Wannie laughed. “I should be embarrassed to admit this, but I hit him with a doll many years ago.”
He felt himself color. “I was tired of sitting and having imaginary tea with her toys and wanted to go hunting.”
Alexa stared at him. “You must have the patience of Job.”
“Where the Brat’s concerned, I reckon.” He watched Wannie, drinking her in, remembering her as a little girl and thinking his wait had been worth it.
“Keso, I wish you wouldn’t call me that childish nickname in front of people,” Wannie complained.
“I’m sorry; it’s an old habit.”
Alexa smiled at him. “I’ll be delighted to save you a dance tonight.”
“I don’t know how to dance,” Keso replied. “As Wannie’s said, there’s not much call for it up in the mountains.” The last thing Keso wanted to do was dance with Wannie’s snooty roommate. He was already imagining that moment when he would finally get Wannie alone, maybe out on a balcony in the summer night, and give her the ring.
“Really? Then I’ll teach you,” Alexa answered promptly. “I’m quite weary of these foppish young blades from Princeton and Harvard.”
He wasn’t sure what she expected him to say. The girl was flirting with him. Couldn’t she see he had eyes only for Wannie?
The carriage stopped and the driver came around to open the door.
Wannie leaned over and kissed his cheek. Her lips were warm and he smelled the faint fragrance on her dusky skin. “Here’s your lodgings, brother. I’m really looking forward to introducing you around tonight. There’s someone special I want you to meet.”
Keso nodded absently as he got out and took his luggage, still lost in her smile. A teacher, maybe, or some classmate she hoped to interest him in. No chance of that; did she have even the slightest clue how Keso felt about her? She certainly didn’t act like it.
“Until tonight then,” he said “Nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Griswold.”
“Yours, too. See you tonight,” she cooed at him.
Keso stood holding his carpetbag and staring after the carriage as it pulled away. Wannie had changed. She had always been obsessed with clothes and jewels, even as a small child; why, he didn’t know. These years in Boston seemed to have turned her into a back East sophisticated lady, making Keso feel like an ill-dressed, uncouth bumpkin.
Don’t be stupid, he told himself as he went into the building, she’s still the same old Wannie. He ought to know—he’d helped raise her. Spanish duchess, indeed! Well, Keso wouldn’t be the one to tell; he loved Wannie too much to do anything to hurt her, and such things were probably very important to people like Alexandra Griswold.
On the other hand, maybe Wannie hadn’t deliberately lied. She had been so very young the night of the big fire, almost fifteen years ago—perhaps she had honestly forgotten much of it. It wasn’t that Silver and Cherokee tried to keep it secret; they just never talked about those days.
In his room, Keso studied himself in the mirror. Was the suit out of fashion? He stared at it, feeling glum. True, it didn’t fit all that well because he was so tall and broad-shouldered, and it probably was out of style. However, even a stylish suit wouldn’t make him look less Indian with his black, uncut hair, high cheekbones, and that small white scar across one eyebrow. No one would think him unusual in a raw frontier town like Denver, but he’d been well aware of the curious stares on the train and even more so in the Boston station. Was Wannie ashamed of her backwoods foster brother?
Keso was somewhere between twenty-five and twenty-seven winters old, by his own calculations. As an abandoned child, he’d survived on the mean streets of Denver until Cherokee had befriended him. In the ensuing years, he’d fought rough miners in Saturday night brawls and had killed two panthers and a grizzly. He could handle a miner’s pick as well as a knife or rifle. Nothing scared him—except the thought that Wannie might be embarrassed by him. He sat down on the bed, wishing now he had not come.
No, he said to himself and shook his head, Silver and Cherokee were depending on him to represent the family at this important event. Keso’s education was the simple reading, writing, and arithmetic skills his foster parents had taught him at the table after supper in their cabin.
“If I can deal with a grizzly bear, I can get through this,” he muttered to himself. “After all, tomorrow night this will all be over and we’ll be packing to return to the Rockies.”
