Rapture's Tempest (18 page)

They blended in with the other dancers as they swayed and twirled about the ballroom, Mark totally absorbed in the wonderful sensation of at last holding her in his arms and Dorrie relieved to have been saved from a boring conversation with Annabelle.

Renee looked up at Marshall, her eyes aglow. “I certainly hope Mark wins her over soon. He loves her so.”

Marshall grinned at his wife. “You’re an incurable romantic.”

“You’re complaining?”

“Never.” He hugged her to his side. “But not everyone is as lucky as we were.”

“You don’t think they’ll ever get together?” Renee was saddened by the possibility. She thought a lot of Mark Clayton and she knew instinctively that Dorrie would be happy with him.

“I can’t predict what Dorrie will do anymore. She’s become so in de pen dent that it’s hard to say.”

“I know.”

Renee was reluctant to agree with her husband’s assessment, but she had to. Since Paul Elliot’s death, Dorrie had changed. Once her period of mourning for him had ended, she had seemed encased in ice. She had refused to let any men court her and had remained deliberately distant with those few she did consider friends. Renee knew that Dorrie was only trying to protect herself against further heartache, but in the process she was missing out on all the joys that life truly had to offer. Though Paul was dead, Dorrie’s life had
gone on, and Renee was sure that Dorrie had not fully accepted that yet.

“Do you want some punch or would you like to dance?” Marshall invited, his hand resting possessively at her waist.

“I’d love to waltz,” she told him eagerly before turning to Annabelle. “Annabelle, do you mind if we desert you for a few minutes?”

“Not at all, providing I can claim your handsome husband for a dance later?”

“It will be my pleasure,” Marshall told her graciously before leading Renee out onto the dance floor.

Annabelle watched them go, her eyes narrowing in thought. So, Mark Clayton was in love with Dorrie. That could complicate things. Knowing that she should tell Wade the news, she casually let her gaze sweep the crowd, trying to locate them.

Though Wade stood in a far corner watching Dorrie Westlake dance with Mark Clayton, his thoughts were of Anna-belle. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and waltz her about the room, but he knew that such a rash action would soon set tongues to wagging.

Forcing his attention to Dorrie, he was well aware that he should make his move. Setting his mind on a course of action, Wade waited until the music had ended and then made his way, unobtrusively, to her side.

“Good evening, Miss Westlake,” he greeted her warmly.

“Good evening, Captain MacIntosh. Do you and Captain Clayton know each other?” Dorrie asked as he joined them.

“Yes, we’ve met before. Captain Clayton, how are you?”

“I’m fine, MacIntosh, and you?”

“Just fine. I’d like to ask Miss Westlake for a dance, if you don’t mind?”

“Dorrie?” Mark stepped back to let her make the decision, hoping futilely that she would refuse and stay with him.

“Captain MacIntosh, I’d be delighted.” She took his arm. “I’ll see you later, Mark.”

Mark watched them leave, his expression guarded, his heart once again disappointed. Would he ever be able to break through the defenses she’d erected against becoming involved with a man again and win her heart? Frustrated but not defeated, Mark moved silently to the refreshment table.

Annabelle observed Wade’s luck with Dorrie and decided that her warning was immaterial. After all, what woman could resist Wade MacIntosh when he was his most charming? Confident that Wade would win Dorrie over, she went in search of her father.

Martin sat next to Clara in the Montgomery carriage, but his eyes were on Delight. As usual, he was fighting his desire for her. Even an illicit rendezvous with Sue a little earlier had not relieved the pulsing passion Delight aroused in him. The one thought that kept Martin from total frustration was the fact that he would be able to manuever her into dancing with him tonight. He k new it would be tricky. He would have to catch her in front of a group of her friends so she couldn’t refuse him, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to touch her and hold her as closely as possible, even if it was in front of a hundred people.

Delight was glad when the carriage finally drew to a halt in front of the Taylors’ home. She had felt the intensity of Martin’s gaze upon her during the whole ride and she was eager to get away from his heated scrutiny. Though he had been totally compliant with her demand that he never come near her or Rose again, Delight still felt threatened by him and she wished that there was some way she could escape from his subtle domination.

