Free Deep as the Rivers (Santa Fe Trilogy) by Shirl Henke Page A

waltzing in the wilderness.”
        “Last year a dance master from New Orleans set out an advertisement to teach the waltz and other of the latest dances from Europe. We’re not so backward as you Easterners believe,” she replied gaily, giddy with the magic of being held in his arms and whirled around the dance floor.
        “Not backward at all but quite unconventionally forward,” he could not resist teasing.
        She felt the blush begin at her throat and rise to the roots of her hair. “Do you find me too forward?” she asked, then instantly wished she could call back the impulsive question when an enigmatic expression passed fleetingly across his face.
        Then he smiled again. “And here I thought it was only American women who are so earnest and outspoken.”
        “I am American—or at least, I am becoming American. I have lived in this country since I was fifteen, a mere slip of a girl.”
        “And that, of course, was ages ago,” he replied gravely.
        “At times it seems that way,” she said, thinking of her parents’ laughing faces, now gone forever.
        He looked down at the thick dark red brushes of her lashes that shielded her intense emerald eyes. What made her so suddenly pensive? The French were ever mercurial in temperament. “And do you never repine for your old home?”
        Olivia looked up, aware of a subtle shift in his tone. “I miss Maman and Péré terribly, but if you mean France...” She shrugged. “The Terror began when I was only a babe. I remember little about any of it and care less. We traveled from country to country throughout my childhood. ‘Twas a marvelous adventure but as I grew older I longed for a real home.”
        “And is this home—St. Louis, a raw frontier town inhabited by fur traders, Creoles and Spaniards, surrounded by Indians?”
        She could hear the doubt in his voice, see it in his faintly cynical expression. “I like St. Louis well enough. Someday it will be a great city and all the Louisiana country will become part of the United States.”
        “You sound just like my sister,” he said, suddenly struck by the insight. In spite of their different coloring and backgrounds, Olivia reminded him of Liza.
        “She is most beautiful. I confess I was taken with a fit of jealousy when I first saw you with her.”
        He raised one eyebrow sardonically. “Were you now?”
        She blushed again. “For some reason my mouth overuns my brain when I’m around you. A most singular occurrence. It seldom afflicts me otherwise.”
        “I, too, must confess a certain...impulsive train of thought when I’m with you.” He stared into wide green eyes, as dark and fathomless as the waters of the Florida glades. Just as mysterious. And just as dangerous.
        Olivia stared up at his harshly beautiful face, wondering what went on behind those piercing eyes, now storm tossed to a steely gray. Just then the music stopped. They stood facing each other, still touching, oblivious of those around them quitting the floor. “You sound as if you are angry with me because of this...impulse, yet it is you who have come a thousand miles to my city.”
        “Point well taken,” Samuel replied, shaking his head ruefully to break the spell. He offered her his arm and they strolled through the crowd.
        “Why are you here? I do not think it is because you have followed my siren call through the wilderness,” she added dryly. The question seemed all too natural to Olivia. She waited, wondering if he would answer since he had been so evasive about himself until now.
        “Cat’s eyes and cat’s curiosity. Careful, puss, lest it get you in trouble, too,” he said, ushering her through a door which opened onto Madame Chouteau’s gardens.
        “Am I in danger then?” she asked as they walked into the soft gold light cast from lanterns suspended overhead in the trees growing around the side of the mansion.