When should he give her the ring? It appeared she was going to be too busy with this graduation event to allot Keso much time. He sighed as he took off his coat and began to wash up, dreading this party tonight. He was used to a quiet, solitary life and simple pleasures in the mountains. His usual outfit was buckskin and boots. He had not changed but Wannie had changed from the pretty little child he remembered to an elegant, sophisticated beauty. Keso surveyed his suit. Maybe it would look better if he had it pressed.
It was almost dark when Keso asked directions and walked across the campus to the redbrick building where the party was being held. The faint sounds of an orchestra and laughter drifted from the open French doors. He hoped that her roommate wasn’t sticking closer than a cockleburr tonight.
He hesitated out front, watching the elegant white people going up the steps. Then he saw Wannie crossing the entry, and nothing else mattered. He almost ran up the steps. Her crisp mauve-and-creme taffeta rustled as she crossed the marble floor. Deep pink and creme cabbage roses cascaded down the front of her dress, accented by pearls and rubies. There were mauve roses in her black hair, too, and a string of rubies intertwined with pearls around her graceful throat.
“Keso,” Wannie said and paused, taking both his hands in hers and looking up at him. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m sorry we haven’t had much of a chance to talk.”
“It’s okay.” He smiled down at her, liking the feel of her small, soft hands. “I understand you have responsibilities until this weekend is over. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later and catch up.”
The rest of our lives, he thought, drinking her beauty in, forcing himself not to take her in his arms. He had forgotten just how beautiful she was with her exotic dark features and the swell of her breasts visible in the low-cut, exquisite ball gown.
She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for being so understanding, brother.”
“Sure, brat. Aren’t I always there for you?” He felt like anyone but her brother. He had a sudden urge to sweep her up in his strong arms and with a rustle of taffeta and lace petticoats, carry her into the shadows and kiss her until they were both breathless. “You look beautiful tonight.”
“That’s what Cleve said.” Wannie reached up self-consciously to touch her necklace.
He was only half-listening to her words, thinking how he envied the precious pearls resting against the curve of her breasts. “The Duchess’s gems look good on you, Wannie.”
“Think so?” she smiled like a pleased child. “I’m glad Silver saved some of Mother’s jewels for me.”
Keso grinned. “Even when you were a little girl, you liked to play dress-up and wear Silver’s dancing shoes.”
“To listen to you, you’d think you were old enough to be my father when the difference is only seven or eight years.”
He must not kiss those full pink lips. This wasn’t the time or place to propose to her. “True.”
She laughed. “I know you must have been bored silly having a little girl tagging after you.”
“Oh, I know I pretended to be. What half-grown boy looks after a little girl?” He held onto her hand, thinking how warm it was, wanting to pull her to him and hold her very tight. Almost in a whisper, he said, “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too, you and Silver and Cherokee.” Her tone was bright and casual. “Sometimes I got so homesick, I almost got on the train and came home, but it’s such a long way.”
“I didn’t realize how accustomed I was to having that pretty child around un
til her laughter no longer echoed through the cabin,” Keso admitted.
She looked surprised. “You never showed it. Anyway, I stuck it out and got a wonderful education. I speak French, you know, and I can play the flute and the cello.”
“That’s good, I reckon.” The ring with the French sentiment seemed to burn in his pocket. He almost reached for it, then decided this wasn’t the time or place. In the glow of the lights through the windows of the ballroom, she was breathtaking. The orchestra began to play.
Wannie whirled. “Oh, we’re missing the party and there are so many people I want you to meet.”
He almost said he wouldn’t care if they stayed out here on the veranda, but she was already linking her arm with his, pulling him toward the ballroom. “Okay, Wannie, don’t drag me, I’m coming.”
She looked up at him, her dark eyes shining with enthusiasm. “Alexa was quite taken with you. She’s not used to a man who doesn’t cower before her.”
Keso laughed. “I’ve faced down a female mountain lion—your snippy blond friend is almost as formidable.”
“Don’t you think she’s pretty? Everyone talks about how pretty she is.”
“Not nearly as pretty as you,” he said and meant it.
