Breathless

by Beverly Jenkins

  That snuffed her pique. Concern filled her. “Are you okay?”

  “No, but I will be as soon as my body calms down enough to get in the saddle. It’s a little worked up at the moment.”

  “Oh.”

  This time when he turned, he wore a smile and she met it with a shy one of her own. “I’m a little worked up myself. We need to be near a bed the next time we do this.”

  He laughed. “Are you trying to kill me? No. Besides, your first time should be on your wedding night with your husband.”

  “I’m not having either, so your point is moot.”

  “So you say.”

  “So I know.” He could be your husband. She pushed that aside.

  On the ride back to the hotel, although Kent’s passion had subsided somewhat, just glancing over at her riding beside him made him want to find that bed she’d referenced and spend the rest of his life giving her pleasure. As it stood, he was going to have to do some self-pleasuring if he planned to get any sleep tonight because his body was still straining for release. He blew out a breath. He supposed were he to make another woman his wife, the memory of these private moments with Portia would fade with time, but more than likely he’d take the feel of her soft skin and the sounds she’d made in response to his loving to his grave. He wanted her like a man dying in the desert craved water. It was easy to see that she wanted him, too, but was it enough for her to let go of her stance on remaining unmarried? He needed an answer because she was the only woman he wanted as his wife.

  Dusk was rolling in when they reached the hotel. After bedding down their mounts, they left the stable and made the walk to the doors. “Feeling better about Jakes?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Much better. In fact, I haven’t given him or his mother a moment’s thought. Thank you for the novel cure.”

  “You’re welcome.” He didn’t want her to leave him, and by the way she looked up at him, she appeared to be struggling, too. “You go on in. I want to check in with Matt. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Kent.”

  “Night, Duchess.”

  Before going to her room, Portia searched out Eddy and found her in the kitchen taking inventory. “Do you ever rest?”

  Eddy turned. “Pot. Kettle.”

  Knowing her aunt was referring to Portia’s well-known work ethic, she dropped her eyes and grinned.

  Eyes shining with amusement, Eddy asked, “So, did you enjoy your ride? You certainly look as though you did.”

  Portia froze and wondered what had given her away, but was too embarrassed to ask.

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of as long as you’re careful. Do you know what I mean?”

  Her eyes were very serious now, and Portia nodded. “Babies.”

  “Yes. As far as I know, this is your first time being swept away by someone and passion can override good sense very easily.”

  She thought back on telling Kent about maybe wanting her first time to be on a bed of pine needles and knew Eddy was right. She had been swept away and definitely hadn’t been thinking clearly. It was good he was so honorable. She had a question for her aunt, but having never asked it before, more embarrassment burned her cheeks. “Um. Is there someplace in town where I can purchase—some precautions?” She was smart enough to know that if Kent didn’t provide any, she needed to make sure she had her own.

  “Talk to your sister.”

  Portia’s jaw dropped.

  Eddy chuckled softly. “She and I had the same conversation a few years ago. Regan’s always blazed her own path, so when she asked, I told her what she needed to know rather than judge her, refuse, and send her out into the world unprotected. I realized it was safer that way.”

  Portia understood and was glad her aunt hadn’t judged her either.

  Eddy continued, “Kent has shown himself to be a good man. You could do a lot worse, Portia, and even though I can’t wait to get Ada Jakes out of my house, what she said last night about not having to give up your dreams just because you give someone your heart is true. I know how set you’ve been on going through life alone. That doesn’t have to change, but if you can find even a teaspoon of happiness with Kent, take it, because there are women in this world who’d sell all they own to have a man look at them the way he looks at you.”

  The advice was so heartfelt and overwhelming she didn’t know how to respond. Eddy seemed to sense that. “No response is needed, sweetheart. You and I are a lot alike. We both live for our work and being swept away and out of control can be frightening.”

  Portia nodded knowingly.

