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Her pulse raced. Her knees grew weak. And at the pit of her stomach she was experiencing such a strange, yet sweet, mushiness.
“You truly believe this is the dress I should wear tonight at the ball?” she murmured, their eyes locked.
“Also the ivory satin shoes,” he said, the fire in his loins gnawingly hot.
“Yes, they are quite beautiful,” she said, aware of a strange huskiness in her voice that she had never heard before.
Never had she felt this deliciously queasy before. Oh, Lord, she so badly wished they could dispense with their small talk and confess their feelings for one another! Oh, but if he would only grab her and kiss her!
“I . . . I . . . like the velvet cloak and I also need to choose a couple of hats,” she quickly said. She giggled. “But, of course, not for the ball. I need the cloak and hats for my out—”
Her words froze on her lips when she heard her name spoken. It quickly broke the spell between her and White Fire.
“Flame?”
Lieutenant Green’s voice came from across the room as he made his way toward Flame. She looked wildly past White Fire at the lieutenant’s approach, then back to White Fire.
“You’d best go,” she said, her voice quavering with emotion. “Father appointed that . . . that . . . damn lieutenant to keep watch on me today as though I am a mere child. It’s best he doesn’t see you and me together.”
Understanding all too well what she meant, and his hatred for the colonel growing because of it, White Fire placed a gentle hand to Flame’s cheek. “I know,” he said somberly, “I know.”
The feel of his hand on her cheek, so warm, so wonderful, so gentle, caused Flame’s insides to melt sensually. She momentarily leaned her cheek into his hand. Then she moved quickly away when Lieutenant Green spoke her name again and she knew that he was too close to continue this moment of ecstasy.
She stepped quickly away from White Fire, gathered an armful of dresses, the velvet cloak, the shoes, and rushed away.
White Fire watched her move into the deeper shadows of the room. Then he tightened inside when he saw the young lieutenant place a possessive arm around her waist and whisk her over to the counter where her choices would be recorded in a journal.
White Fire waited long enough for her to leave the building, then he walked stiffly to the men’s clothes racks and very determinedly chose an outfit for the ball. He smiled when he imagined the shocked look on Colonel Russell’s face when he entered the ball as though he had been invited.
He felt his loins quiver when he envisioned Flame’s surprised look when she would discover him there....
He sighed deeply when he envisioned how beautiful she would be in the organdy dress, the red flame of her hair contrasting against the white.
He closed his eyes and envisioned how beautiful she would be as she swirled around the dance floor, the hem of her dress tangling seductively around her tapered legs.
He opened his eyes and sighed. Then he put the clothes back on the rack. What was he thinking about? Although Flame did appear to have feelings for him, surely she did not know what her flirting was getting herself into. He was a man much older than her—a man who even had a son.
No. He must
force himself to forget her.
Feeling let down and more lonely now than he had ever felt in his entire life, White Fire went back to the arsenal of weapons and chose a rifle and a knife.
His gaze went back to the rack of men’s clothes. His thoughts went to Flame.
“Should I?” he whispered.
Chapter 13
O fairest creature, last and best.
Of all God’s work, creature in whom excelled,
Whatever can to sight or be formed,
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet!
—John Milton
