Please, Lord, if You see fit, find me a husband, too, a good man who also loves You. I know that if it’s Your will for me to marry, You’ll send a man who’s neither a liar nor a Yankee!
Almost against her will, her eyes searched the hall for Nolan Walker, but she didn’t see him. Had he left? Good, she thought fiercely. She could relax and enjoy herself if she knew he wasn’t here to plague her any more.
Then someone tapped her on the shoulder. She started, giving an involuntary cry that came out soundng remarkably like a mouse’s squeak, thinking Dr. Walker had managed to circle his way around to her without her noticing his approach and was now claiming his dance. But it was only Edward, Viscount Greyshaw. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, Miss Sarah,” he said, looking as startled by her reaction as she felt. “I—I didn’t mean to take you unaware. It’s time for us to join in, I believe,” he said, nodding toward the pair still waltzing in the middle of the hall.
“O-of course,” she said, giving a weak laugh. “I didn’t mean to jump. I’m afraid I was so intent on watching my sister and your brother dance, I didn’t see you coming.”
“They do make a handsome couple, don’t they?”
Fitting her gloved hand to his, she joined him on the floor, thankful that she had lately practiced with Nick and could give a competent accounting of herself. It would not do to tread on a lord’s feet.
In a few moments, Caroline Wallace and her counterpart among the groomsmen, Richard Brookfield, joined them in their waltzing, and then Prissy and old Josh, the foreman of their ranch. They certainly made an odd couple, the old cowboy and the young, vivacious Prissy, and Sarah knew that old Josh would have rather faced a horde of Comanches again than be dancing in a fancy frock coat. But Nick had become like a son to him, so he’d been honored when Nick and Milly had asked him to be in the wedding. Sarah saw him laughing at something Prissy had just said, and figured Prissy’s lively chatter was keeping Josh’s self-consciousness at bay.
A Virginia reel followed next. Lord Edward remained with her, remarking, “You know, we call this one ‘Roger de Coverley’ at home.” He was a good dancer, and so was his younger brother, Richard, who claimed her for the Schottische which followed. He drew back when a square dance was called after that, though, unfamiliar with the American dance. Josh came to Sarah’s side and asked her to partner him.
Sarah had seen Dr. Walker in the crowd during the waltz, and when the band struck up the reel, she saw him ask Jane Jeffries, one of the Spinsters who had been widowed by the war, to dance. To Sarah’s surprise, Jane accepted, a smile lighting her usually somber face. Didn’t she know that Dr. Walker had served in the same army responsible for her husband’s death?
Nolan sat out the Schottische, taking a chair next to Maude Harkey, another of the Spinsters. Maude wasn’t dancing tonight, for she still wore deep mourning for the death of her father, Dr. Harkey. How did Maude feel, speaking to the man who had taken her father’s place as town physician? Yet she seemed pleased that Dr. Walker had sat down with her.
How kind of him to keep Maude company since she can’t dance tonight, a voice within Sarah whispered, but Sarah firmly squelched it. He probably just feels guilty that he’s the town doctor only because her father died.
Sarah was even more surprised to see him up again when the square dancing began, partnering Faith Bennett. Well, aren’t you the ladies’ man? The spiteful thought distracted her and caused her to stumble in the “Allemande left” the caller announced.
Pay attention to your steps, Sarah. Did you expect him to gaze longingly at you until he finally gathers his courage to claim his dance? Of course she wasn’t jealous, she told herself. One wasn’t jealous over someone one didn’t want. His behavior just proved he was a liar and a deceiver—a typical Yankee, in short!
Chapter Three
The lead fiddler announced the last dance of the night, a waltz. After this, Milly and Nick would go to the hotel for the night, and the guests would all disperse to their homes.
By this time, Sarah’s nerves were raw, expecting at the beginning of every dance that Dr. Walker would come to claim her, but so far he hadn’t. She had not lacked for partners, for someone else always asked her, but dancing with others did not mean she avoided him. Every dance but the waltz meant being passed to other dancers for at least a few seconds. Still, Dr. Walker had seemed intent on charming every woman in town except her.
Once, he had even managed to get Mrs. Detwiler up on the floor, and the older lady had clearly enjoyed it, though she was red faced and out of breath by the end of it. Sarah saw him fetching her punch while she sat and fanned herself. Sarah wouldn’t have minded spending some time in a chair herself, being fetched a cool drink, for her feet were aching from all the dancing and her hair had long since fallen from its elegant knot.
Now, though, she felt a kinship with the gazelle Nick had mentioned earlier as she saw Dr. Walker crossing the floor toward her.
“My dance, I believe?”
“Are you sure you’ve danced with every other female in town, from the oldest to the youngest?” Sarah asked archly.
He raised a brow, and in that moment she knew she’d made a mistake.
“Ah, so you were watching,” he said, grinning.
“I most certainly was not,” Sarah insisted. “I never sat down myself, except when the musicians took a break. I only just realized that you hadn’t made good your threat to claim a dance.”
“Threat?” he echoed. “I believe I only requested a dance, as proof of your goodwill. And I was waiting for a waltz, Miss Matthews.”
“Oh? Why?” she asked. Was this girl asking the daring questions really herself?
Again, the raised brow. “If you have to ask that, Miss Sarah Matthews, then it’s no wonder the South lost the war.”
She felt herself flushing so hotly that it took all her strength of will not to open the fan that dangled from her wrist and start using it. “If we stand here arguing all through the dance, Dr. Walker, we will miss it altogether.”
The couples had just arranged themselves on the floor, and the fiddlers had struck only the first notes, but he took her hand without another word and led her onto the floor. In a moment they were gliding over the floor with the rest of the dancers.
Sarah saw Milly, waltzing with Nick, watching her, her smile even brighter than before because her sister was dancing with the Yankee doctor. Good for you, Milly mouthed. She probably thought Sarah and Dr. Walker had agreed to bury the hatchet. Sarah smiled back, not wanting Milly to worry that she’d only agreed to postpone the battle, not call it off.
She found to her surprise Nolan Walker was an excellent dancer, better even than the Brookfield brothers, who had probably been taught to waltz in their English nursery. His steps were so smooth he made it easy to follow him, so she was never in any danger of treading on his toes.
“Thank you, Miss Matthews,” he said when the last notes died away and the other couples drifted off the floor. “I enjoyed that very much.”
She couldn’t say she’d enjoyed it as well; she’d been too conscious of his nearness and his gaze trained on her the whole time. “You’re welcome, Dr. Walker. You…you’re an accomplished dancer,” she said, determined to give credit where it was due.
“Surprised?” he asked. “I assure you, Miss Matthews, we Yankees do not all live in caves, coming out only to devour raw fish.”
Before she could catch it, her mouth fell open at his gibe. “Are you making fun of me, sir?”
He grinned. “Not at all. I was only teasing you, my thorny Southern rose.”
How could one man be so infuriating? “I’m not ‘your’ anything, Dr. Walker. And now that you’ve had your dance with me, you must excuse me while I go see if my sister needs any help before she leaves.”
“Very