Where They Belong: A Sweet Cheyenne Christmas Story (The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet Book 5)

by Caroline Lee

  It was hard to stare at his lips and have to concentrate on his words.

  I don’t regret it. I was glad to be able to help you. Her hand shook slightly, at his nearness. His warmth, his sandalwood scent. The fact that they were sitting entirely too close and communicating entirely too freely.And the ‘consequences’ don’t bother me.

  They should. You came here to experience everything Society can offer you.

  I haven’t experienced anything worthwhile so far. And then, realizing what she’d written, and to whom, she scratched it out and met his eyes. Feeling panicky, she blurted out, “I am sorry. I did not mean…”

  But he just smiled, and took the pencil from her limp fingers. Did he linger slightly, or was that wishful thinking on her part?

  I agree. I love my family, but their priorities are different from yours & mine, I think. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, loving the bubbly feeling that swept through her at the thought of the two of them sharing “priorities”.But there’s fun to be had here in New York during the holidays. He shifted slightly, bringing their thighs into contact.My family’s ball is a well-known grand time.

  He put the pencil down, as if expecting her to write something in response. What could she say? She didn’t dance, and couldn’t remember what music sounded like. The only thing at the ball for her would be stares and pointed fingers and loneliness. But after a moment, when he caught her hesitation and turned to pierce her with an entirely too-knowing look, she fumbled for the pencil.

  I thought to help your mother decorate this afternoon. But I will stay in my room tomorrow night, I’m sure.

  He all but snatched the pencil from her.Why? The crookedness of the word hinted at his distress, and Annie found herself pleased, somehow, that he cared.

  I don’t think people will need— she scratched out the word “need” and continued want to see me. And besides, I don’t dance. When she felt his gaze on her cheek, she met his dark eyes, and tried to ignore the way he studied her lip between her teeth. It wasn’t a ladylike habit, she knew, but knowing someone was watching her had never made her feel quite so… warm.

  You don’t know how to dance? When she nodded, glad that he understood, he smiled.Then I’ll teach you. Here. Now.

  She had no time to object; he dropped the pencil to the table and pulled her to her feet. Unsure of his plans, she held back enough that he had to tug her around the cluster of furniture and into the open space in front of the last, undecorated tree.

  There, in the middle of his family’s parlor, he pulled her close. Annie went willingly, wondering why it was so easy to relax around this man. Was she becoming wanton? Surely just because she found a person—a friend—whom she could treat informally, didn’t mean that she was immodest?

  But then he picked up her hand and placed it on his shoulder, and took her other hand in his, and she forgot to breathe. Until, that is, he used his free hand to pull her closer to him and she could swear that she felt his touch on her waist through three layers of clothing—then her breath spilled out of her in one great whoosh and she had to close her eyes on his wonderfully crooked grin.

  Oh God, what was she doing?

  He began to move, and Annie was surprised—delighted!—to discover that she could move with him. Easily, naturally. Like she belonged in his arms. It helped that he held her eyes like he held her body, as if he never considered letting her go. She’d never danced with a man, but with him, she felt the way she did on horseback; connected and at ease and trusting the other to lead her without any guidance. For the first time, Annie was content to be held and stare up into his marvelously kind face, and wonder what she’d done to deserve something so perfect.

  It was a slow, sweeping waltz—Annie recognized it from the dances she’d watched in Cheyenne—and it felt different from anything she could’ve imagined. After a few minutes, she realized that he was tapping against her waist with one finger, and those taps matched the beat he was following. He was dancing without music, creating the beat, and making sure that she understood it.

  It was the single most wonderful thing that anyone had ever done for her.

  That realization caused her to stumble, and she pushed away from him. Turning towards the tree, she lifted her hand—still so warm from his grip—to swipe at the tears.

  He’d danced with her. Despite finding her lacking, despite knowing that she would never be good enough for him, his family, and his society, he’d danced with her. Taught her to dance, there in the empty parlor without music.

