Romancing The Crown: Leila and Gage. Kathleen Creighton
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left of her hat. She glanced at it, frowning.
“Well, you know, it’s not really my sport. I’m more a Dallas Cowboys fan,” Kitty began apologetically, then gave a gasp of dismay as she, too, noticed Leila’s hat. “Oh, my goodness, what in the world happened? That’s a real shame.”
Leila shrugged and placed it on the tabletop. “The wind blew it onto the field and the horses trampled it,” she explained matter-of-factly as she poured herself a glass of the blend of pomegranate and grape juices. She sipped, and found it nicely chilled and just slightly fermented. She lowered her lashes, veiling her eyes, and casually added, “Elena’s friend—Mr. Gallagher—got it back for me.”
Kitty chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, that sounds like something Cade would do.”
Leila flashed her a look of what she hoped was only polite interest. “You know this Mr. Gallagher—Cade—very well?”
“Not real well, no—mostly through Elena.” But then Kitty gave a little smile and sort of waggled her shoulders as she settled back in her chair, reminding Leila so much of her favorite source of gossip, Nargis, that she almost laughed out loud. “He is a good-lookin’ man, though, isn’t he?”
“He is handsome,” Leila said in a considering tone, then made a brushing-aside gesture with her hand as she picked up her glass. “But surely such a handsome man must be married.”
Kitty shook her head, looking gleeful. “Uh-uh—he’s not.”
Leila glanced at her in surprise. “Really? Then…surely, someone special—a girlfriend?”
“Not that I know of.” The expression on Kitty’s face reminded Leila now of the palace cats—she all but purred. “Lots of girls, I imagine, but, nope—no one in particular. Elena would have told me if there was.”
“But that seems very strange,” Leila said, frowning. “What do you suppose is the reason? There must be some reason why a man of his age—he is what, thirty?”
“Thirty-six,” Kitty promptly supplied. “I know, because Elena told me he’s six years older than she is.” Thirty-six…ten years older than I am. But that is good—
Startled by the thought, Leila guiltily slammed it into a drawer, hidden far away in the back of her mind.
“Perhaps,” said Leila with a sniff, “he is not a good man.”
“Cade?” The other woman looked taken aback, even mildly affronted. Then she chuckled. “I’m not sure how you mean that, honey, but if you mean ‘good’ like in decent, honorable—that sort of thing—then I can pretty much tell you there’s probably not a better man alive. Cade Gallagher is so honest it’s scary. Oh, I hear he’s tough when it comes to business, but judging from the way I’ve seen him with Elena—” She interrupted herself to lean forward like a conspirator. “His parents are dead, you know, just like Elena’s—they’re all the family each other’s got.” She sat back with a little wave of her hand. “Anyway, as far as I can see, the man’s got a heart like a marshmallow.”
“Marsh…mallow?” The word was unfamiliar to Leila.
Kitty laughed. “It’s a kind of candy—real soft and gooey, you know? And sweet.”
Sweet? Leila chewed doubtfully on her lower lip. “Sweet” was not a word she had ever heard applied to a man before. Certainly not to one as rugged-looking as Cade Gallagher.
“Well,” said Kitty with an air of finality, “I know Elena thinks the world of him—that’s enough for me.”
And, Leila realized suddenly, I think Elena thinks the world of you, too. She must, to have invited the woman to her wedding. This woman—Kitty—seemed like a kind person. A bit of a gossip, maybe, but Leila saw no real harm in that. The important thing was, she was Elena’s friend. Elena trusted her.
Leila took a deep breath and made a decision. She sat forward, hands earnestly clasped. “Please—tell me about America. What is it like, between men and women? How is it when they are…” she waved a hand in a circular motion, searching for the word. “I am sorry, I do not know—”
“You mean, dating?”
“Yes.” Leila let out a breath. “Dating.” She had learned a little about the customs of Europe and England from classmates in boarding school, but what she knew of America came mostly from movies and very old television programs, and she was, she feared, badly out-of-date. “You must understand, here we have no such thing. What is it like? How, exactly, is it done?” And without her realizing it, her heart had begun to beat faster.
“What’s it like?” Kitty gave a dry little laugh. “Not that I’ve had much personal experience lately, you understand, but from what I can recall, it can be anything from fun and exciting to downright awful. As for how it’s done—honey, there’ve been about a bazillion books and magazine articles devoted to that subject.”
“Oh, but please,” Leila cried, “you must tell me. For example, must the man always be the one to…to…” Frustrated, she paused to frown and gnaw at her lip. She was not accustomed to feeling so awkward, and she did not like it one bit.
“Make the first move?” Kitty said kindly.
“The first move—yes!” Leila was almost laughing with relief. “Must the woman always wait for the man to do it? Or may the woman be the first one to speak?”
Kitty gave a merry laugh. “I guess that depends.”
“On what?” She leaned forward, intent with purpose now.
“Oh, well…on your generation, for one thing. Now, my generation, they’re pretty much stuck on the ‘leave it to the guy to make the first move’ tradition. Men my age seem to feel threatened by pushy women, for some reason.” She sighed.
Leila wasn’t exactly sure what was meant by “pushy women,” but she forged on, eager to get to what she really wanted to know. Breathlessly, she asked, “And…Mr. Gallagher?”
It was hard to imagine such a man feeling threatened by anything, much less a mere woman.
“Cade?” Kitty had that look again, the one that made Leila think of the woman’s animal namesake. She leaned forward as if she were about to reveal a great secret. “Just between you and me, I think that man focuses entirely too much on business. I think maybe if a woman wanted to get his attention, she might have to be a little bit pushy.”
“Pushy?” Leila frowned. That word again. The pictures it brought to her mind didn’t seem appealing to her.
“You know,” Kitty said, lifting one shoulder just slightly. “Give him a little…nudge in the right direction. A push.”
“Ah,” said Leila, feeling as if a light had come on in her head, “you mean, not a real push, but a suggestion. And this is…permissible in America?”
“I don’t know about all of America, but in Texas it is.”
“Thank you,” Leila breathed. “That is what I wanted to know.” She placed her glass on the table and rose to leave, preoccupied and just in time remembering her manners. Turning back to Kitty, she said automatically, “It was very nice talking with you. I hope I may see you tonight at the reception?”
“Oh,” said Kitty, looking solemn, “you can count on it.”
As Leila was turning away, she saw the other woman pick up the paperback book she had laid aside when Leila interrupted her. She thought it must not be a romance novel after all, but perhaps a very funny one instead. Because, as she found her place and began to read, Kitty was laughing to herself, and the smile on her face stretched from one ear to the other.
Chapter 3
The hum and clatter of sound from the reception hall receded as Cade strolled deeper