Chapter 8
Sloan had known, from the moment he had first seen her, that Sabrina was probably the most beautiful woman who had ever walked into his life.
That assessment had probably been far easier for him to make when he had assumed she was a two-bit Gold Town opportunist.
Tonight…
It was irritating. It was more than irritating.
She was dressed in royal-blue velvet, a simple full-skirted gown with a single row of ivory lace to line the rim of the bodice and the long sleeves.
She wore her hair in a sheer fall of sunset-touched sable down her back, somehow erotic, and somehow sweet, indicative of youth and innocence.
She’d managed to regain both her vibrant coloring and a few pounds since they had parted, and it seemed to him, at that moment, that all the weight she’d gained, as well as whatever had been there before, was spilling out of her bodice.
She was beautiful, elegant, sensual. And when he first walked in, she was all those things while happily dancing in the arms of another man.
Of course, he knew and liked Lieutenant Blake, who was, however, a puppy—all but fresh out of West Point.
A young, handsome fellow. Actually, very young.
Closer to Sabrina’s age than he was himself.
He and Hawk had managed to do their West Point years directly before the opening battles of the Civil War—and had learned on the battlefield what they hadn’t been able to acquire from books and drills.
He was astonished to realize that he was jealous of a man—simply because he was dancing with his wife.
There was no reason Lieutenant Blake shouldn’t have been dancing with her.
The party had been under way for some time when he arrived.
She had probably danced with lots of men.
But he had never heard her laugh that way when she was with him; he’d never seen her eyes dazzle so!
Of course, it didn’t help that he might have arrived at Mayfair much earlier himself—in fact, he might have arrived two days earlier—if he hadn’t expected to go home and find his wife settled into his barracks, as he had instructed her.
But he’d given her time. Plenty of time.
And he had thought that if she’d truly reconciled herself to the marriage, she would have been there. Waiting.
But no...
Here she was. Dancing with the greatest pleasure, laughing, flirting, teasing...
And, of course, staring at him now. Appalled. Horrified. Some of the lovely rose flush that had colored her cheeks fading away as she stared at him.
He lifted his punch glass to her.
He willed her to come to him.
She didn’t.
So much for the power of his will.
And so much for hoping that she might be glad to see him.
She turned quickly, as if she hadn’t noticed that he had arrived, and hurried off toward the French doors leading to the rear of the house—without even excusing herself to her dance partner. No matter. Blake followed right after her, a puppy dog indeed. He might as well have been wearing a leash.
“I can’t begin to imagine how you move so quickly through such horrid weather, Major Trelawny!” someone was saying to him.
Mrs. Postwaite. Her husband, who owned a millinery shop in town, was at her side, smiling, nodding; they had a daughter of about eighteen.
“It’s a matter of practice,” he said politely, “and traveling lightly.”
His eyes met Skylar’s. She smiled, looking a little flushed, and gave him a quick hug again. “Sabrina is just dying to see you, of course...”
He gazed at her hard, arching a very skeptical brow.
“Naturally!” Skylar said firmly, and he remembered that they were surrounded by guests, all of whom adored gossip—especially in the winter, when there was often so little to do except endure being cooped up in one place.
“We’re all so happy that you’re back; it’s just going to be so hard to let my sister go!
I know that you’d mentioned something about her settling into your quarters when we arrived, but honestly, I needed to have her here for a while.
I just couldn’t seem to get myself to allow her.
..to...to leave...” Skylar’s voice drifted away as she stared at his face. She tried to smile.
“Well, now, I can imagine that it might be difficult for a young woman, unaccustomed to the West, to pick herself up and move into a roughshod fort all by her lonesome!” Josh Postwaite said, an arm around his plump wife, a hopeful smile on his white-bearded and mustached face.
“Well, now, women from the high society of the East Coast do sometimes find it hard on the plains,” drawled Cissy Davis, a young captain’s sister. She smiled very sweetly at Sloan. “Well, we are rugged and rough in comparison!”
Sloan considered Cissy a walking headache. At that moment, it didn’t matter. He smiled at her.
“Well, Miss Davis, since I’m missing my wife and it seems that I’ve ridden miles through sleet and snow to hear such fine music, perhaps you’ll dance with me?”
“Oh, Major!” Cissy said, giggling.
He offered his punch to Skylar and led Cissy out to the floor.
She knew how to dance, and she was a very pretty young woman.
