Summer Rose

by Bonnie K. Winn

  He’d done it again, she thought ruefully as a slow smile enveloped her features. Ignoring the warning bells, she agreed.

  He’d ignored those same warnings when he decided to ask her to the dance, telling himself his reason was worth the lies. But as he gazed at her soft smile, he knew it wasn’t Cassie he was lying to.

  24

  Entering the decorated barn, Cassie heard the lingering strains of fiddle music and smelled the fragrant aroma of newly baled hay, ripe apple cider, and freshly baked cinnamon cakes and molasses cookies. How different it felt to enter the dance tonight, she thought.

  At the first dance she’d felt every inch the hated stranger she was. But now, with Shane as her escort, she shared the confidence that emanated from him as naturally as he breathed. A quick glance assured her that Jacob Robertson wasn’t anywhere in sight, and Cassie let out a silent sigh of relief.

  Gazing around the lantern-lit room, Cassie saw the same bevy of matrons and their overeager daughters. Fortunately, tonight’s dance was in honor of Effie Lou Newton’s engagement. Cassie was relieved that the party hadn’t come to a halt with her arrival. Either because she was on Shane’s arm or because of a tacit agreement not to ruin Effie Lou’s party, the merriment continued uninterrupted.

  Cassie glanced up at Shane’s smiling face. His possessiveness was subtle but distinct as he held her arm firmly tucked in his. Perhaps he still didn’t think she realized the reason for his acting as though she were the most irresistible female to come West. But even though it was her land he was after, she couldn’t disguise the pleasure she felt in being escorted by the town catch.

  Lifting her chin, she met the twinkle in his eyes and found she could no longer prevent a smile of her own. It felt devilishly hard to remember that he was the one she needed to watch out for when he was acting as a buffer between her and the animosity of the townspeople.

  Shane’s head dipped closer to hers. “Prepare for battle,” he whispered, laughter coating his words.

  Startled, Cassie glanced up and saw a militia of women bearing down on them. Stopping short in front of them, Cassie offered the ladies a tentative smile.

  They nodded their heads toward her in one collective movement. Only a few quivering feathers on their hats remained of their greeting as they ignored Cassie and turned to Shane.

  “Alan Tinsdale’s sick,” Mrs. Humphries announced with an important air. Cassie turned to Shane with a questioning glance.

  “The caller for the square dances,” he explained.

  “You’ll simply have to replace him,” Edna Simmons continued.

  Shane raised his eyebrows quizzically. “I’m flattered, ladies. But why me?”

  With a victorious gleam in her eye, Mrs. Humphries answered, “Because the other young men are in Effie Lou and Charles’s wedding party and should be celebrating, not doing the calling.”

  The intentional slight was not lost on Cassie. So they’d thought of a way to remind her she was an unwanted outsider and to separate her from Shane for the evening. Refusing to let them see they’d hurt her, Cassie simply lifted her chin higher and remained quietly at Shane’s side.

  “Guess you have a point, ladies. It is an engagement celebration—you might say a romantic evening.” The ladies nodded their flower- and feather-bedecked hats in unison, gloating as they surveyed Cassie. “So I propose that we dispense with the square dancing and have the boys play only waltzes tonight. Much more romantic, don’t you think?”

  Cassie had to restrain the laughter that mingled with her relief when the ladies found themselves muttering in Shane and Cassie’s wake as he led her to the dance floor. She’d felt a bleak moment of despair when she’d thought he was going to blithely desert her.

  She gave herself a mental shake. She’d attended enough dances in her days as a spinster to take care of herself. But she couldn’t deny the delightful sensation of being cosseted and protected by Shane’s interest. You’d better stop this, she warned herself. You’ll get used to his attention, and then what will happen when he grows tired of the game?

  Savoring the feeling of his arm firmly encircling her waist as he led her onto the dance floor, Cassie chose to ignore the warning signals.

  The lilting strains of a waltz tune filtered through her consciousness, and Cassie effortlessly followed Shane’s lead. The disapproving stares and hastily concealed animosity faded into a dimming background as she found herself lost in Shane’s compelling gaze. For all she knew or cared, they could have been surrounded by howling wolves and irate grizzlies, yet Cassie drifted away from reality and into the fantasy Shane’s arms created.

