Cloudcastle

by Nan Ryan

  Sweeping her from the floor, he spun her around and said over his shoulder, "Barkeep, a whiskey for the lady?"

  Never had Natalie been more happy to see him. When at lag he released her, she stood at his side, sipping her bourbon, oblivious to the disdainful glances being sent their way. Uncle Shelby, it seemed to her, never aged. At fifty-seven he was as trim as a man of half his years. The bronzed skin of his face was tight and unwrinkled, save the squint lines around the gray, mischievous eyes. Nose straight and prominent, mouth pink and constantly smiling beneath the neatly trimmed silver mustache, he was a dashing figure of a even in middle age.

  On the ride to the ranch Natalie considered telling her uncle of her misfortune… of losing her land. She promptly discarded the notion. Tomorrow would be soon enough to burden him with her troubles. For now, she wanted only to enjoy his company and to let nothing mar a perfect day.

  "I've a wonderful evening planned, Uncle Shelby," Natalie announced while she sat on the bed watching him unpack his fine leather valises.

  "Shall I guess?" the tall man asked, smiling fondly at his niece as he placed neatly folded shirts in a bureau drawer. "Let's see… your young man is taking us to the opera."

  "Uncle Shelby!" Natalie's face screwed up in a frown. "I wanted it to be a surprise. How did you—"

  "Baby girl, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spoil your fun." He took a seat on the bed beside her, putting a long arm around her slender shoulders. "It so happens that my fellow passenger on the stagecoach was the noted opera star Noel Salvato. Miss Salvato told me the Cloudcastle opera season opens tonight. She is its star and has invited us to attend the performance this evening."

  Natalie's eyes widened like a child's. "You met Miss Salvato? What's she like? Is she pretty? She's very famous, you know."

  "I know." He nodded and rose to continue with his unpacking. "Noel is a charming, lovely woman. Not young by your standards, but certainly young by my own." He grinned. "My guess is the singer is on the wrong side of forty, but remarkably well preserved. But enough about her, tell me about your young man."

  "No. Soon you'll meet him and you can be the judge." She rose, smiling. "I'll leave you to rest now and knock on your door in a couple of hours. Ashlin is to come for us at seven o'clock. We'll go to the Eureka for a light dinner, then on to the opera house. Afterward, we'll return here for a midnight supper. Sound pleasant?"

  "Sounds wonderful, honey. I'll put on my best bib and tucker."

  "You'd better, because I intend to show you off."

  Natalie added a splash of rosewater to her bath. Heavy hair pinned up off her neck, she luxuriated in the sudsy warmth of the tub, lazily studying the crystal snowflakes glistening on the windowsill above her.

  Only a small sliver of gray light remained on the western horizon and Natalie's big bath, the gas jets not yet lit in the brass wall sconces, was semidark, the only illumination being the snow-glow of the mountains beyond her uncurtained windows.

  Natalie liked it this way. She could recline, naked and relaxed, in this warm, cozy atmosphere, looking out at a world that could not look in on her. Natalie smiled dreamily and lifted a fluffy washcloth to her throat. Languidly she washed her shoulders, her arms, thinking of the hours ahead.

  Then she moved the soft, soapy washcloth down to her breast. Natalie suddenly shook her head thoughtfully. Her exquisite new turquoise gown revealed a great expanse of bosom. Did she dare wear it tonight?

  When she'd finished bathing, Natalie slipped on a satin wrapper, and Madame Du Bois's scoldings came flooding back into her mind: No, no, not You may not wear these bulky underthings with my fabulous creation! Cheerie, the gown is fully lined, do not be a silly girl! You will wear only corset under the turquoise velvet, nothing else, I demand it.

  Natalie held the beautiful new gown up before her. It was magnificent' She longed to wear it to the opera; to be stunning on this gain evening.

  It was settled. She was going to wear this lush, gorgeous gown. Natalie carefully laid the soft velvet frock across her bed. Humming happily, she sat down and drew on a pair of sheer black silk stockings, carefully pulling the turquoise satin garters up above her knees. She stepped into the scandalously high-heeled silver slippers and stood up.

  Natalie untied her robe, tossed it aside, and drew the hated corset around her slender body. Bottom lip sucked behind her teeth, she tugged, she pulled, she struggled until finally her already small waist was nipped in so a man's hands could easily span it.

