Breathless(35)

“That’s very kind of you to say.”

“I plan to add you to that list of astute women I mentioned on the ride from the depot.”

Portia was warmed by the praise. “I’m honored.”

Ada seemed pleased as well. “Winston bemoans the fact that the women he meets leave a lot to be desired intellectually. But you give him hope.”

“Mother!”

“I’m simply stating fact. She’d make an excellent daughter-in-law. You have the length of our five-day stay to make your case.”

He shook his head with amusement. “As you probably sense, my mother’s impossible to manage.”

His usage of the word manage brought Kent to mind. She thought it probably ill-mannered to think of one man while conversing with another, so she put the cowboy out of her mind. “Even though I have no plans to marry, I appreciate a woman who speaks her mind. My aunt Eddy is that way.”

“Then you’re accustomed to unmanageable behavior,” he said.

“I am.” Memories of the unmanageable Kent rose to bedevil her again, making her wonder if she’d have to contend with them for the rest of her life.

Upon reaching the suite, Winston opened the door and Ada asked, “How long have your aunt and uncle been married?”

“They recently celebrated their fifteen-year anniversary.”

“They look to be very happy.”

“They are.” Not wanting to say anything else that might encourage Ada’s attempt at matchmaking, Portia said, “I hope you enjoy your stay with us.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Winston Jakes replied.

Ada eyed them both. “Five days, Winston. Good night, Portia.”

Amused, Portia said, “Good night.”

Ada went inside. Winston lingered for a second longer. “Good night, Portia.”

“Good night to you as well, Winston.”

She turned and struck out for her return to the main house.



Later, Regan and Portia sat talking in Portia’s room.

“The widow is going to be a bother,” Regan said from her spot on Portia’s bed.

Standing by her open doors and looking out at the night, Portia turned. “I agree.”

“I enjoyed the look on her face when you were done with her, though.”

“I don’t like being challenged.”

“I think she knows that now. She seems pretty anxious to make a run at Kent.”

“Hopefully, he’ll simply ignore her the way he did at the depot.” She knew it wasn’t her place to tell him not to fraternize with the guests but it was obvious that Elvenna wanted to make herself available and she did wonder how he would respond.

Regan interrupted her thoughts. “Wondering whether Kent’s going to help himself to the widow’s buffet?”

“No.”

“Liar. He likes you, Portia. I doubt he’d be so disrespectful as to pursue another woman right under your nose.”

“It doesn’t matter to me who he pursues.” That, too, was a lie.

“It does, so stop being a ninny.”

Portia blew out a breath and changed the subject. “Winston Jakes is a doctor, unmarried, well-spoken, and very forward thinking where women are concerned. You might consider getting to know him better.”

“The man spent the entire dinner looking at you. I could have been wearing my nightgown and he wouldn’t have cared.”

“His mother thinks I’d make a great daughter-in-law. She’s given him the duration of their stay to win me over. I suppose were I in the market for a husband, he might fit the bill.” And if she knew how long it would take for the memories of Kent’s kisses to fade.

“He doesn’t fit mine. I’m going to be a mail-order bride, remember?”

Portia laughed softly. “You’re just not letting that go, are you?”

“No, and I’m still scouring the newspapers.”

Portia didn’t believe her for a second. “Go to bed, Miss Mail Order. Dawn comes early.”

Regan gave her a kiss on the cheek, “Good night.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

Alone, Portia changed into her night things and wondered how Kent might react to Winston Jakes’s interest in her. Not that the cowboy had staked his claim on her. Or had he? She certainly felt as if she’d staked her claim on him, watching the widow Gordon throw herself at him like feed to a stallion. Turning her mind away from the startling realization that her reaction could be seen as jealousy, she thought back on her conversation with the Jakeses instead and wondered where Kent stood on issues like women and the vote. Western-raised men weren’t the most progressive thinkers. Finding one who was was akin to hitting the mother lode, but Kent was different. The man cooked his own eggs for heaven’s sake and as she’d noted before, didn’t think her odd for running the hotel. She assumed he was a progressive thinker, too, but the only way to know for sure would be to question him.



At precisely seven-thirty the next morning, Portia escorted the small group of guests out to the stables. Cal Grissom would be pairing them up with mounts. Afterwards, they’d be led on a short trek to the nearby canyon. She had no idea if they were experienced riders but would find out. Ada was dressed in a black divided skirt. It and the matching jacket, like her traveling costume, had seen better days. On her gray head sat the brown felt western-style hat the hotel presented as gifts to all its guests. Portia thought she looked very dashing. Elvenna’s blue silk riding togs appeared more fashionable than practical and Portia hoped she was prepared for how dusty her clothing might be by the end of the day. Her footgear looked brand-new, which gave Portia some concern. Breaking in new boots before arriving had been emphasized in the mailed instructions but the widow’s looked like they’d gone straight from the store to her feet.