  Searching the gold-flecked green of his eyes, Cassie wished for the moment that he, too, could let the rest of the world slip away as they floated around the makeshift dance floor, weaving past the other couples and seeking the corners that held little of the dim lantern light.

  Shane cursed himself as the amethyst hue of Cassie’s expressive eyes mesmerized him. Eyes that sucked him in like a whirlpool until he felt like flotsam in a swollen river, his emotions tossing about at the whim of a raging current. For a moment he forgot she was a Dalton.

  He shook his head as though to clear it. He had far too much at stake to allow Cassie to sway him. Past promises called to him. I won’t forget, Pa—a deathbed oath that was more sacred to him than anything he now lived for.

  Yet his hand spanned her incredibly tiny waist, and he drew her even closer. He tipped his head down, breathing deeply of the teasingly fresh smell of lavender lingering in her raven curls that perched over one shoulder. He had an insane desire to rip the confining ribbon from her hair and bury his face in her luxuriant ebony tresses.

  But even as he squelched the thought, the fiddles screeched to a halt, and the dancers drew apart. Reluctantly, as though loosening his hold on a lifeline, Shane relinquished his grip on Cassie, and they stepped away from one another. Her flushed face seemed to mirror his own feelings, and Shane tactfully drew her aside to the punch table. Scooping up a ladle of cider, Shane passed the glass to Cassie. She accepted it with trembling hands, and Shane found himself gulping his own cider—only to realize he was holding an empty glass and wondering where the contents had gone.

  He was no gawky schoolboy to get worked up over a woman at a dance, he told himself. But this was not just some woman. This was Cassie. Cassie of the captivating eyes. Of the incredible courage. And of the open heart. He felt a sliver of his own heart melt at the realization—and an equal sliver of fear slice up his spine.

  Shane had been his own man all his life. He’d never wanted the shackles that other men seemed to need and accept. Instead, he had openly ridiculed those he’d claimed were led around by an apron and chained to a skirt. And here he was making calf-eyes at a public dance—and at a Dalton, no less. Maybe it was time he backed off and sampled some of the other women he’d ignored since Cassie had come to town.

  He was startled when Herminnie sidled up to him and awarded him a toothy smile.

  “Evenin’, Shane,” she drawled in her magnolia-thick voice.

  “Evening, Herminnie,” he replied, mustering a heart-catching smile for her benefit Might as well start with Herminnie. She’d been openly chasing him for years. It was time Cassie was reminded that he was his own man. After all, he’d forgotten easily enough.

  “Would you honor me with this dance, Herminnie?” he asked, his smile suggesting more than just a dance.

  Herminnie flushed, and poured even more sugar into her drawl. “Why, of course, Shane.”

  “You’ll excuse us, won’t you, Cassie?” Not waiting for a reply, Shane led Herminnie to the dance floor. Her arm entwined with Shane’s, Herminnie cast a maliciously triumphant glance at Cassie.

  Cassie tried to smile and appear pleasantly amused as Shane spent the next three dances in the arms of various young ladies in the room. By the fourth dance, the strain of smiling was becoming unbearable. She’d danced twice with Albert Fredericks but hadn’t wanted to encour
age him by accepting any more dances.

  Cassie wondered what had gone so desperately wrong. Could she have imagined the desire in Shane’s eyes as they’d danced? Perhaps he’d planned this all along. Maybe he’d gotten tired of his farcical game of pursuing her and had decided public humiliation would work better. Feeling her throat constrict, she tried to quell her rebellious thoughts. But it was difficult as she stood on the sidelines, feeling like a deserted wallflower.

  Turning back to the punch bowl yet again, she found herself side by side with Evan.

  “Hello, pretty lady,” he greeted her softly. She was aware from the sympathy in his eyes that he’d witnessed her abandonment.

  She steadied her voice, unwilling to have it quiver, “Good evening, Evan. Are you having a good time?” She tried to plaster on a bright smile but could see she hadn’t fooled him.