  While the stiff, ungiving corset minimized her waist, it maximized her curves. Reaching from underneath her breasts down to just below her hipbones, the rigidly boned garment pushed her full breasts up and out.

  Suddenly embarrassed, Natalie snatched some satiny underwear from a drawer and stepped into it. Then she drew on the dress. And she sighed with exasperation. There was absolutely no way she could wear lingerie under the velvet gown. The delicate lace ruffles on her underdrawers made ugly ridges through the soft, luxuriant velvet The narrow straps and at least an inch of her chemise showed above the low neckline of the dress.

  Frowning, Natalie peeled off the new dress. In seconds she was putting it on once again. The underwear lay discarded on the white carpet. She stood before the tall mirror staring at herself as though she were a stranger.

  The glamorous gown was of the very latest Parisian style. As it was sleeveless, her slim, bare arms looked creamy white against the deep turquoise hue. The rich, soft velvet that barely covered her full breasts was caught up at small fabric-covered buckles on top of her shoulders. And the bodice of the gown, in both back and front, plunged sensuously low.

  From waist to knee the gown was skintight, pulling snugly across Natalie's flat belly, over her hips, and thighs. It flared like a petal from the knees down and swirled grandly upward to a small bustle, then fell once again into a small, trailing train.

  Natalie looked at the woman in the mirror and admitted she was indeed beautiful. And the feeling was so heady, she would not have changed gowns for anything in the world. She smiled, and naughtily thought that it was strangely fun to wear a lovely drew with nothing beneath it.

  Wearing white silk gloves on her small hands and carrying a tiny reticule of crystal beads and a fur-lined cape over her arm, Natalie descended the stairs to join her uncle.

  Shelby Sutton stood in the parlor, a glass of port in his hand. Nattily attired as usual, he looked grand in a dark dinner cost and matching trousers, white shirt, striped four-in-hand tie, silver hair gleaming and neatly brushed.

  He turned and saw his beautiful niece across the room. Lifting his glass to her, he said honestly, "My dear child, you shall surely turn all heads this night. I wager no gentleman is safe from—"

  A knock at the door interrupted.

  "It's Ashlin," Natalie said glowing. "Will you let him in, Uncle Shelby?"

  Shelby sat his glass aside. He threw open the door, and saw not a tall, blond young man, but a short, old one. Ashlin's old servant, William, said apologetically, "Lord Blackmore sends his regrets, he has caught cold and cannot join you this evening."

  Chapter Nineteen

  There was a full, white moon. A billion stars twinkled brightly in the clear sky. The snow-glazed peaks glistened as though sprinkled with diamond-dust. Trees wreathed with frost loomed ghostly white against the star-studded firmament Waterfalls, frozen in mid plunge, hung suspended above frigid mountain streams. Gelid gleaming granite, shrouded in snow, formed seductive statues of milky monolithic magnificence. Icicles fringed the eaves of brightly-lit residences.

  It was a glorious winter night in the Shining Mountains, but Natalie, stepping into the warmth of Lord Blackmore's opulent covered carriage, wore a small frown of annoyance. For weeks she had been planning this perfect evening for her uncle. Now Ashlin was home with a bad cold and would not be joining them. Natalie leaned back against the high leather seat and drew her for-lined cape more tightly about herself, feeling a chill skip up her spine.

 
; She had the strangest feeling that Ashlin's absence was not to be the only unexpected occurrence on this beautiful, bitter cold night.

  Shelby Sutton, the velvet collar of his chesterfield coat pulled up close to his throat, silk top hat coveting his shiny silver hair, stepped into the roomy interior of the Blackmore coach, took a seat beside his lovely niece, and said cheerfully, "Don't fret, child. I'll meet your young man soon enough." Shelby smiled at her and added, "The evening's not spoiled. And remember… badly begun, well ended."

  Natalie returned his smile, determined to shake off her mild disappointment and odd apprehension. Looping an arm through his, she pressed her cheek to his shoulder, and said softly, "It's been a long time since we went out for the evening, just the two of us."

  Shelby's kid-gloved hand patted the silk-covered fingers clutching his forearm. "Too long, honey. We'll have a fine time tonight, I promise."

  The pair chattered spiritedly on the long ride down into Cloudcastle, and Natalie recaptured the jovial, lively frame of mind she'd enjoyed earlier that afternoon.

