Free Savage Heat by Nan Ryan Page B

lifted her skirts and rushed the rest of the way down the stairs. Following him directly into the dining room, she looked eagerly about, longing to get a glimpse of his face, but couldn’t find him. Intently she studied every group, seated and standing, and still failed to locate him. Puzzled, she even asked two or three people if they had seen a tall black-haired man come into the room, a guest who had just arrived. None had.
    Sighing, wondering why she cared about some dark-haired stranger, Martay pushed him from her mind and looked about for Larry Berton. Not finding him there either, she wandered back into the ballroom. She stopped short, not believing her eyes. Larry was on the dance floor. And a pretty brunette girl was in his arms. The girl was listening intently to what he was saying and looking up at him as though he were the most exciting man she had ever met.
    Martay was not jealous, but the girl’s undisguised interest in Larry heightened her own. He was quite handsome tonight with his pale blond hair and arresting smile. And the fact he had hardly waited until she was out of sight to dance with another clearly showed he was not as totally snared by her charms as she’d presumed.
    When the music stopped, Lawrence escorted the young lady back to her group of friends and came to join Martay. She waited for him to stammer and turn red and apologize for dancing with another woman, but again he surprised her. He neither stammered nor blushed nor so much as mentioned the other girl.
    Instead Lawrence smiled at Martay, commandingly took her in his arms, and drew her out onto the floor. And when after several silent cheek-to-cheek dances he said, “Let’s go out-of-doors,” Martay was quick to agree.
    It was well past midnight as they stood on the deserted veranda. A full moon had risen and was now sailing high over the mountains. The scent of honeysuckle sweetened the cooling air, and soft music from inside floated out through French doors thrown open to the night.
    “It seems we’re all alone,” said Major Berton, turning to lean back against the smooth stone railing. He looked down at Martay and smiled.
    “Yes,” she answered, glancing about, “all alone.” And putting her arms around his neck, Martay, with the white gardenia in her hand, boldly pulled his head down and kissed him so soundly, the major’s knees buckled.
    When their lips separated, a man’s voice, very near and sounding apologetic, said, “Excuse me, Major,” and the pair turned to see a uniformed servant. In his white-gloved hand he was carrying a small silver tray, atop which lay a small envelope. Raising the tray, he said, “a message for you, Major Berton.”
    “Thank you,” said Lawrence, picking up the envelope and hastily ripping it open.
    “What is it?” asked Martay, seeing the look of annoyance in his eyes.
    “I’m wanted upstairs by my superiors.” He lowered the note. “You’d think whatever it is could wait until morning. I must go, you understand.” He took her arm. “Shall we?”
    “I’ll wait here, Larry. It’s too warm inside.” And she gave him a meaningful smile that promised more kisses upon his return.
    “Sure you’ll be all right alone out here?”
    “Just fine.”
    “I’ll go, then, but I promise to be back in ten minutes.”
    “I’ll be waiting. And, Larry, bring me a glass of punch when you come. I’m thirsty.”
    He touched her cheek and smiled. “Meet you right here in ten minutes with the punch.” He hurried away, but when he reached the French doors, he turned back to look at her.
    She blew him a kiss and laughed, the sound of her laughter floating out over the gardens. When he’d gone, she turned to look out at the magnificent scenery. Sighing with contentment, she tilted her head back and looked up at the towering majestic Rockies. Their tallest peaks were still dusted with snow, the moonlight turning them a glistening silver. After studying their splendor for several long