“Not if we stay here overnight.”
Her heart skipped. To be alone with Juan Carlos all night? She couldn’t possibly. He didn’t mean it. It was hard enough knowing he was sleeping down the hallway at the farmhouse. “Surely, we can’t.”
His eyes twinkled. “It was a nice thought, though. Being trapped in here with you all night...to watch over the kittens.”
Blood rushed to her cheeks. Suddenly, the cold dank cave sizzled with heat. She coughed, to cover errant thoughts of spending the night with Juan Carlos, of wearing nothing but a blanket to keep each other warm. His arms would wrap around her, and then their bare bodies would conform, mesh and he would nudge himself inside her.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?”
He knew. The sparkle in his eyes lit up even brighter.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Perfectly,” she snapped. Goodness, she sounded like a witch.
He shrugged a shoulder, a smile teasing his lips as he handed her the cat’s meal. “Do you want to take it to her?”
She nodded, recovering from the image that had sprung up in her head. “I’ll try. I hope she doesn’t run.”
Portia took pained steps toward the cat, catching her eye and hoping her slow movements would show her she wasn’t a threat. The cat’s tail tensed and arched, her head came up and those tigerlike eyes watched her every move. Then she meowed.
“It’s okay, sweet mama. I don’t want to hurt you. Look, I have food. I hope you’ll eat it.”
The cat hissed, but she was just protecting her young. “This is as far as I’ll go,” Portia said softly. “See.” She set down the napkin two feet from her and as soon as she backed away, the cat sniffed at it. “Put the hat down carefully,” she said to Juan Carlos. He was only half a step behind and he set the water down next to the food. Then his hand clamped over her arm as he guided her several feet back, the beam of light dimming on the mama cat.
“Chances are, she won’t eat or drink anything until she gives everything a complete smell test.”
“We’ve done what we could for them,” Juan Carlos said. “They are cute.”
“Adorable,” Portia said. The fuzzy fur babies were nestled against mama cat’s underside, many of them satisfied and ready to nap.
Juan Carlos spread the blanket out and they began eating their sandwiches. Nibbling on her sliced steak sandwich sitting cross-legged, her eyes kept darting over to the cats.
“She’ll eat eventually,” Juan Carlos said.
“She’s starving, but she won’t make a move until we leave.”
“Then we’ll go as soon as we finish up here.”
She nodded and within a few minutes, Portia was back atop Sugar, waiting for Juan Carlos to take his mount. She was torn about leaving the kittens in there, hoping the mama would survive the cold and be able to care for her young babes. How would she feed herself after the food they left behind was gone?
“Where to next?” Portia asked, blinking away tears, trying to distract herself from the sick feeling in her gut. She was a softie when it came to animals.
He stared into her eyes and smiled. “They’ll survive. Don’t worry.”
He’d read her mind, but unlike most people, Portia didn’t believe cats had nine lives. Sometimes, they couldn’t beat the odds. If only this wasn’t one of those times. She mustered a smile, but her heart wasn’t in it.
“Since the wind has died down, I’d like to check out two of the nearby dwellings while we’re here. If you stay put, I’ll go in and be out quickly.” He pointed north. “They aren’t far. We’ll get home before we lose light.”
“I’m fine with that.” She really was, though part of her wanted to stay behind and nurture the kittens. But that was impossible. Mama cat wanted no part of them right now. “I like the plan.”
He nodded. “Let’s go.”
* * *
After showering and getting dressed, Portia marched downstairs in new jeans and a beige ribbed sweater to start dinner. She wasn’t going to have Juan Carlos waiting on her. She planned to do her part. As she reached the bottom stair, she saw the fire crackling in the hearth and warmth settled around her. It was after seven; the darkened sky was lit with a scant few stars tonight. Her stomach grumbled, protesting over only having a light afternoon lunch. Thank God Juan Carlos wasn’t around to hear the commotion her belly made.
The blaze in the front room beckoned. She could just as easily plop in a chair and watch the flickering fire, but she moved on and headed for the kitchen.
She found fresh tomatoes, whole garlic cloves, cans of tomato paste and packaged pasta in the cupboard. “Spaghetti it is.” She wasn’t a bad cook. She could crush tomatoes with the best of them.
Inside the fridge, she also found a covered dish of already cooked meatballs.
It seemed as though Juan Carlos had kitchen minions.
She wasn’t complaining.
She turned the stove on, grabbed a cast-iron pan, peeled and mashed two garlic cloves with a butcher knife and poured a little oil in the pan. Garlicky steam billowed up and pungent scents filled the room.
