Tall, Dark and Disreputable

by Deb Marlowe

  ‘I’d be inclined to agree with you. Your father was at Hempshaw not long before my father died, did you know?’ She sighed. ‘I was married by then, of course, but I came back for a short visit. Even though Papa was mostly bedridden at that point, they were having a grand time of it. I know his visit was a great comfort.’

  ‘I knew of it, although I believe I was pursuing contacts along the Rio de la Plata at the time.’

  Her mouth twisted. ‘The irony is that if my father were still alive, J.T. would likely never have gambled Stenbrooke away. He was more than a little intimidated by Papa. It wasn’t until after he had gone that J.T. began to really run amok. If Papa had been alive, he would never had got himself killed so—’ She caught herself.

  He’d twisted around in his saddle to watch her. After a moment’s pause she continued. ‘If I had not needed your help with Stenbrooke, Mateo, I would have just handed Cardea Shipping right back to you.’ She stared ahead at him. ‘It’s what I’d do now, if so much weren’t at stake.’

  He checked his mount, holding him in until they were riding abreast. He met her earnest gaze with a direct one of his own. ‘I know,’ he said simply.

  He fell silent then, and so did she. Portia felt oddly as if he’d relieved her of a burden, one which she hadn’t even known she’d carried. She enjoyed the feeling, relished the peace of just being in his company, as she’d done so often in the past. She’d just noticed the dark line ahead that surely must be the wood they were watching for, when he spoke suddenly, startling her.

  ‘Why, Portia? Will you tell me why you married a buffoon like J.T.?’ He grimaced. ‘Even his name was an affectation. I never understood it. What was wrong with just plain James?’

  She gave a little smile, although there was no humour behind it, and tried to avoid the first question by answering the second. ‘Well, there you’ve hit upon your answer. You knew him. Nothing plain was ever good enough for J.T.’ She did laugh then. ‘Dorrie always called him James Talbot, though he hated it. He had an uncle in Virginia who’d first called him J. T. He loved it, and thought it sounded exotic, like something from the American frontier.’

  ‘Perhaps it would have made sense, had his interests lay in that direction. But they didn’t, did they? As far as I know, his inclinations centred on drinking, gambling and wenching. He never showed the least interest in anything involving hard work.’

  ‘No, he did not.’ She said it flatly. Forbiddingly.

  He chose not to notice. ‘And yet you married him. Knowing that about him, knowing that he’d always been envious of your brothers, of their position and rank and their life of relative ease. Still you married him.’

  She maintained her stubborn silence.

  He stared at her for several long moments. She nudged her mount until the piebald picked up a bit of speed and pulled ahead.

  ‘Portia, please,’ he called. ‘I want to understand.’

  ‘There’s no need to go into all of that,’ she bit out.

  He drew abreast of her again. ‘Perhaps I only feel a need to pay you back for all those times I talked and you listened. Perhaps I’ve just had too much damned time to think over the last few months—about my life, about my family and my father.’ He paused. ‘About you.’

  His tone grew harder, almost angry. ‘Or perhaps I just wish to make myself feel better, but I cannot fathom how you could have ended up with that bastard. Portia, please. I want to know.’

  His insistence opened up something ugly inside of her. The anger that had stirred in her earlier grew, clawing its way out and up, emerging from her suddenly tight throat in a torrent of bitter words.

  ‘Well, that does change things, does it not? You want to know. And I, of course, will cast all my own inclinations aside to oblige you.’ She sniffed. ‘Every day you make it clear how much more important your wants are than my own. But I warn you—you may not enjoy getting your way in this case. For you see, I married J.T. solely to get what I wanted.’

  She’d shocked him. Good. She liked shocking him. Forget Stenbrooke—as of this moment her only goal was to continually and increasingly shock the hell out of Mateo Cardea.

  Unfortunately, she’s also spooked her mount. She shied, sidling sideways. Portia settled herself deeper into her seat and brought her under control.

  Mateo’s face hardened. ‘Calm yourself,’ he ordered.

  But she was in the grip of madness and pique and the sudden urge to push him away, just as he’d done repeatedly to her. And what better way than to reveal all the dirty truth behind her marriage?

