women in their sparkling fin- cry. The floor seemed alive with the blue
and gold of the uniforms, and with brilliant reds and greens and soft
pastels, lovely silks and brocades, satins and velvets.
But none compared with the blue gown that Tess Stuart was wearing. No
other garment seemed to so fit a woman, to cling to her shape, to
conceal and enhance, to so artfully combine both purity and sweetly
simmering sensuality.
Like the touch of her fingers upon his arm. Like the scent of roses that
seemed to fill him and make him mindless of what else went on.
Jamie saw Jon Red Feather coming toward them, and he swore softly
beneath his breath. Normally the darned half breed was as silent as the
night. Suddenly these days he was expounding away with his Oxford
eloquence.
'Miss. Stuart! Jamie. Ah, you've made it at last. Miss. Stuart, please
don't think me too bold--Jamie! I dare demand the first dance!'
'Jon' -- he began in protest.
'Jon! Good evening!'
The delight in Tess's voice was so obvious that Jamie wanted to spit.
If the two of them were so damned all-fired eager to be together, Jon
should have escorted her tonight. It wouldn't have made the least bit of
difference to him.
The hell it wouldn't. She was his.
He'd found her, he'd touched her and he'd brought her back here. It
might be a trap, but he was deep within it now, and there was no
crawling out. Still, he had to he civil. Too bad they weren't out on the
plain. He and Jon could go to it like savage kids. They'd done it
before.
He smiled and bowed with the best of the Southern chivalry he could
remember from the days before the war.
'Jori--Miss. Stuart, please. Just return her in one piece, Jon.'
'He's trying to pretend that I take scalps. I don't, you know,' Jon
informed her gravely.
Tess smiled again--brilliantly. Everything about her lit up. Smiles for
him, and taunts for me! And still, Miss. Stuart, we are irrevocably
bound, aren't we? 'Evenin', James,' the colonel addressed him.
'Evenin', sir.'
'I see that Miss. Stuart has been whisked away.' He nodded toward the
dancers.
'Well, she's lovely. A very welcome addition to our little soiree, eh?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Ah! Well, you shall't be lonely long. There's Eliza coming to whisk you
away, I dare say.'
Eliza was on her way over. She had stopped to chat at the punch table,
but now, with her fan fluttering against the heat of the night, she was
hurrying around the dancers to greet him.
He hadn't seen her since he'd come back with Tess.
But she knew. She knew that he'd come back with a woman, and she knew
that he was with Tess tonight. He could see it in her velvet dark eyes.
She was smiling, but it seemed that the curve of her lip hid a snarl.
