Simmer All Night (24 page)

Married to Cole. It was an unacknowledged, but dearly desired dream that had been dangled before her, then snatched away.

From the moment he first mentioned marriage, she'd felt a little thrill even though she'd forced herself to ignore it. Had he allowed them the time to discuss the possibility before rushing off to meet the earl, they might have reached an understanding. She might have abandoned her vow not to marry for anything less than love if he'd even hinted he could grow to love her at least a little in the days to come.

Now, even if he climbed to Hartsworth's rooftop and shouted of his love for her to all of England, she couldn't believe him. One of the constants in Cole Morgan's life was his loyalty to and affection for her mother. For Elizabeth, he would lie. He'd tell Chrissy he loved her, even if he didn't.

She laughed without amusement. Wasn't it just her luck that the one time she and her mother wanted the same thing, Elizabeth managed to make it impossible?

Chrissy swiped at the tears on her cheek. Enough of this. Where was her backbone? Where was her pride? Had she given it away along with her virginity?

No, of course not. She still had her pride, and by God, it would see her through this. It was time to don her armor. The ball would soon begin.

Chrissy's chin came up and her shoulders went back. She dried her tears and rang for her maid.

She was bathed, coifed, gowned, and selecting her jewelry when the knock sounded at the door connecting her room with Lana's. "Come in," she called.

Lana's expression betrayed her surprise at the easy admittance as she walked into Chrissy's room. Before she could comment on it, Chrissy held an emerald necklace to her neck and asked, "What do you think?"

Lana sighed. "I think you're the most beautiful and foolish woman I've ever seen."

Chrissy wrinkled her nose. "Your compliments leave something to be desired. I meant do you like this necklace with this dress?"

"It's perfect. You are perfectly irrational. Honey, Cole told me what your mother did and while I agree it was awful, you can't marry the viscount out of spite. Not when you are in love with Cole Morgan."

"I never said that. And I'm not marrying Welby out of spite. I like him. He's a nice man and he respects me, Lana, which is more than I can say about my mother and her magic-handed minion."

"Magic hands, Chrissy?" Lana asked wryly. Then, before Chrissy could respond, she added, "Please, honey. Don't make this mistake. At least take some time to reconsider this foolishness."

Emotion churned inside Chrissy. Maybe Lana was right. Maybe she should take some time. She could hide up here in her room until the ball was over, the house party was over. The century was over. Let Mama manipulate someone else for a while. Let her ruin someone else's life.
I can go to London and... and... open a chili stand
in front of Buckingham Palace.
"I wonder if London is ready for a dose of Texas Red."

Lana frowned. "What does chili have to do with this catastrophe of a betrothal ball?" When Chrissy only laughed in response, her friend said, "All right, I give up. I'm obviously wasting my time. Here." She reached into her own gown's bodice and removed a pair of folded slips of paper, and handed them to Chrissy. "Notes from Cole and from your grandfather," she explained as she sailed back into her own room. "Read them if you dare."

"If I dare," Chrissy muttered. Lana knew her well. Now she had to read the messages.

She opened the earl's note first and read it aloud. "I apologize for hurting you, my dear. It was not my intention. Apparently, I haven't learned from the mistakes I made that drove your mother away. Please, I beg of you, do not follow Elizabeth's example. I love you."

Some of the frost melted from her heart. She couldn't stay angry at the man, knowing his motivation was love. She stared at the second note and grimaced. Cole's motivation was something else entirely.

He wrote:
Quit being stubborn and stupid, Lady Bug. Your grandfather's confession changes nothing. You and I are getting married.

"And you, Cole Morgan, have chili for brains."

Downstairs, Lord Welby waited for her in the saloon, looking quite dashing in a midnight blue vest trimmed in gold. Chrissy's stomach sank. Welby's expression suggested he was as anxious as she to be here.

He bowed and kissed her hand. "Good evening, my dear. You look beautiful as always. Shall we wait by the Marble Hall doorway? The dancing is about to begin."

Chrissy's eyes widened as she spied a pair of cuts along his jaw and discoloration below his eye. "What happened to you, Lord Welby?"

