He wanted to dance with her. It was ridiculous, but true. He wanted to feel her warm body move against his again. He wanted to know if she had given in to convention and worn a corset. And he hated to think that half a dozen other men already knew.
He realized he had actually started toward her and tried to stop himself. Instead, he thought of excuses for asking her to dance. They would be traveling together; they should be on friendly terms. He didn’t want her imagining that he was afraid of her. He didn’t want to pass up a chance to touch her.
He had made his way across two-thirds of the room when he noticed another man doing the same. The minx seemed to have set her sights on a colonel. Well, why was he surprised? The room probably looked like a huge buffet to her. He had only imagined her glances in his direction.
He stopped and waited for the colonel to claim her. He would dance one dance with the blonde, then leave. He hadn’t wanted to come in the first place. To his surprise, when the colonel moved onto the dance floor, it was the blonde he had on his arm. Miss Huntington was standing alone, holding two cups and smiling after them like a proud mother.
He moved quickly to her side. “Your cousin’s a fast learner,” he said.
She wasn’t surprised to see him, but the comment had taken her off guard. She gave herself a moment then smiled up at him. “Why, whatever do you mean?”
The little tease was mimicking his accent. He would ignore it. “You were instructing her in the fine art of flirting, weren’t you? It’s probably quite a challenge teaching someone something that comes so naturally to you.”
Her dimples deepened. “I do my best. Oh, look, here comes General Hale.”
Her means of escape, if that was what she wanted. And his, too. But he didn’t want to escape.
Rebecca spoke to the general before he came to a complete stop beside her. “General, your wife has given such a lovely party. We’re having a wonderful time.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, my dear. Lieutenant.”
Clark returned the greeting. He should excuse himself. He would. At the moment he opened his mouth, he felt her hand come down lightly on his arm. The cups were stacked in her other hand, and her attention was on the general. He looked down at the hand to make sure he hadn’t imagined it.
“General, could you do me a favor?”
What trouble did the lady have in mind?
“Anything, my dear,” the general said gallantly. Clark wanted to groan.
“Take care of our cups, will you? The lieutenant has just asked me to dance.”
It happened so quickly he felt a little light-headed. One moment he was ready to face General Hale’s displeasure, the next the dark-haired beauty was in his arms. After a moment he said, “I don’t recall asking you to dance.”
“But you did!” she declared, the picture of innocence. He opened his mouth to disagree only to have her add, “Your eyes did, at any rate.”
“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.”
She smiled up at him, her eyes dancing. “I’ll admit I might have seen what I wanted to. But if I hadn’t claimed this dance, you and the general would have started talking about army business, and I would have been bored to death with no graceful way of escape. No one’s asked me to dance for just ages.”
“Two dances.” At her surprised look he clarified, “You haven’t danced for two dances.”
“Keeping track, Lieutenant?”
Clark sighed and held her closer, spinning her around, hoping to distract her. The best policy for dealing with this young lady was to keep his mouth shut. She seemed content to dance, probably savoring her victory. He decided to savor the sensation of her in his arms. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed to feel the stays of a corset under the fabric of her dress.
She sighed gently; he felt it more than heard it. Probably calculated seduction. He would hate for her to know how well it was working. He wanted to hustle her outside to some lonely spot and claim at least a kiss. He didn’t dare. And she knew it.
Her right hand in his left shifted slightly. It felt like a caress, though it was probably calculated as well. They had begun the dance with their hands in the normal position, but now her fingers were wrapped around his thumb. It made her hand look small, vulnerable. A dangerous illusion, he decided.
When the music stopped, they broke away to join in the smattering of applause. He was torn between his desire to ask for another dance and his conviction that his only chance of leaving with a shred of dignity was to leave at once.
“Thank you, Miss Huntington. It’s been a pleasure.”
“Does it have to end so soon? There doesn’t seem to be a line of partners waiting for their turns.”
“Spread that smile around, and there will be. Good night, ma’am.”
Rebecca watched him go. She couldn’t believe she had flirted with him. Of course, it was almost automatic. But he already thought so poorly of her she should have left him alone. And he hadn’t responded at all!
Someone tapped her shoulder. “Would you care to dance?”
She shook her head, waving him away with barely a glance, her attention still on the door through which the lieutenant had gone. How could he be so immune to her when he did such wonderful things to her senses? Her heart was still racing, her fingers were .tingling. No doubt, her cheeks were flushed, perhaps even feverish. And he casually walked away.
After a gentlemanly compliment, true, but still he found her easy to resist. In fact, he had barely talked to her. She felt a smile tug at her lips and let it spread across her face. He had barely talked after he admitted to watching her all evening.
Clark sat behind the field desk, fighting the wind as he went through the last of the figures Sergeant Whiting had provided. The train was due to leave in one hour, but he had a feeling they would be delayed waiting for the women in whatever accommodation General Hale had deemed appropriate. As ordered.
He heard unhurried footsteps and caught a glimpse of uniformed legs on the other side of his desk. “One moment, soldier,” he said, marking his place and placing a rock on the stack of papers. He looked up at his visitor. And leaped to his feet, sending his chair crashing to the ground behind him.
“Miss Huntington?” It was a stupid question. Of course it was Miss Huntington. But she was dressed in a cavalry private’s uniform. He supposed he should be glad she hadn’t decided to outrank him. Her glossy black hair was pulled tightly back from her face and tucked precariously under a broadbrimmed hat Her eyes were brown sparkles and her cheeks were deeply dimpled.
“Am I less temptation now, sir?”
“What?” Clark’s power of reasoning seemed to have fled with his breath.
“You said three women might be temptation for the Indians. Now we look like three more soldiers.”
Clark shook his head. “Ma’am, you don’t look like a soldier.” He was trying hard to keep his eyes on her face and off the shapely body that filled out the uniform blouse and pants in a most unusual way.
“Well, not up close.”
She sounded exasperated, and he tried to pull himself together. An official question seemed to be the best way. “How soon will you be ready to travel?”
She brought her heels together. “Ready now! Sir!” This was followed by a smart salute. His hand moved to answer it before he caught himself. He had the distinct impression he was being mocked.
“We leave in one hour. Soldier.”
She answered his sarcasm with a dimpled grin, turned