Authors: Bobbi Smith
“Oh…” he said in a loud voice. “Excuse me.”
Martin froze and then twisted to see who had entered the room. “Mr. Westlake.” He nodded stiffly. “Is there something I can help you with?”
Delight took advantage of his momentary discomfort to edge away from him.
“I was looking for Delight,” Jim replied smoothly. “I believe this was to be our dance. Your mother told me I might find you here.” Jim lied easily. “But, if you’re busy…”
“No!” she answered, eagerly moving to Jim’s side. “I’m not busy. In fact, you’re right about this being our waltz. If you’ll excuse us, Martin?”
Martin watched them leave the room, alternately torn between frustrated anger at being caught and worry that Clara would find out.
“Thank you,” she whispered as Jim guided her out of the study. But, when he took her elbow and directed her, not toward the ballroom but into the quiet of the music room at the end of the hall, she panicked.
“I thought we were going to dance…” Close to the breaking point, she glared up at him, jerking her arm free of his strong, yet oddly gentle, grip.
Jim cocked an amused eyebrow at her, his tone mocking. “Murphy…or should I call you Delight? There are many things I’d like to do with you right now, but dancing is not
one of them.” With a certain finality, he shut the door behind them.
Delight swallowed nervously, her eyes wide, reflecting her inner tension. “I really have to get back to my guests…” She tried to turn and leave the room, but Jim’s hand snaked out and grasped her wrist, pulling her back tight against his chest.
“Not so fast. I think we have a few things to settle between us.” The feel of her pressed full-length against him set his heart to thundering, and he gazed down at her, suddenly a captive of her startled, fawnlike gaze.
“Jim.” Her voice was breathless. “There’s nothing to settle…it’s over…it never really was…”
Her heart was dying as she denied her innermost feelings. He was here…in her own home…holding her as she’d always dreamed he would. But that was where the fantasy ended. He wasn’t here to declare his love and claim her for his own. He was here with his fiancée to attend a party. Their meeting tonight had been a chance thing. He hadn’t looked for her. He didn’t care. She closed her eyes as the painful realization seared her.
“Murphy.” The word was spoken softly, and she couldn’t prevent the shiver of anticipation that shook her as Jim released her wrist and brought his hands up to frame her pale face. “Ah…Murphy.” Her name came from him in a strangled, soul-wrenching sound as he bent to claim her lips in a tender, sweet-soft kiss.
Delight trembled as his mouth met hers. Though fragile and dreamlike, the effect of his embrace was electrifying, and she fought against it. He was going to marry Annabelle! And Annabelle was right in the next room! With all the strength she could muster, she tore herself from his arms.
“No!” Her chest was heaving as she faced him, terrified of the power he had over her. “Do you think I got away from Martin just to come in here with you? Go back to your fiancée, Jim Westlake, and leave me alone!”
Turning on her heel, she fled the room, leaving Jim standing in the middle of the room aching with his need for her.
The next few hours passed slowly and almost painfully for Delight. She danced with all who asked, drank glass after glass of the potent punch, and kept her smile bright and her laugh light, but inside she felt cold…lifeless. And Jim’s presence only made matters worse. Every time she looked up he was there. And he was always with Annabelle…dancing with her…talking with her….
As the music ended, Delight’s current partner accompanied her from the floor and went to get her a cup of punch. Standing momentarily alone, she was unprepared for Jim’s sudden unexpected appearance at her side as the orchestra began another waltz.
“I believe this is our dance.” His tone brooked no comment as she looked up at him, startled.
“No…I mean…I’m tired and I thought I’d rest for a while.”
“Murphy…” he threatened, and she glared at him.
“Don’t call me that!”
“Then dance with me. You owe me that much.”
“I owe you nothing!” she hissed, schooling her features into a mask of politeness.
“You owe me plenty, little girl!” Jim was as close to losing his temper as he’d ever been in his life. It was bad enough that she’d walked off and left him earlier with his body aching for the touch of hers. And then he’d had to suffer through watching her dance with all the available young men there tonight. He’d had enough. With a grip that was none too gentle, he took her into his arms and swept her out onto the dance floor.