  “But sometimes being out of control can be freeing in ways that may surprise you. It certainly freed me. And no, I’m not sharing examples,” she added with a laugh. “You’ll have to gather your own.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Eddy.”

  “Come, give me a hug.”

  Portia walked into her embrace and hugged her tightly. “I love you so much,” she whispered. Her hope was that one day she, too, would be as wise, loving, and caring as this woman who’d saved her life.

  “I feel the same way.”

  They drew back and studied each other for a long moment. Eddy placed a kiss on her forehead. “Now, go talk to Regan and get some rest. We’ll celebrate the Jakeses’ and that awful widow’s leaving when you get back from the train.”

  Portia laughed and left her aunt to the inventory.

  In her room, she knocked softly on Regan’s door. Invited in, she stepped into the chaos and Regan looked up from her desk and put down the pen she’d been writing with. “How was your ride? Never mind, I can tell by your lips that you’ve been thoroughly and soundly kissed.”

  Amused, Portia peeked at herself in the vanity mirror and stilled. Her lips were swollen and full. Thoroughly kissed indeed. She now knew how Eddy and Regan had been able to tell. Lord! Uncomfortable and unsure of how to broach the subject she’d come in to discuss, she cleared her throat. “I need to talk to you about something and Eddy said, I—”

  Regan smiled knowingly, “Do you need sponges, sister mine?”

  Their eyes met and they both laughed like little girls caught being naughty.

  Regan stood and gestured to a blue upholstered chair barely visible beneath the clothing piled atop it. “Have a seat. You’ve come to the right place.”

  Later, Portia lay in her bed in her darkened room. She wasn’t sure what left her reeling more—her sensual encounter with Kent or the jaw-dropping conversation she’d had with her baby sister. Too exhausted to choose, she drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

  Chapter Twelve

  Portia awakened at dawn. Later, she’d be ushering the Jakes party to the train depot but for the moment she had some thinking to do. Her previously planned-out life was transforming into one that was no longer staid and stern but filled with laughter, passion, and the excitement of new possibilities because of Kent. Did she want to cling to the old Portia who lived for work and little else or throw caution to the wind and open herself and head down a different path? Yesterday, he’d asked why she hadn’t moved forward on her idea of starting her own bookkeeping business and for the first time she admitted how afraid she was of failing. She’d never voiced that before, not even to herself but she felt safe sharing her dreams and fears with him. Did that mean she was falling in love? Having never been in love, she didn’t know. Eddy had mentioned grabbing a teaspoon of happiness and this new Portia wanted that and the only way to have it was to reach out and claim it. Her decision made, she left the bed to begin her day.

  When Kent rode up with Matt to act as armed escort for the ride to Tucson, the sight of Portia standing outside with her charges filled his heart. She looked his way and smiled, but there was a glint of fire in her eyes he knew to be a sign of her temper. Wondering what was wrong, he dismounted and walked over just in time to hear Ada Jakes demand to know, “Did you put water inside so we won’t die of thirst in this heat?”

  “Yes,” Portia respon
ded with what sounded like forced politeness. The old bat shot her a dismissive glare and let herself be handed into the buggy by her son. Seeing Kent, Winston paused and raised his chin challengingly. Kent replied with a ghost of a cold smile. The man looked away and entered the buggy without a word or even acknowledging Portia’s presence. Kent assumed the attitude stemmed from what Portia had revealed about her past and he guessed the Jakeses had added her name to his on their list of those they felt themselves superior to.

  “Morning. How are you?”

  “I’ll be better once these greenhorns are on the train and I’m on my way back here.”

  He was about to reply when he heard the widow Gordon declare in a voice loud enough to be heard in Tucson, “I can’t wait to leave this awful place.” Clad again in her fancy brown traveling costume, she stormed over to Regan’s buggy, adding, “And when I get home, I’ll be sure to tell everyone I know what a terrible time I had.”

  “Please do,” Regan tossed back, which seemed to throw the widow off her stride.

  He saw Portia drop her head to hide her smile. Kent wanted to cheer.