  ‘No. You asked—repeatedly—and now I shall answer. No doubt you wonder what I could have wanted enough to make me marry a man like J.T.? I’ll tell you, Mateo. I wanted a life.’

  The incomprehension on his face only fuelled her anger.

  ‘I was one and twenty years old. My mother was gone, my father was failing. His health had been growing worse for a long time, but he was full of male pride and mortally determined not to let the world know it. I was the only one left at home—and so it fell to me to help him. Land steward, secretary, nursemaid, I did a little of it all while my brothers pulled mad pranks at school and revelled in low living in London.’

  She paused for a breath and reached down to soothe her skittish horse. The forest loomed closer now. She could clearly see the mixed line of oak and chestnut at the edge of the plain.

  ‘When it became impossible to hide Papa’s illness, Anthony moved home. My brothers gathered and one of their main topics of conversation was what they were to do with me.’

  Mateo made a sound of protest and she gave a bitter laugh.

  ‘Anthony was betrothed, and did not believe that his new bride would wish for me to be hanging about, interfering with her control of the house and her new role. But none of the others wanted me—having an unmarried sister about would interfere with their pleasures. They’d nearly convinced Anthony he had no other choice when J.T. offered up a new solution. “I’ll take her off your hands”, was his exact wording, if I recall correctly.’

  Mateo’s grim expression lightened just a bit at that. ‘Eavesdropping again, were you?’ he asked.

  She lifted her hand in a gesture of futility. ‘What else was I to do? They were deciding my future over drinks, as if I were the leftover runt of the litter.’ Resentment spilled out of her. ‘I suppose I should have been grateful that none of them thought to put me in a bag and drown me.’ She took a moment to gather herself. ‘They took J.T.’s offer to Papa. At first he flatly refused, but I badgered and bullied him until he agreed.’

  ‘You wanted—ah, you knew Stenbrooke would come to you on your marriage,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Yes. It was a plan that worked for everyone. My brothers were rid of me. J.T. elevated himself from a country squire’s son to the son and brother-in-law of an earl; he took my dowry and used it to run with my brother’s set, to live the fast town life his father refused to finance. And I didn’t care, because I got Stenbrooke—my own home, my own life and the chance to live there alone for much of the year.’

  They’d nearly reached the edge of the forest. Without comment, Mateo urged his horse north. She followed and for a few moments they travelled parallel to the wood line in silence. But this time it was an uneasy stillness, and it did not last.

  ‘One thing I don’t understand,’ Mateo said eventually. ‘Surely you had other choices. You did have a Season, did you not?’

  Her anger had ebbed a little as she finished her story, but now it surged anew and quickly rose to new heights. ‘Choices,’ she said flatly. ‘Do you really not understand how few of those a woman in my position possesses? Yes, I did have a Season. It’s hard to believe I didn’t take, isn’t it? Me, with dirt under my fingernails, more interest in landscape and horticulture than fashion and flirting, and brothers to torment anyone who might look past all that?’

  She glared at him and furiously fought back the sudden tears that threatened to flow. ‘Do you profess to be
surprised that no man wanted me, Mateo? I don’t know why you should, when you’ve shown repeatedly that you do not!’

  Her fury set her mount off again. The piebald reared, dancing on her hind feet. She clamped down and held on until the horse settled and then she launched herself out of the saddle. Furious, she tossed the reins at Mateo, not even waiting to see that he caught them. Then she stomped the few paces remaining and entered the sheltering embrace of the forest.

  Only instinct allowed Mateo to snatch her reins out of the air. Shock actually held him rooted to his seat for a moment afterwards. He stared after her, his mind frozen under the onslaught of a veritable gale of emotion.

  Guilt blew at him the hardest. The men in Portia’s life had indeed failed her, and, judging by her last remark, he ranked high in their number. It was a truth he’d been avoiding, but the sudden certainty of it sent him reeling off balance.

  He slid down to the ground, craning to catch a glimpse of her while he tethered the horses, but she’d disappeared into the murky distance. Impatient, he called her name as he followed her into the dense covering of oak and chestnut. ‘Portia!’

