Oh, she was fairly certain that every head would turn. Charlotte Sanborn at a dance! With a man! Still, she treasured his words, not to mention his heated glance that had started her butterflies fluttering again. She wanted more than all the world for him to take her in his arms again, to kiss her, and to go on with what they’d started.
She handed each of the children a pie and told them to head outside. Reed paused to pick up her black shawl from the hall stand.
“You clean up real good for a western writer. A sweet, delectable huckleberry,” he murmured into her ear, “isn’t that what you said?” She shivered as he draped her wrap around her shoulders before tucking her arm under his.
“Your carriage,” he said, using the word loosely, referring to her old wagon, “awaits you, my lady. And may I tell you, your beauty is wasted on a barn dance. You would dazzle all of Boston society. Think about it.”
She did, for half a second, and then doubt crept in to her thoughts. Was he only trying to get her to agree to move east so he could fulfill his duties as executor of her cousin’s will?
She tried to shake off that thought, but he seemed such a practiced and smooth attorney. Certainly, it wouldn’t be beyond his abilities to manipulate her feelings. But the kisses had been real—the intimacy they’d shared had been magical.
She let Reed help her onto the front seat, as the children clambered onto the clean blanket lining the rear. “No rips or tears, Thomas,” Charlotte warned. “And Lily, dear, be careful of those stockings.”
“You sound almost motherly,” Reed said as he climbed up beside her taking the reins. “But then,” he dipped his head to her ear so Lily and Thomas couldn’t hear, “you look anything but that tonight. More like a temptress.”
She shivered at his words and the timbre of his voice. For a few minutes, she forgot her anxiety. But all too quickly the lights of the town appeared before them, and she bit her lip. Showing up was, for her, a momentous occasion that would draw stares and whispers, but showing up with a handsome man and two sweet children would bring about an utter flurry of gossip and speculation.
Reed drove them along the main street to Drake’s barn. By the number of wagons and traps and horses, Charlotte knew most of the townspeople had already arrived. Reed circled around the enormous wooden building until he found a place in the back where Alfred could graze, then unhitched him and tied him to the rear of the wagon.
“Here we go,” Reed said turning to the children, who started to run toward the barn before Charlotte had even climbed down.
“Halt,” Reed called after them. Charlotte watched them freeze in their tracks, barely containing their excitement over the bright lights and music and voices emanating from the building before them.
“My lady.” Reed held his hand up to her. She took it, standing up and placing one green satin shoe on the running board. But in an instant, he released her hand and took her around the waist. She gasped as he lifted her up and set her down gently on the grass. His hands lingered a moment and she looked up at his face.
He smiled, and she swallowed hard, feeling her heart pounding in her throat—nervous over the dance and sweetly terrified over her own strong reactions to Reed. Then his thumbs caressed her waist through the satin dress and she lost the feeling of terror altogether.
“Remember,” he said, looking into her clear green eyes, “you’ve known these people all your life. They just haven’t known you.” He released her, took her arm through his and started toward the barn. The children seemed to take this as permission to go ahead and ran toward the large open doors of the well-lit barn.
At the entrance, Charlotte gasped at the transformation of the normally plain and practical barn. So this was what she’d been missing. It was a fairy world of oil lanterns, tables laden with food all around the perimeter, the fresh smell of beeswax, and even a platform of wood and clean, pungent hay to support the musicians.
Just then, Anna Webster passed by with a pie and a greeting.
“That dress is absolutely perfect on you, Miss Sanborn,” she said. “And your man?”
Charlotte blushed. Yes, he’s perfect, too, she thought.
“Anna, this is Mr. Malloy from Boston. Reed, this is Miss Webster. Her father owns the piece goods store.”
“Enchanted,” Reed said.
“Likewise.” Anna was all smiles. “I hope you’ll try my pie later.”
“Oh,” Charlotte exclaimed, remembering the pear crisps. In their excitement, the children had left them in the wagon.
