dictates, and still, she did feel a curious fear by even speaking so as she did with a stranger, not even speaking, but simply listening to the things he said….
“Ah, and there leaps the light of fear into her eyes. There is no color on a man—red, black, or white—that will rub off upon your person. Though I can scarcelyimagine that my flesh could be more radiant than your hair.”
“You really do presume too damn much!” she heard herself hiss softly.
A slight smile curled his lip once again as he looked into the blaze that burned in the hearth.
“Ah! She swears!” he exclaimed, a teasing tone in his voice. He did not seem shocked, nor did he seem to mind.
“I’m not afraid of you in the least, sir,” she said. “Of your color, of your words, of anything, Mr. McKenzie.” He looked to her again, arching a brow. “How do you know my name—since I remain ingnorant of yours.”
It was her turn to smile. “You are most obviously a McKenzie, and you have mentioned that this is your brother’s house.”
“What makes you think I am a McKenzie? I might be related to Jarrett by my mother.”
“Your pardon. Are you a McKenzie?”
He hesitated. “Yes,” he said softly. “At least, to some, I am a McKenzie…. Why are you here?”
She opened her mouth, then hesitated with a sinking feeling. She could be glib.
I am here because my stepfather is busily slaughtering all the Florida Indians he can find.
Ah, but not now, not with this man.
“I have come to join my stepfather in Florida, and as it seems he’s been occupied with business since my arrival, I was most kindly brought here until I could be brought to him.” She extended her hand, looking to shake his. “My name is Teela,” she told him, carefully omitting her last name.
He took her hand. He didn’t shake it. He turned it within his own, studying the back and then the palm. His eyes remaining upon hers, he bowed over her hand, his lips brushing it. The palm, not the back. Somehow the touch seemed incredibly intimate. And sensual. She should have never allowed it.
But then her hand was free, and he had stepped back,and she felt as if he studied her again from some vast distance, and with both amusement and disdain.
“Teela. Have you a last name?”
“Have you a first name?” she cross-queried.
His smile deepened. He was about to respond when they were suddenly interrupted by another arrival. “James, my good fellow!” came a sudden bellow.
Teela started, stepping back from the half-breed. She looked toward the open doors, where a man was entering, a young, handsome fellow with light eyes and a quick smile, as elegantly dressed on this frontier as he might have been in the finest of drawing rooms from Boston to Savannah. “Ah!” he stopped, seeing Teela. Then his smile deepened and he bowed to her, extremely correctly.
“What new flower is this to grace our wilderness?” he inquired. “James, a friend of yours? Introduce us, I do beg you!”
“Alas, Robert, I am afraid this fiery rose is a new acquaintance of mine as well. Teela, Mr. Robert Trent. Robert, Miss Teela … ?”
She still refused to supply her last name. She extended her hand again. “Mr. Trent, how do you do?”
“Suddenly, quite well,” he responded. He kissed her hand. The top of it. He was utterly charming. His features were pleasant, his smile contagious. He was tall, but the man she now knew to be James McKenzie was taller. Robert charmed. James somehow captivated. He seemed created of fire and energy and leashed passions, all giving off a heat that intrigued and mesmerized her.
“Well,” McKenzie said suddenly, “I see our hostess, and must share a word with her. I will leave you lovely children to become acquainted with one another.”
He bowed, and strode toward the parlor doorway. Tara McKenzie was indeed there, having come down the stairway. Two older gentlemen with their wives at their sides had come into the house, and there seemed to be a
“Ah, and there leaps the light of fear into her eyes. There is no color on a man—red, black, or white—that will rub off upon your person. Though I can scarcelyimagine that my flesh could be more radiant than your hair.”
“You really do presume too damn much!” she heard herself hiss softly.
A slight smile curled his lip once again as he looked into the blaze that burned in the hearth.
“Ah! She swears!” he exclaimed, a teasing tone in his voice. He did not seem shocked, nor did he seem to mind.
“I’m not afraid of you in the least, sir,” she said. “Of your color, of your words, of anything, Mr. McKenzie.” He looked to her again, arching a brow. “How do you know my name—since I remain ingnorant of yours.”
It was her turn to smile. “You are most obviously a McKenzie, and you have mentioned that this is your brother’s house.”
“What makes you think I am a McKenzie? I might be related to Jarrett by my mother.”
“Your pardon. Are you a McKenzie?”
He hesitated. “Yes,” he said softly. “At least, to some, I am a McKenzie…. Why are you here?”
She opened her mouth, then hesitated with a sinking feeling. She could be glib.
I am here because my stepfather is busily slaughtering all the Florida Indians he can find.
Ah, but not now, not with this man.
“I have come to join my stepfather in Florida, and as it seems he’s been occupied with business since my arrival, I was most kindly brought here until I could be brought to him.” She extended her hand, looking to shake his. “My name is Teela,” she told him, carefully omitting her last name.
He took her hand. He didn’t shake it. He turned it within his own, studying the back and then the palm. His eyes remaining upon hers, he bowed over her hand, his lips brushing it. The palm, not the back. Somehow the touch seemed incredibly intimate. And sensual. She should have never allowed it.
But then her hand was free, and he had stepped back,and she felt as if he studied her again from some vast distance, and with both amusement and disdain.
“Teela. Have you a last name?”
“Have you a first name?” she cross-queried.
His smile deepened. He was about to respond when they were suddenly interrupted by another arrival. “James, my good fellow!” came a sudden bellow.
Teela started, stepping back from the half-breed. She looked toward the open doors, where a man was entering, a young, handsome fellow with light eyes and a quick smile, as elegantly dressed on this frontier as he might have been in the finest of drawing rooms from Boston to Savannah. “Ah!” he stopped, seeing Teela. Then his smile deepened and he bowed to her, extremely correctly.
“What new flower is this to grace our wilderness?” he inquired. “James, a friend of yours? Introduce us, I do beg you!”
“Alas, Robert, I am afraid this fiery rose is a new acquaintance of mine as well. Teela, Mr. Robert Trent. Robert, Miss Teela … ?”
She still refused to supply her last name. She extended her hand again. “Mr. Trent, how do you do?”
“Suddenly, quite well,” he responded. He kissed her hand. The top of it. He was utterly charming. His features were pleasant, his smile contagious. He was tall, but the man she now knew to be James McKenzie was taller. Robert charmed. James somehow captivated. He seemed created of fire and energy and leashed passions, all giving off a heat that intrigued and mesmerized her.
“Well,” McKenzie said suddenly, “I see our hostess, and must share a word with her. I will leave you lovely children to become acquainted with one another.”
He bowed, and strode toward the parlor doorway. Tara McKenzie was indeed there, having come down the stairway. Two older gentlemen with their wives at their sides had come into the house, and there seemed to be a
Similar Books