  No response. He shook his head. Distance—it was exactly what was missing between them. It seemed it should be there, a natural blockade resulting from years apart, their awkward past and the innate differences in their personalities. Instead they’d stepped without a hitch into the old closeness they’d shared—and the distance between them felt as if it was shrinking by the minute.

  He went further into the wood, noting the change in atmosphere. The light broke through only intermittently here, and the air felt several degrees cooler. The constant breeze that swept across the plains did not reach this far in, it only set up a constant rustle in the tops of the trees. He could hear nothing else, in fact, save for the crunch of his footsteps on the bracken-covered forest floor.

  ‘Portia?’

  Indeed, this must be the remnant of an ancient forest, for some of the trees were massive. Mateo began to feel ridiculous, as if they played at children’s games once more.

  ‘Portia! Cara—come back!’

  ‘No.’

  Well, it was a reply at least, and it came from ahead and to the right.

  ‘Go back, Mateo. Better yet, go on. Wait for me at the road.’ Her voice sounded thick, with an embarrassed, nearly pleading note colouring her words. ‘I need a few moments alone.’

  Ah, he was close. He thought she might be behind the oak ahead.

  ‘Now, Portia,’ he said. ‘I may have proved myself a prying lout and likely an overbearing pain, as well, but I am a gentleman. I cannot leave you here alone. You might be eaten by wolves.’

  ‘There are no wolves in Wiltshire.’

  He was close. He could practically hear her blink. He crept up to the massive tree on silent feet. ‘Wild boars, then?’ he said, peeking around the massive trunk at her. ‘Ferocious badgers?’

  She cut him a scathing glance. ‘No, and no.’ She pushed herself away from the tree, away from him. ‘And I’m not one of your dockside doxies in any case. I’m a country woman—I can take care of myself.’ She raised a haughty brow at him. ‘And clearly that is a skill I must fully develop.’ Her gaze fell away. ‘You’re more of a danger to me than any wild creature.’

  He sucked in a breath. ‘Portia. Cara, I…’

  Her hand hovered over her chest, as if she were in pain. ‘No. You cannot cover this with laughter or fix it with glibness. I am not a child to be jollied out of my ill humour.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You were the first one, Mateo—the first man to break my heart.’

  His heart sank. ‘But I thought…All those years ago…When I wrote you, you were as incredulous as I at the idea of a marriage.’

  Disappointment weighed down her expression. ‘You knew. I will not believe you didn’t know how I felt about you.’

  He had, of course. ‘I’d hoped it was a childish infatuation, one you’d got over.’ He’d wanted desperately to believe it, so that he could carry on with his chosen course without an added burden of guilt.

  ‘I had to be grateful—you rejected me in the nicest possible way, giving me a chance to salvage my pride and hold my head high.’ She sighed. ‘I was young, a naïve girl who’d spent most of her life tearing up her father’s gardens. I knew I didn’t have anything to offer you, to hold your interest or compete with the excitement of a privateer’s life.’ She turned away. ‘But it still hurt. My feelings for you were real and it took me a long time to get over them.’

  She humbled him with her honesty. ‘I’m truly sorry, cara, for the hurt I caused you.’

  ‘And then you came back, and I discovered that I had not fully banished those feelings—they were still there, buried deep inside. But I couldn’t trust either of us enough to let them out.’ She shook her head. ‘I thought losing Stenbrooke, getting involved in all of this—’ she gestured ‘—was the worst thing that could have happened to me. To either of us. But now I’m beginning to think it’s been a gift.’

  He snorted. ‘You’ll have to explain that convo2luted theory.’

  ‘Truly—the situation has forced us to step back and evaluate, to reaffirm what is important to us. And it’s given us a chance to get to know each other again. For a long time you were an ideal to me, but now I feel as if I am growing to know the man underneath.’ Her chin rose. ‘And I’m happy to have shown you the woman I am now. I have flaws and foibles.’ She grimaced. ‘But I have strengths, too—far more than the girl you used to know.’