“The dessert,” she exclaimed, about to go get them herself. But Reed stopped her.
“No, you don’t. I get the feeling if I let you go, you won’t come back. Why don’t you pour us some punch and I’ll go get them.”
Oh, God, he was leaving her alone. The children had vanished into the crowd and Anna had already disappeared in the direction of the food tables. Charlotte thought she’d heard her name murmured somewhere close by, and imagined she saw heads turn and fans go up over whispering mouths.
Her palms started to dampen and she turned a sickly smile on the revelers. Luckily, the next person she focused on was Sarah, who gave her a cheerful wave. She waved back, determined to head over.
“Is that Charlotte Sanborn?” said a loud voice in her ear, followed by a tug on her arm. It was Jessie Hollander, the waitress from Fuller’s restaurant. “Girl, you’re all slicked up something fine.”
“Why, don’t that beat the Dutch? Ruth, come over here and take a gander at Charlotte Sanborn.”
“Charlotte, here?” came an equally loud voice. By this time, other people had started to form around her and she felt as if she were the latest display at a traveling show.
“How . . . how nice to see you all,” she managed. Then, pushing through the crowd straight toward her was Eliza Prentice, dressed in a cool blue color that matched her eyes and set off her blond hair.
“Where did you get that dress?” the girl practically hissed, right in front of everyone.
“Why, in town, of course. But yours is a homespun delight.” Charlotte saw that one reach home as Eliza’s eyes widened and her nostrils flared.
But the pretty blond collected herself. “Wait until you all meet the magnificent man I met in town,” she said conspiratorially to the other ladies. “I invited him here myself,” she added with a simper.
Charlotte opened her mouth to explain about Reed Malloy, but before she could, she saw Eliza’s gaze shoot past her and the young woman’s hand immediately raise up to pat her hair.
It was too late. Reed chose that moment to appear, holding the pie plates stacked one on top of the other.
“There you are,” he said, and Eliza turned a brilliant smile on him. It died as he went directly to Charlotte’s side. “I could barely see you through your throng of friends. Good evening, ladies, and . . . uh . . .Miss Prentice, isn’t it?” Reed nodded his head to each one in turn.
“Now, Miss Sanborn, where’s our punch? And the children?” Reed handed her the pear crisps and propelled her away from the awe struck, silent group, a firm hand on her back.
“That was wicked,” she told him with a smile, placing their offering on the end of the table with the other cakes and sweetmeats. “But I’m grateful.”
“I love to rescue a lady in distress,” he told her handing her a cup of punch, “especially one as beautiful as you.”
She smiled at him and sipped at the fruity drink. “This has to be one of the most exciting nights of my life. And to think, I never would have had the opportunity if not for you.”
“Then let’s make the most of it. Shall we waltz?”
She set her cup down. “Believe it or not, that’s one thing I can do. My mother insisted I learn, bless her, though it has been a while.” Reed led her onto the dance floor as a new tune started up; it was slow and sweet, and Charlotte was relaxing into Reed’s strong arms as they danced.
Surely, this was a little bit of heaven, far away from editorial deadl
ines and her cluttered study. The pressure of his hands, one resting on her waist and the other holding her hand securely, made her feel like . . . like a full-fledged woman. She slanted her head to look at him, their eyes meeting.
“Your mother taught you well,” he told her, gently squeezing her hand.
“And where did you learn to dance, Mr. Malloy?”
“I picked it up, here and there. And it’s time to be Reed and Charlotte now, don’t you think?”
She nodded. The intimacy of first names in public sent another shiver down her spine. What would Eliza think of that?
“Tomorrow,” he added, looking around them at the other dancers, “we need to talk.”
“Tomorrow,” she repeated and his blue eyes met hers. But tonight, she thought, there was no need for words. The next tune picked up the tempo and Charlotte was soon whirling around the dance floor.
“Everyone is so fine-looking,” she observed as he drew her in close, “like freshly picked flowers, don’t you think?” Reed shook his head.
