Free The Bride Wore Feathers by Sharon Ihle

and tried to regain his focus on the main objective: his mission. He was to listen to the conversations of the officers, ingratiate himself with those in positions of power, and learn whether the Long Knives had made plans for the capture of his people. That done, he and the council could determine how best the Lakota might avoid the soldiers' traps. Jacob was, in essence, the eyes and ears of the entire Lakota nation. Now he toiled to that end, determined to avoid thinking about or even looking at Dominique, but his gaze moved of its own volition, sifting through the crowd until it came to rest on her striking features.
    She was dancing with yet another in an endless line of soldiers, this one an officer with many decorations on his dark blue jacket. Clearly the niece of the Long Hair was prized above all the women at the fort. And just as clear was the danger he would face if he allowed his fascination with her to get in the way of his mission. She stirred him and managed to bring emotions and memories to the surface he was better off forgetting— she was someone he would be better off forgetting. As Jacob worked to that end, his mouth puckered into a scowl, and dark thoughts shadowed his eyes. Looking for a distraction, he glanced away from the dance floor and made a casual appraisal of the weapons stowed beneath the refreshment table. He was counting the types of rifles when Dominique glided over near him and reached for a glass of punch.
    "Whew," she gasped, waving a hanky in front of her face. "I need a rest. What has you in such a state of horrors, Jacob?"
    He turned to her and said, "Horrors?"
    At the repetition of her word, Dominique clasped her hand across her mouth and looked around for the Custers. They were not within hearing distance. "I'm sorry. That just sort of slipped out. It means you're looking in low spirits, but the way I said it isn't a proper phrase for a young lady to use."
    Jacob shrugged. "Then maybe you are not a lady." He meant it in the nicest possible way, but at her gasp and look of indignation, he quickly realized he'd made a blunder. "I mean to say, you are—"
    "That's all right, Jacob." She laughed. "You're not the first to make such an observation about my manners, and I suspect you won't be the last." She looked into his eyes and smiled, but her grin faded as she asked, "Have you been standing here beside this punch bowl all night? I haven't seen you out on the dance floor once since you and I danced the reel."
    Jacob looked away, pretty sure where this conversation would lead. "I do not like dancing."
    "Oh, Jacob," she complained as the chords to one of her favorite tunes, "Suzanne's Waltz," began. "How can you know if you don't try it a few more times? Come with me. This is a beautiful song to dance to and much easier than the reel."
    When the crazy one reached for his hand, Jacob stepped back. "I must say no."
    "Don't be silly." She marched up to him and took his reluctant hand in hers. "All you have to do is hang on to me and go where I go."
    She turned with Jacob in tow, as if there was never a question in her mind as to whether he did or did not wish to dance with her. Again grumbling to himself, he allowed her to drag him to the center of the room. But this time, he promised himself, would be the last.
    When she stopped walking, Dominique continued to hold one of his hands. Then she positioned his other hand at her waist. After draping her dainty fingers across his shoulder, she began moving and counting in time with the music.
    "One, two, three," she sang along, "one, two, three. See how easy this is?"
    Her big brown eyes flashed with pleasure as she stared up at him, and Jacob could feel the knot of fear in his gut slowly begin to unravel. She was a ray of sunshine, a breath of fresh air in the crowded building the Long Knives called home. In spite of the danger, he found himself wishing he could have thought of a way to keep her, to make her his own after pulling her from the