Love and Honor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 7 (6 page)

After perhaps five minutes, she moved to the huge double doors, ignoring the doorman’s wide-eyed stare. She stepped into the marble foyer overlooking the huge ballroom. It was like entering another world—a world of crystal and light, gold and silver, against a background of soft music and laughter.

Then, just as she had anticipated, a hush fell over the ballroom. Every guest looked up to stare as Kit allowed the white ermine cape she was wearing to fall into the waiting arms of a servant.

She stood regally at the top of the stairway leading down to the circular room, her chin held high as soft whispers began to creep out of the silence. What would happen next? she wondered frantically. Was her mother going to faint? Would her father furiously escort her out?

Through the blur of faces staring up at her as she began to descend the stairs, she saw Kitty, fighting back tears of pride and joy, and Marilee, wistful and envious, wishing it were
she
in the spotlight. And Kit could see her brother, a mixture of emotions on his face as he realized perhaps for the first time just how grown up his “little” sister really was.

Then her heart skipped a beat as she saw her father step forward from the crowd. She could see that his gray eyes were shining with—what? He didn’t look angry as he walked slowly up the stairs to meet her.

There was the shadow of a smile on his lips, and Kit realized that he was trying to suppress his delight as he reached her side and held out his arm to escort her the rest of the way. “I’m afraid, my darling daughter,” he leaned close to whisper, “that your scheme backfired.”

She looked at him and blinked, bewildered.

He nodded, ever so slightly, to where Jade stood looking up at them. There was no mistaking her pride. “This is what she’s dreamed of—for you to be the center of attention, a star, as she was. I’m afraid you really don’t know your mother, Kit. She’s not a prude. She’s a lady through and through, but, never would she turn up her nose at high fashion. So, instead of shocking her, you’ve made her quite proud…and myself as well,” he added with an adoring smile.

The orchestra had faltered when everyone stopped dancing, but had quickly recovered with the lilting strains of a waltz.

Colt led his daughter to the middle of the ballroom, and everyone stepped back to let them pass. They began to dance, and the crowd watched in admiration, for they were an impressive sight—proud, handsome father with his stunningly beautiful daughter.

“You saved me the cost of a formal debut,” he teased her, enjoying her astonishment that her plan had failed.

“I…I thought you’d be mad,” Kit admitted.

Colt laughed. “Why should I be mad? Of course”—he glanced down at her gown, giving his head a slight shake—“I think you chose a dress that is a little bit old for you, but when I heard that your grandmother went shopping with you, quite frankly, I expected as much, and so did your mother. And by the way, you two didn’t fool either one of us with that little act about not being ready on time and insisting we go on without you.”

Kit sighed, disappointed. “Well, I’d hoped that Mother would be so mad she’d never dare nag at me again.”

Colt’s expression was sympathetic. “I know. She wants to take you back to New York. Sometimes I agree with her, but I also realize that you’re all grown up, Kit, and you’ve got a mind of your own. I’m caught in the middle, but I want you to know that I’m holding out for your sake. For how long, though, I don’t know. I won’t make any promises.”

Colt nodded toward several young men standing to one side of the room, their eyes devouring Kit as they waited for their chance to dance with her. “You’ve attracted the attention of every bachelor in Spain. Maybe there’s one out there who’ll make you a good husband, then your mother couldn’t object to leaving you here when we do go home.”

Kit groaned, making a face. “The last thing I want to do is get married. I just want my own little ranch, my own life, to live as I want to.”

Colt stared down at her thoughtfully. “You mean that, don’t you, kitten?”

She nodded solemnly.

“Well, I can’t agree with that,” he told her sternly.

Kit did not respond, because she was not about to abandon her dream. She was grateful that just then the dance ended.

Travis was waiting to take his father’s place. “Thought you were doing something cute, didn’t you?” he teased her as they danced. “Well, you had just the opposite effect on Mother. She’s tickled to death…says she’s never been prouder.”

