Savannah Heat (31 page)

“How did it feel?”

“Nothing at all the way your kisses do,” she admitted, and Morgan laughed. He looked so handsome with the tension gone from his face.

“You never fail to amaze me, Salena.”

This time Silver’s smile came easily. “I always hated my name until I heard you say it. It sounds different somehow.”

“It’s a lovely name,” he said.

“Truly?”

“Yes … a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

Silver felt the heat creep into her cheeks. The dance ended, and another, more vigorous version began. Both Riley and Buckland stood eagerly waiting on the sidelines, but Morgan didn’t return her.

“This is called ‘El Capotín,’ the rain song. A
capotín
is an ancient rain cape, a thatch of leaves that is draped around one’s shoulders.”

Silver looked at Morgan, seeing a charming side of
him she had only suspected, then at the men and women already engrossed in the tune.

“Shall we try it?” he asked.

“I hope I don’t step on your feet.” In seconds she had picked up the energetic beat and was laughing and twirling, dancing just as they were. She would never have guessed the
baile
could be so much fun.

From beneath her dark lashes, she watched Morgan’s graceful yet masculine movements. His smile remained warm, and so did his expression. Was he really enjoying himself as he seemed? Or was he just pretending? If only she knew what he was thinking.

“
Bailecitos caserns
,” Morgan said, “a house party with dancing.”

Silver laughed. “I’d say it’s a bit more than that.” In their elegant silks and satins, whirling beneath crystal chandeliers, the revelers danced and sometimes sang in accompaniment to the orchestra. A few times they shouted, “
iBamba!
”

The waltz was popular, as well as the polka and mazurka. There were spirited folk dances and the beautiful fandago, in which just one man and woman held the attention of the crowd with their sensual, graceful movements.

Silver couldn’t remember a better night. She danced with Ham, danced with the general, and finally danced with Buckland. Morgan scowled when he saw them and began dancing with an elegant black-haired woman with fiery eyes and creamy skin. Just seeing Morgan’s hand on the woman’s narrow waist made Silver’s stomach turn over. God, how could one man affect her so?

“Why don’t we take a walk on the terrace?” the colonel suggested. Silver glanced at Morgan, saw the
way the dark-haired woman smiled at him and fluttered her red lace fan, the same bright shade as her dress. She started to agree, but she didn’t really want to go, and she didn’t want to ruin her enchanted evening, as undoubtedly would happen if Morgan saw them leaving together.

“Would you mind fetching me a cup of punch?” Silver asked Buckland instead, hoping to distract him.

“But I thought—of course, my dear.” Connie left her alone, and Morgan rejoined her a few moments later.

“Having a good time?”

“Yes. Thank you, Major.”

“What for?”

“Playing Prince Charming.”

Morgan’s eyes swept over her. “The pleasure has been mine, milady.” Taking her arm, he led her out onto the terrace. The tropical night engulfed them, the fragrance of hibiscus and frangipani filling the air with a sweet scent that mingled with an occasional whiff of ladies’ perfume. Overhead, bright stars shone beside a milk-white fragment of moon. Beyond the terrace, a high-walled garden, infinitely manicured, beckoned to lovers who wished to stroll its hedgerow paths.

“What happened to the colonel?” Morgan asked, drawing her uncertain attention, but the smile remained in his eyes. “The last time I saw him, he was carrying two cups of punch, one of which I presume was yours.”

At the teasing note in his voice, Silver smiled up at him. “I’m afraid I must confess to a bit of duplicity. You see, it wasn’t the colonel’s attentions I wanted.”

“Oh? And just whom, pray tell, has captured your fancy?”

“Well”—she flashed an impish grin—“the man I had in mind is of far lower rank—merely a major—but a man I find infinitely more to my liking.”

Morgan’s hand touched her cheek, his fingers warm and firm against her jaw. “If only I could believe that.”

Silver’s look turned serious. “I hope one day you will.”

