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"Miss Weston, it is rare to see a Black Irish such as yourself, and a quite lovely one at that," he commented. I'd heard the reference to my hair and eye color before, but that was not what made me misstep. A firm hand on my hip held me securely without a chance to fumble.
"How do you know my name?" I asked, cocking my head slightly.
The corner of his mouth tipped up. "As I said, Cross is my friend and he thought I might enjoy meeting you."
How strange. "Why?"
He frowned slightly and a small line formed at his brow. "Why?" he repeated. "It isn't often that either of us see such a beautiful woman, a woman who catches both of our eyes."
I couldn't help but flush at the compliment, but at the same time felt it odd. "You share dance partners?"
He took a moment before answering. "We share many things, Miss Weston."
Another odd answer, but I was intrigued. "Your friend, Mr. Cross, said that he was from a ranch east of here. Do you fare from that direction as well, for your accent is quite unique?" Surely it was idle chit-chat, but I didn't know what else to ask. He had me off kilter and the dance would end soon enough and that meant he would leave me just like his friend. It was just a dance. Nothing more.
"I am British, but I have not been there in some time. My home is Bridgewater, as is Cross'."
"Is it quite large?"
He arched a dark brow at my question, but responded easily enough. "I believe it to be one of the largest in the area, but we are a ranch of many."
"You are here in Helena on business or pleasure?"
"This dance and your company, Miss Weston, are all pleasure." The compliment heated my cheeks and I did not know how to respond, nor could I continue to look at him, so I studied the buttons on his dark jacket, just as I had with his friend. He was as neat as his friend. "We are in Helena to purchase a horse."
"You and Mr. Cross?"
The music played and the people danced around us but I, like before, ignored it all.
"Cross and I, as well as a good friend of ours, Simon."
"You have many friends," I added. I had many acquaintances, but no close, bosom friends.
"Not many, but the ones I do have I hold in the highest of esteem. And you? Your chaperone, Cross said he was your uncle?"
"Yes. My parents died when I was small and he raised me."
His hand tightened about my waist briefly. "I am sorry to hear about your parents."
A flicker of sadness appeared in his eyes was quickly hidden.
"You have lost family as well?" I ventured.
He gave a single nod. "I, unlike you, did not have an uncle to take me in and orphans are not held in the highest regard where I come from. Over time, I have learned that a family is one you make, so I have been lucky."
I faltered. "You are wed then?" I glanced around as if I could find a woman on the fringes of the dance that could be his wife. It was a silly act, but kept me from seeing the truth on his face.
"Of course not. I would not dance with another if I were married."
The dance drew to a close and Mr. Rhys led me back to my uncle, his hand upon the small of my waist. The feel of it sent tingles down my spine. Had I insulted him? A crushing feeling invaded my chest at the realization that I'd insulted his honor, for an honorable man would not seek out another woman for a dance or any other type of amusement.
"Sir." Mr. Rhys held out his hand to my uncle and introduced himself. "Thank you for the opportunity to dance with your niece."
"Anytime, young man," he replied. He seemed impressed by Mr. Rhys and was not aware of the gaffe I had made. "You are not from around here."
He shook his head. "No, sir. I am from Bridgewater."
Uncle Allen's face changed then, in some slight way I couldn't identify, but it wasn't disdain. He was...pleased somehow. Impressed, too. "I am familiar with another gentleman from the ranch, a Mr. Kane, I believe."