Quietly, firmly, Kit told him, “I’m not going to live in New York, Travis. They may make me move there, but sooner or later I’ll find a way to come back here.”

He sighed. “You are stubborn, little sister, and I think I’d better let you in on a little secret—they know how stubborn you are, so unless you find yourself a wealthy husband, you won’t have the money to stay here…or their blessing,” he added grimly.

Kit stiffened, momentarily losing the rhythm of the dance. She quickly recovered and demanded, “What’s that supposed to mean? I’ve got my trust fund, the money Grandpa left me, and—”

“And Dad is the trustee,” Travis informed her. “I heard them talking, and there’s no way you’ll get your hands on that money until he says so. You know he’ll never agree to your using it to stay in Spain. The best thing for you to do is get used to the idea of living in America again.”

Kit tossed her head haughtily, not about to let Travis upset her. Besides, he wasn’t telling her anything she did not already know. Her eyes found Kitty, beaming happily, as they swirled about the floor. She felt secure in the knowledge that she had options, whether her parents knew it or not, and when the time came, she would be ready.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Travis interrupted her private thoughts, “and I don’t think it’s fair for you to ask her.”

Kit looked at him sharply. “Just mind your own business. It’s my life.”

Travis sighed, grateful that the dance was ending, for a lovely blond in a turquoise gown had caught his eye.

In the shadows of a leaf palm, a man stood alone watching. He, too, was glad their dance had ended, for he had personally asked the orchestra leader not to play another waltz. He wanted to dance with the girl with the shimmering golden-red hair and unusual lavender eyes that smoldered with mysterious rebellion and sensuality. He had a feeling that she could dance something other than the impotent waltz.

Travis escorted Kit toward a group of eager young men. The music began slowly, yet the beat of the drums grew steadily faster as the rhythm quickened to a feverish pace.

People exchanged curious glances. They knew the tango when they heard it, but few could perform the intricate steps.

The man with the dark, brooding eyes watched as one of the young embassy aides moved forward, unable to wait any longer for a chance to hold the loveliest girl at the ball in his arms. He eagerly took Kit by the hand and as they began to move, the man smiled to himself. He had been right. She did know how to do the intricate steps—but her partner did not. He was stiff, awkward, a pathetic dancer.

He stepped forward into the light. He was tall and well-built, his broad shoulders and sinewy muscles encased in a tight suit of black velvet. His shaggy raven-black hair was swept back from his forehead, unruly locks curling at his collar. His lowered lashes were surprisingly long, veiling coffee-brown eyes that missed nothing. The play of a dimple to the left of his mouth marked a crooked, often taunting smile. A tiny scar just below his right eye only made him more attractive.

He crossed the floor to where Kit was trying pitifully to match the awkward rhythm of her inept partner. When he reached them, Kit’s partner was so stunned at the intrusion that he just stopped dancing and stood there, a questioning look on his face.

Kit stared up at the stranger. She drew in her breath softly, assailed by a feeling she had experienced only in her private, secret dreams of love, when a faceless stranger held her and took her to ethereal heights of passion. He was unforgettable—so handsome, yet he emanated a sense of feral power that she found strangely desirable.

Kit met his probing gaze. For one flickering instant, it seemed as though he could see right through her black velvet gown to her bare flesh. A mysterious little smile touched his lips, as if to say that he was pleased with what he saw there.

He did not look at her partner as he declared huskily, “It seems the lady has a special need.”

With a movement so swift that Kit had no time to object, he swept her into his arms, whirling her completely around and dipping her backward, so low that her long hair brushed against the floor. He held her there for an instant, his dark eyes proudly challenging. “Kurt Tanner,” he casually introduced himself, swinging her up, forward and back into a dip once more. “Can you dance with me?”

Kit was tingling from head to toe with anticipation. She sensed that this savage of a man could match her every step in a way no other partner ever had before. With a provocative laugh, she gave a high kick as he swung her once more, her gown falling away to reveal a long, shapely leg. There was no mistaking the soft gasps of their audience. “I think,” Kit said with a bold wink, “the question is—can
you
dance with
me
?”

