With Kent’s threat to take her drawers still fresh in her mind, Portia traded her skirt and blouse for a pair of denims and a shirt. She still didn’t know if he’d been teasing, but she figured whatever his plan entailed, her undergarments would be harder to confiscate while inside the denims. A soft knock sounded on the door connecting her room to Regan’s. “Come on in.”
Regan took in her attire. “Where are you going?”
“For a ride.”
“Please, not with Winston Jakes.”
“No.”
“He barreled by me a short while ago looking like he’d seen a ghost.”
Portia brushed out her hair and repinned it. “I told him I was the daughter of a whore.”
“Didn’t take it well?”
She shook her head.
“Good. Maybe now he and the bullfrog will leave you be.”
Portia knew she shouldn’t be encouraging her sister, but the description of Ada Jakes was just so apt she chuckled.
Regan added, “You know she looks like one and with that gravelly voice, she even sounds like one.”
Portia agreed again. “I didn’t like what she said to Kent. Why do people do that to him?”
“Because he’s the strongest, finest stallion in the herd and they’re jealous.”
Portia tied a bandana around her throat.
“I can ride with you if you want company.”
“You’re certainly welcome. Kent and I are going over to the falls.”
Regan stopped. “You’re riding with Kent?”
“Yes.”
“Then I decline.”
“Why?”
“He’s not going to kiss you with your little sister looking on.”
Heat burned her cheeks.
“And I’m not allowing you to use me to protect yourself from something we both know you want. You like his kisses, don’t you?”
Portia tried not to smile but couldn’t help it.
“There’s hope for you yet, sister mine.” Looking pleased, Regan retraced her steps to the door “Enjoy yourself, Portia.”
Once she was alone again, Portia eyed herself in the mirror of her vanity table. Would he kiss her? Probably. Did she want him to? She thought back on those few heated moments in Old Man Blanchard’s house. Definitely. Feeling as shameless as she often accused Regan of being, Portia set out for the stables.
He was there and waiting. Seeing him holding the reins of the already saddled Arizona, she said, “I can saddle my own horse.”
“No one is saying you can’t, Portia. I know how capable you are.”
Chastened, she dropped her head for a moment. “Sorry. I suppose I should’ve just said thank-you.”
“Maybe, but you said what you thought needed saying. I don’t have a problem with that.”
Portia knew how prickly she could be at times and she appreciated his patience with that part of her. With that in mind, she whispered, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome and just so you know, I’ll probably do it again. My way of showing you kindness, Duchess. Nothing more. Ready?”
She mounted, but he remained on the ground by his horse. She got the impression that he was eyeing her behind.
He flashed one of those smiles. “Yes, I’m admiring the view. I may be one of those rare men, but I am a man, darlin’. I like you in denims.”
“What am I going to do with you?”
“How about we find out when we get to the falls.”
Shaking her head at his audaciousness she turned her horse. “Are you coming or not?”
“Now there’s a question loaded with dynamite.”
Having no idea what he meant, confusion filled her face.
“Never mind,” he said, mounting up. “Lead the way.”
Still stumped, she studied him and thought back on what she’d asked. Finally realizing the double entendre of her question, heat burned her cheeks. “I’m done talking to you.” She rode away, trailed by the sound of his soft knowing laughter.
He caught up to her quickly and they reined their mounts to a nice easy pace. As it did most evenings, the heat had subsided a bit, but the mountains and the sky remained as vivid as ever. Their sure-footed horses had no trouble with the rocky trail or navigating the washes running with the last of the previous winter’s snow melt. The landscape was quiet and serene.
“Ever thought about living someplace else?” he asked.
“When I was younger, I thought I might like to move to a big city like San Francisco. I’ve visited there many times, but after a few days I was always ready to come home.” And she had. Even though Regan accused her of never leaving her office, she’d missed the quiet, the wide open spaces, the sunsets, and the peace the land seemed to hold. “How about you? You’ve lived a lot of different places, which would you like to call home?”
