Page 21 of White Fire


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at?” White Fire said, placing the shoe back on the shelf. It seemed so natural standing with her, sharing small talk, as though they had known each other forever.

And perhaps they had. Since their first day of acquaintance, she had more than once plagued his thoughts. Yet knowing their age difference, he had brushed her from his mind.

She looked at him now, as though she had never forgotten him. He could see that she had feelings for him other than just being cordial and polite as she surely was to most men. Yes, there was something more. He knew that fate had drawn them together again, even though she had a father who would rather skin White Fire alive than let him get even a foot near his daughter!

“I’m speaking of the ball tonight,” Flame said, finding it so hard to believe that she could be standing there talking with White Fire, as though they were the closest of friends.

Ah, but if he only knew how often he had visited her midnight dreams! To her, he was much more than a friend. For certain, she would see that he soon was, and even more than that, hopefully, her lover.

No matter what she had to do to see him, she would. Her father could not imprison her like a child. She was a woman with feelings of a woman, all stirred up deliciously sweet inside her by this man’s nearness!

“Ball?” White Fire said, forking an eyebrow. “No, I haven’t heard anything about a ball.”

“No, I guess you wouldn’t have,” Flame said, sighing. “I should have known that my father wouldn’t give you an invitation.”

“Oh?” he said. “And why not?”

Flame turned her eyes away, angry at herself for having been so open with him, by saying something that could hurt his feelings. She tried to think fast, searching in her mind for a plausible answer as to why her father would not invite White Fire other than him being, in part, an Indian.

But nothing would come to mind.

“Because I am a ’breed’?” White Fire asked, placing a finger to her chin, turning her eyes back around so that he could look into them.

When he saw her eyes lower, he was quickly sorry that he had said what she had purposely failed to say.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, easing his finger from her chin. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Her eyes lifted quickly. She gazed raptly up at him. “You were right to,” she said, her voice drawn. “For it is because of your skin color that my father would not invite you to the ball . . . and . . . because . . .”

She stopped short before telling him that it was because of her feelings for him that her father truly would not invite him to her ball.

“Because of what?” White Fire asked, searching her eyes. “Tell me. Why else would your father not include me in the invitations?”

She stared up at him for a moment longer, then breathless from the feelings assailing her, of wanting to be held by him . . . of wanting to be kissed by him . . . she turned away and plucked first one dress from those she had chosen, and then another.

White Fire cursed himself beneath his breath for having again caused an awkwardness between them by his persistent questioning. She obviously did not wish to answer.

“And so you have chosen a dress to wear tonight to the ball?” he said, trying to again bring lightness to their conversation, to do anything to keep them talking awhile longer, for being near her was like being filled with warm sunshine!

“Yes, I believe I have,” Flame said, plucking the special one from the others. She held it out before her. “This one.”

She was glad that he was still there, instead of being insulted by her having so abruptly turned her back to him.

Her heart pounded as he reached up and ran his fingers over the skirt of the white organdy dress.

When they brushed against her hand, her flesh tingled with aliveness and her breath caught in her throat.

“You will look beautiful in this dress,” White Fire said, aware of a huskiness in his voice that he wished she would not hear.

But being so near her, smelling her perfume, and having brushed against her hand, her flesh so warm and soft against his, stirred so much inside him that he could not fight against.

She was gently spoken. She was sweet. She was beautiful. She was radiant.

But having had a loveless marriage, and having been without a woman for so long, and knowing her father’s feelings toward him, he saw the danger in wanting Flame so badly. He must force himself to forget her.

Yet he could not walk away from her now, any more than the stars could deny the sky on a lovely summer’s night. He wanted her. And somehow he would have her, and her father be damned if he tried to come between them!

Flame gazed into his eyes, seeing so much there that told her that his feelings for her were the same as those she felt for him.

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