“Spoken like a loyal older brother,” Wannie said as she led him into the ballroom.
Keso looked around at the other men, realizing that his suit was different. “Wannie, I know I’m not dressed in the latest style—I hope you’re not ashamed of me.”
Her chin came up. “Of course not. I love you anyway.”
As they entered, Keso ignored the curious stares, wishing he’d come several days earlier and let her choose a suit for him. He was very conscious of people turning to look. “I suppose they’ve never seen a Cheyenne brave before.”
She squared her small shoulders proudly. “Well, just let them stare.”
An orchestra played softly in the background as couples danced or gathered in little groups to visit. People were craning their necks to look at the pair. Keso kept his head high. But for the fact that he might humiliate Wannie, he didn’t give a damn what these fancy city folk thought of him. A trio over in the corner turned toward them and Keso recognized Alexa Griswold, wearing a magnificent pale blue ball gown with a priceless strand of sapphires around her pale throat.
She beckoned, smiling. “Wannie, do bring your brother to meet the family.”
Looking at that elegant trio, it was the last thing Keso wanted to do, but Wannie was already pulling him toward the little group. “Mr. and Mrs. Brewster, may I present my brother?”
“Sir?” Keso nodded and shook hands with the stern, hatchet-faced older man whose thinning yellow-gray hair had been combed to cover his pink, balding scalp.
The dumpy Mrs. Brewster’s glasses slid down her nose as she peered at them. Her frown didn’t improve her homely face, nor did the expensive green moire dress. “You say you’re her brother?”
The older couple looked so disconcerted that Keso replied, “Foster brother.”
They both seemed to draw great sighs of relief.
A blond, sophisticated man, perhaps several years younger than Keso, joined them at that moment. He was so handsome, with a deep cleft in his chin, that women were turning to take a second look. “Hello, all.”
Wannie’s face glowed. “And this is Alexa’s cousin, Cleve Brewster. Cleve, this is my brother, Keso.”
The dapper young dandy wore a coat that even to Keso’s eye was of a rich fabric and expertly tailored. Cleve offered his well-manicured hand. “Wannie’s often talked about you.”
“Good things, I hope.” Keso was acutely aware that the other man was looking him over with dismay ... or maybe Keso was imagining that.
The plump matron smiled with pride at her son, then turned her curious stare back at Keso. “I—I didn’t realize that you both weren’t of Spanish royalty.”
What on earth had Wannie told these snobs?
Wannie’s dark eyes appealed to him again.
Keso made a gesture of dismissal. “It’s a long story. Mr. Evans was a kind benefactor to an Indian boy he found on the streets.”
“Indian?” Mrs. Brewster gasped, her homely face turning almost as green as her dress.
He must not lose his temper or embarrass Wannie. Her eyes were pleading with him and he’d do anything for her. “Ah, no, I’m sort of a stray—not from the fine background of my adopted sister.”
For a split second, Wannie half-opened her lips as if to speak, but Mrs. Brewster blurted, “How kind of the Evanses! I didn’t mean to pry into personal things.”
Alexa smirked. “Of course you did, Aunt Bertha.”
The older man frowned. “Alexa, your behavior is quite unseemly for a girl of your family and background.”
Cleve looked over at Wannie. “In contrast, your roommate is not only proper, but very lovely tonight.”
Wannie colored prettily.
It annoyed Keso that she seemed so pleased.
Cleve smiled and the cleft in his chin deepened. “Miss Wannie, I offer your brother my services in any way I can be of assistance while he’s in town.”
“How kind,” Wannie gushed. “Keso, didn’t I tell you this was a wonderful family?”
“Umm,” Keso said. There was something about this family he didn’t like, but it was certainly wrong to judge them on such short acquaintance. Not that it mattered—he and Wannie would never see them again after tomorrow’s graduation.
Cleve favored Wannie with a warm look. “I thought it my duty to do your brother some favors since we’re all practically related.”
“Related?” Keso stared at him, dumbfounded. If this elegant young dandy thought he was going to marry off that prissy cousin of his to Keso, he was certainly jumping the gun. Alexa was pretty, but he’d chosen his woman.