  The coach rolled up to the crimson-canopied door of the Eureka Hotel, and William, Ashlin's faithful servant, was quick to open the carnage door and assist his master's fiancée down to the sidewalk.

  "A good night to you, William," said Shelby Sutton, smiling at the stooped little man.

  William shook his head and, grinning broadly, said, "No, Colonel Sutton, sir. I'll be driving you and Mrs. Vallance back to Cloud West later this evening."

  Shelby Sutton looked from the smiling servant to his nodding niece. She laughed at his puzzled expression and took his arm. "William," she told the waiting driver, "the opera should be over around eleven. We'll meet you in front of the theater."

  By the time Natalie and Shelby had shed their wraps and she preceded her uncle into the fourth-floor Roof Garden of the Hotel Eureka, she was aglow with happiness, color high in her ivory cheeks, emerald eyes sparkling with delight. Head held regally aloft, shoulders back, she strolled proudly into the impressive room of glass and stone, sensing—and enjoying—the quick turning of heads, the immediate animated whispers, the approval, and disapproval, that her daring, gorgeous turquoise velvet gown was eliciting from the well-heeled diners.

  Following a carpeted path among royal palms, hanging baskets, and gold-gilt tubs of lush greenery and hothouse orchids, Natalie and Shelby were led to a choice table "on the glass," its strategic location insuring a degree of privacy as well as a breathtaking view of the streets of Cloudcastle stretching in twinkling splendor to the tinseled, towering San Juans bathed in magic moonlight.

  "Mon colonel, welcome to the Eureka," the maitre d'hotel, Philippe D'Ortega said, beaming, shaking Shelby's hand, complimenting Natalie on her turquoise gown, and expressing his regret that Lord Blackmore was ill.

  "A pleasure to be back, Philippe," assured Shelby Sutton as the small Frenchman motioned the sommelier forward, bowing as he backed away.

  Shelby glanced at the silk-tasseled wine list while Natalie smiled up at the slim, sophisticated wine steward and fought the urge to laugh aloud when she saw him swallow nervously. His dark gaze jerked guiltily up from her exposed bosom.

  Shelby made his wine choice. The sommelier nodded approvingly and hurried away. Shelby's encompassing gaze swept around the lavish room, coming back to rest on the flame-haired young woman seated across the table, which was graced with Irish linen, Haviland china, a cut-glass candelabrum, and fragrant white orchids.

  When the wine was poured, Shelby lifted his stemmed glass to Natalie, toasting her with chilled vintage Moselle. "May the most beautiful woman in Cloudcastle have an evening she will not soon forget." He touched his glass to hers and they drank. As Natalie sipped the smooth wine, she felt her hew skip a beat. The premonition she'd had earlier returned; the excitement of this glorious hour was going to be overshadowed before the night ended. She was sure of it.

  Fresh French bread arrived, and square pats of golden butter afloat in small silver bowls of ice water. At just the right moment, huge, crisp salads were set before the pair.

  While Shelby Sutton ate heartily of Rocky Mountain trout, French peas, and mashed potatoes, Natalie was far too excited to eat. Scarcely touching her tender filet of beef, asparagus on toast, and string beans, she hung on to her uncle's every word, completely absorbed, enjoying the sound of his deep, familiar voice, enthralled with his tales of adventure and travel.

  Ignoring her food, Natalie interrupted and questioned her uncle, and reached again and again for her wineglass, sipping from it happily. Ever the loving, indulgent uncle, Shelby made sure the glass stayed filled for the beautiful young niece whose sparkling emerald eyes never failed to warm his weary heart.

  Regarding her as he always had, as he always would, a beautiful child to be pampered and spoiled, Shelby ordered Neapolitan ice cream to tempt her. But he did not scold when Natalie took only a few bites and let the rest melt in its crystal bowl. She didn't touch her cup of steaming Vienna coffee. She ignored the silver plate bearing bonbons, Malaga grapes, and new figs.

  Shelby sipped his coffee and grinned contentedly. The child was too excited to eat; it was obvious. And Shelby was pleased and flattered that his presence was the cause of her excitement. She could eat a big supper later at Cloud West.

  Uncle and niece laughed happily as they dashed across the street to the Cloudcastle Opera House, dodging carnages and slipping and sliding on the ice. Up the steps they hurried, to be swallowed up in the eager throng of culture-hungry first-nighters. Into the grand vestibule they were swept, a part of Cloudcastle's elite, all decked out in their finery, laughing, waving, and calling to one another, while from above an orchestra was tuning.

