Texas Moon TH4 (26 page)

"A bustle will take up a lot of this old-fashioned train, and we can strip off the bottom flounce to shorten it even more. You don't want to be dragging all this material through straw. I think you're a little taller than I am, so that should bring the hem just about where it belongs for this year's style. If not, we can always pin it up a little beneath the polonaise. The color is perfect for you. I love redoing old gowns, don't you? It makes me feel so creative."

Janice hesitantly reached out to touch the rich material of the elegant gown. The cotton was soft as silk, and the ribbing appealed to her sense of touch. Most of all, the cascade of flounces down the back and ribbon trimmings in the front made her ache to try it on. She had never owned anything half so elegant. The expense and labor of all that extra material and trim had always been beyond her means.

"Are you sure?" she murmured uncertainly, trying to be polite while dying to grab the gown and run.

"Of course. Look at this waistline! I couldn't get in it again in a million years. Come on. Let's put it on you and see what we can do."

Before the afternoon ended, Janice was standing on a chair, modeling the marvelous gown as Jasmine added the finishing touches to the hem while Evie and Carmen hastily transformed the removed train into flounces for the bustled overskirt. The blue bow of the neckline had been converted to hold up the overskirt, and now the bodice opened at the throat with a touch of ivory lace to adorn it. Janice kept smoothing the rows of material on the skirt and wondering how anyone could think anything so marvelous could be perfect for a barn dance.

"Tres elegant," Jasmine murmured, stepping back to admire their handiwork. "The hair, now," she added reflectively. "We must do something with the hair."

"Gardenias," Carmen announced. "She must wear gardenias. They'll match the ivory stripes to perfection."

Janice's protests were swept aside.

"I will have Kitty press the hem while we all bathe," Evie agreed. "Janice, after you wash your hair, you'll have to come down here while your hair is still damp. We can put a little curl in it with rags and give it some body."

"You'd better keep that husband of hers out of the house," Carmen warned. "He's been panting after her like a hound all day. I'll get Manuel to distract him."

Laughing, the women plotted the evening, and quite wittingly, Janice's own seduction.

Chapter 21

Peter watched the vision of loveliness descending the stairs, barely aware that Betsy stood beside him. Except for their wedding day, he had never seen his wife in anything but the drab colors of her old-maid wardrobe and in the plain styles her budget could afford. He wasn't one to spend much time noticing a woman's clothes, and he had paid little heed to her lack of feminine finery until now. He had to raise his hand to his jaw to make certain his mouth didn't hang open.

Janice practically floated down the stairs. The gown foamed around her, dipping and swaying with each step. The ivory set off her radiant complexion, and the deep blue contrasted with her fair coloring. The effect was such that the gown became part of the woman, and all he could notice was the long-lashed slant of her eyes and the exquisite line of her nose, and the pink tilt of her lips, provided he didn't look lower and lose himself in the full thrust of her bosom and the small circumference of her waist. The surge of lust made him gulp. He would have a damned difficult time making it through this evening, knowing what awaited him.

As she approached, the exotic scent of gardenias enveloped him. Peter knew she didn't own perfume, but he didn't question the miracle. He circled Janice's waist and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her brow despite their interested audience.

"I take back everything I said," he murmured into her hair. "You're not dancing with anyone but me. I'm damned well not letting you out of my sight."

"I can't dance," Janice replied under her breath as a smattering of applause broke out from the audience hidden in the shadow of the parlors. She held out her hand to Betsy as the hall began to fill with people congratulating her and themselves for their success.

Peter chewed on this new piece of information while his host shook his hand and commented on the loveliness of his wife, the latest odds on the morrow's race, and the number of wagons and carriages already pulled into the yard. Despite the insistence of the Rodriguez boys that they ought to check the consistency of the punch, Peter stayed right where he was—with his arm around his wife.

As the small party gradually filtered out the front doors, Peter took the opportunity to lean over and whisper in Janice's ear, "Tonight, I'll be the teacher. Is that all right with you?"

She raised her eyes to meet his and knew dancing wasn't the only thing he meant to teach her. The impact of that knowledge shattered what remained of her composure. She had never been the object of a man's attention. She had never been the object of anyone's attention. She was frozen with nervousness. The heat of Peter's gaze cracked the ice, leaving her with no defense at all.

She felt as vulnerable as a newly hatched chicken, but the protection of Peter's arm kept her moving in some semblance of normality. She managed to answer a gay sally of Carmen's, smile at James Peyton's old-fashioned gallantry, and respond with some pleasantry to Manuel's very Latin flirtation. The knowledge that none of these people had ever looked at her as they did now kept her sufficiently off-balance to be grateful for her husband's support. She had always been the old-maid schoolteacher. It wasn't easy to grow into this new persona.

"It's all right to be beautiful, you know," Peter said when they stepped outside and found themselves a distance from the others. "You can't be condemned for the assets God gave you."

"Yes, I can. People do it all the time," Janice answered nervously and without thinking, in automatic response to an argument she'd had with herself for years. It had been her fault that she'd got pregnant, she'd heard people say. She shouldn't have flaunted her looks for a young man like Stephen. Men were easily led astray. A woman should at all times be modest and unassuming. She had got what she deserved. Her stomach clenched uneasily as she realized the accuracy of those words. She was going to pay for flaunting herself like this.

