The Minister's Daughter

Elise had found Aaron.  He was standing beside Baret, speaking animatedly.  Baret, however, seemed not to hear as he spotted Elise across the room.  Their eyes met and held as he perused her graceful form from his place beside the mantel.  The oval-shaped face, the dark skin and her long raven tresses alone were enough to draw him, but the dress she wore with such elegance took his breath away.  The slightly-scooped bodice revealed her slender neck and the gathered waist illuminated the shapeliness of her person.

Elise could not have moved even if she had wanted to.  The sight of him was enough to make her heart pound wildly, and she was sure that Abigail could hear it.  She watched as Baret slowly lifted his glass in a silent toast to her.  His attention was diverted, however, by Aaron tugging on his arm, seemingly demanding an answer to his previous questions.  He reluctantly allowed his gaze to fall from the entrancing sight and directed his concentration to his friend’s discussion.

Elise felt as if she had been in a stupor, for when Baret broke their gaze, she started to breathe again.  She turned toward Abigail, who said, “It would appear to me, dear friend, that Monsieur Baret Junot only has eyes for you tonight.  I don’t think you need worry about Sydney any longer.”

Elise glanced at the two men, now engrossed in their conversation.  “Well,” she murmured, “he probably hasn’t met her yet.”

The musicians began gathering on the raised platform on the opposite end of the room.  Several young gentlemen moved tentatively toward Elise to receive the honor of the first dance.  Before any of them had a chance to ask (and even before she had the pleasure of rejecting them), Baret stepped forward and bowed low.

He looked impishly into her azure eyes.  “Pardon me, mademoiselle, but I believe that at breakfast this morning I was promised the first dance of the evening.  Shall we?”  He held out his hand and waited in expectation.

“Of course, sir,” Elise replied graciously as she placed her small hand in his.  They moved to the center of the floor with the other couples and he gathered her in his arms with an air of possession.

“I don’t remember making you that promise, sir,” she said quietly.

“Don’t you?  Well, perhaps I merely noticed the invitation in your eyes and decided to make it into a promise.”

“Why,” Elise gasped in a mock display of surprise, “I do believe you to be a scoundrel and a rogue, sir, for deceiving the other willing gentlemen who were on their way to amaze me with their words of devotion.  You have been friends with my brother much too long, for I see that you are starting to assume his actions.”

“Yes, well, I noticed that you did not correct me in front of them, but rather waited until we were alone to air your concerns.”  He grinned at her roguishly and leaned his head toward her.  “Am I to take that as a favorable sign that some of that ice is melting?”

Elise tossed her head and tried to maintain her aloofness at his nearness.

“You may not take my action in any such way, Monsieur,” she said haughtily.

“My name is Baret, Elise.”

“Very well.  Baret.”  The name fell from her tongue easily; too easily, she thought.  “I only granted you the first dance because you are a visitor to our wonderful country.  And, also, for the fact that you are Aaron’s guest and I did not wish to hear him rail about my total inconsideration for one he apparently holds in such high esteem.  Why, for me to ignore your attentions tonight would, to Aaron, be the height of blasphemy.”

She looked up and found him gazing at her, the expression in his eyes totally unreadable.  She silently wondered if he had even heard a word she had just said.

The music started and they began to circle the dance floor in a slow waltz.  She was amazed at his agility.

“Do you waltz often, Baret?” she asked, looking into his coal black eyes and trying to assume indifference at being held so closely to him.  She remembered the incident earlier in her room and a rosy glow rested on her cheeks.  Her glance