  After handing in his simmering sister, Phillip Pratt turned to Eddy and Rhine standing together watching the departure. “I want to thank you for a memorable experience. I will be returning.”

  Eddy said, “And you will be welcome.”

  He was the only one Kent heard offer any kind of thanks. Yes, they’d witnessed a murder but the service and the accommodations the hotel offered had been outstanding. Therefore, they had no reason to act as if they’d been raised by skunks. Seeing the Jakeses sitting in the buggy glaring straight ahead and holding themselves stiff as store mannequins, he asked Portia, “Are you ready to go?”

  “Extremely.”

  “Then let’s get moving.”

  As Rhine and Eddy stood watching, Portia gave them a wave and the small caravan set out for Tucson, escorted by the mounted and well-armed Kent and Matt. Cal and the trunks brought up the rear. Everyone in the area was on the alert for the escaped Geronimo and his band. According to the newspapers, Mexico had given the United States Army and its large contingent of Apache scouts permission to cross the border to hunt him down. There had been dozens of false sightings, horses stolen, cattle butchered for the meat, and yes, deaths.

  Very aware of this Kent kept a sharp eye on the surroundings and was pleased when they arrived in Tucson without incident.

  As he stood with Portia at the depot, waiting for the train to arrive, she was approached by Ada Jakes and informed in a cool voice, “Due to your unfortunate bloodline, Miss Carmichael, I won’t be offering you an invitation to my soiree for Mrs. Harper. I do hope you understand.”

  Portia didn’t bat an eye. “And I hope you understand that I’d rather not have an invitation from someone with your appalling lack of manners. Have a safe trip home, Mrs. Jakes.”

  Wanting to cheer again, Kent watched Winston lead his sputtering mother away.

  On the short walk back to where Regan and the others stood waiting with the buggies, he said to the obviously furious Portia, “You handled that very well.”

  “I wanted to set her hair on fire.”

  Laughing at her warrior spirit, he walked her back to where her sister stood waiting with Matt and Cal.

  “You look fit to be tied,” Regan said. “Did the bullfrog offer a parting insult?”

  “Yes.” And Portia repeated the exchange.

  Regan rolled her eyes. “As if someone wanted an invitation. She’ll probably serve her esteemed guests flies.”

  Portia laughed. “I love you so much.”

  Kent thought that pretty much summed up how he felt about Portia. She moved him like no other woman had before and he was convinced his future would be bereft without her at his side.

  “Before we head back, I’d like to check and see if there’s any mail for us,” Regan said.

  “I have some errands to take care of as well,” Kent said. Matt and Cal said the same.

  “How about we meet back here in an hour?” Portia asked.

  Everyone agreed.

  Portia hadn’t said anything about this, but with the start of her new business in mind, she set out to approach her first potential customer, Sadie Welch, owner of one of the city’s most exclusive restaurants, an exclusiveness that banned members of Sadie’s race. It wasn’t an uncommon practice. Due to Jim Crow and the legions of Whites who refused to support enterprises that catered to a Colored clientele, many Colored business owners were forced to choose between profit and race. Some like Sadie Welch bridged the gap by offering a specific time or day of the week when their neighbors and family members were welcomed. For Sadie it was Sunday evenings.

  The place was usually closed at the time of the day when Portia arrived, so she went around the back to the kitchen.

  Julia Lane, her aunt Eddy’s friend and wife of rancher Howard Lane, was one of the cooks. Seeing Portia, she called out, “Morning, Portia. How are you?” Julia was seated on a chair and plucking a chicken with such speed the feathers were flying.

  “I’m well. Is Miss Sadie around?”

  “Inside.”

  “Do you think she has time to speak with me for a few minutes?”

  “Let me go and see. Be right back.”

  When Julia returned a few minutes later, she was accompanied by the tall, golden-skinned Sadie. In spite of her segregated business practices, Sadie was a member of the Tucson Good Works Society, an organization composed of local women of the race who did volunteer work to uplift and support people of color in the surrounding community. Portia and Regan were members as was her aunt and her friends.

