by Jillian Hart
“Approve of her? Why, she comes from a good family, and she’s as sweet as could be. Now, about our house rules.”
“I know, I know. I won’t bother her while she’s working.”
“When I said that, I didn’t know you were so serious about her. So be sure and get in a dance or two with her before the night ends, all right?” Pa clapped him on the shoulder.
Words failed him. He swallowed hard, unable to say what his father’s support meant.
“There are my boys.” Mother sailed into sight, resplendent in a deep green gown, radiating with the kind of happiness only hosting a party could bring her. “Don’t you both look fine. Our guests are starting to arrive. One of you is going to have to come down here and help me greet them.”
“That would be me.” When Gerard gazed upon his wife, it was clear that true love existed and happily-ever-afters could come true. He lifted his hand from Lorenzo’s shoulder. “Duty calls. And a little advice? Make sure it’s a waltz.”
Pa winked and tapped down the stairs.
“What are you two muttering about?” His mother planted her bejeweled hands on her hips. “Keeping secrets from me? Not for long. I will worm it out of your father.”
“Worm away, darling. A kiss or two might help.” Gerard slipped one arm around his wife’s waist. Selma laughed as they walked away. That’s the kind of happiness he wanted for his future. The kind of love that he felt for a certain kitchen maid who avoided looking his way as she swept through the ballroom doorway and into the corridor, her tray empty.
She hurried toward the kitchen and he watched her go, longing for a happily-ever-after of his own. Somehow, this had to work out between them. Because if it didn’t, his heart would never recover.
He would never be whole again.
So far, so good. Lorenzo was nowhere in sight. She had managed to avoid him. No reason to think avoiding him the rest of the evening would prove any more difficult. She slid a tray of candied sweet potatoes onto the buffet table, readjusted a platter of smoked salmon and swirled on her heel. There. She breathed in the aromas of turkey and stuffing, of dumplings dripping with butter. The long tables of shimmering silver and glittering crystal, of ornate china and polished brass, were fit for a king.
“Do you have a moment?” A familiar voice murmured from behind.
Lorenzo. She jumped. She hadn’t even heard him approach. He’d been sneaky, she realized, spinning around, glad her tray had been empty. Best to keep her eyes down and avoid the power of his gaze. He would see the sadness in her eyes and ask questions. Questions she didn’t want to answer, because that would be confiding in him when she ought to be pushing him away.
You can do this, she told herself, cleared her throat and managed what she hoped was a neutral look. She had to come across as perfectly normal, completely unaffected by his presence. “Did I forget something? Is something wrong with the setting?”
“No, the feast looks wonderful. The guests think so, too. Look.” He gestured toward the high, wide-arched entrance where elegant folks she didn’t know swept in, sparkling with gems, replete with the finest clothes she’d ever seen. All exclaiming over the beautiful setting.
A lone pianist began to play at the grand piano in the far reaches of the room. Pure, gentle notes of great feeling lifted over the din of the crowd. Ruby fought the urge to pinch herself to be sure she was awake. Being in this grand ballroom with its two-story arched ceiling, Palladian windows and marble floor made her feel as if she’d fallen into a book, someplace far too opulent to exist.
A place where a girl’s Cinderella wishes could come true.
“There is something you are needed for.” He sounded serious, not that she dared to look up and see for sure. “You had better come with me.”
Had she forgotten something? She had been so sure the initial spread had been laid correctly, that nothing had been forgotten. She had to follow Lorenzo through a nearby doorway, heart pounding, wondering what she’d done wrong. Why did he have to be the one to notice?
She kept her gaze trained on the alternating squares of yellow and ivory marble ahead of her toes. Whatever happened, she couldn’t look at him. If she didn’t see him, she could almost pretend they hadn’t kissed or that he didn’t care for her. If she didn’t gaze into his eyes, she could deny the love staking claim in her heart.
She could never admit that love. She could not give in to storybook wishes. She would be the friend that Scarlet and Kate were. She would be the daughter her father needed. She was a homeless girl with a bleak future.
