Making her way through a gathering of Sitka wives, she paused only long enough to allow her mother to introduce her to several women. Phoebe smiled and made all the appropriate replies to their questions.
“I hope you’ll excuse me,” she finally said, turning a hopeful gaze toward her mother’s watchful eye. “I need a bit of air.”
“Don’t go too far,” her mother warned. “Better yet, try to find one of your brothers to accompany you.”
Phoebe nodded but had no intention of asking her brothers for help. She hurried from the room and bounded out the door.
Right into the arms of Dalton Lindquist.
“Running away?” he asked.
She looked up, mortified to have once again entangled herself with the handsome man. Phoebe tried to turn and free herself from his hold, but Dalton held her secure.
“You sure have a way of creating a scene.”
Phoebe felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Why must she always be doing the wrong thing when in the presence of the only man she wanted to impress? She pulled her elbow free from his grasp. “Yes, first by falling out of the boat, and now this.”
“Don’t forget our mishap at the house,” he interjected.
“How could I—especially with your lovely reminder.”
She lowered her face and wished silently that the earth would swallow her up. Why did it have to be so light outside? He could, no doubt, see her embarrassment.
He laughed, making her all the more uncomfortable. Phoebe fought the urge to reprimand him as she might one of her brothers.
“You really shouldn’t take yourself so seriously,” he said.
Phoebe looked up at this. “I beg your pardon?”
“You worry too much. Folks around here hardly care that you fell into the harbor. They care more about the fact that you’re all right and suffered no ill effects. Sure, it gives everyone something to talk about for a time, but so what? It’s not like they can go to the opera for entertainment.” His face held a mischievous grin, and his expression almost dared her to contradict his comment.
“Well, I don’t like to make a spectacle of myself.” She frowned. “But I seem to have a proclivity for it.”
“Then it would be best to learn to laugh at yourself, don’t you think?”
She gazed into his eyes and momentarily forgot what she was going to say. All Phoebe could think about was how much she wanted to touch his face. Instead, she forced herself to turn away.
“I was hoping to ask you about the orchestra,” she said, brushing nonexistent lint from her sleeve.
“What about it?”
“I wondered if your mother was in charge. I mean, it appeared to me that she was leading the group.”
Dalton nodded. “Mother has always had a great passion for music. She said her violin has been the friend she’s known the longest.”
“I can well understand. I play the flute and feel the same.”
“My father and I play guitar. You probably saw him among the musicians.”
Phoebe remembered the man, although she’d never met him.
“Yes. I was very impressed with the quality of their performance.
Especially with so few members. Do you suppose your mother would be at all interested in attaining another musician?”
Dalton chuckled. “She would be delighted. She always bemoans the fact that there are so few people with an interest in such things.
You should definitely approach her about it. They practice whenever time permits and are generally asked to play at every gathering.”
“Well, that would certainly excuse me from dancing,” Phoebe said without thinking.
“And why would you want to do that?” he asked. “I thought you were quite skillful at it.”
Phoebe shot him a glance. “You saw me?”
“Of course. Yuri and I were discussing your arrival and decided you were by far and away the prettiest addition to the party.”
His statement took her off guard. It wasn’t that Phoebe hadn’t heard men boldly speak their minds before, but she somehow hadn’t expected it from Dalton Lindquist. She quickly changed the focus of their conversation.
“Who is Yuri?”
“He’s my friend. I work with him and his father building boats.”
“Was he the tall blond man?”
“So you noticed him, eh? Now I’m jealous.”
“You needn’t be. I couldn’t help it. I . . . uh . . . well, I was looking at your mother and the orchestra, and then you went up to speak to her. Later, after you left, you were talking to the blond man.”
“Oh, so it was me you were watching.”
She felt her cheeks warm again. “I . . . well . . .” What could she say?
“Come on, the dancing is about to start up again,” someone announced behind Phoebe.
Other people rushed past Dalton and Phoebe as the melody of a familiar waltz began. Phoebe didn’t know what to do. If she headed back inside, she would have to continue dancing.
“Shall we join them?” Dalton asked.
“What?” Phoebe wasn’t exactly sure what he was saying.
“Would you like to dance—with me?”