In a blatant attempt to dodge the question, he said, "I think it is time you called me Bruce, at least when we're having a private conversation."

"Very well. Bruce, what in the world happened to your face?"

He winced. "I see the face powder I borrowed from Mrs. Kleberg doesn't conceal as much as I had hoped. Let's just say your Mr. Morgan and I had a misunderstanding yesterday and leave it at that, all right?"

So
that's why Cole
was
all worked up when he came to me.

She wanted to inquire further, but the viscount continued, "I admit to being eager to see what decorative theme the earl chose for tonight's special event. He's been quite secretive."

"Yes," Chrissy said absently, questions about this misunderstanding still tumbling about her brain. Then, before she could give voice to even one of them, a new sensation captured her attention. She gazed around her. Something was causing her hackles to rise. She felt like a mouse being stalked by...

Her gaze lighted on Cole. He stood leaning against the wall. Beside him was an elaborate sconce with ormolu branches above a plaster panel that depicted playful cupids. She thought it strangely appropriate. He was shooting arrows in her direction with his coldly furious blue-eyed gaze, and although he wore finely tailored evening dress, she easily pictured him naked.
Except Cupid is chubby. Cole Morgan is all long, lanky muscle.

The image disturbed her and Chrissy had to stifle the urge to stick out her tongue at him. She settled for smiling up and batting her lashes at Welby.

From the corner of her eyes she saw Cole unfold himself from the wall and start toward her. He had the narrow-eyed, lean-hipped swagger of a gunfighter, and she halfway expected him to push aside his jacket and draw from a gunbelt. So when her grandfather stepped up to the double door leading from the saloon into the Marble Hall and called for quiet, she flashed a grin encouraging him to hurry.

The Earl of Thornbury saw her, registered her smile, and beamed. "Ladies and gentlemen, I wish to welcome you all to Hartsworth on this most special occasion. In honor of my darling granddaughter, Miss Christina Delaney of San Antonio, Texas, I invite you all to my portrayal of an authentic Western cowboy dance."

The doors swung open and the earl gestured his guests inside as the music swelled. Christina laughed when a fiddler, a pianist, an accordionist and a banjo player struck up the familiar tune of "Texas Breakdown."

The Great Hall had been transformed. Enormous baskets filled with yellow roses sat in front of each of the marble columns and filled the huge room with the scent of home. Above the far door hung a huge painting depicting crossed flagpoles, one flying the Texas flag, the other the Union Jack. Along each wall were displays of items either from Texas or related to the state.

Christina stood just inside the door in wonder. She found this sight before her as amazing as her first glimpse of Hartsworth and the Marble Hall.

She couldn't believe he had gone to this much trouble. She was touched. She was pleased. She wanted to cry.

Then Welby gasped loudly and she turned to look at him. His eyes were rounded with shock. "Lord Welby?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

He pointed and croaked out, "Look!"

She followed the path he indicated and her chin dropped. The statues. How could she have missed them before? The giggle started low in her throat and bubbled up. It took all her effort to keep it from bursting free.

Somebody—and she knew without a doubt who those somebodies were—had dressed all the statues in the hall... in Viscount Welby's precious vests.

Those scamps. They promised me they'd put them back.

The tittering throughout the hall suggested many of the guests had recognized the vests, as well. Welby's handsome face grew flushed. "Those children!" he exclaimed, obviously reaching the same conclusion as Chrissy. "They've gone too far this time. Mrs. Kleberg is simply too easy on them. They need to be punished and if she won't do it, I will."

Chrissy froze. "Wait a minute, Welby."

"Where are they?" he muttered, seeming to forget Chrissy entirely. He gazed around the hall. "Where is she? This is ridiculous. Doesn't she see she needs help with those two?"

"Welby?"

He patted her hand. "Excuse me, Christina. There is something I must do." Then her fiancé abandoned her on the ballroom floor.

"Well," she said in a feminine huff, her gaze locked on Lord Welby's departing back. "Isn't this a fine how-do-you-do?"

"Not in my eyes, it's not," Cole said, coming up beside her. He gripped her elbow and tugged her toward the center of the hall.

