minute my back was turned. He didn’t bother you much, did he?”

Regina shook her head. “Not nearly enough.”

“What?” Stu stuck his face close to hers. “What’d you say?”

She freed herself of Theodore’s spell and placed one hand on Stu’s arm. “You missed the last dance, Stu. Did you have to arrest Mr. Jackson?”

“Nah, I just took his bullets away from him. Crazy idiot. Never can hold his liquor.”

“So few can,” she added, but smiled to remove the thorn from her comment. “Shall we have one more cup of punch before you escort me home?”

“Maybe you should have a cup of the cider, Miss Regina. I hear some ornery varmint poured a pint of brandy into the punch. Wouldn’t be surprised if Ben Johnson didn’t drink a gallon of it all by hisself.”

M
ist swirled above the ground as twilight slipped into Eureka Springs. Regina sat in the rope swing suspended from a branch of an ancient oak. She kicked off. Airborne, she gripped the ropes and leaned back to enjoy the flutter of her clothing and the rasp of wind in her ears. The sky sailed overhead, through the tree branches, and the colors blurred together. Free as a bird, she thought, and remembered thinking the same thing as a child. Swings and birds and freedom. They went together. She couldn’t understand why anyone would want to keep a bird in a cage.

Springtime in the Ozark Mountains arrived in skirts of green and petticoats of yellow and white. Swells of daffodil and lily dazzled the eye. Banks of clover begged for bare feet. Patches of moss released pungent perfume. With twilight came the last gasps of winter when the rising mist shrouded the valleys with silver lace and the peaks bled gold from the dying rays of the sun.

Magic time, Regina thought, closing her eyes. Immediately, her musings waltzed to Theodore Dane and the last dance at the Spring Cotillion. Since then, three nights ago, she had thought of little else when she was alone. She examined the memory as if it were a family heirloom left to her
safekeeping. With each perusal she found something new—how the candlelight fractured in his eyes, the press of his fingertips against her spine, the warmth of his breath spreading across one side of her face like a blanket.

A tiny voice cautioned her not to grow too fond of her heirloom. It could be stolen from her … or perhaps it wasn’t even hers to claim. She’d survived many dreams that had gone up in flames, but she cringed at the possibility of losing this one. The girl in her wondered if Theodore truly desired her, and her poor, scarred heart trembled.

Then the hardened cynic in her boomed loud and clear,
Desire, yes. Love? Hardly
.

Regina planted her feet on the soft earth, closing her imaginary wings to end her flight of fancy. Theodore was an educated man, a worldly man, a man destined to marry well. He would take her, but never seriously. Her nights in the Gold Star had taught her that men functioned in two worlds—one respectable and one carnal. Women like Irene Cooper fit in the respectable one, and women like Regina were relegated to the carnal one. Some women were lucky enough to find places in both, and those, to Regina’s mind, made the best wives because they could combine the two worlds into one and make their husbands’ lives whole.

But it was more than that, she reasoned. Under the kind light of candles and with the background of a familiar tune, she and Theo had seemed a perfect match. However, in other settings they were adversaries. He stood on the side of men, who would keep women under their thumbs, while she scrambled for equal footing. He saw nothing wrong with open saloons, and she couldn’t find anything right about them. He labeled Carry Nation a pest while she elevated Mrs. Nation to
sainthood. Actually, the only thing they had in common was mutual attraction careening toward uncontrollable lust.

Ah, but it had been a night of magic, she thought, slumping in the swing and mentally touching the edges of those fleeting minutes in his arms. Somehow that dance had been more arousing than his kisses. Perhaps because she hadn’t been ready for the kisses, but she’d been praying for a turn in his arms to the strains of a sweetheart waltz.

The air grew colder and she longed for her shawl. Rising from the swing, Regina strolled toward the house, wanting the warmth but not entirely ready to desert her twilight thoughts.

When a shadow blotted the path before her, Regina stifled a shriek. Her throat constricted as she stared fearfully at the man blocking her. Something glinted in his hand and she squinted against the failing light to see it—a bottle with only an inch of liquid left in it.

Jack brought it to his lips and drank the whiskey in two gulps. In one shattering second, he smashed the end of the bottle against a tree trunk. Shards of glass fell like hard leaves to the ground. Jack moved the jagged edges of the bottle neck closer so that Regina could get a good look at the weapon he’d made.

“You’re not going to keep me away from them tonight, little sis,” he rasped.

“You won’t use that on me,” Regina said, forcing herself to sound confident.

Jack’s grin was as sinister as a Halloween lantern’s. “You don’t want to test that notion, Ginny. Better listen to your big brother and stay outta my way.”

He swung around and took three strides toward the house before Regina tackled him.

*     *     *

“Aces high.” Theo reached for the money piled in the center of the table.

Eric threw down his five cards. “If you’re going to take our wages, I think you should at least buy us a round of drinks.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Stu flipped his cards at Eric to shuffle in with the deck.

Theo raised a hand to catch Tom Wilson’s attention. “We need a round here, Tom. On me. Hell, bring a bottle. I think my luck’s going to hold.”

“I’ll open some of the finer label stuff for you gents,” Tom said, reaching behind the bar. “Just got some in. It’s supposed to be aged.”

“What, for more than a week?” Eric scoffed. “Remember that whiskey your Grandfather Dane had in the wood cask? Now
that
was aged.”

Theo wet his lips. “Umm-umm. I can still taste it. He used to give every boy a sip upon reaching manhood,” he said to Stu. “Said it was a hundred years old.”

“That was stretching the truth, I imagine,” Eric said. “But it was fine. Really fine. Went down smooth as silk and fired a man’s stomach with a low, steady flame.”

“I had some whiskey like that once.” Stu picked up the cards Eric dealt him and frowned at them. “At a saloon called the Gold Star. Y’all been there?”

“The Gold Star in Dodge City?” Tom asked, approaching the table with the clean shot glasses and a bottle with fancy writing on the label.

“Yeah, you know it, Wilson?”

“I was in there once. Just passing through. I remember it had stars on the ceiling.”