Phoebe felt as if she’d swallowed her tongue. All she could do was nod and accept Dalton’s arm as he led her back into the building. She trembled as he pulled her closer. She placed her hand on his shoulder and marveled at Dalton’s firm muscles.
He said nothing as he maneuvered her around the room, weaving in and out of the other dancers. Phoebe wanted the moment to go on forever but knew it wouldn’t. Even now, Dalton’s friend Yuri was approaching to take her away from the only man with whom she wanted to dance.
“My turn,” Yuri said, tapping Dalton and stepping into his place.
Phoebe took hold of Yuri and watched as Dalton moved aside. She tried her best to mask her feelings.
“I’m Yuri Belikov,” the young man announced. “My mother is your housekeeper.”
“Phoebe Robbins,” she replied, amazed that no one stood on ceremony in this tiny town. The rules of society were observed but hardly imposed.
“You do realize that you’re the most beautiful girl in the room,” he said.
She wasn’t sure what to say. His comment made her feel uncomfortable, but she knew he was only being nice. “Thank you. I’m not at all convinced that it’s true, but you are very generous to say so.” She immediately regretted her words, hoping that he wouldn’t think she was seeking further compliments. Phoebe quickly asked, “Is Belikov a Russian name?”
He smiled. “It is. My family is originally from Russia. My father and mother came here when they were just married.”
“Have you ever been to Russia?”
He shook his head. “It’s often been discussed. My mother would like to go back. Her mother isn’t well, and her sisters want her to come home.”
“And will you go?”
A man was approaching them and Phoebe knew she would once again be handed off. Yuri apparently was unwilling to lose her company just yet and whisked her in the opposite direction.
“I’m sorry about that, but I’ve not had you for more than a few moments. He can wait his turn. Besides, I happen to know he smells like fish and doesn’t dance well at all.”
Phoebe suppressed a giggle. She had not expected such a comment, and it somehow put her at ease with this friend of Dalton’s.
She glanced up to find his blue eyes watching her. She smiled. “So I asked if you would go with your family to Russia?”
He gave her a rather wicked grin. “Not if there’s a reason to stay.”
Dalton couldn’t help but notice the smug look of satisfaction that Yuri wore. He’d managed to keep Phoebe with him throughout the rest of the waltz and only now had relinquished her to another man.
“So did you see us dancing?” Yuri asked. “I think we make a great pair, don’t you?”
A twinge of jealousy sliced through Dalton’s heart, but he ignored it. His sister Evie had just joined them, and he didn’t want her questioning his attitude. Rather than reply to Yuri’s comment, he turned to Evie.
“You look tired.”
“I’m exhausted. I can’t believe how many times I’ve danced. I’m more than ready to return home, but I know I’d never get away with it.” She smiled at Yuri. “How are you doing?”
“I am well. We were just talking about Miss Phoebe Robbins.”
“She is quite pretty, don’t you think?”
“I do indeed,” Yuri answered. “I was just telling Dalton that I thought we made a great pair.”
Dalton couldn’t shake the growing sensation of wanting to hit Yuri in the mouth. Evie glanced at Dalton, but he looked away as if needing to tend to something else. If she saw his expression, she’d know his feelings readily enough, and he didn’t want to have to explain. Besides, how could he explain when he didn’t understand, himself?
“You still haven’t danced with me, brother of mine.”
Dalton was surprised by this. “I thought you were exhausted.”
She took hold of his arm. “Never too tired to dance with my brother.”
They set out onto the floor and began to join the others. Evie smiled conspiratorially. “You looked like you needed a reason to get away from Yuri.”
Dalton wasn’t sure what to say on the matter. “Sometimes he talks too much.”
“He seems interested in Phoebe Robbins.”
“I suppose so.”
“Dalton, if you like her, you had best fight for her.”
He looked at Evie in complete surprise. “What are you talking about?”
She laughed and motioned to the door. “Come with me.”
Dalton followed his sister outside, more than a little curious about what she would say. He waited until they’d walked a few steps from the front entry before asking, “Why did you say that?”