  Natalie was breathless and happy after they'd checked their wraps and she took her uncle's arm and crossed the gleaming marbled floor of the semicircular foyer to one of the main staircases that swirled grandly from the first floor to the second. A blinding richness of shimmering marble, glittering gilt, hammered bronze, swagged drappery, and plush carpeting was everywhere in the ornate opera house.

  Shelby handed Natalie into their private box on the theater's third tier, its location close to the stage. The couple sat on plush velvet chairs and looked out at the magnificent theater.

  Eight giant Corinthian coupled columns supported the dome. Cherubs and flying angels of pure white stucco carried the arches, and from the very center of the high round ceiling, a spectacular gasolier hung suspended on a heavy gold chain, hissing softly, pouring honeyed light down upon the glittering crowd below.

  A white-gloved waiter held out a silver tray and Shelby took the two champagne cocktails. The huge gasolier dimmed and the heavy crimson stage curtains lifted. Handing a glass to his niece, Shelby rose from his chair, lifted his own glass in salute, and smiled down upon the small, curvaceous woman costumed in a white peasant blouse, a colorful skirt, and a long, dark wig.

  Noel Salvato looked up, smiled seductively at the tall, silver-haired man who was bowing at her while the orchestra waited. Sure of herself and of her hold on the expectant audience, she took a moment to throw a kiss to her tall admirer. Then she abruptly lowered her hand and snapped her fingers, and the long awaited Carmen began.

  The performance was excellent, the entire cast extremely talented and professional, their superb voices ringing true and clear in the cavernous auditorium. And of them all, Noel Salvato, the diva, was most gifted. Her strong soprano voice tinkled the crystal prisms of the gasolier and sent shivers down Natalie's spine.

  Or was something else making her shiver? Some event yet to happen, some crowning glory to an already remarkable day? No matter. Natalie sipped her champagne cocktail and let the performance enchant her.

  After the last rousing curtain call, Natalie and Shelby remained in their box, finishing their champagne, waiting for the star of Carmen to change from her stage costume into evening dress. After a time, Shelby lifted his gold hunter-cased watch from his vest pocket, flipped it open, and s
aid, "Noel should be ready, Natalie. Shall we go?"

  In a backstage dressing room filled with garlands of cut flowers, Noel Salvato stood, dressed in shimmering white satin. She lifted her hand to Shelby's bronzed face and beamed up at him.

  "Come in, come in, Colonel." She dropped her hand to his lapel when he stooped to kiss her cheek. "Need I be jealous?" said the pale blond, her soft brown eyes shifting to Natalie.

  Shelby chuckled and pulled her close. "No, my dear, you needn't. May I present my only niece, Judge Natalie Vallance."

  "Miss Salvato," said Natalie. "A thrill to meet you. Your performance was outstanding."

  "A female judge?" The singer's light eyebrows lifted quizzically.

  "Indeed. The only female judge west of the Mississippi," Shelby bragged proudly.

  "Good for you, Natalie," complimented Noel. "But does this mean I shall have to watch my step this evening?" Her smile was directed at Shelby.

  "I'll be doing good to watch my own, Miss Salvato," admitted a slightly tipsy Natalie.

  "I'll be honored to watch you both," offered Shelby. "Now, where shall it be, ladies?" He looked at Natalie. "To Cloud West and our midnight supper?"

  "I'm in your hands, my handsome colonel," Noel replied, laughing, as she impatiently jerked down her luxurious white ermine wrap and held it out for Shelby to drape about her shoulders.

  "William is waiting out front, but…" Natalie tilted her head. "But what, dear?" Shelby's attention came back to her.

  "I don't know. I'm not… let's not go home yet." Her emerald eyes gleamed brilliantly and her words were just a little slurred from all the champagne she'd drunk during the performance.

  "Then we'll not go," assured Shelby Sutton. "Let's have a magnum of champagne at the—"

  "Let's go to Gaiety's Gaming Hall," Natalie interrupted, then turned and walked purposefully out of the dressing room, a sly smile curving her soft lips. "What are we waiting for?" said a delighted Shelby Sutton. "I love the roulette game," Noel Salvato added excitedly. Into Gaiety's plush gaining hall strode the laughing trio. Wraps hastily discarded, they stood on the threshold, leisurely surveying the big room.