She kept up a barrage of conversation, talking with great excitement about the fashion magazines she had just received from New York.
He smiled and nodded, at, he hoped, the appropriate times.
He carefully searched the room and at last saw Sabrina again, standing just outside the back doors, which remained open.
She was surrounded by a flock of military men.
The dance came to a halt. He thanked Cissy, thinking he would have been better off to have asked Mrs. Postwaite to dance.
She was a good bit grayer and heavier, but she didn’t chatter, and she wouldn’t cling to Sloan’s arm the way Cissy did now.
“Oh, Major Trelawny, indeed, it is so wonderful to have you back with us. There are so many times when you ride away that we girls worry about you, just praying that you won’t get yourself into trouble and—”
“Major! Major Trelawny!” a voice interrupted.
Someone was tapping on his back.
He turned around. “Welcome home. Dear sir, we are naturally delighted to see you, hale and hearty—and Major! I must compliment you on your wife.”
He groaned inwardly. It was Louella Lane, a prim and proper schoolteacher, who stood before him now. He took her hand, bowing over it. “Thank you, Louella. You are looking exceptionally lovely yourself.”
Louella flushed. “We didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“Well, I’m back this side of the Black Hills for a few weeks, at least.”
“We’re delighted. Did you come straight here—for your wife? It’s just so amazing—I mean, we had heard at the fort from Raleigh that you had married...but you, Major Trelawny! We just can’t believe it!”
“Well, it is true. I am married. And no, I didn’t come straight here; I went to the fort first. I must have missed those riding here by no more than a few hours.”
“What a pity. We would have enjoyed your company.”
“Thank you.”
“You are certainly welcome to ride back with us tomorrow. The Douglases are putting us up here for the night so that we can start back in daylight.”
“It will be so much nicer if you do ride with us!” Cissy said. Inevitably, she giggled.
“Well, again, thank you; I will take that into consideration. Excuse me, ladies—” he began.
Louella slipped in front of him. “Major Trelawny, we are all just...just stunned by your wife. When did you decide to marry? She is such a lovely creature, of course...but so many of us are at such a loss. Did you elope?”
“Elope? Ah—no, it wasn’t an elopement.”
“But—it’s real? You’re really married? I mean, even the majority of the men at the fort can’t quite believe that you’re married!”
“Louella, dear, don’t be so rude,” Cissy said.
“It’s all right,” Sloan said. “I am really married.”
“Oh, well, we are disbelieving, and deeply jealous, of course!” Cissy said, wide-eyed.
Sloan’s head was beginning to pound. Nights spent alone on the hard-packed snow beneath wind and weather were beginning to seem like heaven. Still, he gave Cissy a smile.
“My dear, you’re as lovely as can be, and I can’t imagine your being jealous of anyone.
And Louella...” To his own horror, he skipped a beat, but quickly recovered.
“Louella, you are completely unique among women! God knows, maybe it was the air in Scotland—and maybe it was my wife’s sheer beauty—I don’t know! It was rather sudden, I do admit.”
“We were so convinced that you’d never marry, that you’d remain a dark, mysterious, half-bre—er, loner, all your life! And anyone would have thought that if you were to marry, it would be to a woman more familiar with the frontier. With Indian ways,” Cissy said.
“Ah,” Sloan murmured, wondering just which of the women in Cissy’s acquaintance was really familiar with Indian ways.
“Well, maybe opposites attract. Sabrina is from the East, and she’ll learn about frontier and Indian ways.
If you don’t mind, I’ve not seen my wife since departing Scotland. If you’ll excuse me?”
With that, he firmly slipped past Louella and strode toward the rear doors.
The group of military men surrounding Sabrina broke apart instantly, allowing him a path as he approached. Men saluted and called out greetings, which he returned. Sabrina stood alone, as if at the end of a strange honor guard, like a queen holding court.
“Why, Major Trelawny!” Jimmy Blake said with pleasure, saluting and smiling. “Sir, it’s good to see you— well, other than the fact that I’ve enjoyed dancing with your wife, and I’ll surely have to give that up now....”
“If you don’t mind,” Sloan said lightly.
“Major!” Captain Tim Beakins, a dark fellow who probably had some Indian blood somewhere in his distant past, shook his hand firmly. “Sir, the lady is exquisite, but still, have you two really tied the knot?”
“We have,” he assured Tim. And his eyes were for Sabrina then, who stared at him as if suddenly at a loss.