Tanner stepped back as Rachel approached him. He swallowed, wishing he could find something witty to say. He shifted from one foot to the other and back again. Hell, he hoped he could speak past the lump in his throat.
The angel spoke to him. "Are you having a good time, Tanner?"
"Yes, ma'am." He silently cursed himself because his voice trembled for that matter his whole body shook.
"Tanner," Rachel said, smiling gently at him. "Remember, you promised me a dance?"
"I, uh, I did. Yes, I did." He gulped in air. "Will you dance with me, Miss Rachel?"
She offered him her gloved hand. "It would be my pleasure."
He took her hand, praying that he wouldn't stumble over his own feet. He'd never been much of a dancer, and he hoped he could keep time with the music. He almost pulled away when his hand touched the soft velvet about her waist. Could she see that he was falling apart inside? Did she think he was a total lout?
Rachel gave Tanner an encouraging smile. He was such a capable foreman, and there was nothing he didn't know about ranching. But he was shy around women, and she wished he would find someone nice and marry her. She didn't want to lose him as a foreman, and if he was married he would be more likely to settle permanently on the Broken Spur.
"Tanner," Rachel said, hoping to encourage him in a courtship, "I've noticed Sally Crenshaw watching you. I believe she likes you. Have you asked her to dance this evening?"
He had been counting steps so he wouldn't make a mistake, but when Rachel spoke to him he stumbled over her satin slipper. "I'm so sorry, Miss Rachel," he stammered. "Did are you hurt?"
She shook her head and offered him her hand. "I was speaking to you of Sally."
Tanner had thought it would be heaven to dance with Rachel, but it was hell. He couldn't think clearly when he was this close to her. She smelled of some sweet fragrance, and he wanted so badly to touch her hair and see if it was as soft as it looked. He gulped. "Sally, the sheriff's daughter?" he asked, wondering how any man would notice another woman with Rachel in the room.
"Why don't you ask her to dance?"
"I... ain't much of a dancer."
"Nonsense. You are doing very well."
Was he? He suddenly felt as if he were floating above the floor. "I'll ask her if you want me to."
Her laughter was musical. "I'm not your boss tonight, Tanner. You ask a pretty girl to dance because you want to."
He glanced over at Sally Crenshaw and met her soft gray eyes. He'd never thought of her as a woman. She was past her prime, probably in her thirties. But then, Tanner was forty. Sally was the schoolmarm, and she looked the part with a tight bun at the nape of her neck and a sensible gray gown, trimmed with black braid. He supposed she was pretty enough, but not to be compared with the angel in his arms.
"Ill dance with her," he said at last. "If she's of a mind to dance with me."
Rachel knew Noble was standing behind her before he spoke. A stir of excitement filled the air as everyone stared and pointed, whispering and speculating about what had brought mighty Noble Vincente to a dance with the local people. She wondered too. Might he have come for her?
"I believe this is my dance," Noble said softly, with the merest glint of mockery in his dark eyes.
Tanner hurriedly relinquished his partner, stepping back a few paces. He mumbled something about a glass of punch and moved off the dance floor. Rachel seemed to float into Noble's arms as if he willed her there, and she had no strength to refuse him. He seemed to will her to look at him, which she did. Neither spoke for a moment. His hand rested lightly against her waist, guiding her steps and drawing her firmly under his spellbinding power. His fingers felt strong and warm; she could feel the heat of them through her gloves. He was a good dancer, strong and commanding, as in life. His footsteps matched hers, and their bodies fell into tune with the music and with each other.
Every eye was drawn to Noble and Rachel. Noble was so dark, so handsome Rachel was fair and beautiful. He wore tight-fitting black trousers with silver braid down the legs. His white shirt was ruffled and a startling contrast to his dark skin. His short bolero jacket had the same trim as his trousers. He looked every inch the Spanish don.
Green eyes stared into liquid brown eyes, and it seemed to Rachel that she and Noble were the only two people in the room.