  “Hello, Portia. How can I help you?”

  “I’d like to speak with you about a business proposal.”

  Sadie paused, her blue eyes taking her in for a silent moment. “Come in.”

  Portia was led to the book-lined office and offered a seat. From her chair behind the large mahogany desk, Sophie said, “So tell me about this proposal.”

  Portia did and when she finished, she said, “So, I stopped in to see if I can be of any service to you and the restaurant.”

  She graced Portia with a kind smile. “I’m sorry, honey, but I already have someone doing my books. His father is also one of my investors. I can’t change horses in the middle of the stream without suffering some serious repercussions.”

  Portia hid her disappointment. “I understand.”

  “However, I know how skilled you are, so I will ask around on your behalf.”

  The support brightened her mood. “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome. Good luck. I’ll see you at the next meeting.”

  Portia left. Keeping an eye on the time, she stopped in at the barbershop owned by Ephraim Forth. He, too, was kind enough to hear her out, but in the end he told her his nephew James Cordell handled his books. “And I don’t have to pay him,” he crowed.

  Portia gave him a false smile and her thanks and left his small shop to the tinkle of the bell over the door. Refusing to be discouraged, she headed up the walk to speak to the owner of another barbershop and saw Darian Day, overdressed as always leaning against the wall of his haberdashery. In spite of the climbing temperature, he was attired in a brown and black checkerboard suit, a buttoned-up shirt with a bow tie, and a black bowler sat on his head. Just looking at him made her perspire. She knew he wouldn’t let her pass without speaking, so she tamped down her temper in advance.

  “Well, well,” he said, looking her up and down as if she were some type of dessert. “How are you, Miss Portia?”

  “Hello, Mr. Day.”

  “When are you going to address me by my given name?”

  When horses learn to knit. “It’s a sign of respect.”

  “I see. What brings you to town? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  Portia considered lying but there was always a ghost of a chance he might have information on a potential client, so she told him her plans.

/>   “Women don’t need to be in business” came his irritating reply. “You should just marry me. As your husband, I’d take care of all your—needs.”

  She wanted to sock him hard enough to send him flying into the street—fancy duds and all. “No thank you.” As she continued on her way, he called out, “I’ll be expecting a spot on your dance card next week.” She didn’t reply. He was referencing Howard and Julia Lane’s annual two-day rodeo. The well-attended activities concluded with a big barn dance. She’d never danced with Darian Day before and she didn’t see that changing.

  Kent, Matt, and Cal were standing by the buggies when Portia walked up. Kent looked at her face and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “I had the misfortune of speaking with Darian Day. He’s enough to curdle anyone’s day.”

  “Which is why Matt and I spent our money with Mr. Krause. Day will starve if he’s depending on my patronage to put food on his table.”

  Cal agreed. “Not one of my favorite people either. He thinks the sun rises and sets because he tells it to.”

  Regan joined them on the heels of that and handed Kent a letter. “This came for you on today’s train. I have a few for Eddy and Rhine, too.”

  He looked at the envelope. “It’s from my father.” He stuck it in his pocket.

  Portia thought she saw a shadow cross his features but it was gone so quickly she assumed she’d imagined it. He and his father had been at odds when they all lived in Virginia City and she didn’t know if they’d reconciled in the years since. As if sensing her regard, he raised his eyes to hers, but there was nothing in them that offered a hint at his thinking. “Are we ready to head back?” he asked.

  Everyone agreed, so they started the journey home.

  Upon returning, Cal drove the wagon to the stables, Regan and Portia did the same with the buggies while Kent and Matt unsaddled their stallions and turned them loose in the paddock. Leaving Cal with a wave, they were walking back to the hotel when Matt asked, “Do you think Mrs. Fontaine might have something I can do to help me earn my keep?”

  Regan hooked her arm in his. “Let’s go find out.”