And the merriment continued to escalate.
The dancing became more spirited as a grandly uniformed mariachi band took the dais shortly after eleven. The laughter and talk grew louder as freely flowing champagne was consumed by young and old alike.
Anna, sipping the bubbly wine from a stemmed glass, moved her shoulders in rhythm with the music while she watched smiling vaqueros spin their wives and sweethearts around the dance floor.
Whistles and shouts rose from the crowd when the band, led by a burly, mustachioed cornet player, broke into a rousing rendition of a Mexican dance. Sally, draining her second glass of champagne, slammed the glass down on the table, licked her lips and reached for Anna’s hand.
“Come on, Anna! Let’s go down and join them.”
Feeling warm and giddy and totally confident from the effects of the champagne, Anna thought it sounded like a fine idea. She laughed, nodded, reached out and plucked a red rose from the table’s centerpiece. She snapped the stem, stuck the scarlet rose in her hair above her left ear and said to Dr. McCelland, “You will excuse us, won’t you, Doctor?” And didn’t wait for a reply.
Eager to get down to the floor, Sally, clinging to Anna’s hand, pulled her firmly along. As they maneuvered through the mob, Anna cast a quick glance at Brit’s table. Her heartbeat instantly quickened. He was looking directly at her. Their eyes held for one fleeting second, sending shivers of excitement through Anna.
At last Sally and Anna reached the crowded dance floor.
Their hands clasped behind their backs, bright smiles on their olive faces, vaqueros lifted their-knees high and struck the heels of their boots against the wooden floor as they turned and spun and danced around their female partners.
Anna studied the movements of the pretty señoritas and imitated them. She was a quick study. In less than a minute she had the steps down and was whirling around, stamping her heels and swirling her skirts with the best of them.
With the white ruffled bodice slipping low down one arm, Anna flirtatiously flashed her skirts, moved her bare shoulders provocatively and swished her long hair about as she turned her head one way, then the other.
She quickly drew an appreciative audience. Soon other dancers stopped to watch and applaud. Laughing, feeling flushed and wonderful, Anna danced ardently, bringing her own special brand of playfulness and passion to the lively tune. Lost in a world of her own, she was oblivious to those around her. She was unaware of all the attention she attracted by dancing with happy abandon.
But if she was unaware, Brit was all too cognizant. His dark face set in hard lines, his firm jaw ridged, he watched unblinking as the whirling, laughing Anna easily beguiled dozens of other men, just as she beguiled him. He saw the way they looked at her, knew what they were thinking, what they were feeling.
His chest uncomfortably tight, his teeth clamped so hard his jaws hurt, Brit manfully fought the fierce temptation to go down and yank her right off the floor. To scold her hotly for behaving so seductively and making a spectacle of herself. To let her know in no uncertain terms that she was never to dance and flirt and flash her skirts for anyone but him.
Brit exhaled heavily when the rollicking dance finally ended and a breathless Anna left the floor and headed back to her table, amidst much appreciative applause and shouts for more.
Pushing her heavy hair behind her ear, Anna again glanced at Brit. And a jolt of unease shot through her. He was looking at her, but his eyes were icy cold. Anna was baffled.
Back at the table, she gratefully accepted another glass of chilled champagne and drank thirstily. And she laughed, delighted, at the shocked expression that came to Sally’s flushed face when big Buck Shanahan walked up, nodded to everyone, paid his polite respects to LaDextra, then looked at Sally and asked, “Miss Sally, would you care to dance?”
Her eyes wide, her mouth rounded into an O, Sally couldn’t speak. Could only nod. But she shot to her feet so fast her chair overturned. Grinning, Buck righted the chair, took Sally’s arm and led her down to the dance floor.
“You’re looking mighty pretty tonight in that bright yellow dress,” Buck said as he took Sally in his arms.
Sally replied brashly, “You’re looking mighty pretty tonight in that starched white shirt.”
Buck threw back his blond head and laughed. His arm tightened around her waist and he said, “Say, you’ve lost some weight.”
“A pound or two perhaps,” said Sally, cleverly concealing the fact that she’d been starving herself for the past two weeks so she could fit into the new yellow dress.
“Well, I hope you don’t lose any more,” said Buck.
Sally stopped dancing. “You mean you don’t trunk I’m fat?”
“Fat? You?” Buck snorted. “No sirree, Miss Sally. Anything I hate it’s a scrawny woman.” His arm again tightened around her. “You feel just about right to me.”
Overjoyed, Sally tightened her hand possessively on Buck’s strong neck and said coquettishly, “And you feel absolutely perfect to me.”
Buck’s face reddened. But he squeezed her other hand and said, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Sally.”
“Ask me now.”
“How come you and me never got together?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing.”
“Well, you reckon I could come call on you one of these evenings?”
“Is tomorrow night too soon?” was her quick reply.