  Why was he being so kind? What would he get out of being benevolent to someone whom he surely pitied? He treated his patients the way he treated her; did he think of her as one of them? Someone to feel sorry for, to try to help.

  Annie’s hands fisted at her waist, determined to forget the way she felt in his arms. She was not to be pitied. She was strong and capable and had learned to speak, for God’s sakes! She’d given up part of herself, in order to fit in with people like him, and he pitied her anyway.

  When he touched her shoulder, she startled and moved toward the tree before turning, just to put space between them. He just stood there, looking confused, and that was somehow worse. He’d made her feel like this, made her feel like she was one of his patients, and he hadn’t even realized it.

  For the first time ever, Annie regretted not knowing how to scream. She wanted to yell at him the way she’d see her nephews yell at one another when they were frustrated. She wanted to make him step back from her, from her power, and understand that she was just as capable as Zerelda or Cynthia Tillworth. She had just as much worth as they did.

  But she did the only thing that she could. The thing that she’d hidden from him and his society and herself, since Sebastian had told her that it was primitive and unworthy of her time.

  She lifted her hands in front of her, and signed.

  *I do not need your pity. I am more capable than you can imagine.*

  “I don’t understand, Annie.” He didn’t seem repulsed, but Annie’s eyes had blurred with tears, and it was hard to read those beautiful lips, much less his expression.

  *This is me! This is who I am, Reggie.* Her fingers shook as she spelled out his name, and she took a step back when he began to move towards her. *I cannot hear you, but I should not be pitied.*

  And then he touched her. He closed one rough hand—a hand like her brothers-in-laws’, not like Sebastian’s—around hers, effectively halting her words. How easy it was for him to shut her up.

  “I’m sorry.” And when she blinked angry tears away, she saw that he was sorry. At least, his eyes mirrored his words. “I’m sorry I don’t understand your signs. Will you tell me what they mean?”

  She took a deep breath and held it, focusing on the lack of pity in those warm chocolate eyes, and the way his thumb was making lazy circles on the sensitive web of skin beside her forefinger. And when she exhaled, some of her anger left her too. “I was telling you that I did not need your pity. I am strong. I can communicate. This is me.”

  It was frustrating, not being able to say what she meant, what she felt. Having to think out every word, and hope that he understood them. But it must’ve been enough, because the look in his eyes changed from curiosity to sadness. “I don’t pity you, Annie.” He smiled slightly as he shook his head, but his gaze never left hers. “I admire you. If anyone is lacking, it’s me, for not understanding you.”

  He… admired her? Surely she’d misunderstood that. Maybe her tears had blurred his lips too far to comprehend what he’d said, because surely, surely, someone as perfect as he was wouldn’t admire her? Why would he, when the rest of his world pitied her?

  She’d come to New York for an adventure, to prove that she could do it alone, and had been met with pity and scorn and a grudging reception. Not once had she seen admiration. But here, she saw it in his chocolate-brown eyes, and it made her want to melt, to cry, to throw herself into his arms and to run as fast as she could away from him. Away fro
m here. Because this was his world, and no matter how much he claimed to admire her, he belonged here, among the wealth and opportunity. Among the people who pitied her. The people who kept them apart.

  She didn’t belong here, with him. She couldn’t. She needed to go home, where she was loved for who she was, not who she’d become.

  And then he squeezed her hand, and took a deep breath of his own, and looked her in the eyes. “Will you teach me your signs?”

  That simple question was enough to knock the breath from her, to tighten a band around her heart and her stomach until she could barely stand. No one, since she’d begun to speak, had ever asked her about her signs. No one had known how important they were to her, how they helped define who she used to be. Who she still was.

  Unable to see at all now, past the tears, she wrenched her hand free of his and whirled towards the door. Not caring that she was leaving her book, and her dignity, she wrenched her skirts up past her ankles and ran from the room. She could hide in another parlor, or find his mother and help her with the ball preparations. But she couldn’t be around him. Not now, when he’d showed her how wonderful he really was, and when she finally understood how little chance they had at a future together.

