Breathless(25)

When Kent walked up, the posturing and bluster petered out into silence and she wanted to shout with joy.

“Gentlemen,” he said. “How are you this evening?” His eyes brushed Portia’s and as if he’d read her silent plea, he handed her his plate. “Brought you a plate,” he said as if they were alone. Salt and Day both bristled. Cordell’s thin lips tightened.

“Thank you.” She sat down again and placed the plate on the blanket beside her. Day dressed in a brown and gray window pane suit sneered, “New shirt, Randolph?”

Kent studied him for a silent moment. His hands moved to his gun belt and the three wide eyed men took a quick step back. Watching them with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he slowly untied the strings of the belt, removed it and the Colt it held, then sat at her side—bold as day. Finally, in reply to Day’s question, he said, “Yes. Bought it from Mr. Krause. Nice man.” He didn’t add more.

As the silence lengthened, Cordell waked away without a word. Day and Edward Salt seemed to want to challenge his presence but apparently thought better of it because they stayed just long enough to glare their displeasure before moving off.

Watching them go, he asked her, “How in the world did you get trapped out here with them?”

Portia saw the curiosity on the faces of some of the other people seated nearby and wondered if sitting with Kent would cause gossip, but she went ahead and told him about Eddy and the other ladies leaving her to help in the kitchen.

“You didn’t want to help?”

She smiled ruefully. “Let’s just say I’m better with numbers than I am with pots.”

“Can’t cook, huh?”

“No.”

“Then you’ll need a man who can.”

“Are you volunteering?”

He shrugged. “If it’ll keep you from starving to death, I suppose I can make myself available, if called upon.”

She wondered if he had this effect on all women.

“How’s the managing of that passion going?” he asked.

Her heart thumped. “Fine.” His eyes were so piercing, she trembled in response.

“You’re fibbing of course, but that’s okay.”

“I am not.”

“Uh-huh.”

She leaned closer so they wouldn’t be overheard. “I am not. One kiss was all I needed and now I’m fine, just as I said I would be.”

“Duchess, your uppity mouth’s been wanting another taste all day.”

Heat sent her senses galloping. “It has not, and stop calling it that.”

“Okay. Your sweet mouth has been wanting another taste all day.”

She almost keeled over.

“I do like those high-collared blouses you wear.”

She looked down at herself.

“Makes me want to undo all the little buttons and see how you manage with my kisses against your bare throat. Curious about what scent you place there, too.”

Her eyes widened.

He smiled. “No?”

“No.”

“Okay. Just something for you to think about later. Do you want the legs or the wings?”

Her mind was stuck like it had stepped in tar. How in the world was she going to remain unmoved by his teasing ways without wanting to box his ears or wonder how his kisses would feel against bare throat? “I’ll take the wings.”

“We have only one set of flatware. Shall I feed you or do you want to feed me?”

Scandalized by the suggestion, she forced herself not to glance around to see how closely they were being observed. “Neither,” she said. “I’ll have the wing. You can eat the rest.”

“Thought I’d ask.”

They ate in silence, sharing the occasional glance. Him smiling. Her not.

Regan walked up. “How are you two?”

He replied, “We’re fine. At least I am. Your sister’s managing, I believe.”

Portia wanted to punch him in the nose.

Regan said, “I told him about your garters catching fire, Portia.”

Portia choked on a bite of chicken and before she could punch her sister in the nose, the smiling Regan walked back towards the house.

“I like her,” he said.

“Then maybe you should direct your attention her way.”

“I prefer the challenge of you.”

In response, her body bloomed like a rose opening to the sun.

As if oblivious to his effects on her, he added, “So, now we have two items on your management list: me kissing your throat and your garters catching fire. Are you writing all this down?”

She firmed her lips to keep her smile hidden. “No. I think I can remember.”

“You sure?”

They were so close to each other she could feel the kiss about to come. “If you kiss me in front of all these people, I will hit you so hard you’ll wake up in Florida.”

He laughed with such gusto he fell back on the blanket. Her humor died upon seeing Rhine watching them from a few feet away. “Here comes Uncle Rhine.”

He sat up and was still smiling when Rhine arrived.

Hoping to distract her uncle, she asked, “Why is Edward Salt here? Kent saved me from having to endure his company.”

“And from that ass of a dandy Day,” Kent added.