Her mouth went dry and her voice came out in a breathy whisper. "I didn't expect you to come tonight."
Noble watched conflicting emotions play across her beautiful face-first stubbornness, then uncertainty, lastly pride. "Didn't you, Rachel?"
"No. I didn't."
"But Rachel, you issued me an invitation. It was the least I could do since you honored my invitation."
"I don't know what you mean."
He laughed softly and dipped his dark head to whisper in her ear. "I invited you to swim; you invited me to the dance."
"I don't recall inviting you to the dance."
"Not in so many words, perhaps, but you did want me to come tonight, didn't you?"
She tensed. "If you were a gentleman, you would forget about that day I...I"
He drew her so close that she was aware of every breath he took. She trembled from being so close to him.
"If it is your wish, I shall never mention our swim again." He smiled. "But my thoughts will be my own."
"Why did you come?"
"To dance with you."
A rush of pleasure surged through her. When he whirled her around, Rachel caught the yearning expressions on several of the other ladies' faces. "There are many women who would like to change places with me tonight. Although they are probably in awe of you."
"Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"In awe of me?"
"No. Why should I be?"
He laughed down at her. "Why indeed? I see many men who would like to be holding you in their arms."
"You flatter me."
His breath fanned her cheek. "No, Green Eyes. I speak only the truth with you." His grip tightened on her hand. "Will you be equally honest with me?"
"I must hear the question before I give my answer."
His eyes danced with humor. "It's really quite simple. Should I be jealous of one of the men in this room?"
"No." Her eyes were clear and honest. "There is no one."
He let out a tight breath. "Then the men in Madragon County are all fools."
Delia watched her sister dance with Noble while Whit watched Delia. "You wish it were you in his arms, don't you, my dear?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just concerned about my sister," she replied chillingly.
Whit stared at the man he despised most in the world the man who possessed everything he wanted but could never have. Noble had breeding, wealth and power. The wealth and power, Whit could obtain, but he would always be the son of a line foreman. He'd been born in a sod hut with dirt floors and no windows, while Noble had been born into an illustrious family and wore his name like a badge of honor. "Look at him, Delia. He's even managed to convince everyone that he didn't kill your father."
"He didn't kill him."
The evening had turned sour for Whit. "The town's so willing to welcome the prodigal son home. Look at their faces see how they kowtow to him the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, all anxious to bask in Noble's bounty. I've heard that Casa del Sol is undergoing extensive repairs, and everyone in Tascosa Springs wants a slice of the pie."
"It seems that you hear a lot of things for someone just arrived from Austin."
"I told you before that I have my sources."
"And I told you, Whit, that I don't want to know any of your sordid little secrets."
"Keep your voice down, my dear." Although he had spoken softly, the threat was real. "Do you want everyone to think that our marriage is less than ideal?"
She turned on him. "You are good at making people believe what you want them to believe. Just don't tell me how you do it."
His eyes were like burning co
als. "That's right, Delia. As long as you don't know the truth, you don't have to feel a part of it, do you? But let's just suppose that I'm the one who brings about Noble's downfall." His gaze rested on Noble as he spoke. "What would I have gained by it?"
"Some sick satisfaction, I suppose. All I heard about tonight is how bravely Noble fought in the war. Where were you while Noble was fighting, Whit?"
He looked at her through half-closed eyelids. "I was at home pleasuring you, my dear."
"Insufferable fool," she whispered, feeling hysteria rising inside her. "I want to go home."
His grip tightened painfully on her fingers. "Get a hold of yourself, Delia. Say and do what you will when we leave here, but you will conduct yourself with dignity tonight."
"I detest you."
His eyes hardened. "Does it matter? You are my wife, and you will remain my wife until one or both of us are dead." His hand slid up her shoulder, and he urged her forward. "Now, suppose we pay homage to Noble. Don't you think it's time you renewed an old acquaintance?"
Noble saw Whit and Delia moving in their direction. "Rachel," he said, turning her toward the door. "Will you walk outside with me?"
