by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
"My favorite waltz," Marie announced as she stepped outside the house. Ben had hired an excellent violinist for this soiree and he was doing full justice to the music.
She stood on the porch for a moment, enjoying the cool night air and the strains of the violin. Then she remembered her purpose.
She held a punch glass in each hand. One for herself and one—well, one for a peace offering.
She inhaled deeply and then made her way to the rail. There were no horses tied there, but Adam was leaning up against it. He folded his arms as she approached him.
Marie put on her most charming smile. "Here, cheri," she said, handing him a glass. "I will take some air with you."
"Thank you," he said as he accepted it. But the flat tone of his voice undermined the gratitude of his words.
Marie sighed. "Cheri, stop glowering at me. In a few months you will leave for college—and while you’re back east you can forget that your father ever laid eyes on me. But until then, we must do what we can to get along."
He smiled at that—an unpleasant smile. "I don’t mind that my father set eyes on you, Marie," he said evenly. "I just wish he had offered you a carte blanche instead of a wedding ring."
Marie tightened her grip on her glass. Somehow she conquered the urge to box Adam’s ears. She forced herself to smile instead.
"If you mean to drive me off with insults, you’ll have to do better than that," she informed him.
He stared at her. She met his glare and held it. In the end he was the one to look away. In fact he blushed and stared down at the ground.
She felt a bit sorry for him, for she could see that he was ashamed of his words. Poor boy—it was hard to be seventeen.
"I’m sorry," he said at last. "I had no right to say that."
"No, you did not," she agreed. "But you’ve been wanting to say it for years. So perhaps it’s best to have it out, n’est-ce pas?"
He looked back up at her. "Will you forgive me?"
She smiled and put her glass down on the ground. "Only if you’ll dance with me. Come, I adore this waltz."
He shook his head. "No. I, that is—no thank you."
Marie was puzzled, but suddenly she understood his reluctance. "Oh, but how stupid of me. You don’t know how to waltz, do you? Don’t worry, cheri, I’ll teach you."
She didn’t give him an opportunity to refuse her. She took the glass out of his hand, set it down, and drew him away from the rail.
He held her stiffly when she first showed him how to circle his arm around her waist. But at length he relaxed. He gave her his attention as she taught him the steps and even managed a smile or two.
"Very good, cheri," she told him as he settled into the dance. "Ah, but we must practice more before you leave. Those barbarians in Boston will know nothing of waltzing."
Adam raised his eyebrows at her. "I might find a few civilized souls there."
Marie sniffed contemptuously. "They are Yankees. And that reminds me, Adam. I know that you and your father are Yankee heretics but you must promise me not to burn effigies of the pope."
Adam laughed. "That’s no longer the custom in Boston," he assured her. "At least not since my grandfather was a boy."
She returned his laughter and then showed him how to end the dance. She smiled up at him as she completed her curtsey.
"Te voila," she said. "And you did very well."
He nodded his thanks and retrieved the punch glasses. After handing one to her he offered her his arm.
Marie accepted it and decided to press her luck. Why not? She was finally bringing Adam around. With a bit more coaxing perhaps they could become friends.
"We should get back to our guests now," she said. "But would you care to come riding with me in the morning? I want to take Mulciber out."
They had been walking back toward the house but Adam stopped short at that.
"Mulciber?" he repeated. "That animal is too strong for you, Marie. You should stick with a gelding."
She gave him a teasing smile. "Thank you, cheri, but I can choose my own mount."
He released her arm and turned to face her. Marie rolled her eyes at the disapproval that was plainly written on his face.
"Poor Adam," she said as she patted his cheek. "I know it pains you but I’m your stepmother—you can’t throttle me."
She didn’t miss the regret in his voice as he answered. "No," he admitted. "But if you’re foolish enough to ride that devil I hope he tosses you. That might teach you a lesson."
She laughed as she put her arm back through his. "Perhaps, but I doubt it. I’m better at giving lessons than receiving them. Now come, cheri. Let’s return to our guests."
LINK TO PART THREE
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