The back door opened and Juan Carlos walked in. “Mmm. Smells great in here.”
“I hope you like spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Who doesn’t?” he said, coming to stand beside her.
“Hand me those tomatoes,” she said, fully aware of his freshly groomed presence beside her.
Instead of walking to get them, he grabbed her waist with one hand from behind and stretched the other hand out as far as he could, snapping up three ripe tomatoes from the counter without leaving her side. “Here you go.”
His touch sent heat spiraling through her body. “Into the pot with them, please.”
“Like this?” He lowered them down gently, his face brushing against her hair.
He was a tease.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t you have to peel them?”
She shook her head. “The skin will peel off easily later from the heat. And then, you’ll get to crush them.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. They need a manly crush.”
“Well then, I’m your man.”
She stopped and gazed into his eyes. Those words. They could be true. If she allowed it. Juan Carlos had owned up to his deal. He hadn’t really come on to her, but every single second of every single minute of the day, he told her in his own silent, heart-melting way that he wanted her.
“Yes, well, uh...just let me get the meatballs.”
How was that for a change of subject?
“I can crush those, too,” he said.
She laughed. “I’m sure you can.”
Dinner was half an hour later. They decided to eat in the kitchen this time, at a wooden table with inlaid painted tiles. One of the nearby windows faced the backyard garden, now bathed in starlight, and if she squinted she could see the plants. It was cozy and nice, and she’d put out a mason jar candle that cast a pretty glow over the room. Juan Carlos kept glancing at his watch as they forked spaghetti into their mouths and spoke of easy simple things. She refused to think any more about the snake with the severed head lying in that shack. Or the cemetery with so many families who’d lived here before.
After his eyes shifted to his watch once again, her curiosity got the better of her. “Am I keeping you from something?”
There was no television in the house. No important soccer games to watch. No distractions. Maybe he couldn’t wait to get upstairs to finish the book he’d been reading.
He shook his head. “There’s no place I’d rather be than right here.”
Oh, she’d stepped into that one.
“The meal is delicious,” he said.
“I
t was all that manly crushing,” she remarked, and he put his fork down to grin at her.
She jingled in places that normally jangled. He turned her life upside down. She’d miss him when this adventure was over and she went back to LA.
She rose and grabbed up their empty plates. “Would you like another helping?”
He patted his flat, washboard stomach. “No, I’d better stop here.”
“Then no cherry cobbler? It seems the kitchen minions made a trip to the bakery.”
“Maybe later, Princess.”
She washed dishes and he dried. It was all so domestic. Well, as domestic as she’d seen on the Hallmark Channel. Her life was hardly a typical American tale. What did one do after the dishes were cleaned and the night loomed ahead?
Her gaze slid to Juan Carlos, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. He folded the towel neatly, set it on the counter and smoothed it out. With a slight tilt of his head, he sought her out, a question on his lips.
Before he could voice his thoughts, the purr of an engine reached her ears. Juan Carlos strode to the kitchen window that faced the side yard. “It’s Eduardo. He ran an errand for me. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
“Why?”
But he dashed out the door before giving her an answer.
She heard their voices and strained to hear what they were saying, but she couldn’t make it out.
The back door opened with the slight kick of Juan Carlos’s boot and he strode in holding a wire cage in both hands.
Meeeow.
The cats! Juan Carlos had the mama cat and her kittens.
Eduardo followed behind him, his hair rumpled, drops of blood staining his scratched hands. He looked almost as frazzled as the cat.
“Eduardo, you’re bleeding!”
“Hazard of the job,” he mumbled.
It took only a second for her to figure out what he’d done. What they’d both done. Juan Carlos had sent Eduardo on a mission to rescue mama cat and her babies.
“He wouldn’t let me go,” Juan Carlos was saying.
“My job is to protect you, Your Majesty.”
“Not from cats.” The king appeared annoyed at himself for allowing Eduardo to do the job he’d wanted to do. “I should’ve gone. Now look at you.”
“Better me than you. They’re nothing but a few scrapes. She put up a good fight.” Eduardo grinned. “She is a feisty one.”
Juan Carlos gritted his teeth. “Those injuries should’ve been on my hands.”
“Stop arguing, you two,” Portia said. “What you both did was very kind. Juan Carlos, take the cats in the living area. The room is dark and cozy. It might put mama at ease. Eduardo, come with me. I’ll take care of your hands.” She marched into the bathroom and heard footsteps behind her. Grateful that Eduardo had obeyed her order, she grabbed a washrag, filled a bowl of warm water and pointed for him to sit on the edge of the bathtub.
