Eleanor gazed up at him, her features soft and tender in the flickering candlelight. She looked at him as if it was just the two of them.
With a mind of their own, his feet began to move, and his body followed, carrying her along. They circled the room, stepping in perfect rhythm together.
“I was beginning to think you lied to me,” she said quietly.
His eyebrows tilted together. “What do you mean?”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t ask me to dance like you promised.”
He smiled. “You havena sat in the corner once,” he said, a bit triumphantly.
The room was growing increasingly warmer as he held her close. His gaze lowered to her lips, and he was suddenly transported to a moonlit night when he’d walked with her in the garden. He’d wanted to kiss her then, but was afraid it was too soon and he’d scare her away. Instead of kissing her, he’d captured her hand in his and she hadn’t pulled away. He didn’t want to rush anything with Eleanor. She wasn’t a silly maiden to use and discard. If he kissed her, he wanted to be certain it would be the first kiss of countless others, spanning the length of his life.
But now, as he danced with her on the plains of the Red River Valley, over three years and thousands of miles apart, he wished he would have kissed her then. It had been one of his deepest regrets, because even if he couldn’t spend the rest of his life withEleanor in his arms, at least he would have had the memory of her kiss to keep him warm on the long winter nights.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked with a curious smile.
Heat snaked up his neck and he wondered what she would think if he told her the truth.I’m thinking about kissing you, lass.
Instead, he said, “Our dances at St. Mary’s Isle. You’re bonnier than you’ve ever been.”
She dipped her head and looked away, an embarrassed smile on her lips. “And you are more charming.”
Arran pulled her closer, wishing he could wrap her fully in his embrace.
But even as he longed to draw her near, every shred of experience he’d had in the Red River Valley told him to keep her at a distance. After the first year in the settlement, he had promised himself not to get close to anyone. They either left or died. There were no other options. Why would Eleanor be any different? What would he gain from losing his heart to her all over again, if she was taken from him? Would it be worth the few short months of pleasure?
And then there was William West. When Arran had entered the house and found Eleanor and William holding hands, his first response had been anger, quickly followed by jealousy. But the rational part of his mind told him that Eleanor would be better off with William—in England—as far away from Assiniboia as possible. William was a good man, and he brought out the best in Eleanor. Instead of coming between them, he should be encouraging Eleanor to pursue a life with the minister. She would have comfort and security back in England, perhaps a cozy parsonage with a lovely garden where she could have her tea and spend pleasant afternoons with Miriam.
He liked to imagine Eleanor in that place, because when he thought of her toiling for her food and fighting for her life in Assiniboia, he felt helpless, as if he had failed her in some way.
William could offer Eleanor the life Arran couldn’t.
As the bagpipes continued to play, and the dancers waltzed around the hall, Arran forced himself to stop thinking about Eleanor. The only way he could do his job and keep her safe was if he guarded his heart. He would cherish each moment with her, but when the time came, he would see that she was safely delivered back to England. Even if it meant she went with William.
The air had grown decidedly colder when Eleanor and Arran stepped out of the main hall in the wee hours of the morning. The last of the revelers were entering their cabin, and one of the men turned to Eleanor and waved good night.
She smiled and waved back.
The music was still humming in her ears, though the night had grown silent and the prairie around the fort was asleep. Overhead, the stars sparkled in dazzling pinpricks of light and before her lips, fog billowed from her mouth.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Arran asked quietly as he closed the door and joined her on the porch.
“Very much. Thank you for planning it for me. I finally feel like I made progress tonight with the other colonists. I hope I’ll see more of their children at my school.”
He smiled as they began to cross the wide fort yard.
Dancing had a way of breaking down barriers like few other things.
“Do you have much entertainment in the winters?” she asked Arran. “Will I have more of the same to look forward to?”
“The first winter we enjoyed many diversions,” he said slowly. “The buffalo were so plentiful that year, they came to the stockade and scratched their backs upon the posts. The weather was mild, and the snow was minimal.”
“And the second and third winters?”
He took his time as he slowly walked her toward the governor’s house. “The weather was bitterly cold, and the snow was so deep, the buffalo were scarce. Many settlers were ill, and we did everything we could just to stay alive. When we gathered, it was to hold funerals.” He readjusted the musket on his shoulder and sighed. “Even if there was anyone to plan the activities, few people would have had the heart to participate.”
The weight of his words dampened the joy Eleanor had been feeling just moments before. “Do you think this winter will be different?”