“This is the solarium.” His baritone faintly echoed against the surrounding walls of bowed glass shining as dark as the night. Stars glinted in the panes overhead and cast a silvery glow to compete with the golden chandelier light tumbling in through the doorway.
“I’ve come to claim my dance.” He held out his hand, his callused palm spread wide and waiting. The gentlest question whispered in his eyes and filled the hush in the air between them. “You promised.”
“I never answered you.”
“Then I heard it in your heart.”
She forgot to keep her chin down. Lorenzo filled her vision, strikingly masculine in his black suit. A faint smile eased the chiseled splendor of his high cheekbones as he captured her fingers in his. She had to ignore the comfort, the rightness of his touch. She had to step away. Why weren’t her feet moving? “I can’t. My work. I’m expected to serve.”
“I’m sure everyone will understand.” His free hand caught her waist, as claiming as a brand. “Do you know how to waltz?”
“No. Which is another reason why you have to let me go.”
“Sorry. Not my plan.” His shoe nudged hers, forcing her backward in tempo to the piano music spilling into the room. “Just follow me.”
His other foot guided hers one step over, one step back. She felt held captive in his arms by a force she could not break. Dear Lord help me, she prayed, because she could not help herself. Her heart leaped, and her hopes foolishly took flight. He guided her around the room in one slow swirling turn after another.
Pull away, she told herself. Stop him. But how could she? Against her will, her defenses fell, her resistance shattered and love she could not repress lifted her up by the heart. Think of Scarlet and Kate. Think of Pa. Anything but how wondrous it would be to lay her cheek against the dependable plane of his mighty chest.
It was like soaring to the music. His gentle touch at her waist, guiding her, anchored her. Otherwise, she might float away like a lost leaf in a wind. Every brush of her shoes to the marble, every lilting step taken in unison with him made her want to dream. What would it be like to be his?
Like this, she realized as his hand left her waist to settle at the nape of her neck. With infinite tenderness, he guided her cheek to rest on his chest and enfolded her in his arms. Heaven could not be this sweet or eternity this treasured. She let her eyes drift shut. Listening to his heartbeat beneath her ear brought her closer to him in spirit. Every step and every beat of their hearts were in synchrony, in perfect unity.
His chin came to lightly rest on the top of her head, so close, they shared the same breath. She was overwhelmed by the beauty of being held by him. Nothing could be finer, not in all her life to come. Her soul broke into pieces, and every shard of it was his.
I want this so much, but I know it cannot be. Give me strength to end it, she prayed. And in the same prayer, Never let this end. Greater love hit her hard enough to bruise, leaving a physical pain that ached in her chest like a wound. She curled her fingers into his jacket, the wool soft beneath her fingertips, wishing she did not have to let go. If only she could hold on forever. But finally, the piano music ended, the last, long note lingering like a memory.
He lifted his chin from her hair but did not move away, did not let go. Heaven could not feel as safe or secure as being in his sheltering embrace. There were no worries here, no strife, no hardship. Just the unspoken accord between two kindred spirits. Ju
st his breath and hers, and the blue of his eyes.
“You have come to mean very much to me, Ruby.” His lips brushed her temple.
She shivered with dread, knowing she should walk away right now, before there was another loving moment that had no future. But did her mouth open to protest? Did her feet carry her away from him?
No, she stood rooted and mute, lacking the will. What she felt for him was too strong, too great, too mighty. She was small by comparison, a lone swimmer drowning in a vast sea.
“I pray that I have come to mean the same to you.” He took her hands in his. “I’m in love with you, Ruby.”
“L-love?” Shock bolted through her. She’d dreamed of those words, but to hear them spoken aloud meant there was no going back, no pretending a romance didn’t exist between them. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that didn’t blot out reality. His hands cradled hers, his breath fanned her cheek, his presence filled her with a light so bright she could not deny it. Not anymore.