“Here we are.” Martin spoke jovially as he climbed down from their vehicle.

Turning to aid Clara in her descent, he handed her down and then reached for Delight. She knew that she could do nothing to avoid his handling of her, but the feel of his hands on her waist, even through the thickness of her coat, was repulsive, and she couldn’t suppress a shiver of disgust.

“Cold, my dear?” He asked.

“A little,” Delight murmured in response, hurrying away toward the welcoming warmth of the brightly lighted house.

Martin chuckled to himself as he followed after her with Clara on his arm.

“It feels so good to be going out again,” Clara told him as they started up the front stairs.

“I missed socializing, too, but your health is always foremost in my mind.”

“You’re so sweet, Martin.” Clara pressed his hand in appreciation of his sentiment. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Delight was far enough ahead of them that they couldn’t see her expression, and she was glad. His declarations left her nauseous and aching to tell her mother what Martin was really like….

With a gaiety she little felt, Delight went into the Taylors’ followed closely by her mother and stepfather. After shedding their coats, they entered the ballroom and were immediately surrounded by friends who were eager to welcome Clara back after her extended illness.

As soon as it was possible, Delight eased herself away from Martin’s side and went in search of a glass of punch. In truth, she wished that she could drink a quick bourbon, for she well remembered the false bravado it had instilled in her the night she’d had her first taste of it with Ollie. But young ladies did not imbibe straight whiskey, so she settled for a mildly spiked punch that did little to settle her taut nerves.

“Delight!” Renee’s friendly call drew her attention and she smiled in relief as she saw her approaching. “I didn’t know you were back home! When did you return?”

“The first of the week,” Delight confirmed as they embraced with affection.

“Is your uncle well?”

“He’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Delight told the half truth easily, but she had to stifle the urge to jump nervously at the sound of Marshall’s voice coming up behind her. She had never realized
that Jim and Marshall sounded so much alike. “Marshall, it’s good to see you again.”

“Delight, you look as lovely as ever.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” she grinned up at him, marveling suddenly at how much he resembled Jim.

Marshall sensed something odd about the way Delight was looking at him and he gave her a curious half smile. “Is something wrong?”

Delight blinked, confused by the deviousness of her own subconscious. “No, not at all. I was just thinking of how handsome you are, but I didn’t want to say anything because I know how jealous your wife gets.” She was proud of herself for her quick comeback and laughed in good humor with Renee.

“I suppose he could be considered good-looking if you go for older men,” Renee teased, looking up at him in a mocking, critical way.

“Have I aged well?” he quipped.

“I did a good job when I picked you. You’re holding up beyond all expectations,” she retorted, and he laughed loudly.

Delight listened to their loving banter silently, knowing how deep their feelings for each other really went. Renee had told her of their tempestuous courtship and of the tragedy that had struck right after their marriage, when Marshall had been kidnapped and presumed dead. Only the strength of Renee’s love had seen her through those terrible months when she’d been so alone and pregnant with Roger. Delight envied their deep devotion to each other and couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if she and Jim had fallen in love.

She had tried not to think of Jim all week, but he had constantly haunted her thoughts. She had tried to hate him, too, but she couldn’t. The love she felt for him ran too deep; instead, she felt a deep disappointment that he hadn’t believed in her. His accusations had been so cruel….

“So much has happened while you were gone…I just don’t know where to begin,” Renee was saying, and Delight smiled politely.

“Like what?”

“Well, you know how I’d been wanting you to meet Marshall’s brother, Jim?”

“Yes.” Delight kept her face frozen, knowing what news was coming next.

“He went and announced his engagement to Annabelle Morgan without any forewarning at all.”

“Really? Annabelle Morgan…I don’t believe I know her.”

“She’s here tonight,” Renee confided. “I’ll introduce you as soon as I see her again.”

Wonderful
—Delight thought. It was bad enough that she had to keep away from Martin all night, but suffering through Jim’s fiancée was going to definitely take all the fun out of the evening.

“I guess it wasn’t meant to be,” she managed to respond lightly, looking absently around the room.