His hands cupped her face, tilting it toward his. Lowering his head, he brushed her lips with a feather-soft touch that left her breathless. It was a gentle kiss, almost achingly tender.

“There you are—” Connie Buckland interrupted from the open terrace doors. With a guilty start, Silver turned away. Casting Morgan a look of suspicion, Buckland walked across the patio and handed Silver a cup of punch.

“Thank you, Connie, that was very thoughtful.” But after several small sips, she set the crystal punch glass aside. She noticed Morgan’s scowl had returned. Inside the house, the orchestra struck up a fresh tune, the strains a lilting melody on the warm evening air.

“I believe this is the dance the major has promised to teach me.” That was a bald-faced lie. She glanced up at Morgan, whose dark look faded, and his mouth curved up in a smile.

“So it is. If you’ll excuse us, Colonel?”

“Of course,” the colonel said, but he looked none too pleased.

Inside the salon, Silver moved into Morgan’s arms, quickly catching the steps, dancing with graceful abandon.

Morgan’s eyes, bright green and hungry, bored into her. While at first he’d been careful to hide his interest, now his look seemed hotly possessive, his
desire no longer concealed. The feel of his eyes on her breasts made them grow taut and achy. The hand at her waist burned her flesh. When his gaze came to rest on her mouth, it was all Silver could do to stifle a moan.

Unconsciously her tongue ran over her lips, and Morgan’s fingers, entwined with hers, increased their hold.

“Do you know how much I want you?” To demonstrate, he pulled her closer. Silver’s eyes went wide at the feel of his hardened arousal, pressing against her through the fabric of her skirt.

Oh, God, I want you, too
, she thought, but she wasn’t about to say it. Not now. Not when so much still lay between them. There was a time when she would have given in to her physical desire for him, let him make love to her without a thought for tomorrow. Not anymore.

Now she wanted his love. Wanted him to know the person she was inside. Wanted him to believe in her. When the dance ended, Morgan walked her to the edge of the floor, and General Canales approached.

“Major Trask,” he said with a little too much force. The worry on his face stole Morgan’s attention completely. “I must speak with you. Might I have
un momento, por favor
?”

“
Ciertamente
. Shall I find Colonel Buckland?”

“One of my men will bring him and Lieutenant Riley.” The general turned to Silver. “I must beg your indulgence, Senorita Jones.”

“I understand completely.”

“If we have not returned by the time you are ready to retire, the servant at the foot of the stairs will show you to your room.”

“Thank you, General.”

Morgan and Canales left her in the care of one of
the general’s aides, a middle-aged man of medium height and build who spoke little English. Silver danced with him and several other men, including a dashing black-haired man named Don Raul de la Guerra. De la Guerra was charming and one of the most darkly handsome men she had ever seen. But his attentions were fastened on the fiery-eyed woman Morgan had been dancing with earlier, and Silver didn’t blame him. She wondered what their story was, why the woman flirted so outrageously with everyone except the handsome don, but Silver had enough problems of her own.

As the evening wore on and Morgan didn’t return, some of Silver’s excitement began to wane. Though dozens of handsome men surrounded her, lavishly praising her beauty in their beautiful, mellifluous Spanish, without Morgan to witness their attentions, it didn’t seem to matter. As politely as possible, she excused herself and made her way to the small dark-skinned servant standing at the foot of the sweeping staircase.

The little man smiled and led her upstairs along a wide, lengthy corridor. Small candles shimmered in gleaming silver sconces, and the tartan carpets beneath their feet muffled their footfalls as they walked along. The house, a great U-shaped structure, appeared formal and impressive. Silver’s room lay at the very end of one long wing.

The servant opened the door, and Silver stepped in to find a large high-ceilinged room dominated by a huge canopied bed draped with mosquito netting, which had been tied up out of the way. The shuttered windows stood opened to the gentle breeze, and the room felt balmy and pleasant.