“You have no idea that you’re the most radiant woman here.”
She stopped still for a moment, looking up at his handsome, now familiar face. He tightened his hold on her hand and led her off the dance floor, stopping at a quiet spot, next to one of the empty stalls.
“There’s something so vibrant about you, Charlotte, so different from anyone I’ve ever known. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to keep company with you at home, in Boston, I mean.”
He cocked his head at her and daringly, she rested her palm on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast from the dancing. “Would you become just the same as all the women I’ve known in the endless drawing rooms of Boston?”
She shrugged, unwilling to break his lighthearted musings and at a loss as to how those other women behaved.
He continued, “I doubt that any environment could change the honest reactions of one Miss Charlotte Sanborn. You could never be other than a head full of strong opinions, with the intelligence to garner respect, and the beauty that encourages men’s admiration and women’s envy.”
“Oh, my,” she laughed. “I sound like a paragon, indeed.” If he was trying to persuade her, he was nearly succeeding. She was just about ready to pack her trunks.
“Not too much of a paragon, I hope,” he said softly, changing the mood. His gaze dropped to her full lips for a moment, then to her own hungry glance, making her want desperately to be kissed.
“What are you thinking?” he asked her, leaning his head even closer. She didn’t care that they were only against the rough wooden wall in Drake’s—with every person she’d ever known only feet away. She didn’t care that he’d put his hand on her waist in public or that his leg was close amongst her skirts. She wanted desperately for him to kiss her right then.
“I’m only imagining how it would be—”
She was interrupted by Lily and Thomas and three other children whom Charlotte recognized from town. They were all chattering at the same time as she and Reed moved apart. Reed was able to speak before she was.
“Silence, please.” His voice was not stern or loud, just commanding and they obeyed him instantly.
“All right then, what’s this all about? One at a time,” he ordered as they all opened their mouths again. “Lily?”
“The late train has come in from the east and they say,” she gestured toward a group of gossiping women, including Eliza, “that there were people on it from home.”
“From home?” Reed and Charlotte said at once.
“From Bos’n,” Thomas added.
Charlotte felt a clenching in her stomach. Could it be the children’s grandmother coming to get them?
Alarmed at the surge of protectiveness and possessiveness that welled up, she determined that she didn’t want to let the children go, and it had nothing to do with Reed at all or the excitement at having him with her.
She fervently hoped these strangers had nothing to do with Reed or the children. Things were going so well, and all she wanted was a little more time.
*****
The station was nearly deserted when the last train pulled in. Only two occupants got off at Spring City and they went directly to the hotel, securing two separate rooms. Because nearly the whole town was at the barn dance, the two travelers freshened up and wandered down to the end of the street where the bright lights of Drake’s barn welcomed them.
It was here that Helen Belgrave sought her fiancé and John Trelaine looked for his law partner—one and the same, Reed Malloy.
Chapter Eleven
Charlotte saw Reed stiffen and followed his gaze across the room to where the doors were standing open. If her own unexpected appearance had caused a stir, the arrival of out-of-towners caused an absolute maelstrom of murmurs to course around the room. It was easy to follow the wave of whispers and stares to see where Reed was looking.
Just inside the entrance, searching the crowd, stood an impeccably clad woman accompanied by an equally well-groomed gentleman about the same age as Reed and dressed similarly in darkest charcoal.
The stunning female was undoubtedly used to the attention, paying it no mind as she dipped her head to confer with the man. Her night-black hair was swept up in a smooth chignon and she wore a sophisticated cream-colored gown trimmed with black satin.
Immediately, Charlotte saw the great contrast this pair made with every other person in the room—except Reed. Everyone looked downright provincial in the shadow of their polished demeanor. Even herself, she realized, acutely aware of the outdated fashion of her crinoline in contrast to the dark-haired woman’s sleek gown with its shapely bustle, pleated skirts and elegant train.
Charlotte already knew the answer but asked anyway. “Do you know them?”
