Page 214 of Once an Angel
"Nothing?" she bit off acidly.
He hummed under his breath, blithely unaware of the petite volcano seething at his side. "Rangimarie
was one of my best pupils. I taught her English."
"Is that all?"
He missed her lethal look. His admiring gaze was hovering at the opulent bosom of his sloe-eyed friend. Her serpentine twists threatened to shake the golden orbs free. She danced toward him, stamping her
feet and swinging her hips in blatant invitation.
The tips of her hair flicked Emily's cheek like tiny eels as she bent over Justin, mouthing Maori words.
He grinned and ducked his head. It might have been the torchlight, but Emily would have sworn a flush crept along his cheekbones.
As the woman slithered away, Emily slammed her fist into Trini's arm. "What did she say?"
Trini gave her an infuriating smile and wagged his finger under her nose. "No, no! Not for the hearing appendages of filial progeny."
"Not for the hearing appendanges . . . ?" She muttered the words under her breath before their meaning came to life with furious clarity.
Not for the ears of children.
Justin's own voice, smooth and condescending, echoed through her head. Are you being a naughty little girl again?
Her nails dug into the woven flax of her cup. They all seemed to think her some overgrown toddler who needed her fingers slapped to keep her out of mischief. She tilted the cup to her lips, draining it in one swig. Fire raced through her limbs, throbbing in time with the music.
Rum and wavering torch smoke blurred her vision. The exotic features of the dancers melted into the smug faces of Miss Winters's students. She had hovered in the corner during their ballet class as they floated past, wrapped in yards of delicate white organdy. Her feet had itched to join them, but it had been Cecille who drifted to her sylvan death as Giselle at the recital each spring. Emily's own small satisfaction had come last year when Cecille had lifted her head to take her bow only to find her shimmering blond mane pasted to the stage.
The stamp of native feet thundered through Emily's veins, enthralling her with their primal beat. She glanced over at Justin. His rapt attention was still held by the siren song of the dancers.
The empty cup slid from her fingers. She was sick of watching from the wings while others took their bows.
She rose with sinuous grace and slipped among the dancers. She had no need to mock their motions.
As she closed her eyes and lifted her hair from her sweltering nape, the rhythm took her in its masterful hands, swaying her like a long-stemmed bloom in the wind.
The wailing song of the dancers soared and the pent-up spirit of a lifetime burst into flower. Emily spun free, caught in the sheer joy of the motion. The stamping swelled until it resonated through her bones
and fueled her pumping heart.
One by one the natives left their places in the sand to join the dance, bewitched by the spell of rhythm and song. Kawiri leaped and grimaced, wielding a piece of driftwood as a spear. Trini spun with a
graceful swirl of his feathered cloak. The old tohunga gummed a smile and rocked in the sand. Dani hopped from one foot to the other, shaking her dark mop of hair.
For one magical moment Emily was no longer alone. She belonged to something larger than herself—a family. She whirled around, coming face-to-face with Justin.
Somehow in the midst of this exuberant crowd Justin had never looked more alone. A quizzical sadness tinged his expression. Emily faltered.
He swept his hair from his eyes and made a courtly bow, giving her a jarring glimpse of how striking a figure he might cut in a London drawing room. "May I have the pleasure of this dance, my lady?"
The native music seemed to fade, merging into the sweet strains of a formal waltz, half imagined and
half remembered from a dream.
Emily had trouble finding her voice. "I should be honored, my lord."
He took her into his arms, holding her at arm's length with flawless grace. His big, warm hand pressed against the bare skin of her lower back. The natives faded to faceless blurs as they swept through the sand in an ever-widening circle, both of them too lost in the charm of the moment to recognize its incongruity. They never saw the Maori step back, yielding their own dance to the exotic cadences of