She was afraid to accompany him. He was the forbidden fruit, and that only made him more exciting. Wordlessly, she placed her hand on his arm, and people moved aside to make a path for them.
Neither of them saw the anger on Whit's face because Noble had publicly slighted him, nor did they see Delia's confusion. She thought Rachel hated Noble, but her sister wasn't acting like it tonight.
"Delia, my dear," Mrs. McVee said, watching Rachel and Noble leave. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if we have a wedding before long."
Delia felt stunned. "You can't mean my sister and Noble."
The storekeeper's wife nodded. "They are perfect for each other. And there would be nothing better than to have Broken Spur and Casa del Sol united."
"I didn't know you held Noble in such high regard," Whit said, his brow furrowed into a frown.
"I wronged Noble terribly and I want the world to know it." Mary McVee dabbed at her eyes with a linen handkerchief. "Did you know that Noble took care of our dying son?"
The smile Whit gave Mrs. McVee was hard; and his eyes were harder. "Imagine that," he said smoothly. "Noble Vincente, a hero."
Not a breath of air stirred. The night was studded with stars that twinkled like thousands of diamonds against the ebony backdrop. Other people walked about the deserted streets young couples mostly, but Noble and Rachel paid the others no heed. He assisted her up the plank walkway, and they both glanced up at the moon.
"I shouldn't have come out here with you," Rachel said. "Everyone will talk."
"Yet you came anyway. I don't think you really care what anyone says."
She glanced up at him. "Yes, I came anyway," she echoed. "But you're wrong about me. I do care what people think of my behavior."
His gaze brushed over her from head to toe. "It was worth coming tonight to dance with you, to hold you." He touched her velvet sleeve. "You are beautiful in this gown."
"If that's a compliment, I'll accept it."
He smiled. "I like you in trousers too. But I don't like other men to see you wearing them."
"Why? What I wear is none of your affair."
He allowed his hand to move down her sleeve to her hand. "You are right. It's not my affair not yet."
She glanced at his face and saw the faint scar. "I see you have recovered from your ordeal."
"So it would seem."
The closeness of his body to hers made her feel giddy and weak. "I should return to the dance."
His hand clamped onto hers. "Is that really what you want to do, Rachel? I have a feeling that if you would give yourself over to love, you would find what you are searching for."
She stared at him in confusion. "Love. Surely you aren't suggesting that there can be any love between us?"
"Perhaps love is a bit premature."
She took a hasty step back. "You are confusing me.
"No, Rachel. You are confusing yourself Will you meet me by the river tonight?" His hand went to her bare shoulder. "I want to be alone with you. We could talk uninterrupted."
"No," Rachel replied almost too quickly. She wanted to be alone with him more than she'd ever wanted anything. "You know I would never do such a thing. I fear that my outlandish behavior that day at the river gave you the wrong opinion of me."
He raised her hand and placed it against his chest. "Can you feel how my heart beats when I am with you?"
She jerked her hand back. "Don't say these things to me," she said adamantly, shaking her head. "I don't want to hear them."
But, oh, her heart was gladdened by his confession.
He held his hand out to her and she stepped away.
"Don't, Noble."
"You feel it too, Rachel. You know that when we are together something magic happens."
Suddenly she thought of Delia, and she was rescued by her anger it helped her regain her composure. "Did you feel that same magic with my sister?" The moment the words left her mouth, she wished she could call them back.
Noble fell quiet for a moment. "Come to me tonight at the river and we'll talk about it."
"I think not. Terrible things happen to me when I'm with you at the river. Besides, what can you say to me there that you can't say here?"
He pulled her into the shadows, and before she knew what was happening, his warm mouth covered hers, cutting off her speech and making her heart thunder in her ears. She felt as if she were drowning and there was no escape.
He raised his head and she heard the gruffness in his tone. "Come to me tonight." It sounded like a plea, and she could feel his tension. "I'll be waiting for you."
