With a sigh, she retreated to her bedchamber and opened her trunk. She fingered the fine fabrics.
She had to lift out the other dresses to reach her best—the deep emerald green gown she’d worn to the Savannah Cotillion last Christmas. The rich color set off her dark hair and eyes, and the cut flattered her figure without being immodest. She had no idea why she would have wasted precious trunk space packing something so impractical for frontier life, but at least she would feel beautiful and confident as she twirled across the makeshift dance floor. She’d brought a few other accessories also—two necklaces, several pairs of gloves, and hairpins and combs.
She laid the dress on the bed and set about freshening up, pinning her hair into a becoming arrangement of curls. By the time she slipped into the gown and managed to fasten the tiny buttons up the back, she felt more like herself than she had in days.
Voices and the tuning of Robert’s violin drifted from the main room as she emerged. She paused in the doorway, taking in the scene.
The furniture had been pushed back to the walls, leaving a wide expanse of floor for dancing. Robert stood near the fireplace, violin tucked under his chin as he tested the strings. James and Thomas had changed into suits, and they chatted animatedly as they waited for the festivities to begin.
But it was Enoch who drew her gaze like a lodestone. He stood apart from the others, his broad shoulders filling out his black jacket, underneath it a crisp white shirt and dark trousers. And his face...
She blinked, her breath catching in her throat. He had shaved, the clean lines of his jaw and chin on full display. The effect highlighted the chiseled planes of his features and the startling blue of his eyes.
He looked younger, more vulnerable somehow. And devastatingly handsome.
She’d always known this fact about him. But seeing him like this, polished and gentlemanly, sent a flutter through her middle that had nothing to do with the baby.
As if sensing her stare, he glanced up. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the rest of the room faded away. Something flickered in his blue gaze—surprise, appreciation, perhaps even a flash of the longing she felt.
But then he blinked and the shutters fell, his expression smoothing into the now-familiar mask of detachment.
Thomas let out a whoop, shattering the moment. “There she is, the belle of the ball. Mandie, you look stunning.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks as the others turned to her. She smoothed a hand over her skirts. “Thank you, Thomas. You all look quite dashing yourselves.”
“Indeed we do.” James flashed a grin. “And now that our guest of honor has arrived, I believe it’s time for some music. Robert, if you please?”
With a nod, Robert lifted his bow and drew it across the strings in a lively tune. The rollicking notes filled the room, chasing away the lingering shadows.
Thomas stepped forward and sketched a bow before Mandie. “May I have this first dance?”
She managed a smile, placing her fingers in his. “Of course.” She’d forgotten gloves. She’d not worn them at all since arriving at the ranch, but a formal occasion such as this should have prompted her memory. They were already dancing though, so she pushed the lack from her thoughts.
He swept her into the center of the room, arranging their hands in the proper positions. As they began to move to the music, Mandie let the familiar steps and cheerful tune wash over her, pushing down the riot of emotions Enoch’s gaze had stirred.
The first dance ended, and James claimed her hand for the next, his easy smile and sure steps a welcome distraction. But even as she laughed and twirled, she couldn’t help but be aware of Enoch watching from the sidelines, his expression unreadable.
After a lively reel with Robert—while Thomas sang the words and clapped the beat in the absence of the violin—Mandie could barely breathe from all the movement and laughter. She fanned her face with one hand, grinning at the brothers. “I may need to sit the next one out to catch my breath.”
“Nonsense.” Thomas winked at her. “You’re the guest of honor, remember? We can’t have you wilting in the corner.”
“In that case...” She turned to Enoch, meeting his gaze with a boldness she didn’t quite feel. “Lord Balfour, would you do me the honor of this dance?”
For a moment, he simply stared at her, something warring in his eyes. Then, at last, he inclined his head. “As you wish, Mrs. Beaumont.”
He stepped forward and took her hand, his fingers warm and callused against her own. A shiver raced up her arm, and her pulse stuttered as he drew her close. Maybe this was why she’d forgotten her gloves.
Robert struck up a slower tune, the gentle strains of a waltz. Enoch’s hand settled at her waist, the heat of his touch searingthrough the satin of her gown. She placed her other hand on his shoulder, letting herself enjoy the solid strength of him beneath the fine fabric.
As they began to move, everything else fell away. The music faded to a distant hum, the room blurring at the edges until there was only Enoch—the warmth of his hold, the sureness of his lead, the intensity of his gaze locked on hers.
She was floating, her feet barely skimming the floor as he guided her through the turns and sways. The heat of his hand on her waist sent tingles racing along her nerve endings, and she leaned into his touch, her body craving more.
For a few blissful minutes, the chasm between them disappeared, bridged by the gentle swell of the music and the way their bodies moved as one.
All too soon, the final notes faded away. Enoch’s steps slowed and stilled, though he made no move to release her.
She stared up at him, her breath coming fast and shallow.
