Cal did indeed shine resplendent in a fine curved cutaway coat with a red brocade vest and white cotton shirt underneath; also cutting an exquisite form in black pin-striped pants and a smooth dark cravat that completed the look.
Also, striking was the charming white toothed smile he now flashed in her direction.
“Well thank you, Miss,” he praised her, adding as he struck a low courtly bow in her direction, “On this night, though, I do not want you to think of me as Cal, the rancher and good friend whose land you happen to work. I want you to regard me as a mysterious handsome stranger who has swept into your life to show you the meaning of romance.” He paused here, adding as he clasped her hand in his and led her in the direction of the dance floor, “May I have this dance?”
Although still surrounded on all sides by bundles and bales of fresh-sown hay, the candlelit center of the dance floor proved an ideal platform for a couple who seemed to want little more than to lose themselves in one another’s arms. And with a single smooth flourish Cal launched them into a dance that felt more like a romantic embrace.
Abigail thrilled as her ardent date gathered her up in his muscled arms; wrapping his sturdy hands around her full waist and swinging and swaying her across the floor.
Bracing her arms around his bulging shoulders, she finally allowed herself the sublime pleasure of touching the man she’d admired for so long; pressing herself against his hard massive chest as his trim toned hips cradled hers.
Losing herself in his masculine presence, she relaxed in the cocoon of his muscled embrace as he made her feel as light as air; most literally sweeping her off her feet as he now flew her across the floor.
Two became one as the couple writhed together, timing their moves to the melodic rhythm of a live fiddler who played with fervor at the head of the room.
Abigail brightened at the resounding notes of “San Antonio Rose,” one of her favorite classic ballads, and she nestled closer to her attentive dance partner as his hands ran like warm spring water down the planes of her back.
She felt his tender touch even through the tight corset that threatened to claim her sanity; yet as they moved as one with feather light steps in time with a timeless tune, all elements of discomfort and self-consciousness subsided abruptly—giving way to nothing but feeling.
Closing her eyes tight, the besotted woman felt her heart pound as he clutched her closer still; soon it was difficult to tell where one ended, and the other began as they dissolved in a dance that likened an embrace.
These eyes flew open moments later, as her dance partner drew back only slightly to stare deep into her eyes.
“See, Miss Abigail?” Cal asked her, tone both tempting and teasing as he rubbed her broad shoulders and tilted his forehead gentle against hers. “Dancing isn’t as bad as all that—and neither, for that matter, is romance.”
Abigail smiled.
“Very true,” she assented with a dreamy sigh, adding as she pursed her lips in a mock show of skepticism, “I am still not at all convinced, however, about this thing they call kissing.” She paused here, adding as she inclined her head teasing in his direction, “Care to do some convincin’ this evening, Cowboy?”
She took in her breath as Cal met this challenge with a downright devilish smile.
“Well I’d much obliged Ma’am,” he assented on a growl, accenting his words with a good bit of action as he swept her up in his arms.
Claiming her lips in a passionate kiss, his full moist mouth massaged hers in soft hypnotic strokes.
Moaning outright in response, Abigail plied her date’s mouth with feverish kisses as their tongues entangled between them; their public surroundings dissolving around them as they engaged in their first passionate kiss.
Sinking full into his sheltering arms, Abigail trembled outright as his ardent kiss set her heart and body afire; sending thrilling tingles down her spine as his long wet tongue licked and laved her mouth.
The moment was fleeting.
“Well, I never!”
The couple broke their kiss as the sound of a pronounced sniff resounded just beside them; one produced by a petite, beautiful ebony haired woman dressed in a gown of stark black taffeta that seemed to befit her frowning—if still dazzling—face.
“Well, I never!” she repeated, regarding the couple with a condemning gaze as she stood beside them on the dance floor.
Unphased in the face of this blatant umbrage, a cool Abigail shrugged her shoulders in reaction to these words.
“No Ma’am, you probably haven’t ever,” she replied, adding with arched eyebrows, “And that’s the whole problem.”
The woman gasped.
“Well I guess that I’d expect nothing more from such a common woman as yourself,” she sniffed, adding as she pointed an accusing finger straight in Abigail’s direction, “You really have some nerve, Girl, living in sin with one of our finest citizens—and under his wife’s roof!”