Delight was furious and more than a little shaken by the emotion she’d just witnessed in him. What did he mean, she “owed” him?
“Jim…” She began.
But he cut her off. “Shut up. If you value your reputation, just shut up.”
Sensing a barely restrained violence in him, she fell silent, paling at the thought of what he could do to her if he so chose.
Jim’s movements around the dance floor were smooth and deceptively easy, as he held her as close as he could without causing a scandal. He could hardly believe that she was finally in his arms. She fit as if she belonged there, and they danced in a strained, silent wonder, moving as one in time with the lilting strains of the waltz.
Although she was very nervous, Delight closed her eyes for a minute and let herself believe that her dream really had come true…that he
had
been searching for her…that he had come to take her away with him…that he did love her as she loved him. The thought made her smile.
Jim glanced down at her as he felt some of the tension leave her body. But when he noted what he assumed was an expression of sublime contentment on her face, his expression hardened. How dare she look so content after the chase she’d led him on!
Jim’s voice was almost too sharp when he spoke, and she looked up at him quickly. “We have to talk.”
She trembled as the harshness of his voice grated on her nerves. “I don’t see the need…it’ll only make matters worse.”
“I want some answers from you,” he demanded.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she stated flatly. What more was there to say? He had Annabelle and his life, and she—well, she was doing just fine.
“I’ve got news for you, lady. We’re going to talk, and right now.”
“But why? There’s nothing more we can say to each other. What happened was an accident.”
Jim was seething. Did she mean that she didn’t really love him? “So, you
did
use me,” he concluded scathingly.
“Use you?” Delight looked up at him, tears threatening.
Wanting to hurt her as she was hurting him, he dragged up the spy charge. “The contracts…you did have ample opportunity to read them…”
“Contracts? What are you talking about?”
“I think we’d better get out of here. Is there somewhere we can go to talk? Someplace private?” He refused to look at her again, for the pain he’d seen in her eyes had seared his soul, and he needed to set things straight between them. Now. The dance ended, but Jim didn’t release her. “Well?” he demanded.
“Maybe the study…” she said brokenly.
“Let’s go.”
They were starting out the door when Annabelle’s call stopped them. “Jim, darling…could you join us for a moment?”
He turned, forcing himself into a semblance of civility. “Of course. I’ll be right with you, Annabelle.” Turning back to Delight, he spoke in earnest. “What I have to say will take a while, and this is not the time or place. After the ball…I’ll be back. Be waiting for me outside, or I’ll wake up the whole damned house.”
Delight blanched.
“Do you understand me, Murphy?” He emphasized her “name.”
“I understand,” she managed as Annabelle came to Jim’s side and took his arm.
“Thank you for the dance, Delight,” he said courteously, bowing slightly before walking away with Annabelle.
And Delight sighed in defeat as she watched them go.
Although he was anxious for the evening to draw to a close, Jim was trying carefully to disguise his emotions. Rejoining the party, he tried to pay court to Annabelle; but, though he danced each dance with her and listened attentively to her every utterance, his thoughts were only for Murphy/Delight.
He had learned much this night, and most of it was quite disturbing. He knew now that Martin Montgomery very well could have been the reason for Delight’s flight into anonymity. As an innocent young woman, what recourse would she have had if her stepfather abused her, except to run away? Jim could understand her predicament, if indeed Martin was the cause. All that was left in doubt now was her possible connection with the Southern spies.
Wanting to discuss the situation with Marshall, Jim finally managed to draw him aside.
“I need to speak with you alone,” he said urgently.
“Why?” Marshall was surprised by his unusual request.
Jim gave him an impatient look. “Trust me. It’s important.”
“All right. Let’s step out into the hall; maybe there’s somewhere we can speak in privacy.”
Leaving the room together, they sought a quiet niche at the end of the long hallway.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter, actually. I’ve just located Murphy.”
“Murphy? Here?”
“My darling cabin boy, Murphy, is none other than Miss Delight de Vries,” Jim told him triumphantly.
“Murphy is Delight?!” Marshall was stunned. “What did
she say? Did she explain why she ran away and disguised herself as a boy?”
“I don’t know all the answers yet. I really haven’t had a chance to speak with her at any length, but I’m going to.”