  Reggie’s world was false and shallow and she couldn’t imagine living there. Likewise, she couldn’t imagine someone who’d grown up in that world turning his back on it to be with someone like her, to live in someplace like Cheyenne.

  No, he belonged in New York, without her

  She’d promised that she’d stay through the Carderock Ball, and she would. But she would be on a train home by the New Year, because being here with him even that long was going to tear her up inside. It would be better that she’d never danced with him, never seen the admiration in his eyes.

  Because if the choice was between him and her home, she knew where she belonged.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “She’s not here, you know.”

  Reggie quit craning to see over the other dancers to glance irritably at his sister. “Who?”

  “Annie. She hasn’t come down yet.”

  He scowled, and spun Tori through another set of whirls. Their mother had ensured that all of her children were excellent dancers, but Reggie had never enjoyed holding a partner as much as he had Annie, the other day in the parlor.

  “Reggie…” His sister wasn’t quite meeting his eyes.

  “What?”

  “Mother told me what you said, about her being deaf, not dumb.”

  That confession earned her his full attention, and he stiffened. “What about it?”

  She must’ve felt his anger, because she gave his shoulder a little pat and met his eyes. “I just wanted to tell you that I agree. She’s a delightful girl, once I got past the way she speaks.”

  He frowned. “It’s remarkable that she can speak at all—”

  “I know, and I wrote Sebastian a long letter telling him as much. She’s so different than she was at his wedding.” Annie had been only a child then; of course she’d changed. They’d all changed. But Tori wasn’t finished. With a sigh, she patted his shoulder again as he spun her once more. “What I mean is that I’ve seen the way you look at her, and I remember the way you spoke about Cheyenne and the work our brother is doing out there.”

  The song ended and he escorted her off the floor, hoping that his stiff shoulders and tense muscles didn’t betray his irritation. He should be grateful that his sister saw the goodness in Annie, rather than annoyed no one else did.

  But before they reached the group of Victoria’s friends, she stopped him with pressure on his arm. “Reggie, I’m trying to tell you that I think you’re considering her as a wife, and I agree that she’d be a good match for you.”

  Raising a brow, he turned crisply towards her. “You think we’d be a good match?”

  He wasn’t sure what his expression betrayed, but she took a small step back and studied him for a long moment before nodding. “I do. You were always so animated when you returned from one of your visits to the Wyoming Territory to check on our holdings. And it’s obvious that Annie doesn’t belong here in the city, no matter how badly she might wish it.” Reggie didn’t think she wished it at all, but he didn’t bother to correct his sister. “You should return her to her home, and observe there.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? So that you can see the real her, of course! She’s beautiful, little brother, but right now she’s like one of my dolls; primped and pinned and not at all real. Go see her in her element before you decide if you would make a match.”

  “She wears jeans at home.” He wasn’t sure why he’d let his sister in on that secret, but her delighted smile told him that his confidence was safe with her.

  “Does she? How Bohemian of her. Perhaps I’ll convince Howard to let me visit, when you’re settled down out there.”

  That casually given prediction startled him. “You think I should settle in Cheyenne?”

  She patted his arm again, and gave him a smile that reminded Reggie of their mother. “I think you have ‘settled’ already, brother. But you need to find a place to settle down, and someone to do it with. Go, visit Cheyenne again, and then decide.”

  He gave her offered cheek a brotherly kiss, and returned her “Merry Christmas” distractedly. Victoria bustled off towards her friends, but Reggie was so buried in his own thoughts that he barely noticed.

  Move to Cheyenne? He had to stop himself from shoving his hands in his trouser pockets, knowing it wasn’t proper and would irritate Mother. Move all the way across the country, away from his family and everyone he knew?

