Too Wicked to Tame (The Derrings #2)(47)

“You’re not horrible, Mina. And you’re good enough for any man.” Moistening her lips, she couldn’t resist imparting one final bit of advice. “You’re luckier than you realize. Your brother cares for you. He merely seeks to protect you from the Whitfields of this world.”

“Why are you defending him?” Mina demanded, her gaze searching Portia’s face. “You don’t even like him.”



“Regardless of how I feel about your brother, he’s good to you.”

And when he kisses me, he makes the world disappear. I become as wicked as he—as yielding as a serving girl in his arms.

Heat suffused her face and she pressed the back of her gloved hand to one overly warm cheek, then the other. Drawing in a ragged breath, she stared ahead, feigning interest in the rocky terrain closing in around them.

Praying Heath’s sister would not wonder at her flushed face, she suggested, “Perhaps we should head back? I smell rain.”

“It always smells of rain.”

“Well, it looks ready to rain.”

“It always looks ready to rain. Don’t be such a city girl,” Mina taunted. “I had hoped we might do some serious riding today.”

Portia quirked a brow. “Serious riding?”

A devious light twinkled in Mina’s eyes. “Yes. Up for a little race?”

Portia appraised Mina for a moment, then shrugged. Why not? It had been years since she could ride anywhere other than the boundaries of Hyde Park. A slow grin curved her lips. “You’ve no idea who you’re challenging.”

Mina lifted a single brow, the jaunty feather of her hat bouncing in the wind. “I admit you sit a horse well.” Her smiling eyes raked Portia. “But a city girl can’t think to best me. I was born in the saddle.”

“Let’s see, then.” With an exultant shout, Portia jabbed her heels and hurtled ahead.

“No fair,” Mina shouted behind her.

Portia laughed over her shoulder. The pounding of hooves on earth filled her ears, spurring her on even faster. It had been too long. Too long in Town. Too long limited to sedate rides on Rotten Row under Astrid’s watchful eyes.

Without glancing back, she gave herself up to the thrill of the ride, heedless of her bonnet flying from her head. The wind clawed her hairpins loose and her hair trailed behind her. She whooped in delight. Tears smarted in her eyes from the wind’s sting, but she didn’t care; she felt alive.

Free.

After several minutes, she slowed her pounding pace. Assuming she had won, she looked over her shoulder, prepared to tease Mina mercilessly.



Craggy limestone terrain stared back. Gorse and wild blackthorn shuddered in the wind, but no Mina.

“Mina?” Portia pulled on her reins and came to a complete stop.

No sight of her anywhere. Frowning, Portia turned in every direction. “Mina!” she called, worry hammering her heart.

The wind howled back like a beast in the distance, heightening her sense of isolation. She spun her mount around, her unbound hair whipping into her face, blinding her. Wiping the dark strands from her eyes, she scanned the horizon, searching even as she tried to steady her racing pulse. Nothing. She thundered back in the direction she had come.

After several moments, she stopped again, acknowledging that she was well and truly lost.

Believing Mina behind her, she had not paid attention to landmarks.

“Brilliant,” she muttered, her eyes scanning the barren landscape. Opening her mouth, she called Mina’s name until she grew hoarse. The dark clouds looked close to bursting overhead. She was in for another soak if she didn’t somehow find her way back to the house.

Prodding her mount into motion again, she set a halting pace, surveying her surroundings as she went along.

The first raindrop landed on her cheek. So softly she barely felt it. Several more followed, growing in volume and intensity. Tilting her face to the skies, she muttered an epithet no lady should know.

Heath sat in his office the precise moment the storm hit. Wind and rain buffeted the tall mullioned windows at his back. He lifted his head from the ledgers scattered across his desk and turned to glance out the window behind him, hoping his sister and Portia had returned from their afternoon ride.

He had seen them head out over an hour ago—had considered putting a stop to it. With yesterday’s debacle so fresh in his mind, how could he not consider putting an end to their time together? As far as companions went, Lady Portia was entirely unsuitable. Impeccable pedigree or not, she wasn’t a lady with whom his sister ought to keep company. Mina had never given him as much trouble in her entire life as she had since Portia’s arrival. Still, he couldn’t concentrate until he knew they were safely inside. Shoving to his feet, he strode from his office.

He’d just reached the foyer when Mina burst into the house, soaked to the skin, jabbering so fast he could hardly make out a word.

“Heath,” she panted between gulping breaths. Her wet fingers latched onto his wrist. “I’ve lost Portia!”



“Lost?” he demanded, his heart leaping against his chest.

“What’s this?” His grandmother called from the top of the stairs, one of her many cats tucked in her arm. The animal’s yellow eyes glittered in seeming mockery.

“I lost Portia.” Mina shook her head, wide eyes a mixture of awe and worry. “Who knew a girl from Town could ride like that?”