  Tenderness welled within him. ‘Portia, you are a lovely, incredible woman. I hope you will never let anyone tell you otherwise.’

  She took a step closer to him. Her eyes went dark as they locked with his. ‘Say it again, Mateo,’ she asked. ‘When you say such things I begin to believe them.’

  Almost involuntarily, he stepped back. ‘Portia…’

  ‘What? When we are done with this business, whether I have Stenbrooke back or not, I’ll be starting a new life. I’m no longer a girl, a daughter, a wife. I’ll be my own woman and I’m not going to hide away any longer.’

  Mateo swallowed.

  ‘I find a certain justice in the thought that the man who broke the girl’s heart should help shore up the woman’s,’ she said, her voice gone husky. She took another step closer.

  ‘That’s enough,’ he said. He had a sudden empathy for her skittish mount. He was feeling unaccountably unsettled himself. ‘Aside from all the pain that I’ve already dealt you, there are too many other reasons for us not to contemplate…’ His sentence trailed away.

  ‘Contemplate what?’

  ‘Whatever you’re contemplating,’ he said firmly.

  Her dark eyes glittered in the dim light. ‘What are the other reasons, again?’

  Did she think to mock him? ‘You know what I mean.’

  She stilled. ‘Ah, yes,’ she said. ‘Your profits.’

  ‘Yes,’ he ground out. ‘Such matters are important to me, I cannot deny it. Largely because they are important to my family and their legacy. But there is more to consider. I also think of the future.’ He reached out and took both her hands, and was surprised at how cold they felt. ‘Not just the future of Cardea Shipping, but of my own future. And yours, too.’

  Her chin went up again. ‘I’ll take care of my own future, thank you.’

  ‘Yes, you will. And you’ll do it at Stenbrooke, should we ever see this business through.’ He sighed and enclosed both of her chilled hands inside his. ‘We are very different people, cara. The story you just told and nearly every word you’ve said to me since I arrived have proved that.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said unsteadily.

  ‘You longed for nothing more than your own home. You fought for it and you won. It was a victory and you celebrated by putting down roots, and making Stenbrooke part of you.’ He shook his head. ‘This is something I could never do.’ He met her gaze and let the regret he felt show. ‘Our futures lie down very differen
t paths.’

  ‘I thought I had made it clear.’ She pulled her hands from his. He found out how successfully he’d warmed them when she placed them squarely on his chest. ‘I’m not asking for your future.’

  He pulled away and let loose a bitter laugh. ‘So you think now, at this moment. And I think I’ve already done enough damage.’

  She closed her eyes. ‘Perhaps you are right. We are different. I need Stenbrooke and you need to be free. But it feels as if we’ve stumbled into this place out of time, a spot between our pasts and our futures, where we can just be. And we can be together, if we wish it.’ Her eyes opened again and her gaze connected hotly with his. ‘I spent my past alone, Mateo. I’ll likely spend the future the same way. I don’t want to be alone here, too.’

  He stared at her, standing in a dappled pool of sunlight and shadow, naked hope and desire on her lovely face, and he was frozen in an agony of indecision.

  What should his next move be? He knew what he wanted it to be. He wanted to make her happy for once, here in this moment. He wanted to bury his hands in her hair, lay her down on the forest floor and prove to her once and for all how lovely she was, inside and out.

  He moaned in frustration. There was no good choice. He would hurt her now or hurt her later.

  She reached for him, burying her fingers in his cravat and pulling him close. ‘You cannot deny that there is passion between us,’ she whispered. ‘I can feel it in the beating of your heart.’ She brushed soft lips across his. ‘And it matches the rhythm of my own.’

  Her boldness captivated him. Layers. There they were again. And this was the sweetest, most tempting layer of Portia Tofton he’d seen yet.

  ‘Damnation,’ he said. All objection, all thought of right and wrong and consequence, was lost in a haze of desire. He gave up, gave in and pressed his mouth to hers.

  Willingly, happily, her heart filled with joy, Portia lost herself in Mateo’s kiss. Yes. This. This is what she’d ached for, for nearly half of her life, it seemed. His arms came around her, wrapping her tight and she was gone.