He nodded, not taking his eyes off them until they finally saw him and the man waved. The woman, even from this distance, seemed to greet him with her eyes, her whole expression, and even the way her body relaxed toward him.
Reed lifted up his hand in greeting, and the pair started toward them. Only then did he look at Charlotte.
“It looks as though we’re out of time,” he voiced her thoughts. “My life in Boston seems to have been unable to wait any longer.” By then, the two were upon them.
“Reed, we’ve been looking all over for you.” The man spoke first, obviously relieved; the woman only glanced from Reed to Charlotte and back again.
“You found me,” Reed said, stiffly. “John, I’d like you to meet Charlotte Sanborn, Ann Connors’ cousin. Miss Sanborn, this is my partner, John Trelaine.”
“How pleased I am to meet you,” the man told her, giving her a small bow at the same time that he took her hand and brought it up to his lips.
Charlotte instantly liked his kind brown eyes. She wondered what had brought another lawyer all the way across the country to the middle of Colorado. In the next moment, she understood.
“Reed, I insisted John bring me out here. I was worried about you.” The woman leaned over and gave his cheek a quick brush with her flawless red lips. And Charlotte felt a mix of emotions running the gamut from hot anger to shattered sadness.
“You needn’t have worried, Helen, and you shouldn’t have bothered John.” Reed’s voice was steady, but Charlotte detected a note of irritation. “Helen, this is Miss Sanborn.”
Charlotte was painfully aware that the intimate use of first names had given way to formalities again; now, it was this woman who was so obviously on familiar terms with Reed.
Helen Belgrave’s eyes slid over to her. They were unfathomable pools of darkness. But her words were courteous.
“You are Charles Sanborn’s . . . sister? How nice to meet you.” Her tones were smooth as her raven hair.
John Trelaine cleared his throat slightly. It was obvious to Charlotte that he knew.
Reed simply drew in a deep breath as if girding himself for battle.
“Charlotte Sanborn is Charles Sanborn, Helen.”
The woman’s mouth dropped open for the briefest of seconds and then snapped shut, as the color rose in her lovely face. It appeared as if trouble were brewing.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, as well, though I’m afraid you have the advantage,” Charlotte returned, looking questioningly at Reed, who was staring hard at her now, his wary expression a puzzle to her.
“Miss Sanborn,” he said at last, “this is Helen Belgrave.”
“His fiancée,” the beauty added, placing her gloved hand on his arm.
John Trelaine coughed at that moment as if he were choking. Charlotte was thankful it covered her slight gasp. Her eyes flew to Reed’s face; he had not stopped staring at her. Now she knew why he’d watched her so carefully—he’d been waiting for her reaction to the disclosure he was certain she’d hear.
Reed’s jaw clenched. His lips were a straight line that matched his eyebrows and he looked downright grim. Charlotte was certain he was a man who did not like to be caught holding back the truth . . . even if, apparently, he didn’t mind holding it back in the first place.
“His fiancée,” Charlotte repeated aloud in what she hoped was a light and gay voice. “Why, Mr. Malloy, you should have told me. I’m sure I wouldn’t have let you stay so long in this backward place” she bit out the words, “when you had Mrs. Belgrave awaiting your return.”
“I assure you, Miss Sanborn,” he said evenly, his eyes never leaving hers, “I do not let anyone make me do anything I don’t want to do.”
“Reed does get caught up in his work,” Helen Belgrave said, apparently having recovered from her surprise at finding out that “Charles” was a female. Her words were placid enough, though her tone of voice was unamused.
Charlotte felt a distinct lack of amusement, as well, and wondered if the kisses she and Reed had shared, not to mention their passionate interlude in his bedroom, were written across her face.
Seemingly not, for Helen Belgrave continued, “My Reed is quite thorough at whatever he does. Miss Sanborn. His work ethic demands that he accomplish his business affairs ahead of most anything else.”
An Improper Situation (Sanborn-Malloy Historical Romance Series, Book One) Page 12