Page 11 of The Last Warrior

Night had turned to morning, and still the crew of the Wild West Show partied. William had long since gone home, but not so Suzette. She was not leaving without Irena. She didn’t dare. Since Irena was more than a little inclined to attract trouble, it naturally fell to Suzette to stay with her, if only to see her home.

So she waited.

As chance would have it, Suzette hadn’t been forced to come face-to-face with the young man, Two Bears, again. Except for a few of the Indian spokesmen, none of the Indians were present at the party.

Instead, across the short distance of a small byway, the Indians celebrated in their encampment. Their dancing was drawing quite a crowd, and their noise was competing with Buffalo Bill Cody’s own party. Even now, though an orchestra played in the background of Cody’s elegant tent reception, Suzette could hear the beat of those American Indian drums, as well as the voices raised in song.

Would he be singing along with the others? Would he be dancing? Unfortunately for Suzette, she had no trouble conjuring up his image; she could practically see his near-naked body swaying to the primitive beat of those drums. Try though she might, she could not put the mental image away from her.

She shook her head as though to dislodge the concept—she even wandered as far away from the sound of those drums as Buffalo Bill’s tent would allow—but reason seemed to desert her. His handsome countenance was etched prominently within her mind.

He was tall, she recalled, perhaps standing six feet in his moccasins. He had been scantily clothed, as well. A breechcloth, moccasins, some jewelry and a headdress with eagle feathers had been all that adorned his body. Those feathers had cascaded down his back, almost to the ground, an interesting sight.

A looping necklace, similar in construction to a breastplate, had hidden the complete view of a tanned, athletic chest. The hint of firm muscles and pure masculinity beneath the jewelry had been enough to cause Suzette speculation. Indeed, the mere thought of the man now caused her pulse to race. Why?

Suzette had been reared in an environment of art and drama. There, the changing of clothes often necessitated nudity. So commonplace was it, Suzette took the sight of a near-nude body in stride. Or at least she had done so until today.

Today, the sight of a young man’s muscled chest and bare thighs had made her feel more than a little giddy. If she were to be truthful, she would have to admit that when they had first met, she had itched to touch his skin. This made no sense to her.

He was only a man, not unlike any other man. Two eyes, two legs, two arms, a chest, a naked back. Nothing unusual.

Of course, unlike so many opera celebrities, this particular young man was put together rather well, and in all the right places. True, his face was pleasing to the eye, rugged without being harsh. Perhaps it was this which kept his image haunting her. But it seemed to her that there was more to it than this. There had been a quality about him…

Pride. Yes, pride was what it was. If she had to put a word to his demeanor, she would have to call him dignified, although he was perhaps slightly naive as well. At least he had been so about English peculiarities and manners.

Suzette sighed. What wasted thoughts. He was married, and she was betrothed. Betrothed to an earl.

Clearly, the man meant nothing to her, except perhaps as an inconvenience. Where was Irena?

Scanning the crowd for a glimpse of her grandmother, Suzette decided it was time to bring the evening to a close. She and Irena should go to the home which Suzette, her parents and Irena all shared. She yearned for some rest.

Ah, there was her grandmother. Suzette’s gaze alighted on a particular dark coiffure, one with delicate curls tied in back that bounced ever so slightly whenever the woman laughed, which was often. With her hourglass figure looking stunning in blue taffeta, and a blue silk handkerchief dangling from her gloved hands, she could have been a model for a French fashion plate.

From where Suzette stood, she could see Irena was cuddling up to Buffalo Bill, who was close beside her. Indeed, his face was turned in full toward her, and Suzette could see he bore the look of… What was it? Admiration? Attraction?

Oh dear, this was what it looked like. Worse, was there a sensuality between Irena and the man?

Rumors of Buffalo Bill’s reputation with women, and in particular women of the arts, drifted through Suzette’s recollections. She could only wonder if Irena had admitted her real age to the man. Irena had to be at least ten to fifteen years his senior.

Suzette sighed. Perhaps she should have sought out Irena before now. She only hoped no permanent damage had been done. The last situation she needed was for Irena to believe herself in love.

Gracefully, Suzette made her way through the crowd toward her grandmother. At the moment, Irena was laughing up at Buffalo Bill, and because there was a flirtatious light in Irena’s eyes, it was all Suzette could do not to pull her grandmother away from the man. Why did she feel at times as though she were the older of the two of them?

Gently, she touched Irena’s hand. “May I speak with you if you please?”

“Of course, darling.” Irena turned her gaze on Suzette. “What is it, dear?”

Suzette grimaced. Apparently, she was not to have a private audience with her grandmother. “I am tired and would like to go home.”

“Of course, dear, and we shall do so very soon. This is my granddaughter, Mr. Cody.”

“A pleasure.” Suzette nodded toward him but barely spared him a glance.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Cody bowed slightly from the hip.

After a brief nod at Cody, she asked Irena, “Are you ready to return home?”

“Almost, dear. Almost. Mr. Cody, might I ask a favor?”