“Here, I think.” He looked over at her. “Surprised?”
“Somewhat. You don’t impress me as wanting to live in a big city either, but why here, of all places?”
“Not sure, but it calls to me, if that makes any sense. I took a ride the first evening after I arrived, saw the meadows and the mountains, took in the sky, and for whatever reasons, I felt like I’d finally come home. Made me think about buying a plot of my own and putting down roots—maybe finding a wife and starting a family.”
Portia saw the honesty in his eyes and the impact of it pierced her so deeply, she had to look away. She readily admitted to not having had a lot of experience with men, but she’d never had one open himself up to her in this manner before and she was shaken by it, because for the first time in her life she considered what it might be like to be the wife of a man like him. Also for the first time, she didn’t immediately discount the notion. Kent Randolph was slowly changing her and he made her want to embrace that change.
They rode silently for a time. She mined her thoughts, looking over every now and then to meet his steady gaze and wondering if he had been changed, too.
“Awful quiet over there, Duchess. Should I have kept that last part to myself?”
“No. I . . .” She wasn’t sure whether to admit the truth or not. “I just never had a man share his dreams with me before.”
“Most men I know have them, but the fear of being laughed at, or that it somehow diminishes a man, makes us keep quiet.”
“But you shared them with me.”
“Makes you special.”
That, too, pierced her, and before she could further analyze her reaction, he asked, “And what are yours, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I’d like to have my own bookkeeping business.”
“You have the skills, so when are you going to start?”
She thought on that. “I really don’t know.” She’d shared the idea with her uncle in the past and he’d pledged his support, but in spite of her outward confidence she’d been hesitant about approaching other businessmen because of the uncertainty of how she’d be received.
They reached the falls. Leaving their horses, they walked to the edge of the canyon. The sounds of the rushing water cascading over the lip of the rock face to the pool below filled the silence.
“Shall we sit?” he asked.
She nodded and led him to a log nearby. Of course the surroundings reminded her of the first time he kissed her, but she did her best to set that aside for the moment.
“So, what’s inside you that’s keeping you from starting your business?”
The question surprised her. “Why do you think it’s something inside me?”
“Because on the outside you’re tough enough to walk on water, so it must be something inside.”
How does he know me so well? “You won’t laugh?”
“Of course not.”
“I’m afraid.” She quickly glanced over to gauge his reaction but as always he met her eyes steadily.
“That’s honest. What scares you?”
“That I won’t be taken seriously because I can’t write my name in the snow.”
He stared and then laughed so loud he startled nearby birds into flight. “Where on earth did you learn that?” He thought back on all the snow-writing contests he’d participated in as boy.
“Old Man Blanchard, but don’t tell Eddy. She’d be appalled.”
“And well she should be. You’re outrageous, woman.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Their smiles met and unsaid words lingered and mingled. Portia thought he might kiss her, but he instead said, “I’ve known some pretty strong women and you rank right up there with the best. Fear is natural but you get on the bronc anyway, and if it throws you, you keep getting up and getting back on, okay?”
She nodded. She knew he was right because it was something she’d been telling herself all along, but for some reason, hearing him voice it seemed to douse the doubts that had kept her from moving forward.
“Good girl. Now, come, let’s find a place with a bit more cover so I can give you your reward.” Taking her hand, he led her deeper into the trees.
The kiss that followed was gentle at first, an opening refrain of soft, sweet sweeps of his lips over hers that made the embers left from their last encounter flare to life. With each passing moment the intensity rose, heating her senses, making her lips part, urging her to get closer. He obliged and she wrapped her arms around him and thrilled to his groan of approval as their bodies met. He moved his lips to her throat above the bandana and tugged it free to give him access to the soft scented skin beneath. The distant sound of the waterfall matched the rush of her blood. Bold as ever he tugged her shirt free of her denims and slid his hands beneath. His warm palms worked over the band of silk binding her breasts and he whispered heatedly, “One day, soon, I’m going to have you naked except for this silk so I can show you exactly what it does to me.”