"Cole, what are you—?"

"It's time to do-si-do, sweetheart. Half of England is here watching and waiting for us to show them how it's done. Few folks from Texas, too," he added, nodding toward the musicians.

"Texas?" She jerked her gaze to where he indicated, halfway expecting to see her mother.
Wouldn't that just cap off this day?
Instead she recognized the caller, the fiddler and his pianist, the accordionist and the strummer on the banjo. They were all from San Antonio, the regular players at the Saturday night cowboy dances held in the public assembly hall.

"How did they get here?"

"I doubt they swam," he replied, drawing her toward the center of the hall where three couples waited. "C'mon, we're the fourth two of the opening square."

The fiddler made a fast run-through of his scales and Chrissy quit worrying about Welby. Since her grandfather went to the trouble to make these arrangements, she thought it only right to make the effort to enjoy the results. Besides, she'd always loved square dancing.

She nodded hellos to the three other couples who would participate in this dance, and moments later, the music began and the caller went to work. "Honors right and honors left. All join hands and circle to the left. Break and swing and promenade back."

Chrissy's mind whirled right along with her body as the caller guided them into The Ocean Wave, a dance requiring careful teamwork and timing. It was one of her favorites and though she tried to lose herself in the dance, she found she couldn't.

This particular dance required that Cole rest his hand at her waist. It proved to be a major distraction. Every time he touched her, she burned. Every time he looked at her, his bluebonnet eyes warm and knowing, she sizzled.

Nervously, she cast her gaze around the Great Hall looking for Welby. She needed to see him for a reminder of what she was about. But she didn't spy her fiancé among the crowd, although she did see Lana and both of the children relieving the statues of their wardrobes.

The caller sang out, "Wave to the ocean, wave the sea. Wave that pretty girl back to me."

"Wave, pretty girl," Cole murmured in her ear.

Shivers chased up and down her skin and she yearned to lean against him. The notion brought her to despair. What was she doing? How could she possibly be thinking of marrying Welby when she loved Cole?

The tall, broad Texan swung her around as the dance required, and the dizzying sensation that resulted in her stomach reminded her of the interlude they'd spent in her bed.
How can I go the rest of
my
life and never know that glory again?

Maybe lovemaking was always that way. Maybe she'd find the same joy with Welby.

Or maybe not.

The next portion of the dance called for Chrissy to remain in place, clapping to the music while each couple in turn performed their swing. While she did so, her gaze again sought the viscount, and this time she found him. He and Michael Kleberg were busy stripping a blue satin vest off the statue of David. A couple of Welby's gentlemen friends hovered around, apparently offering jibes. The viscount smiled blandly at them, then showed the boy how to properly fold the garment.

Chrissy studied her fiancé, willing herself to feel an allure. It didn't work, so she tried again, mentally enumerating all his attractive features and characteristics. But no, handsome as he was, he didn't make her blood thrum and her heart sing. Almost against her will, she recalled that the single kiss they had shared had raised only mild interest in her.

She lifted her gaze to Cole's mouth. His kiss was different, much different. His hands weren't the only thing that were magic. She wondered if every woman he kissed felt the passion he so easily roused within her.

That thought made her stomach go sour, and she returned her attention to the dance. A few minutes later, the caller began the ending. "Left Allemande, and a right hand grand, Plant your 'taters in a sandy land, And promenade home!"

The ball guests clapped as the music died away. Chrissy pasted on a smile and nodded her acceptance of the accolades. Cole did the same, then lifted her hand to his mouth for a kiss. "A pleasure as always, Lady Bug," he said softly.

The rapid beat of Chrissy's pulse and the shortness of her breath had little to do with the physical exertion of the dance, and everything to do with her partner. As the caller announced a Circle Two-Step, inviting everyone to join in and learn the simple steps, she used the resulting press of dancers to slip away from Cole. Another moment in his presence, of his couch, his kiss, and she might do something even more reckless than her present course of action.

She might agree to marry him.

Chrissy decided she should spend some time with Welby. First, however, she found her grandfather.