  Well… why not? He knew Sebastian and Serena, and Annie’s family and even some others, thanks to the times he’d visited the city over the last years. And it wasn’t like he felt completely comfortable in New York, after all. He lived in his parents’ home and spent every waking hour either at the clinic or with people who thought him a bit of a class traitor. Certainly, this was his home… but there was nothing to say that he couldn’t make a new home someplace else.

  Someplace with Annie.

  That thought kept twisting through his head, and making him ache to be alone to consider it. Seeing her every day, holding her. Dancing with her, writing her notes. Seeing her strength and her abilities in a place where she belonged. One of two things would happen; he’d come to admire her even more, or he’d realize that what he felt for her now was simply a result of seeing her overcome so many disadvantages.

  Tori was absolutely correct. He had been considering Annie as a match, although he had no idea of her feelings on the matter. But before he could broach the subject, he had to see her in her element, to know if he could love her in Cheyenne as easily as here in New York.

  Love her. Love her? He felt his brows lower in confusion, and was glad that he’d found an alcove to tuck himself into, out of too many ball-goers’ sight. Did he love her? Certainly, he admired her, and enjoyed her company—and her touch—but did he feel for her what his parents still felt for each other, after all these years? What Sebastian felt for Serena? It was a disturbing thought; one that would require more consideration.

  “Dr. Carderock?”

  A servant—Bertie’s butler, what was his name? Mother always hired extra servants for her parties—stood beside him, carrying a silver platter with a telegraph envelope on it. He stood staring down at the yellow paper long enough for the older man to clear his throat softly. Swallowing, Reggie picked it up, and thanked the servant with a smile.

  Telegraphs were never good news. The clinic would’ve sent a runner with a note, if it was an emergency. And any concerns with the company would’ve been addressed to his father. The only person he could imagine sending him a telegraph only a few days before Christmas—and the night of Mother’s annual ball, no less!—was Sebastian. Something bad must have happened.

  Staring at the paper wasn’t going to make it go away, though. Taking a deep breath, Reggie slit open the envelope.

>   He was right.

  WENDY KICKED BY HORSE AND BABY IN DANGER (STOP) DO NOT TELL ANNIE

  Reggie flipped the paper over, half-wondering what Sebastian had done with the rest of the message. That was it? Wendy was hurt and the baby was in danger? It had to have been quite the accident, then. His mind cycled through the scenarios, knowing from the Murrays’ letters that Wendy’s pregnancies had never been stable. If she’d been hurt so late in this one, and hard enough to endanger the baby, then there was a good chance she’d lose this baby too.

  He forced his mind away from Mrs. Gudowicz and her tiny still infant. This was Christmas, the time for miracles. Maybe Wendy would be okay after all… and if not, prayers were the only good he could do her now. He was more concerned for Annie. Why didn’t his brother want to tell her? Didn’t he trust her? Or was he worried about her reaction, how she’d take the news? Did he not trust her strength?

  Reggie mentally scoffed as he crumpled the telegraph and shoved it deep into one of the tuxedo-jacket’s pockets. His brother was a fool, then. Annie would be distraught, of course, but she deserved to know. Wendy was her sister, after all.

  She had to know, but not tonight. Tonight was the Carderocks’ annual Christmas ball, and she deserved the chance to enjoy it… if she ever decided to show up.

  Her first ball. It was almost as overwhelming as Grand Central Depot had been, although Annie had to admit that it was much prettier. Mrs. Carderock had whipped the servants—hers and the ones she could borrow from her children’s households—into a frenzy preparing the house, and it had been worth it. The decorations sparkled like the spirit of Christmas itself, and the people who spilled out of the ballroom and into the foyer and library were just as beautiful.

  Annie had tried to convince the Carderocks that she was unwell, but hadn’t been successful. Mrs. Carderock essentially pointed out that she was sponsoring Annie as a favor to her son, and it would be the height of rudeness to snub the only seasonal event the Carderocks hosted. So Annie had swallowed her pride, and acknowledged that she was going to have to see him again, at the ball.