Peter gave her a quick glance but mercifully didn't question further. "Friends don't," he answered bluntly. "Hide from strangers, if you must, but not from me, not from your family, not from these people here. We know you're lovely, inside and out. No one will condemn you for it."

Janice had her doubts, but it was too late to do anything about it now. Betsy was looking at her as if she had been transformed into a goddess. Perhaps she ought to let her know that it was all right to be beautiful. Betsy had more potential beauty than any person Janice knew, including Evie. Her daughter would need something to keep her strong. Somehow, Janice would have to show her the way. She felt horribly inadequate for the task.

The barn was already filling with people, most of them strangers to Janice. The ones to whom she was introduced seemed friendly and accepting enough. Still, she was grateful that Peter didn't stray from her side. She didn't know how she would manage if he left to join the crowd of men by the refreshment table. She didn't know how she would manage when he left for New Mexico.

But she refused to think about that tonight. She had never been to a dance or a party before. It was one of those things she had longed to do all her life but been denied because of circumstances. If nothing else, Peter was introducing her to a life she had previously only dreamed of—even if she only had this one brief glimpse. She meant to enjoy it while she could.

The musicians launched into a rollicking reel at some signal from Tyler. Janice contentedly stood on the sidelines and tapped her toe, smiling as the crowd formed into figures and picked up the beat and began to dance. She knew nothing about music or dancing, but she loved watching the gay parade of colors and rhythmic motions. Everyone looked so happy that she couldn't help but feel happy too.

"I hope you're wearing comfortable shoes; I mean to dance your feet off tonight."

Before Janice could glance up in surprise, Peter grasped her waist and swung her into the nearest circle of dancers.

"It's not the kind of dancing I learned at home, but it looks easy enough to pick up," he said as he followed the other dancers.

Astonished that he was as ignorant as she was of these steps, Janice could do nothing but focus her attention on the couples beside them and lose herself in the music and concentration. The dance ended just as she thought she had a grasp on what was expected of her.

It didn't matter. The musicians instantly struck up another tune, and Peter whirled her across the floor again. Janice laughed at the speed with which they moved. He scarcely allowed her to touch the floor. He carried her and she was flying. Peter had the strength and agility to carry her through her ignorance of the world around her. It was the most amazing feeling, and Janice met his eyes with more than gratitude.

"You give in so beautifully, Mrs. Mulloney," he declared, grinning down at her. "Will you always surrender to my charms like this?"

"I'm not surrendering," she protested breathlessly as he swept her down the line. But she was surrendering. Even as the musicians began a slow tune and Peter guided her expertly into his arms for a waltz, she followed his every lead. She amazed even herself. Had any other man attempted to hold her like this, she would have been as stiff as a board, but Peter had succeeded in destroying all her barriers. She floated in his arms, with no more will of her own than a butterfly on the wind.

Her concentration on the dance steps kept her from complete awareness of her husband's masculine proximity for a while. But as she became comfortable with the rhythm of the dance, Janice noticed the firmness of Peter's hand on hers, the way he held her waist so that she could feel the sway of his hips, and that achingly familiar shiver began to take root in her middle.

She wasn't comfortable enough with the steps to look away, and her vision was either filled with the breadth of his shoulders and chest or the sight of his smile if she looked up. He didn't take his gaze off her, and after a while, she had difficulty looking away. By the time the dance ended, she thought she might be glued in this position forever, with Peter's arm pulling her close and his gaze devouring her.

Luckily for them, Betsy came running to demand some small favor, and they were forced apart. But the awareness of that moment lingered as they moved through the rest of the evening.

Occasionally, Janice allowed herself to be swept into a circle of gossiping women or into a fracas of children at the punch bowl, but as soon as any other man approached her, Peter appeared at her side again. He didn't say anything, didn't touch her, didn't pull her away. He merely waited while she exchanged pleasantries and made up her mind whether or not to accept the gentleman's offer to dance. She didn't know what he would have done had she accepted their offers, but she didn't. She had no interest at all in dancing with any other man.

As Peter slowly accepted that fact, his desire seemed to multiply. He only touched her in the socially acceptable manners of the dance, but Janice could feel his gaze burning against her breast, felt the jolt of heat as his hand skimmed her back, and knew the reason he hid himself in her skirts and moved with some discomfort when they waltzed. He was doing his best to be a gentleman, but his thoughts were on the bed they would share when this was over.

As were hers.

The knowledge that she would have to surrender herself entirely this night made her even more edgy as the night progressed. She had never really made the decision that this was for the best. She had never come to an acceptance that she might bear a child from this encounter. She wasn't even certain that they ought to be married. She only knew that as husband, Peter expected her to be his wife in every sense of the word. And she was no longer averse to having physical knowledge of her husband's body.

That thought struck her sharply as Peter pulled her into the shadows for a light kiss out of the sight of others. Not that anyone watched anymore. The plentiful supply of beer and liquor had heightened the jollities, and those not seeking the privacy of sheltered corners like themselves were reeling in dizzying whirls on the dance floor. They could be completely alone for all the crowd cared, and Janice didn't protest when Peter pulled her closer until she felt the rigidity of his desire through the protection of her skirts. Even through her fear, she knew the thrill of that desire.