Clay by Ana Leigh Page B

isn’t going. He said he has no intentions of spending his last night in town with the same people he’ll be with for the next few months,” Clay said.
    “He has a good point.” But it had been years since she’d been to anything that remotely resembled a party, and the thought of the music and gaiety seemed appealing.
    “I have to change my dress. If you want to go ahead, I’ll come later.”
    “I’ll wait for you,” he said. “Appearances, you know.”
    He handed her a pair of women’s leather gloves. “I noticed you didn’t buy any today. You’ll need these when you drive that team.”
    “Thank you, Clayton.” The thoughtful gesture took her by surprise. “Did you get a rifle?”
    He nodded, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain gold band. “And I sold the other ring. This doesn’t have diamonds, but I think it’ll be better if you wear it. Ah… appearances, you know. I’ll wait until you’re ready.” He handed her the ring, then stepped back into his room and closed the door.
    Rebecca stared at the gold band for a long moment before she slipped it on her finger. Somehow the simple, inexpensive ring made her feel more conscious of being his wife than the flashier, expensive diamond-studded band had. She raised her hand to her neck and pulled out the chain she had tucked under her bodice. She touched the gold band Charley had given her that now dangled from the chain, then stared at the ring on her finger, unaware of the tears sliding down her cheeks.
    She couldn’t do it. She knew she should, but she couldn’t bring herself to put on the ring Clay gave her. Not when this marriage was just temporary. She quickly switched the rings and returned Charley’s to her finger, then tucked Clay’s in among the clothes in her bag. He would never notice.
    Squaring her shoulders, Rebecca brushed away her tears and pulled a flowered chintz gown out of her trunk.
    The ruffled flounce that ran down the front and circled the hem could have used a pressing, but there was no time for that and it was the only party gown she had. She changed into it quickly and combed out her hair, then retrieved the pair of red pumps from the bottom of the trunk. For a long moment she held them, gazing sadly at the slippers. Charley had bought them for her the Christmas after they were married. There’d been no occasion to wear them after he left for the war. With a deep sigh she removed her everyday black shoes and slipped on the red ones. Then she knocked on Clay’s door.
    The heated look in his eyes, as his gaze ran down her curves, made her forget about her gown’s wrinkles, and awareness tingled through her as he took her arm.
    The party was in full swing by the time they arrived, and hundreds of men, women, and children packed the room. As she and Clay ate the roasted chicken and savory potato salad, Rebecca looked around with interest. There was an excitement in the air.
    Tomorrow was a new beginning, the hope for a fresh start from whatever desolation they all had left behind. Most of them were ex-Confederate soldiers, but there were many blue-trousered men among the crowd, as well. And as Mr. Scott had declared, from now on, there would not—and could not—be any division between them. They all had a common goal now: to start a new life in the land of milk and honey.
    As soon as the orchestra struck an opening chord, Mike Scott quieted the crowd. “Folks, we’ve got a newlywed couple among us named Clay and Rebecca Fraser, who were just married yesterday. With a little coaxing, maybe the new bride and groom will lead out the first waltz.”
    The building reverberated with applause and whistles from the crowd.
    Good Lord! This can’t be happening. Rebecca glanced at Clay, who looked as appalled as she was.
    “Where is the happy couple?” Scott called. “Clay and Rebecca, come out, come out, wherever you are.”
    When the crowd picked up the chant, Clay grasped her hand. “I believe they’re