It was time to do the right thing. The thing she’d been unable to do. Her heart had pulled her here, although she’d known better. Scarlet wouldn’t have done it. Kate wouldn’t have done it. And as for her father… Self-reproach filled her. She wasn’t the person she wanted to be. Now was the time to start.
“I am very flattered.” She opened her eyes, struggling, still longing for the feeling of waltzing in his arms. “You know I think very highly of you.”
“Just highly? That isn’t exactly what I was hoping to hear.” Tender, his tone. Always so caring. Hiding the disappointment that crept into his eyes, darkening them. “I was wishing for a good deal more.”
“Me, too.” She braced her feet, squared her shoulders and slid her hands from his. It destroyed her to do it. Pieces of her soul crumbled apart. This was it. After this, things wouldn’t be the same between them. She would lose him forever.
“I know you are worried about your father. I am, too. You don’t have to go through this alone, Ruby.” His hands fisted, his only show of distress. “I’m here for you. You know that, right?”
“Yes, but I can’t accept this.” It was like dying inside to watch disappointment slip across his chiseled face. To see his hope became bleak acceptance. Hurt filled his eyes, but it did not chase away the radiant love, his beautiful love. Oh, she so did not want to hurt him. “The banker came by today. We have to leave. Probably right after Christmas. That will give us time to pack what little we can take on the train and to figure out what to do with the rest. With Solomon.”
“You’ve decided. I can’t change your mind?”
“No.”
“I could still see you. You did promise to write me.”
“That was when we were friends. Before—” you said you loved me. Heartbreak beat through her, a fresh wound.
“I don’t want to lose you, Ruby.” His earnestness, his unwavering commitment undid her.
“Neither do I.” The truth won. For one instant, she dreamed. Of Lorenzo driving all that way to see her at her uncle’s land. Of being beaued by him. Of having the chance to see where their love could lead.
But it wasn’t right, and she wasn’t free. Tears stood in her eyes because she could not have those dreams. She could not have Lorenzo as her one, true love. She broke away from him, stumbling backward. Staring up into his puzzled, tender gaze, she lifted her chin and gathered her courage.
“We have to be practical, you and I.” It was as simple as that. “This is where our lives part. My father’s spirit is broken. It’s going to take everything my brother and I can do to see him through. I’m not the right one for you. I can’t love you. I just do, but I c-can’t.”
Hot tears blurred her vision, and overwhelmed, breaking apart, she spun around, leaving him while she still could. Everything within her screamed at her to stay with him. To accept him. To follow her heart.
She ran blindly toward the door, listening to the swish of velvet and silk of her dress. Behind her, Lorenzo did not make a sound. She’d rejected him, and she was sorry for it. Was he hurting like this, too? She was doing the right thing, but it didn’t feel that way as she stumbled toward the doorway. Now he was free to find someone who belonged in his world, like Scarlet.
“Why, Rags.” Narcissa stood in the threshold, her mouth pursed in a brittle smile of triumph.
Had she witnessed the whole thing? Ruby’s chin bobbed downward. As if the evening couldn’t get any worse. She tried to slip by, but Narcissa refused to move.
“What are you doing in my old dress?” The superior smile turned calculating. “I threw that ratty thing away. It’s so last season. Here’s a hint. You really ought to stop rooting around in the garbage barrel.”
Narcissa’s words could not hurt her. They could not humiliate her or make her feel small. But Lorenzo had overheard, and that had been the woman’s intent. Maybe now he would see the real Ruby Ballard, a servant in a cast-off dress, instead of through the blinding eyes of his love.
With a laugh, Narcissa stepped aside. Fine, all she wanted to do was to escape. She felt Lorenzo watching her as she slipped into the crowd. The room felt so normal. Everyone surrounding her was having a merry time. Yet, she was shattered. How could everything around her be so festive and merry?
Ruby, you should be working, she reminded herself. Working would help. It would give her something to do, some direction. But how could she focus? Her entire soul was lost. She had never felt more devastated.
“Ruby!” Scarlet sailed over in a gown of evergreen velvet with red, silk trim. “Ooh, it’s so good to see you. What’s wrong? You’re crying.”