The potent promise set off a shiver of excitement that radiated from the deep wanting between her thighs and spread like flame through her limbs. Her buttons were undone and when he brushed the halves open and took a silk-shrouded nipple gently between his teeth, she crooned aloud. His fingers played with the other while he fed and licked, and her breath stacked in her throat.
“Pull the silk down, Duchess. Show me what my loving has done to you. Let me see how tight and hard you are.”
The raw request sent the flame soaring. Looking into his passion-hardened eyes, she unveiled herself and he stroked a slow circle around each aching bud. “Do you want me to make them harder, Duchess?”
Her back braced against a tree, Portia could barely stand due to the storm whirling inside. He leaned down and kissed her mouth possessively. “You have to say ‘please,’ darlin’.”
Not wanting him to stop, she breathed, “Please . . .”
He treated her to a silent, wicked loving that left her gasping and arching into his masterful mouth. His palms slid up and down her bared sides, learning her, branding her, and slid behind to the skin above the waistline of her denims and down to cup her behind to bring her flush against the hard ridge that made him male. He raised his mouth to hers once more while that part of him moved wantonly against her. “Feel what you do to me, Duchess.”
She did and, unable to resist the call, pressed herself closer, teased her tongue against the corners of his lips and moved her hips in sensual response. The contact gathered inside like thunderclouds and she lowered her hand to him. At her touch, he hissed a sharp intake of breath and covered her hand with his to show her what he wanted. Seeing and feeling what it did to him filled her with a surge of power, so she let him guide her for a few intense moments more only to have him abruptly pull away. Breathing harshly, passion glittering in his dark eyes, he turned his back and uttered a curse. “Close your blouse, Duchess.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
He shook his head and whispered “Lord” hoarsely before saying, “No, baby. But you’re an eyelash away from having your first time on a bunch of pine needles and tree roots. I respect you more than that.”
“But—”
“Close your blouse.”
Desire was still rampaging like a firestorm through her blood in tandem with an ache between her thighs. “And suppose I do want my first time—”
He shot her a quelling look that silenced her completely. “Fine,” she snapped. Angry now, she forced her fingers to do up her buttons and stuffed her shirt tail back into her denims. “I’m ready to go back.”
“I’m not. Give me a few minutes.”
That snuffed her pique. Concern filled her. “Are you okay?”
“No, but I will be as soon as my body calms down enough to get in the saddle. It’s a little worked up at the moment.”
“Oh.”
This time when he turned, he wore a smile and she met it with a shy one of her own. “I’m a little worked up myself. We need to be near a bed the next time we do this.”
He laughed. “Are you trying to kill me? No. Besides, your first time should be on your wedding night with your husband.”
“I’m not having either, so your point is moot.”
“So you say.”
“So I know.” He could be your husband. She pushed that aside.
On the ride back to the hotel, although Kent’s passion had subsided somewhat, just glancing over at her riding beside him made him want to find that bed she’d referenced and spend the rest of his life giving her pleasure. As it stood, he was going to have to do some self-pleasuring if he planned to get any sleep tonight because his body was still straining for release. He blew out a breath. He supposed were he to make another woman his wife, the memory of these private moments with Portia would fade with time, but more than likely he’d take the feel of her soft skin and the sounds she’d made in response to his loving to his grave. He wanted her like a man dying in the desert craved water. It was easy to see that she wanted him, too, but was it enough for her to let go of her stance on remaining unmarried? He needed an answer because she was the only woman he wanted as his wife.
Dusk was rolling in when they reached the hotel. After bedding down their mounts, they left the stable and made the walk to the doors. “Feeling better about Jakes?” he asked.
She nodded. “Much better. In fact, I haven’t given him or his mother a moment’s thought. Thank you for the novel cure.”
“You’re welcome.” He didn’t want her to leave him, and by the way she looked up at him, she appeared to be struggling, too. “You go on in. I want to check in with Matt. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Kent.”