“I suppose,” Renee said simply. “But I did so think that you two would have liked each other.” She shook her head in confusion.

“I’m sure my Prince Charming is out there somewhere. I just haven’t met him yet,” Delight told her confidently.

As they were talking, Annabelle joined them.

“May I have this dance, Mr. Westlake?” she approached Marshall, smiling at him coyly.

“Of course,” he responded gallantly before introducing her to Delight. “Annabelle Morgan, this is Delight de Vries, a dear friend.”

“It’s a pleasure, um, Delight, is it? What an unusual name,” Annabelle said with little real interest.

“My father chose it.”

“I’m sure.” Annabelle dismissed the conversation, feeling she had little in common with this young woman. “Marshall, shall we?”

Marshall was stunned at Annabelle’s crude attitude toward
Delight, but could do nothing more than quickly sweep her out onto the dance floor. Renee looked at Delight helplessly.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Delight hurried to mask her hurt. “I’m used to people wondering about my name. I think I’ll go see how my mother’s doing, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course.” Renee felt that something was terribly wrong, but Delight seemed unwilling to discuss it. She watched quietly as Delight disappeared into the hall and then turned back to watch her husband dance with Annabelle.

Delight stood with a few acquaintances, listening halfheartedly to their gossip. What had seemed interesting to her before no longer held her attention. She found this girl-talk extremely boring and wished idly that Ollie was here so they could have a good “man-to-man.”

Smiling wryly to herself, she was about to turn away when Martin’s voice assailed her.

“Here you are, Delight. I was hoping to find you. Would you care to dance?”

The boldness of his invitation astounded her, but she also knew there was no way she could refuse him.

“Of course, Martin.”

Without hesitation, he led her out onto the ballroom floor just as a waltz was beginning. To those watching them, his embrace seemed friendly, but Delight felt like a butterfly caught and held, pinned to a mat. The heat of his hand on her back dredged up memories she had tried to put from her mind, and she had to force herself not to cringe.

“You dance divinely, my dear. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“No.”

“Well, you do. Are you having a good time?” Martin tried to get her into a conversation, but Delight would have none of it.

“Marvelous.”

“I would like us to at least appear to be friends, Delight,” he finally remarked with a certain threat in his voice.

“Or?”

“Or I can make life uncomfortable for you.”

“Really?”

“I do control the purse strings now, you know.”

“But I have a trust fund.”

“Which will not become yours until you’re twenty-one.”

“So?”

“So, for the sake of your mother, look like you enjoy dancing with me. Not as a lover but as a friend.”

“Naturally,” she sneered, giving him a forced smile. “Is this good enough?”

Martin glared at her for a moment but let it pass. “For a start…for a start.” He had plans for her….

They finished the dance in silence, Delight longing to be away from him and Martin relishing every second that her body was touching his.

Dorrie smiled easily at some remark Wade made as they walked to the refreshment table together.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he inquired, sensing her aloofness and wanting to break through it.

“Yes,” she answered blandly, not wanting to encourage him too much.

Wade nodded in response to her simple reply. He was frustrated and getting angry. What was wrong with this woman? Was there no getting through to her? Though he had managed to get them onto a first-name basis, she seemed totally uninterested in him as a man and that was a reaction Wade was not accustomed to.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Punch will be fine,” she told him easily as she greeted some of her other friends, and Wade went after her drink, leaving her alone momentarily.

Returning with a cup of punch, he handed it to her and then escorted her to two vacant seats nearby.

“Shall we rest for a while?”

“That sounds good.” Dorrie agreed and then, knowing the best way to keep a man happy, she asked him about herself. “Where are you from, Wade? Have you been in St. Louis long?”

“Yes, I was with Captain Lyon back in sixty-one and now I’m with…”

Dorrie’s interruption stopped him. “You were with Nathaniel Lyon’s troops?”

“Yes,” Wade answered seriously, glad that his ploy had worked. He had not been with Lyon, but he knew that her fiancé, Paul Elliot, had been. Elliot had been killed in an early skirmish between Union forces and Confederate sympathizers, and Wade was not above using his death to get to Dorrie.