“You’re not going to do anything foolish, are you?”
“No. Of course not. I just have to set a few things straight between us.”
After a thoughtful silence, Marshall spoke again. “Well, that certainly eliminates Murphy as the possible spy.”
“Are you sure? Isn’t there a chance that a spy ring may be operating out of this house, or that she might have contact with them somehow?” Jim pushed, wanting her to be completely vindicated in his mind.
“None. Renee has known Delight for years. There’s no way she could have been the one passing the information about our gold shipments,” he concluded.
Jim nodded, his expression one of vast relief. “Good. That’s what I wanted to know.”
Putting a companionable arm about his brother’s shoulders, Jim headed them back into the ballroom—feeling considerably lighter of spirit now that his mysterious beauty had been found, as well as proven innocent of spying. Marshall was greatly amused by his brother’s predicament and wondered what in the world Jim was going to do about Annabelle.
Moving from his vantage point in the shadows at the end of the hall, Martin smiled evilly to himself. He had been livid when he’d overheard Marshall and Jim discussing Delight, but now he was glad that he’d eavesdropped. So, the little vixen had spent those two weeks away practically living with Jim Westlake as his cabin boy?
The conclusion he reached was inevitable. It hadn’t been an accident that Westlake had walked in on them in the study. Why Delight had probably been waiting for Jim to join her.…Fury and jealousy shook him as he realized that she could no longer be the sweet innocent. Somehow, he would find a way to pay them both back—Delight for refusing
him, and Jim for stealing what Martin irrationally considered his.
With the information he had just learned concerning the Westlakes and the gold shipments, Martin knew now that he was in a powerful bargaining position. Perhaps, if he made the right contacts with Confederate sympathizers in the area, he might be able to make an arrangement that would be satisfactory to both sides.
Dorrie Westlake was standing near the refreshment table when Mark Clayton joined her.
“Good evening, Mark.” Her smile was tentative, for he had seemed distant and preoccupied all evening. “It’s a lovely party, don’t you think?”
“Yes, it is.” His answer was almost curt.
“Is something bothering you tonight, Mark?” she asked, hoping to draw him out a little.
“No,” he replied, finishing off his bourbon and then setting the glass aside. “Nothing’s wrong, but I would like to dance with you.”
“I’d love to dance, Mark.” Dorrie liked Mark and had always found him to be a good friend.
Mark had been drinking all night, and now, emboldened by the liquor he’d consumed, he was ready to change his tactics in pursuit of Dorrie. No longer would he be satisfied with only being her friend. He needed more than that. He needed her love.
Leading her out onto the dance floor, he took her into his arms and joined the other couples as they circled gracefully about to the sensuous rhythm of the music.
Mark had been tremendously relieved when Wade MacIntosh had drawn duty tonight. He had known that Wade had been invited to the party, and he had dreaded the possibility of a confrontation with him over Dorrie. Tonight he wanted her all to himself, so he could convince her of his intentions. Studying her dark beauty as they danced together, Mark knew
that he would never be satisfied with any other woman. For him it was Dorrie or no one.
“Dorrie?” When she looked up at him questioningly, he continued, “I have to leave with Jim later this week, but I will be off duty Monday, and I was wondering if you’d like to go on an outing?”
She was surprised at his unexpected invitation. “Why, I’d like that Mark, very much.”
He smiled widely at her acceptance. “Good. I’ll plan on picking you up about two o’clock, and we can take in one of the expositions downtown.”
“It sounds lovely. Thank you.”
As the dance ended, he led her out into the now-deserted hall. “I’d like to speak with you privately for a moment, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course not, Mark.”
Opening the door to the deserted music room, he ushered Dorrie inside. When he closed the door behind them, she turned to him, puzzled.
“Mark?”
Without wasting time, his resolve strengthened by drink, he strode to her purposefully and kissed her.
Dorrie was at first a bit surprised by his actions, but, as she relaxed, she found Mark’s embrace to be quite pleasant. Slipping her arms about his neck, she returned his kiss, and she was surprised at the ardor he displayed at her small encouragement. She had never thought of Mark in romantic terms before, but now, wrapped in his arms and held tightly to his chest, she found the possibility wildly exciting.