“Night, Duchess.”
Before going to her room, Portia searched out Eddy and found her in the kitchen taking inventory. “Do you ever rest?”
Eddy turned. “Pot. Kettle.”
Knowing her aunt was referring to Portia’s well-known work ethic, she dropped her eyes and grinned.
Eyes shining with amusement, Eddy asked, “So, did you enjoy your ride? You certainly look as though you did.”
Portia froze and wondered what had given her away, but was too embarrassed to ask.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of as long as you’re careful. Do you know what I mean?”
Her eyes were very serious now, and Portia nodded. “Babies.”
“Yes. As far as I know, this is your first time being swept away by someone and passion can override good sense very easily.”
She thought back on telling Kent about maybe wanting her first time to be on a bed of pine needles and knew Eddy was right. She had been swept away and definitely hadn’t been thinking clearly. It was good he was so honorable. She had a question for her aunt, but having never asked it before, more embarrassment burned her cheeks. “Um. Is there someplace in town where I can purchase—some precautions?” She was smart enough to know that if Kent didn’t provide any, she needed to make sure she had her own.
“Talk to your sister.”
Portia’s jaw dropped.
Eddy chuckled softly. “She and I had the same conversation a few years ago. Regan’s always blazed her own path, so when she asked, I told her what she needed to know rather than judge her, refuse, and send her out into the world unprotected. I realized it was safer that way.”
Portia understood and was glad her aunt hadn’t judged her either.
Eddy continued, “Kent has shown himself to be a good man. You could do a lot worse, Portia, and even though I can’t wait to get Ada Jakes out of my house, what she said last night about not having to give up your dreams just because you give someone your heart is true. I know how set you’ve been on going through life alone. That doesn’t have to change, but if you can find even a teaspoon of happiness with Kent, take it, because there are women in this world who’d sell all they own to have a man look at them the way he looks at you.”
The advice was so heartfelt and overwhelming she didn’t know how to respond. Eddy seemed to sense that. “No response is needed, sweetheart. You and I are a lot alike. We both live for our work and being swept away and out of control can be frightening.”
Portia nodded knowingly.
“But sometimes being out of control can be freeing in ways that may surprise you. It certainly freed me. And no, I’m not sharing examples,” she added with a laugh. “You’ll have to gather your own.”
“Thanks, Aunt Eddy.”
“Come, give me a hug.”
Portia walked into her embrace and hugged her tightly. “I love you so much,” she whispered. Her hope was that one day she, too, would be as wise, loving, and caring as this woman who’d saved her life.
“I feel the same way.”
They drew back and studied each other for a long moment. Eddy placed a kiss on her forehead. “Now, go talk to Regan and get some rest. We’ll celebrate the Jakeses’ and that awful widow’s leaving when you get back from the train.”
Portia laughed and left her aunt to the inventory.
In her room, she knocked softly on Regan’s door. Invited in, she stepped into the chaos and Regan looked up from her desk and put down the pen she’d been writing with. “How was your ride? Never mind, I can tell by your lips that you’ve been thoroughly and soundly kissed.”
Amused, Portia peeked at herself in the vanity mirror and stilled. Her lips were swollen and full. Thoroughly kissed indeed. She now knew how Eddy and Regan had been able to tell. Lord! Uncomfortable and unsure of how to broach the subject she’d come in to discuss, she cleared her throat. “I need to talk to you about something and Eddy said, I—”
Regan smiled knowingly, “Do you need sponges, sister mine?”
Their eyes met and they both laughed like little girls caught being naughty.
Regan stood and gestured to a blue upholstered chair barely visible beneath the clothing piled atop it. “Have a seat. You’ve come to the right place.”
Later, Portia lay in her bed in her darkened room. She wasn’t sure what left her reeling more—her sensual encounter with Kent or the jaw-dropping conversation she’d had with her baby sister. Too exhausted to choose, she drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.