“Oh, Cleve,” Wannie said, putting her hand on the other man’s arm. “Now you’ve spoiled the surprise. I haven’t had a chance to tell my brother yet.”
Keso blinked. “Tell me what?”
This time, his beloved Wannie was gazing up into Cleve Brewster’s blue eyes. “I can hardly believe it myself.”
Cleve favored Keso with a smug, superior look. “We’ve gotten to know each other well over the months I came to visit my cousin. I proposed and Wannie’s accepted.”
A chill began to build in Keso’s belly and the ring in his pocket, the ring he had chosen so carefully, seemed to burn through the cloth and into his flesh. “You don’t mean ... ?”
Wannie laughed with delight. “Isn’t it wonderful, Keso? Cleve and I are engaged to be married!”
TWO
Wannie had never felt so happy, looking from one man to the other, awaiting congratulations from her foster brother. Instead, Keso’s dark, handsome face had gone suddenly pale. He took a deep breath and the color came back as he squared his shoulders and held out his hand. “I reckon this calls for congratulations.”
Was that big, calloused hand trembling? No, of course she had imagined that. “Are you all right, brother?”
“Of course he is, sweet,” Cleve said, shaking Keso’s hand. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have surprised him with it.”
“I—it is indeed a shock,” Keso said. He was staring at her as if looking for an explanation.
“I hope you’re not upset because you found it out from Cleve,” Wannie explained, “but we really haven’t had time to have a personal conversation since you got here.”
Cleve gave her a melting smile. He was certainly much more handsome than his father, and so dashing, Wannie thought proudly.
Mrs. Brewster was radiant. “We have wealth and social position, but we’ve never had royal blood marry into the family before. My dear, sometime you must give us every detail about how a duchess happened to be stranded in the wilds of Colorado. My friends are going to be so envious!”
Wannie’s mouth suddenly went dry. She didn’t remember much about her childhood, except that her mother was a cold woman who
didn’t love her. The only time little Wannie ever seemed to meet with her approval was when she showed an interest in fine clothes and her mother’s jewels. “I—I’m afraid there’s not much to tell, actually. My mother was in some sort of political exile and we were living at a fine Denver hotel. There was a terrible fire one night. My mother died in the fire and my governess, Silver Jones, rescued me and later married Cherokee Evans.”
Wasn’t that the way it had happened? She looked at Keso and his dark eyes widened, but he said nothing.
“You poor thing!” the plump dowager gushed as she peered over her spectacles.
Mr. Brewster hooked his fingers in his vest, proud as a peacock. “Cleve, son, you’ve made a good choice. Let those Vanderbilts and Astors top that!”
Keso appeared speechless. Why? Wasn’t she the daughter of a duchess? She had only been about four or five years old when it happened. Silver and Cherokee seemed loath to discuss the past, so Wannie’s imagination had filled in the blanks.
“Brother,” she said, “why don’t we have the first dance?”
Keso hesitated. “Wannie, you know I don’t know how—”
“Oh, come on, this is just a slow waltz—you can do it.” She pulled him out on the floor and he took her in his arms, a bit hesitant and rigid. She had forgotten how big he was, how wide-shouldered. He was several inches taller than Cleve and certainly more muscular. “Keso, what’s wrong?”
“Wrong? I don’t know what you mean.” He pushed her across the floor with a grim expression as if he were counting steps. His big hand seemed to completely enclose hers and he was holding it too tightly.
“You don’t seem to like the Brewsters.”
He hesitated, stumbling over her foot and she saw an amused smile on several dancers’ faces. She loved Keso dearly, but he seemed so clumsy and inept in this civilized crowd. “Wannie, if you like him, I’m sure Cleve is a fine fellow. It—it’s just such a surprise. I wish you had just given me some clue in your letters that you were serious about someone.”
“He only proposed a few days ago. I meant to break it to you when we were alone. Cleve’s wonderful when you get to know him—so debonair, good family, and so handsome.”
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