Rebel by Heather Graham Page A

room and the stares focused upon him as many of Cimarron’s guests waited in both tense and delighted anticipation for what explosion might now erupt regarding the scandalous gossip that had been circulating the last few hours.
    Ian spoke, greeting his brother with an enthusiasticreturn, ignoring the rest of the room. “Julian, dear boy, but it’s good to see you. You do know Alaina—”
    “Of course, how could I not know Alaina?” Julian said, his smile charming, his voice husky with admiration as he bowed over her hand to kiss it. “Alaina, you have grown into quite the most bewitching woman in all the state.”
    Julian’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried—as it had been intended to do.
    Alaina murmured a thank you. She was very stiff, and Ian became aware that she watched her father, and he saw the pain in her eyes.
    Julian stepped closer to his brother. “Give me a lead here, Ian; I’ll follow.”
    “Get the damned musicians to start up again,” Ian suggested softly. “And… and tell Father that I am sorry for any discomfort I have caused him, and that I must beg his understanding and indulgence in what I am about to do. I’ll speak with him as soon as I can suitably reach him.”
    Julian arched a brow, as if he, like many others in the room, had been so drawn by the spectacle of Ian’s appearance with Alaina that he hadn’t realized the music had ceased. His lips curled slightly, and Ian was well aware his brother was anxious to know why he must ask their father’s indulgence.
    But Julian spun around, catching the eye of the lead fiddler and lifting a hand in question. The fiddler hastened to comply with such a query from a son of the household.
    The sweet, melodic sounds of a waltz suddenly filled the room once again. Ian bowed to Alaina and swept her into the dance. She moved with him quite easily, as naturally graceful on land as she was in water. Her small chin was tilted; her golden cat’s eyes blazed. “They are all staring; what are we accomplishing here? My poor father—”
    “Your poor father will be just fine. Laugh, smile, pretend you are enjoying yourself. The gossips will soon have their due.”
    “Will they? Listen! They talk so loudly, they must not even care that we hear.”
    As they danced, Ian found himself smiling with grimbut genuine humor. Moving about the room, they indeed caught snatches of feveredly whispered conversation.
    “Do you believe they’ve had the audacity to arrive together here?” demanded an old biddy.
    “The very nerve of it!” replied her soldier partner.
    ‘Living in so savage a land, she has naturally been raised as little better than a savage….” That from a young Tampa mother.
    “Teddy’s poor wife dead…” That from her husband.
    “She’s a hussy …” An ugly old crone Ian was quite certain he didn’t even know.
    “But for Ian to respond so, in his
father’s
house!” A dignified old soldier.
    “There was talk of a
proper
marriage between Ian and a colonel’s daughter. …” A younger soldier.
    “She bewitches men. …” A jealous old maid with a very large nose.
    “But her father simply must accost him, do something!” Another elderly man, retired military from Tampa.
    “It is quite deliciously awful!” one matron admitted to her balding partner. She caught Ian’s eyes on her; she flushed crimson, but met his stare for several seconds before backing down.
    “Imagine, the McKenzies of Cimarron involved in so sordid an affair!” She said with a loud sniff as they danced away.
    He saw that his brother had reached Jarrett and Tara and given his message. He gave his brother a barely perceptible nod, which Julian easily read. He moved across the room nimbly, ducking amid the dancers, to reach Ian’s side once again. “May I?” he inquired politely to Alaina.
    Her golden eyes touched Ian’s, but she readily slipped into Julian’s arms.
    Perhaps far too readily, Ian thought irritably. But he moved quickly through the crowd