Dust Devil by Parris Afton Bonds Page B

blue military uniform he always looked so handsome that she found it difficult not to be swept off her feet by his continued flattery and charm — until she looked into the eyes. Blue rock.
    "Why don’t you join us for some sangria, Grant?” she said. Grant took a seat in one of the leather-tooled chairs, and Rosemary clapped her hands, bringing a Mexican man of forty to take her order in Spanish. He returned with a jarra of the native beverage and a clean glass on a silver tray, and Rosemary wondered if the tray was one of those fashioned by Lario in his spare time.
    "Business brings you here?” she asked of Grant as she poured the sangria and passed him the glass.
    "I had hoped to start affair s with you two lovely ladies.”
    Rita’s hand cut through the air in a gesture of impatience. "Bah! Business and politics—they are the only two things you men know!”
    Grant laughed, but later, when Rita went to pull a wandering Inez from her precarious perch on the hitching rail, he looked at Rosemary over the rim of his glass and said, "You’ve grown more beautiful.”
    Beautiful. Lovely. These were words Rosemary had never thought to associate with herself. And for once she believed Grant was not plying her with his customary flattery.
    "One would think you’re in love,” he said.
    Rosemary looked at him quickly before averting her eyes. "You must excuse me, Grant, but I need to check the mill. I promised Consuela I’d bring a bag of flour — ”
    "I’ll help you carry it,” Grant offered easily. "I’m tired of sitting and need the exercise.”
    "Well — ”
    "Go on, Rosita,” Rita said with an impish grin. "I’ll watch Jamie.”
    Rosemary wrinkled her nose at Rita and stiffly walked around toward the rear of the Castle with an amused Grant at her side. She had no sooner stepped inside the mill’s dark, cool doorway when Grant caught her by the shoulders and turned her toward him. "Grant,” she protested, half laughing, "what are you doing?”
    He grinned. "Be still — you know Rita approves of us.”
    "Don’t be silly!” She could not believe he was serious. They stood in the open doorway where anyone who happened to glance in that direction would see them.
    Grant’s smile left his face. "I’m not being silly. You and I are alike, Rosemary. We’re determined and practical, and when we want something we don’t stop until we have it.”
    She pressed her hands against his chest, feeling the blue wool rough against her fingertips. "Well, ’tis you who is not being very practical now! This is ridiculous!”
    "That’s what I’m trying to say. I’m practical about everything — but you.” He pulled her to him and kissed her thoroughly, and she was not even aware of his mustache abrading her skin as her senses were rendered numb in the suffocation of his kiss.
    At last she pulled away . . . only to look past him and see Lario leading his horse to one of the corrals. His dark eyes looked at her as if she were slime on stagnant water, and he continued on past the mill.
    She wanted to pick up her hoop skirts and run after him, but she said calmly, "I told you that you were being silly, Grant.” He chuckled and released her, and she moved toward the bin of flour, feeling the ache that ground against her stomach like the mill’s giant roller against the grain. "Now why are you here?”
    "To get your approval of my marriage to Libby next month.”
    "You have my best wishes, of course. But I don’t believe ’tis my approval that brought you here today.”
    Grant frowned and jammed his hands into his pockets. "You’re right. We’ve trouble. A troop of Rebels — Texas Volunteers—has taken the Mesilla Valley at Valverde. And word has come another troop is marching toward Glorieta Pass.”
    She spun around, dropping the flour ladle. "Cambria —is it in danger?”
    He tilted his head thoughtfully.  “You said ‘ it,’ not ‘we.’”
    “Did I?”  She stooped to collect the ladle, glad for an excuse