the same time Centaine was trying to decide just how early she could make her escape.
Abruptly she realized that they had reached the head of the line, the very last to do so, and that the administrator's A.D.C. was announcing them to their host.
Mr and Mrs Abraham Abrahams and Mrs Centaine de Thiry Courtney. She looked up at the man who stood before her and involuntarily she dug her fingernails into the soft inside of Abraham Abrahams elbow with such force that he winced. She did not notice it, for she was staring at Colonel Blaine Malcomess.
He was tall and lean, and he stood well over six feet. His bearing was relaxed without any military stiffness and yet he seemed to be balanced on the balls of his feet as though he could explode into movement at any moment.
Mrs Courtney, he offered her his hand, I am delighted you were able to come. You were the one person I particularly wanted to meet. His voice was a clear tenor, with a faint lilt to it that might have been Welsh. An educated and cultivated voice, with modulations which lifted a little electric rash of pleasure on her forearms and at the nape of her neck.
She took his hand. The skin was dry and warm, and she could feel the restrained strength of his fingers as they pressed hers gently. 'He could crush my hand like an eggshell, she thought, and the idea gave her a delicious little chill of apprehension. She studied his face.
His features were large, the bones of his jaw and cheek and forehead seemed weighty and massive as stone. His nose was big with a Roman bridge to it, his brow was beetling and his mouth was big and mobile. He reminded her strongly of a younger more handsome Abraham Lincoln. He isn't yet forty, she estimated, so young for the rank and
the job.
Then she realized with a start that she was still holding his hand, and that she had not replied to his greeting. He was leaning over her, studying her as openly and intently as she was him, and Abe and Rachel were looking from one to the other of them with interest and amusement. Centaine had to shake her hand lightly to free it from his grip, and to her horror she felt the hot rush of blood up her throat into her cheeks.
I'm blushing! It was something she had not done in years.
I have been fortunate enough to be associated with your family before this, Blaine Malcomess told her, His teeth also were large and square and very white. His mouth was wide, even wider when he smiled. A little shakily she smiled back.
Have you? She realized that it wasn't the most sparkling conversational gambit, but her wits seemed to have deserted her. She was standing there like a school-girl, blushing and gawking at him. His eyes were a most startling shade of green. They distracted her.
I served under General Sean Courtney in France, he told her, still smiling. Somebody had cut his hair too short at the temples, it made his large ears stick out. That irritated her, and yet the sticking-out ears made him endearing and appealing.
He was a fine gentleman, Blaine Malcomess went on.
Yes, he was, she replied and upbraided herself, Say something witty, something intelligent, he'll think you a clod. He was wearing dress uniform, dark blue and gold with a double row of medal ribbons. Since girlhood uniforms had always affected her.
I heard that you were at General Courtney's headquarters in Arras for a few weeks in 1917. I was still in the line then; I didn't go on his staff until the end of that year. She took a deep breath to steady herself and at last managed to get control again. What turbulent days those were, with the universe crashing in ruins about us, she said, her voice low and husky, her French accent emphasized a little, and she thought, What is this? What's happening to you, Centaine? This is not the way it is supposed to be.
Remember Michael and Shasa. Give this man a friendly nod and pass on. It seems that I have performed my duties for the moment, Blaine Malcomess glanced at his A.D.C. for confirmation and then turned back to Centaine. May I have the honour of this waltz, Mrs Courtney? He offered his arm, and without a moment's hesitation she laid her fingers lightly in the crook of his elbow.
The other dancers veered away, leaving them an open space as they walked out side by side onto the floor. She turned to face Blaine and stepped into the circle of his arm.
He didn't have to move, merely the way he held her told her that he would be a marvelous dancer. Immediately she felt light and dainty and fleet of foot, and she arched her back and leaned out against the circle of his arm while his lower body seemed to meld with hers.
He took her on one spinning whirling circuit of the floor, and when she matched his every move feather light and swift, he began a complicated series of dips and counter-turns, and she followed him without conscious effort, seeming to skim the ground, yet totally under his control, responding to his every whim.
When at last the music ended with a crashing chord and the musicians fell back in their seats sweating and panting, Centaine felt unreasonable resentment towards them. They had not played long enough.
Blaine Malcomess was still holding her in the middle of the floor and they were laughing delightedly at each other while the other dancers formed a ring around them and applauded.
Unfortunately that seems to be it for the moment, he said, still making no effort to release her, and his words roused her. There was no longer any excuse for physical contact and she stepped back from him reluctantly and acknowledged the applause with a small curtsey.
. I do think we have earned a glass of champagne. Blaine signalled one of the white-jacketed waiters and they stood at the edge of the dance floor and sipped the wine and watched each other's eyes avidly as they talked. The exertion had raised a light sheen of sweat on his broad forehead and she could smell it on his body.
They were alone in the centre of the crowded room. With a subtle inclination of her shoulders and head Centaine dissuaded the one or two bolder souls who approached as if to join them, and after that the others stayed back.
The band, refreshed and eager, took their seats on the bandstand once more and this time launched into a foxtrot.
Blaine Malcomess did not have to ask. Centaine set her almost untouched champagne on the silver tray that the waiter proffered and lifted her arms as Blaine faced her.
