Byattention, she had a feeling he was referring to Cole’s devotion. He’d waltzed with her three times, had her mother on the dance floor at the moment. “You have to dance with me before you go.”
“I don’t dance.”
“You danced with Maggie.”
He glared at Maggie, who merely raised her hands in surrender. “We didn’t do it in secret.” She playfully patted his shoulder. “You watch out for rattlers heading home. Although I suspect they will be far less dangerous than Faith if you don’t dance with her. I’m going to get some more champagne.” She sashayed off.
“Why won’t you dance with me?” Faith asked.
“You’ve got plenty of fellas anxious to take you on a turn about the floor.”
“But none of them are you.” She hadn’t meant for her tone to be filled with such longing or wistfulness.
“Faith—”
“Why don’t you like me?”
The shock on his face was rewarding. “You can’t possibly believe I don’t like you just because I don’t want to step on your feet.”
She slipped her arm through his. “You won’t step on my feet. Dance with me.”
She felt his resistance give way as the stiffness left the muscles in his arm, as though he’d been bracing for this moment, but now that it had arrived, found it not nearly as unpleasant as he’d expected it to be. But when he started to escort her onto the floor, she held him back. “Let’s wait for the next one to start. I want a complete dance.”And a slow one.
For some reason, he’d been avoiding her of late, had been finding one excuse after another not to be in her company, so she wanted to make the most of the moments to come. She knew her father had begun to give him more responsibilities around the ranch, preparing him for taking over as foreman as soon as their current foreman decided to hang his hat on the peg for the last time and set aside his spurs, but Rawley’s noted absence seemed to encompass more than that. And she found herself missing him.
He didn’t argue with her. Probably because he didn’t want to make a fuss and draw attention. He was like that, but it was difficult not to notice him. She’d never seen him be unkind to anyone, and yet he gave off a dangerous aura that signaled he was not a man to take lightly. Perhaps it was because his smiles were rare. Or the way his eyes scanned the world as though he was always searching for trouble, didn’t quite trust what he was seeing as being the way things truly were. She figured Maggie knew more about him because she’d been around when Rawley joined the family. He’d been part of it by the time Faith made her appearance. Whenever she’d ask anyone why Rawley lived with them when her mother hadn’t given birth to him, the answer was always the same, no matter who gave it: He needed a home.
A home. Not a house. As she’d gotten older, the distinction wasn’t lost on her. But whatever had happened to him before he came to her family was long buried, and she suspected it was submerged deeply enough as to never make another appearance. She knew he had no other relations to speak of, no one to visit him or ask after him. She couldn’t imagine not having all her aunts, uncles, and cousins about.
The music finally went quiet and a frisson of anticipation coursed through her, something she’d not experienced all night, not even with the first dance of the evening. Handsome cowboys, bankers, lawyers, store owners, and Cole—she’d taken the floor with a variety of men. Most of them young, unmarried, and yet with none of them had she counted the seconds until he took her in his arms.
But with Rawley she did, and when that moment came, she knew what had been missing all these years—the absolute and untarnished knowledge that this man might be part of her family, but he wasn’t family. She was drawn to him, and it most certainly was not as a sister to a brother.
As he led her into the waltz, he held a hand aloft so she could perch one of hers on it while his other hand barely landed between her shoulder blades, over the silk, and she wondered if he’d made a conscious effort not to touch her skin. Not all the men had. Her other hand came to rest on his shoulder, where firmness greeted her. Having seen him without a shirt numerous times, she knew without a doubt he was comprised of ropey sinew and toned muscle.
The intensity with which he watched her fairly had her breath catching. He certainly hadn’t focused his gaze on Maggie in the same manner when he’d brought her out onto the dance floor. If anything, the entire time he’d given the impression he wanted to be somewhere else. She’d expected the same but instead was left with the sense he might be memorizing the moment.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said with such seriousness that anyone hearing him might have thought he was speaking to her for the final time, as one would to someone hovering on the precipice of death.
“Don’t I always?” she teased, hoping to lighten his mood.
He flashed her a grin, released a huff of laughter. “You know you do.”
“And you’re handsome.”
His smile was self-deprecating. “Now that the flattery is out of the way—”
“I mean it, Rawley. You’re good-looking.” His skin had a swarthiness to it from years in the saddle, mixed with his Shawnee heritage. His ebony hair fell over his brow, and her fingers itched to brush it back, to make it a little less wild, but nothing about Rawley had ever given the impression he was the least bit tame. “I could tell a lot of the girls were hoping you’d ask them to dance.”
He just shook his head, never having been comfortable with praise. Her father didn’t give it often, but when he did he meant it—and Rawley’s cheeks would turn a deep hue of red. Faith had always thought he was adorable when he blushed, but she’d never teased him about it.
“Maggie told me that you love someone.”
His eyes narrowed, a muscle ticked in his cheek, his jaw tightened. “That girl has got the biggest mouth—”
“If you’d tell me who she is, maybe I could help with your courting.”
He gave her a pointed look. “What do you know about courting, Faith?”
