TALES FROM THE TREASURE TROVE, VOL. III
Princess Sapphire
By Nancy Pirri (Dame Sapphire of Jewels of the Quill)
Excerpt
She stumbled, managing to catch herself upon entering the dining room. Mr. Black’s initial welcoming smile disappeared upon her entrance. He scowled as he rose from his seat at the end of the table and strode toward her. His crisp white shirt, indigo tie, and broad shoulders clad in a fine black, lightweight serge jacket made Laura aware of his male attributes. His raven-colored hair was cut severely short and contrasted starkly with his steel gray eyes. Laura decided his dark, brooding masculinity likely appealed to many women, but not to her. She much preferred John’s fairness and soft spoken, gentlemanly manners. Mr. Black, on the other hand, had been nothing but dictatorial toward her. Though not ungentlemanly, she grudgingly admitted.
Before John had been booted off the ranch, she believed he had been on the verge of asking to court her—his kiss told her so. Perhaps, if he hadn’t yet left town, she’d ask him how he felt about her. Oh, she knew most women would play the game for months, or even years, but she didn’t have the luxury of time. According to her new guardian, she was on the marriage block, and, though he hadn’t said it, she guessed he meant to rid himself of his new responsibility as quickly as possible.
She lost a bit of her confidence when she saw the smoldering look in his eyes from where he stood beside her chair. While she had no desire to start a row with the man, she had no intention of changing out of the risqué gown. Smugly, she felt sure Mr. Black would soon understand she was an independent woman. No one told her how to live her life.
He held her chair for her, and she sank into it. Chills ran up over her bosom and down her bare arms, his big body seemingly surrounding her as he solicitously pushed her chair up to the table. She felt superior strength in that push. Unwillingly, she compared John’s narrow frame to Black’s sturdy build, recalling how weak John’s arms had felt around her.
Mr. Black returned to his own seat, and Laura breathed a relieved sigh. Mildred Hanson, the cook, appeared and served them each a bowl of creamy potato soup. The woman’s chatter grated on Laura’s nerves, but her guest seemed to enjoy it and engaged Mildred in pleasant conversation. After the older woman left, Laura glanced at him. The scowl had reappeared, and he met her eyes.
“I see you’ve dressed for dinner.”
His casual comment on her appearance startled her momentarily, but she murmured, “Father and I have always done so.”
Her cheeks felt hot, and Laura knew they were flushed. Lord, why had she done such a silly thing as to wear this gown? Mr. Black appeared ready to… Well, if she didn’t know better, she’d think him ready to throttle her.
He waved his fork toward her, his gaze on her breasts. “I realize this is the hot season, but you may want to cover up a bit next time.”
Laura had just lifted her spoon to her lips. She set it down. Her voice trembled when she replied, “You can’t dictate to me how to dress.”
“Someone must, since you’ve abysmal taste in clothing,” he remarked. “I’ll examine your wardrobe tomorrow and toss out what I believe are unsuitable garments for a young woman of your age and station.”
Rising from her seat, she said, “I beg your pardon?”
“I see I’ll have to call upon a doctor to see about your hearing problem as well.”
Lifting her chin, she said coolly, “I won’t tolerate you going through my belongings. You’ll stay out of my room, and you won’t make any decisions regarding my manner of dress.” She looked down at her gown, then met his eyes once more. “As you can see, I’m a woman, full-grown. Now, then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve lost my appetite.” She took a step away from the table.
“Sit down, Miss Woodbury,” he said.
Laura paused when she heard the soft, yet steely tone in his voice. She whirled to face him and met his dark, intent look.
“We haven’t finished this conversation. Sit down and eat. After dinner, we’ll come to an understanding.”
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