  “Not up till now. But if my brother’s the fool I’m beginning to think he is, my evening’s going to improve considerably.”

  Cassie sent him an uncertain smile.

  “That’s the spirit. Now, how about this dance?”

  Without waiting for a reply, Evan led her onto the dance floor. She felt herself being drawn uncomfortably close in his arms. She started to protest when he interrupted her.

  “We want to make this look good, don’t we?”

  She murmured an inaudible reply into his shoulder as he spun her around the floor. She could sense a hundred pairs of unfriendly eyes trained on her back. She wished suddenly that she were tucked safely in her home, away from the scrutiny of these people who so blatantly disliked her. And away from the incredible, unreasonable hurt of Shane’s desertion.

  Evan led her around the dance floor to a haunting melody. As the tune ended, he drew away and bent his head toward hers. To the casual observer, Evan seemed to be whispering an endearment.

  Instead, as his lips grazed her ear, he said, “Buck up. Don’t let them see how you really feel.” Drawing back, he slipped a casual arm under her elbow and guided her to the edge of the dance floor.

  Glancing up at the strong, young face so much like Shane’s, Cassie murmured to him, “Thank you, Evan.”

  “There’s no need for thanks.”

  “Oh, yes, there is. You’ve salvaged my pride.”

  “My brother’s a fool,” Evan stated bluntly. “Maybe he’s beginning to realize just how much of a fool.”

  Cassie followed Evan’s gaze until her eyes rested on Shane’s angry face. She felt an immediate sense of relief. So he wasn’t immune to her after all.

  “Let’s give him a run for his money, shall we?” Evan whispered in her ear. Not allowing her a chance to reply, he led Cassie onto the dance floor. Evan purposely swirled her in Shane’s direction. Shane’s only reaction was his furious expression and the whitened knuckles that clenched a punch glass.

  Refusing to release her, Evan claimed the next three dances as Shane’s fury grew. Having abandoned any pretense of dancing with other women, Shane merely simmered until his temper was a visible roiling boil. Cassie glanced in his direction and unconsciously tightened her hold on Evan when she countered Shane’s scathing glare only inches from her face.

  She started to speak, but the words froze at the murderous expression she found on Shane’s face. His anger seemed completely out of proportion to the situation.

  “Be glad you’re my little brother, or I’d whip you where you stand,” he ground out at Evan before dragging Cassie off the dance floor, through the tall, wide doors, and into the night air.

  “You have no right—” Cassie began indignantly, finding it hard to believe he was this upset simply because she’d danced with his brother. His hands bracketed her jaw, effectively stopping her resistance. His mouth was an assault, stamping his possession on her. Her consciousness fought the realization that he was branding her as surely as he did his cattle, but finally her mind accepted the truth, and she broke his insistent hold.

  “Are you satisfied?” she asked quietly, holding a narrow grip on her fury. “It’s too bad you didn’t have a red-hot iron handy. You could have put your mark on me and penned me up with the rest of the stock.”

  Shane’s rage matched hers. “If that’s what it takes to keep you from falling into the first set of arms that comes along…”

  Her stinging slap split the night, and they both reeled under the impact.

  His face darkened in fury while she met and held his glance. Nose to nose, they stood in electrified silence. Cassie started to step backward as Shane’s arms grasped hers. She expected revenge or anger, not the overwhelming sensation of being totally consumed by his kiss.

  This time his mouth claimed hers unrelentingly, but instead of the assault she expected, he once again surprised her. His tongue explored the recesses of her mouth, seeking each sensitive spot that ignited a fresh surge of desire. His tongue lapped lazily in swirls while his lips firmly molded against hers. Feeling her breasts throb in response, her loins aching, she tried to fight the sensations but found herself going limp, breathless, satiated.

  Finally, when she thought she could take no more, he released her. As she rocked back on her heels, much like a rag doll, she stared at him in consternation.

  His eyes were dark with desire yet laced with an uncanny, calm self-possession. How could he look so unaffected? “We’d best be getting inside, Cassie. Else people might talk.”

  Weak-kneed and winded, Cassie wobbled forward as he strode purposefully ahead. What kind of game was he playing? Brushing her fingers across her still-tingling lips, Cassie didn’t know if she dared find out.

