Breathless(61)

She parted her legs and her skirt rose. His palm was hot as it journeyed. The sensations sent her hands beneath his shirt to explore the hard yet soft flesh of his chest and back. She wanted to touch him everywhere, wanted to learn his shape, map his ribs, and lick at the hollow of his throat. Putting her desire into action, she dragged her tongue over the spot and heard him groan. He paid her back by moving his hands between her waiting thighs, and when he touched her, she sucked in a breath and lifted her hips on a groan for more.

“You’re very wet, Duchess. Makes me want to do this . . .”

She gasped.

“And this . . .”

She whimpered passionately.

“And now, this . . .”

He slid a finger inside and worked her with such expert wickedness, she shattered on a strangled cry and spiraled to the moon. Pulsing and moaning, she heard him whisper against her ear, “I’ll be spending the rest of our lives making you fly apart, woman . . . so get ready.”

And when he finally headed the buggy for home, the overwhelmed, soon to be Mrs. Kenton Randolph knew that, yes, their marriage bed was going to be fine indeed.

Upon their return they made the announcement. The overcome Eddy cried. Kent’s father, who looked to have regained his strength, offered his congratulations as did Sylvia and Ruth.

“Will you stand up with me?” Kent asked him.

Oliver froze and stared. “Wouldn’t you rather have Rhine take that role?”

Portia said, “He’ll be too busy giving away the bride. If that’s okay with him?”

Standing with Eddy, Rhine responded in a voice thick with emotion, “I’d be honored, Portia.”

Kent turned back to his father. “So, what do you say, Oliver?”

Tears in his eyes, he nodded. “Yes.”

Sylvia wiped at her own tears, and laughed, “Eddy, as much as you hate it, you’re going to need a new gown.”

With love in her voice and her gaze on Portia, Eddy shook her head. “I won’t mind this time. Not at all.” She raised her coffee cup. “To the happy couple, and to love.”

“Hear! Hear!”

As Portia and Kent accepted hugs of congratulations, Portia was sad that Regan wasn’t there but knew she’d be happy, too, and say yes when Portia asked her to be her maid of honor.



It was the second day of the rodeo and Kent stood looking into the pen holding the bull he’d be riding in less than an hour. The animal was an enormous doe-brown, longhorn named Bushwhacker.

“Weighs over a thousand pounds,” said a cowboy eyeing the brute, too. His name was Cody and like Kent he’d qualified the day before to ride in the finals. “It killed a man at a rodeo up in Wyoming last year.” Upon leaving Kent with that, he walked away.

Kent didn’t know if the tale was true or not. Cowboys were known for lying, especially during a contest. Putting a scare in your competition could increase your chances of claiming the prize money, which in this case was fifty dollars, not a small sum. However, Cody’s estimation of the bull’s weight looked to be right and tip to tip the width of the horns had to be a good five feet or more. A bull of that size could very easily kill a man.

Standing beside Kent, Rhine asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Kent was admittedly having second thoughts. He’d no idea the animal would be so massive. “My name’s on the list. I back out now, people might think I’m scared.”

“As opposed to thinking you have good sense?”

Still focused on the bull, Kent shrugged. “It’s the cowboy life. This is how it works.”

“I’ll put that on your headstone.”

“Thanks.”

Once Kent got his fill of seeing what he might be in for, he and Rhine went back to the main gathering. “Do you know where our ladies are?” His father and Sylvia were with Regan. Ruth was with James.

“I always look for Eddy around the food,” Rhine said. “No idea where Portia might be though.”

“Let’s find Eddy—maybe she knows.”

The crowd was even larger than the day before and trying to move through all the people took some time. The spicy aromas of the food tempted him mightily but Kent knew better than to eat before a ride. He’d get something after the competition, if he survived.

They found both women setting out cakes on one of the long tables. Rhine went over to speak to his wife.

Portia was arranging the desserts at the other end of the table. When she looked up and saw him approaching, her welcoming smile made him momentarily forget about Bushwhacker until she asked, “Did you see the bull?”

“Yes and Rhine thinks I should take my name off the entry sheet.”

She stopped. “Why?”

“The bull’s one of the biggest I’ve ever seen.”

“Do you think you can ride it?”

“I do.” And that was the truth. He just wasn’t sure if he could for the eight seconds required.

“No one will think less of you if you back out,” Portia pointed out gently.

“But I’ll think less of myself.” Male pride was driving him, and be it brainless or not, he wanted to win. That pride also made him want to show off for the woman he loved. “Are these cakes for sale?”

“No for auction. Our Good Works Society does this every year as a fund-raiser. Do you have a sweet tooth?”