Evie stopped and turned. “Dalton, it’s clear that you are, at the very least, fascinated with Miss Robbins. And it’s further evident to me that she’s more than a little taken with you. If you are interested in her, you need to fight for her instead of just handing her over to Yuri.”
“Who said I was handing her over to him?”
His sister smiled. “You need to make sure that Yuri knows you are interested. He’s done nothing but bait a reaction from you. It’s time you took a stand. If she means nothing, then let it drop.”
Dalton shook his head. “I don’t know what I feel. I like her looks, and she’s nice to talk to.” He knew there was something more, but he wasn’t yet ready to say what that was.
Evie smoothed the skirt of her gown. “You don’t have to be ready to propose marriage in order to challenge Yuri’s comments.
Simply let him know that you are interested in Phoebe, as well, and that you don’t intend to stand idly by while he tries to win her over for himself.” She gently patted Dalton’s arm. “Look, finding the right person to spend your life with is so important. My own miseries are proof of that. Please don’t let the chance for true love pass you by.”
Her voice was so intense, so full of emotion, that Dalton couldn’t help but put his arm around Evie. “I’m sorry that you didn’t have a chance for love. You are one of the most beautiful, special women I know. Your heart is pure gold.”
She smiled up at him. “I have missed the romance, but not love itself. I have you and the rest of the family. I might never have known that, and my life would be much poorer.”
“Haven’t you ever heard from . . . him?” Dalton asked hesitantly. “I mean, in all these years, hasn’t your husband ever sent you a single letter? Any word at all?”
“No,” Evie admitted. “Our sister Jeannette sometimes writes me about him.” She tilted her head. “I’m so sorry there have been so many secrets between you and me. Jeannette is a rather disastrous person. She has never been happy—even as a child. I find her annoying and ridiculous in most everything she says and does.” She shrugged. “But she does keep me informed about things. She loves to gossip, and it seems to serve her purpose to write to me. I write her back from time to time, but never in detail and not very often.”
Dalton dropped his hold. “Our family is so disjointed—so strange.” He walked a little ways farther and stared out at the fading sunlight on the water.
Evie reached for him. “Let’s get back to the party. You need to make your intentions known to Yuri.”
Dalton allowed her to pull him along, but he still wasn’t convinced. “What do I say?”
She laughed. “Well, the next time he comments on what a great couple they’d make, tell him you don’t think so. Tell him you think you and Phoebe make a better pair.”
Once they were back amongst the festivities, Dalton didn’t have long to wait to say just that. Yuri was determined to goad him. It was as if he knew how his friend felt and couldn’t resist adding to his misery.
“I danced again with Phoebe. I think she’s just about the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“I agree.”
This seemed to amuse Yuri. He turned to face Dalton. “I knew it. I knew you liked her, too.”
“Of course I do. She’s not only pretty; she’s charming and smart.”
Yuri moved in closer. “She looks better with me.”
“That’s your opinion.” Dalton shrugged. “So now what? We both like the same girl. Do we take it outside and let our fists decide?”
Yuri laughed out loud. “You couldn’t whip me. Besides, where’s the fun in that? I say we make a bet on who can win her. After all, you’re the rich man now. Surely you can afford to spare a little for a friendly wager.”
“Since when do you gamble? My mother would never let me hear the end of it if I did such a thing,” Dalton countered. “Your mother would be the same.”
“Our mothers don’t need to even know about it. We’re men, and men gamble.”
“Not all men.”
“Men who aren’t tied to their mother’s apron strings do.”
“So you are gambling these days?”
“I do what I like. I’m grown up now—who should say I can’t do this or that?”
“Some things are just sensible, Yuri.”
With great exasperation, Yuri waved his hands in the air. “So we don’t say it’s a bet. Let’s call it a contest. I believe I can win Phoebe Robbins for myself by the time the winter ball comes round.”
“I’ll have her for my own before first snow,” Dalton declared.
He knew it was a foolhardy move. He should never have agreed to any kind of challenge where Phoebe’s feelings were concerned.
Yuri rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The winner gets Phoebe, while the loser . . .”
He said nothing for a moment. Dalton could only imagine the misery of being the loser. He didn’t like the way this conversation had turned out at all. Evie had said to take a stand, and all he’d managed to do was concoct a game of hearts.