  25

  Cassie and Millicent climbed the steps of the church, trying to ignore the sudden silence that greeted them. Mr. Peabody stepped in front of them, and Cassie formed a tentative smile. His mask of disdain froze her smile, and she ducked her head, hurrying through the door. She and Millicent found a pew and sat down on the hard oak planking. The family seated next to them pointedly rose and walked away, seating themselves several rows behind. Cassie stared straight ahead, feeling the burning in her cheeks. She didn’t know how much more of this ostracism she could endure.

  Glancing aside briefly, she saw that Andrew had found Zack Robertson. The two of them slid into a back pew. Cassie saw a slingshot make a brief appearance and prayed fervently the two of them wouldn’t act up. That was all she needed to make her welcome complete, having her brother act like a hooligan in church.

  She was still puzzled by the boys’ odd alliance, but Zack managed to elude his father’s iron hand, and despite Jacob Robertson’s threatening ways, Cassie was glad Andrew had found a friend.

  The tinny-sounding piano seemed more suited to a saloon than a church, but a sober-faced woman was earnestly trying to coax “Rock of Ages” from its shallow bowels.

  Cassie spared a second glance around the unadorned churchhouse and spotted Ringer, dressed neatly with his hair slicked in place, bearing down on them. Millicent’s pink cheeks indicated she’d seen him too. Cassie wondered with a sigh how she could feel so incredibly lonely in such a crowd. Watching couples and families looking so solid together, Cassie ached with a sense of not belonging.

  She also wished she knew to what extent these people had been hurt by her uncle. It seemed so unbelievable to her. Her father’s brother had always been a kind and gentle man. The man she remembered wouldn’t cut off the lifeline these people depended on. Without looking at the closed faces in the church, Cassie knew she’d get no answers from them.

  Glancing around, Cassie noticed that the small, rough-hewn room was becoming uncomfortably crowded, yet her pew remained glaringly empty. Strains of “The Old Rugged Cross” spilled forth from the ancient piano. As if on cue, the congregation rose to sing. Cassie fumbled with the unfamiliar hymnal. Her back felt as though it were being drilled with a thousand holes as every eye in the place was directed toward her. Unused to such rejection, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She remembered the closeness of her congregation back hom
e, the welcome she’d always found at church.

  Her gaze remained unfocused as she continued to fumble with the songbook, so she was doubly surprised when Shane’s large hand covered hers, quickly turning to the proper page. His rich baritone filled the air while her own voice quavered a bit as she joined in. Swallowing the unreasonable feeling of gratitude that had welled up at Shane’s presence, she concentrated instead on the words of the song.

  Cassie glanced up at Shane, but his gaze was directed to the crude pulpit where the minister stood. When the song ended, the minister led the prayer, and Cassie issued a fervent one of her own. She couldn’t bear to think of the years stretching ahead of her filled with rejection and open hostility. She’d left Boston for a fresh new start, not to take up the reins in a hate-filled vendetta she still didn’t completely understand.

  The puzzling paper she’d found in her desk was constantly on her mind. It just didn’t make any sense. But the key to the mystery was as elusive as her neighbors’ continued hatred.

  Cassie listened quietly as the sermon began. She watched with well-hidden amusement as Belva’s noisy brood straggled in. The way the children scattered, it appeared as though Belva had at least two dozen. The disturbance didn’t seem to bother the minister, however.

  He quietly continued his sermon. His gentle words washed over Cassie, soothing her frayed nerves. She listened in surprise as the minister’s sermon unfolded; it seemed he was preaching the golden rule. Cassie wondered if he had chosen the topic for her benefit. Or for the good folk of Keenonburg, she thought, noticing a few people squirming uncomfortably. Glancing over at Millicent to see if she’d caught the irony of the minister’s message, Cassie saw that Milly’s attention was wrapped up in Ringer, as was his in her.

  Shane watched the emotions flitting across Cassie’s face. She wouldn’t make much of a poker player; the hurt was spelled out across her face as though it had been painted there. Studying her, Shane wondered if he’d lost himself somewhere in the midst of his own manipulations.