She swallowed hard so she could speak past the tightening in her throat. The need to say yes jolted through her instead she said in a whisper, "Never."
He pulled her to him once more, his lips sliding across her cheek to her mouth. She was startled when he plunged his tongue into her mouth it made her tingle all the way to her toes, and she clung to him, knowing she could not have pulled away at that moment if she'd wanted to, and she didn't want to.
He raised his head and stared at her for a breathless moment. "I want to kiss you and keep on kissing you," he said gruffly.
"Please don't kiss me anymore," she pleaded, backing away from him, afraid that if he kissed her again, she would do anything he asked of her.
With a sad smile, Noble turned and walked away from her.
Rachel watched him mount his horse. She heard the leather saddle creak beneath him, and she watched as he rode away, soon to be swal lowed up by night shadows that spread across the deserted street. Within moments the sound of his galloping horse faded into silence, and she felt so alone.
She clasped her hands tightly together as if trying to hold on to her willpower. She wanted to go to him tonight, but she must not. She felt as if he had been testing her in some strange way, although she did not know why.
"No, I will not meet him tonight," she whispered. Then she said more forcefully, "I will not!"
Noble rode straight to the river and dismounted. Walking along the bank, he could still smell the sweetness of Rachel's silken hair; in fact, the scent of her was all over him. He closed his eyes as a breeze cooled his face.
He knew she wouldn't come to him tonight. But the time would come when she could no longer deny the magic between them. One day she would come to him.
The old loneliness returned to haunt him, and he felt the tightening in his chest. He had an ache and a need that only Rachel could ease. He wanted her no, dammit, he needed her. She belonged to him; didn't she know that?
He leaned against the tree trunk, waiting, hoping she'd come, but knowing in his heart that she would not.
Delia stood between them. Perhaps she always would.
Rachel tossed and turned upon her bed. She pounded her pillow with her fist. Another sleepless night, for which she
blamed Noble. She felt some power, some deep need pulling her and calling her to the river.
She shook her head and moaned. "No, no, I must resist. I will not go to him." After the dance, she realized she was too susceptible to his touch to chance a match of wits with him.
In the quiet predawn hour, sleep still eluded Rachel. She balled her fists and pounded her pillow as if she were hitting Noble. "Help me understand," she whispered plaintively. "I don't want to love him."
But it was too late. She hadn't known that love could be so consuming or hurt so badly. It was a fragile thing, love. Perhaps she could starve it to death by ignoring it.
She set her chin firmly. "I will overcome this. I will."
Her head sank into her pillow. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "Starve it to death. If I don't see Noble again, my love for him will soon shrivel and die."
She didn't believe it, even as she said it.
The smell of strong coffee wafted through the air as Rachel neared the bunkhouse. She smiled and stopped to speak to Zeb, who was sitting on the steps whittling something resembling the figure of a horse.
"Want some coffee, Miss Rachel?" he asked, glancing at her from under bushy eyebrows.
"Did you make the coffee again, Zeb?" She sat down beside him and watched his deft hands whittle away at the wood. While the other cowhands liked their coffee strong, they complained that Zeb's coffee was more like witches' brew and so bitter it was undrinkable. Rachel also knew that they had an agreement between them that Zeb was not to be allowed to make the coffee.
The old man's eyes lit with pleasure as they always did when his lady boss stopped to talk to him. "Yep. I made it, Miss Rachel. Charley and Bud complain they have to pick the grounds out of their teeth for a week when I make it." He chuckled. "But they drink it all the same, and they're glad to get it. Want some?"
She grinned. "No, thank you."
He shrugged, and continued whittling while the two of them basked in companionable silence.
Rachel glanced up and watched the smoke curl from the chimney to disappear against the slatecolored sky. She was reluctant to return to the house because Delia and Whit were there. She had purposely avoided their company today, knowing that Delia would want to question her about Noble's appearance at the dance last night. For the time being, she didn't want to talk about Noble with anyone, and especially not her sister.
Texas Proud (Vincente 2) Page 14