Anna smiled with amused pleasure as she watched Sally and Buck spin around the dance floor. Sally was obviously thrilled that Buck had noticed her. And from the wide grin on Buck’s face, the feeling must have been mutual. When the song ended and another began, the couple stayed on the floor.
Anna continued to sip the smooth champagne and converse with the attentive Dr. McCelland. The two of them were discussing how much they were looking forward to the midnight fireworks display when they were abruptly interrupted. A young Regent vaquero came rushing up to the table, out of breath, excited.
“I am sorry, Dr. McCelland. Por favor, forgive me, señorita,” the man said apologetically. “Doctor, it is time. My Maria, she has gone into labor. She needs you!”
Dr. McCelland was on his feet immediately. Calmly patting the shoulder of the nervous, expectant father, he said, “I’ll get my bag out of the carriage, Rio. You hurry on back to Maria and I’ll meet you at your adobe in ten minutes.”
“Sí. Gracias, gracias!” The young man turned and rushed away.
To Anna, Dr. McCelland said, “It’s Maria Alverez’s first child, so I probably won’t be back for the fireworks.”
“I’m sorry you have to miss them,” said Anna.
The doctor smiled. “Next year perhaps.”
“Yes, next year,” Anna replied. “Now go. Maria needs you.”
“Good night, Anna,” he said, and left hurriedly.
“You haven’t danced with me all evening,” Beverly complained for the dozenth time. “Please, Brit. Let’s dance.”
Tired of hearing her whine, Brit said, “All right. One dance, but then that’s it.”
Certain she could make him change his mind, Beverly gave him a full-lipped smile and said, “Whatever you say, darling.”
They rose and headed down toward the dance floor. As they wove their way through the crowd, Brit took the opportunity to glance at Anna’s table. He saw Dr. McCelland rise, bid Anna good-night and leave. Brit’s heart kicked against his ribs.
He and Beverly reached the dance floor just as the orchestra changed tempos, began a romantic Latin ballad.
Anna took a drink of champagne. The band suddenly changed tempos. A slow Spanish love song floated on the still night air. Anna sighed, closed her eyes dreamily and imagined herself floating about the floor locked in Brit’s long arms.
She could almost feel his lean legs brushing against her own, could nearly catch his clean, masculine scent. Inwardly shivering, Anna opened her eyes, took another drink of champagne and turned in her chair to look down on the dance floor.
In the sea of couples swaying to the music, her attention was drawn to something winking and gleaming in the lights from the Japanese lanterns. She carefully focused. Several small silver disks were sparkling, reflecting the light.
Anna’s face immediately fell.
Those shiny silver disks winked and glittered from the long, black-trousered leg of Brit Caruth. He was turning slowly about on the floor, and in his arms was a radiant Beverly Harris. Anna swallowed hard as the strikingly handsome pair swayed and spun and moved gracefully to the slow romantic ballad.
Sick with jealousy, Anna bit her lip and fought the overwhelming desire to rush down to the floor and snatch Brit from the tenacious grasp of the sophisticated, red-haired temptress. To rebuke him scathingly for dancing with Beverly. To make it crystal clear that he was never to hold any other woman but Anna herself in such a sensuous, intimate way.
“Anna, where did Dr. McCelland go?” LaDextra’s firm voice shook her from her troubled reveries.
Anna forced a smile to her face and, speaking loudly to be heard, explained the doctor’s abrupt departure. “Maria Alverez is having her baby.”
“Ah, good,” LaDextra said, nodding. Then, motioning, she added, “Move on down here by Will and me.”
Anna complied. She pulled up a chair beside LaDextra.
“You having a good time, child?”
“The best time of my life,” Anna assured her, knowing that’s what LaDextra wanted to hear and feeling, somehow, that before the night ended it would be the best time of her life.
LaDextra beamed.
Anna spent a few pleasant minutes visiting with LaDextra and Will. At the same time she managed to steal covert glimpses at Brit as the love song ended and he and Beverly headed back to their table. She saw Beverly say something to Brit, then leave him to weave her way alone through the crowd and up toward the house.
Anna tried, but could not hide her restlessness. Astute, LaDextra sensed it.
“You’ve spent enough time with us old folks, Anna,” said the older woman. “And you’ve spent the entire evening at this table. Why don’t you walk around a little? Mix and mingle. Circulate. Meet some new young folks. See what mischief you can get into.” Her light eyes twinkled.
Anna smiled, kissed LaDextra’s wrinkled cheek and whispered, “You’re a wise woman, LaDextra Regent.”
LaDextra chuckled merrily. “I don’t know about that, but I was once a young woman, and after all these years I can still remember what it was like.” She inclined her white head toward the dance floor. “I see lots of good-looking young men who’d be thrilled if you said hello.”
Anna took one last drink from her champagne glass, set it aside and rose. “Good night, LaDextra. Good night, Will.”
“You be careful, you hear?” said the fatherly Will.
“You enjoy yourself,” said the understanding LaDextra.
Anna wandered away.