“No, I’m not.” Denial was her only recourse. She swiped her cheek, surprised to find that her fingers came away wet. “It’s been a tough night.”
“I can’t imagine how much work you all put into this, but it’s fabulous. You look fabulous.” Scarlet gave her red locks a toss and took Ruby by the hand. “You could be a princess in that dress.”
“I’m no princess. I’m just me.”
“A princess,” Scarlet insisted, the good friend that she was. “I know you are working, but come through the buffet line with me so I won’t be by myself.”
Ruby managed a nod. Somehow, her feet carried her forward. Somehow, she managed to smile and chat as if nothing was wrong, as if she wasn’t defeated, as if she hadn’t lost the best of all dreams, her one, true love.
There was no way Lorenzo could ever be hers.
Chapter Eighteen
Lorenzo was grateful for the vicious cold, which burned away all feeling, as he headed into a brisk wind. Glad last night was over—he’d barely survived the rest of the ball for his mother’s sake—and now he was on the range. Away from every reminder of Ruby. But regardless of how many miles he’d covered with Poncho and his men, his broken heart came with him.
It was a clear morning. The sky, a mild, pearled blue, stretched in all directions over the soundless prairie. Nothing moved, not a leaf in the wind or a single wild creature, as Poncho plowed through a drift, following a trail in the snow.
Right now, he was especially grateful for his work. As long as he concentrated on tracking, he wouldn’t have to think. And if he didn’t think and if he was too frozen to feel, then he wouldn’t have to go over last night again and again, breaking his heart ever more.
Her rejection had been clear, belying the love in her eyes. The love she hadn’t vowed to return. He could still see the misery on her face, how torn she was. I can’t love you. I just do, but I c-can’t. The pain he’d felt from her had burrowed into his soul. He didn’t understand, so he didn’t know what to do. Did he let her go, as she wished? Or did he fight harder for her?
You are doing it again, Renzo. He shook his head, trying to scatter his thoughts. He would be wise to think about the missing cow. Think about his responsibilities. He glanced over his shoulder to check on the cowboys behind him. A gust of wind sliced through his thick layers of wool and flannel, chilling him to the marrow. He welcomed it. He
clenched his molars against the pain of the cold, letting it overtake all other pains.
Not even the arctic temperatures could totally stop the torment of being separated from Ruby, from knowing she would never be his to love and care for. Now, when she needed it most. What would become of her and her family? The day after Christmas, he would send Mateo to make an offer on Solomon, so the poor horse would have a comfortable place to spend his final days. That was the only thing left he could think to do for her, to make her life easier.
Poncho’s head went up, his nostrils flaring to scent the air. His neck arched, and he nickered. A trained cutting horse, he knew his job and led the way, his pace quicker now. The horses and riders following struggled to catch up. Lorenzo leaned forward in the saddle. What had his horse scented? He had better concentrate on his work and forget the beauty of holding Ruby in his arms. He remembered the image of agony in her eyes as she’d turned away.
Pain threatened to shatter him, but he kept on going. But did his love for her end?
No. His devotion to her went deeper than he’d ever guessed. It was a force that would not end. Not now. Not ever.
“Poncho was right.” Mateo pulled alongside on his pinto and pointed at a small shack tucked between a stand of trees and the snowbound plains. Smoke curled from the stovepipe. A cow, tied to a post, looked over at them curiously, casually chewing her cud. “Someone is squatting in one of the ranch’s line shacks. Who’s gonna ride for the sheriff?”
A face peeked out from behind a patched curtain. He caught a glimpse of fear and dark curls. “Let’s see what we are dealing with first.”
With a press of his heels, he urged Poncho toward the shack’s front stoop. He had a bad feeling, but not one of danger as the door swung slowly open. In the doorway, a stoop-shouldered man shrugged into a worn, mended wool coat. He looked beaten down, hesitating on the top step. Inside the shack came the muffled sound of a baby’s cry and a woman’s soothing voice.