She wondered who had chosen the lavish appointments—gold and pale blue silk. Whoever it was had
elegant taste. Silver appreciated the delicate workmanship of the gold-brocaded, white-painted sofas and matching white and gilt furniture. The feeling was very European, not at all what she had expected.

Spotting her empty leather satchel, Silver opened a huge gilded white wardrobe and found her clothes hung carefully inside. Her silver-backed hairbrush had been laid out on the dresser, where she sat to brush her hair. But her thoughts remained on Morgan, on the handsome, charming escort he had been.

There was something in the way he had looked at her, a longing that gave her fresh hope for their future. If he could put aside his mistrust and come to know the woman she was inside, there might be a chance for them yet. What did she want from him? she asked herself, and the answer came swift and hard.

She wanted him to love her as much as she loved him.

Tonight, for the very first time, the depth of her feelings had surfaced. It had happened the moment of their separation, when the general’s urgency had taken Morgan away. In two days’ time he would be leaving. Going off to fight for the Texians imprisoned, to fight for his brother’s life.

For the first time it occurred to her he might not return.

And that was when she had known.

Silver’s fingers trembled on the handle of the hairbrush. The thought of Morgan’s death made her stomach churn, and a wave of nausea swept over her. She hadn’t meant to love him, didn’t want to love any man. How had she let herself become so deeply involved?

Silver cursed herself, called herself a fool, but still could not deny it. She loved Morgan Trask whether
she wanted to or not. Then she remembered the look in Morgan’s eyes—the passion, the gentleness, the yearning—and a soft smile curved her lips. She had much to offer a man—a man wise enough to see it.

And Morgan Trask was just such a man.

Time was on her side—and a physical attraction even Morgan could not deny. A few more evenings as pleasant as this one, and Morgan might begin to see the woman beneath her tough facade. Silver’s smile grew wider. Handling a man was fairly new to her, but she had her instincts to rely on.

Her instincts and her newly discovered passion.

Together they might just render one Morgan Trask on a Silver platter.

Beginning to feel sleepy, Silver pushed thoughts of Morgan away, fought the buttons at her back, then heard a knock at the door. When she opened it, she found a young Mexican girl no more than twelve or thirteen standing outside in the hall.

“
Yo soy aquí ayudarle
,” the girl said. It meant nothing to Silver until the girl mimed unbuttoning Silver’s dress.

“Thank you. Please come in.”

Dressed in a peasant blouse and simple black cotton skirt, the girl smiled warmly. She wore leather sandals on her small feet, had glistening black hair, and interested, eager eyes.

“
Me llamo Cecilia.
” She pointed to herself.

“My name is Silver.”

“
Dama de Luz
,” she said, and Silver recognized the name the soldiers had given her. Cecilia touched her pale hair, freshly brushed and hanging well below her shoulders. Then she motioned for Silver to turn around, and started on the small covered buttons that closed up the back of her gown. Cecilia had
unfastened only half of them when a second knock sounded at the door.

“Excuse me,” Silver said, hoping the girl would understand her attempt at politeness.

“
Sí
, senorita.”

Silver opened the door to find Connie Buckland standing in the hallway, plumed hat in hand.

“Might I have a word, Salena?” Spotting the small, dark Mexican girl, he added, “Alone?”

“Of course.” Thinking of the meeting Connie and Morgan had attended with General Canales and worried about what might have happened, Silver let him in and dismissed the girl, who yawned discreetly behind her hand and flashed a grateful smile.

“What is it, Colonel?” Silver stepped away as Connie closed the door. “Has something happened?”

“I was worried about you, my dear. I wanted to be sure you were all right.”

“I’m fine, Colonel. I appreciate your concern, but—”

Connie moved farther into the room, backing Silver several paces toward the bed. “There are things I wish to say to you, Salena. Things of some importance. You know the way I feel about you. Surely you return those feelings at least a little.”