Breathless(46)

“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.