Brit noticed the moment she left the table. Grateful that Beverly had decided to go to the house and freshen up, he hurriedly rose to his feet.
Anna did as LaDextra had suggested. She mixed and mingled, moving unhurriedly through the crowd, introducing herself, shaking hands with men and women alike. But she managed to always keep Brit within sight, watched him as he, too, maneuvered leisurely through the gathering, greeting people, sharing a word here and a laugh there.
For the next half hour the two of them distractedly circled each other. Both migrated steadily toward the far north end of the packed dance floor. As if they had verbally communicated, had told each other exactly where and when they would finally meet, each gravitated toward the same spot.
Without a word being spoken, the two of them shared an exciting secret. They were, both knew, now on a steady course toward that long-awaited clandestine meeting. Players in an exciting drama, they were the principals, obeying a strange, bewitching mating call. They were partners in a seductive, well-orchestrated, perfectly choreographed dance of desire.
It was a marvelous, magical game that only they knew they were playing. Each was adept at his and her part. When Anna stopped to talk with guests, she never failed to look at Brit and let him know she was aware he was following her and that she wanted him to continue to follow her.
If Brit, moving through the multitude, was temporarily lost from Anna’s view, he made it a point to step out into the open and nod to her. The game proved to be great fun. So much fun they were reluctant to end it. They purposely made the thrilling exercise last, stretched it out, played hide-and-seek with each other. And with every moment that ticked away, their shared excitement grew, their mutual anticipation heightened.
Finally they could stand the sweet agony no longer.
At last they met.
Face-to-face, they stood in the shadows just beyond the lighted dance floor. As naturally as if it had all been preordained, Brit gently took Anna’s hand in his, clasped it close to his chest and commandingly led her a few yards farther into the star-light.
He stopped beneath an old elm tree, turned to her and, gazing into her sparkling eyes, anxiously took her in his arms and kissed her.
It was a long, intrusive kiss of such fiery passion that Anna shuddered against him, melting completely. As if he were afraid to release her lips lest she run away, Brit continued to kiss her hotly, masterfully, molding her mouth to his, teaching her how to kiss, taking her breath away. Her wits scattered, her heart pounding, Anna clung to him and gloried in the prolonged, devastating kisses. Deeply penetrating kisses that thrilled her, overwhelmed her, conquered her.
Brit’s hot lips and probing tongue drew all the strength from Anna until she was weak and totally limp in his arms.
Finally he tore his burning lips from hers, again took her hand and eagerly drew her along with him, moving steadily away from the lights and the music and the crowd.
Hurrying to keep up with his long, determined strides, Anna could only nod when he said, “The house is full of guests, we don’t dare go there.” Again he stopped, bent his head, kissed her, then said, “There’s only one place where we can be alone.”
He held his breath and waited for her answer.
“Take me there,” she said, putting her hand to his tanned cheek and drawing his face back down to hers so that she could kiss him.
And in her kiss was all the need, all the passion, all the love she had saved for a lifetime. Brit’s knees buckled and his heart thundered in his chest. He quickly moved his booted feet apart to brace himself, wrapped his arms around her, tore his lips from hers and pressed hot, desperate kisses to the warm curve of her neck and shoulder, waiting for his strength and his equilibrium to return.
When finally they did, he scooped Anna up off the ground and sprinted down a narrow, winding path toward the only place where they could be alone without danger of being caught. Brit was so eager to get her there, he ran every step of the way, while Anna, her arms looped around his neck, clung trustingly to him.
In minutes they reached a sturdy stone structure totally isolated from all the other ranch outbuildings. With Anna held high against his chest, Brit ducked inside the stable where he housed his prized stallion, Captain.
The stallion whinnied happily at the sight of his master, anticipating a soothing rubdown or a few cubes of sugar. Ignoring the big gray, Brit shoved Anna none too gently up against the wall and hungrily kissed her. His tongue aggressively delved deep, touching and stroking all the sensitive places inside her mouth.
And as he kissed her his hands captured and flattened hers against the wall, and he firmly thrust his trousered knee between her legs, boldly pressing his hard muscled thigh flush against her groin through the skirts of her white eyelet dress.
He sighed into her open mouth when she eagerly began to rub herself against his bent knee. On fire, completely carried away, Anna slipped her hands free of Brit’s and lowered them to his slim hips. Her eyes closed, her tongue stroking and mating with his, she moved rhythmically against him, seeking the partial balm to this burning passion that his hard, muscular thigh afforded.
For a time they stood there like that, mimicking the erotic movements of full-fledged lovemaking. Her hands on Brit’s hips as they moved together, Anna grew so excited she twisted one of the silver conchos on his trouser leg until it came off in her hand.
She was clutching the silver disk tightly when Brit’s hot lips finally lifted from hers. Her eyes came open as he raised his head and said in a husky baritone, “You’re not going to kill me if I make love to you, are you?”
Breathless, yearning so much she actually hurt, Anna whispered, “I will kill you if you don’t.”