Frontier Wife by Margaret Tanner Page A

“He's going to announce us.” She gave a nervous giggle and squeezed her brother’s arm.
    “Come this way, please.” The man made a deferential bow.
    “Well, here we go, sis, the grand entrance.”
    “Captain David Lindsay and Miss Thomasina Lindsay.”
    A murmur rippled through the crowd of guests. With her head held high, and her fingers biting into David's arm, they entered the ballroom.
    Something made her glance across the dance floor. Her gaze locked with Adam’s. For a second sudden warmth lit his eyes, softening them to a misty gray, but they quickly iced over again. He wore a dark evening suit with a white frilly shirt. Her heartbeat escalated only because of nervousness.
    A waiter passed by. David picked up two drinks of what looked like fruit punch, as neither of them drank alcohol. The music started up again and she glanced around with interest. The gowns were beautiful and surprisingly the latest designs from the continent. But mine is just as grand as any of them, she decided, with a secret little thrill.
    When a young man came up to inquire whether her program was full, she realized she didn’t have one.
    “I'm sorry. I didn’t bring one with me.” She smiled in apology. Of all the idiotic actions. A young woman could be socially ruined for committing such a faux pas in England.
    Her would-be partner gave a nonchalant grin. “I’m Ian Wiseman. Would you mind?” he asked David.
    “No, go ahead.”
    Ian proved an accomplished dancer and she started enjoying herself. Her first ball in Australia would most probably be her last so she meant to savor every minute of it.
    “Good evening, Miss Lindsay. Mind if I cut in?” Adam Munro strode up and whisked her out of her partner’s arms, executed a couple of fancy steps, and had them out in the middle of the dance floor before she could utter a protest.
    “I don’t wish to dance with you,” she lied, knowing full well that she wanted to feel his arms around her.
    “That’s too bad.” His breath stirred a few wispy strands of hair at her forehead.
    He danced well, his skill surpassing hers, and she always considered herself an excellent dancer. His skin had an earthy, musky smell, a scent so potently male it seeped into every core of her being, causing her nerve endings to tingle. She couldn’t understand the affect he had on her. He held her firmly, not overly close, but the touch of his hand seared like a brand through the fine material of her gown.
    Adam felt her body trembling against him. The perfume of her hair, sweeter than any flower known to man, wafted in his nostrils until he struggled to breathe. Tommy Lindsay floated around the dance floor, light as thistledown, delicate as the petals of a rose in full bloom. He had a sudden, inexplicable urge to crush her against his own hardness, to taste her lips, to probe for the nectar he knew his tongue would find inside her mouth.
    Damn it. He loosened his hold a little and couldn’t understand why he suddenly felt bereft. The sooner he announced his betrothal to Sophia the better, before creamy English skin and sky blue eyes seduced him. Tommy Lindsay didn’t fit into his plans. He used clear logic when it came to choosing a wife. He didn’t want the bother of any emotional attachment.
    Even after all these years he could still remember the desolation, the sheer agony of losing his mother, and he wasn’t prepared to put himself through that again. The only things he required of his wife were for her to give him two or three healthy sons, be decorative when he entertained, and bring some money or property into the union. Sophia proved perfect on all counts. He wanted nothing else. He didn’t need passion in his life.
    “The music has ended, Mr. Munro.”
    “So it has.” He trailed his finger across her cheek, enjoying the feel of her soft, smooth skin. “Thank you for the dance, little English rose. I had a sudden urge to hold you in my arms.”
    His words shocked her, but not nearly