“There’s one way to find out,
mi
princesa
.” He returned the wink, announcing, “Milonga, my princess, the outlaw Spanish tango!”

He drew her up to stand tall and straight before him as the throbbing cadence of the music made the very air about them seem to vibrate with emotion. They were unaware that other dancers had given up their attempts to do the intricate, difficult dance and had backed from the floor. All in attendance ringed the room to watch the stunning couple. The crystal-and-gold chandeliers bathed their bodies in shimmering light. They were a vision of sensuality in black lace and velvet, whirling together through the charged atmosphere.

Kurt Tanner slid his right hand from Kit’s shoulder down her back and along the curve of her hips. Their fingers interlocked as their cheeks turned first left, then right. Kit allowed him to bend her effortlessly backward once more, her bare leg kicking up and out of the velvet slit, sending a ripple through the onlookers once more.

As one they sidestepped to the left, made a swift kick, and turned abruptly. Kurt moved with precision, guiding her through breathless dips and swings. Then he lifted her up in the air with one arm, holding her aloft as he turned round and round. Kit balanced regally, legs outstretched, arms high above her head in an arch. Then suddenly he dropped her, to the awed cries of the crowd, catching her easily to swing her about in a wide sweep. He brought her almost to the floor and leaned over her, his breath warm against her cheek. His eyes met hers in a fiery challenge of dance and lust. And although no one else could see, he slid his thumb up from her waist to touch her nipples through the soft velvet bodice of her gown. Kit instantly felt the sensation, and he saw in her eyes that she enjoyed it. He smiled that arrogant, taunting smile once more.

The music ended with a crashing crescendo, and the room exploded in cheers and applause.

Kurt held her tightly, dipped low in his arms. He saw in her eyes a myriad of emotions—the frightened look of a trapped animal giving way to the fierce determination of a survivor. This woman offered a dangerous challenge of her own.

“As I said”—Kurt gave her a lopsided grin—“the lady has a special need.” He dared to brush his lips boldly against her throat, touching his tongue against her warm flesh.

Kit was too proud to struggle in his arms. She would not give him the pleasure of letting him know the desperate fear and hunger that churned within her—a hunger that he had awakened…and she knew, without doubt, that he could satisfy. He was arrogant, insolent, and conceited, but he was also devastatingly handsome. Yet she was secure in her dignity. She was not about to be one of his fawning female admirers. “And the question was,
arrogante
, can you dance with me?”

Kurt raised her up, set her on tiptoe, and kissed her soundly. “Time will tell.” He winked. Nodding, he turned quickly and disappeared into the crowd.

Chapter Five

It was the first week of January 1913, and the holiday of Dia de los Reyes, the Procession of the Three Kings, when children received their Christmas gifts. Kit was lonely, because Carasia had been given time off to enjoy the holiday with her family. They were as close as sisters, and Kit especially missed her on her daily ride, because Carasia always hurried to finish her work so she could accompany her.

Alone or not, Kit was not about to stay around the house with her mother, especially since the embassy ball. Her scheme had backfired all right, and her mother was worse than ever, nagging her to have parties and socials. The young men who were constantly calling were also a nuisance. On this particular day, Kit was determined to be away, because Esteban Yubero was in town and her mother had invited him to have tea. So, before the first light of day, she had packed a knapsack with cheese, fruit, and a canteen, and quietly sneaked out of the house to saddle Belle and be on her way before her mother awoke. She planned to ride all the way to the Rio Turia—to retreat from the world and dwell in her dreams, if only for a little while. She would face her mother’s anger later.

Kit now crossed the back pasture and rode alongside the creek bank, moving to a knoll at the rear of Doc Frazier’s land where she could watch the ever awesome spectacle of the sun’s victory over darkness. It was a lovely morning, blue and gold, the sleeping winter fields a blanket of bronze.