Goodness.
She sat, too, and took his big hands in hers, scouring over half a dozen scratch marks. “She must’ve been very frightened.”
“That made two of us.”
“Oh, Eduardo.” She began dabbing at the wounds. He flinched, but took the pain. She dabbed a little more gently, cleansing and dressing his wounds. “There.”
“The king is very angry with me. Luis and I both, we convinced him not to go. He wanted to do this thing...for you.”
Portia closed her eyes. “I...know.”
Her chest tightened. It was the sweetest gesture anyone had ever done for her. Or tried to do.
“He is a proud man. But don’t worry, he won’t be angry for long.”
“He won’t?”
“No. I think not. And thank you, Eduardo, for rescuing the animals.”
She placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. He was large, built like a block of stone, but his expression softened and as he rose, he bowed to her with his eyes twinkling.
And she felt as though she’d made a new friend.
Six
“Do you think she’ll try to escape if we open the cage?” Portia asked as she sat facing Juan Carlos on the floor beside the fire. The cage was between them. The leery mama cat’s eyes were guarded and wide. Portia made a move to get a better look at the babies, and a mewling hiss, one born of fear more than anything else, pressed through the feline’s tight lips.
Juan Carlos shrugged. “She has nowhere to go. The house is locked up and the doors to this room are closed. Right now, I think she needs to see us and know we won’t harm her.”
“I think you’re right.” Portia tilted her head to one side. “You’re intuitive when it comes to animals.”
While she had been bandaging up Eduardo, Juan Carlos had set out a bowl of water and a plate of leftover cheese bits for when they let the cat out later.
“At least she won’t starve tonight,” he said.
Outside the wind was howling again, even pushing through the flue of the fireplace. The flames scattered momentarily in the hearth, blazing wildly before returning to a normal easy burn again. “No, she won’t starve and the kittens will thrive. Thanks to you.”
He kept his eyes on the fire, not commenting, refusing to take any credit for the deed. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t hide his intentions from her.
“They’re the cutest little things,” she said, her voice squeaking. She couldn’t help it. Babies in all forms brought her voice to a higher pitch. Who in the world didn’t love furry new kittens? “I’m glad they’re here.”
She had a view of his profile, so sharp and defined. Firelight played across his face and when he turned to her, his expression softened. “Me, too.”
“Why didn’t you tell me your plan to rescue her?” It was what all his watch-glancing had been about. It made sense to her now and she was incredibly relieved to learn the reason for his impatience. “Was it a surprise?”
He nodded. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed if Eduardo couldn’t bring her back.”
And there it was. On his face. Concern. Caring. Almost love.
Something shifted inside her. It wasn’t a blunt move, but something that had been tilting and leaning gradually, like dominoes toppling in super slow motion. She could feel each one fall, until every shred of her defenses was being taken down by this good, kind, sexy man.
“It’s late,” he said.
No, it wasn’t.
“We should unlatch the cage now and leave her, so she can eat.”
“Okay,” Portia said, sorely disappointed. She knew that meant saying good night to Juan Carlos and parting ways at the top of the stairs once again.
He sighed as he rose to his feet and strode to the fireplace to take up a metal poker. He slashed at the logs, until only simmering embers heated the brick floor inside.
Portia carefully unlatched the hook on the cage and flipped it away. The wire door swung open but the cat stayed put. “Here you go, Duchess. You’re free now.”
“Duchess?” Juan Carlos turned to her.
“She needs a name.” She shrugged. “It seems fitting somehow.”
He smiled, but his eyes remained hooded. “Duchess it is. What’s one more royal around here, anyway? Well, I’ll say good-night now. We have an early call tomorrow.”
They did. They were going even farther out on the grounds in the Jeep.
“Are you coming up?” he asked. He had almost reached the hallway door.
She rose to her feet and stared at him from across the room. Words wouldn’t come. Her heart was thumping, drowning out everything else in her world.
“Portia?”
“What if...?” A swallow stole her next words.
He waited, his face in the shadows so she couldn’t see his expression.
“What if I said I wa
s a w-wimpy princess, after all?”
He paused. “Would you rather not go out in the Jeep tomorrow?”
“No.” She shook her head, her hair falling like a sheet around her shoulders. “Juan Carlos, it means I don’t want you to go to bed...”
He stepped out of the shadows, his eyes dark, intense. Waiting.
She froze. Oh, God, she was breaking every rule she’d ever committed to.
“Say it.”
The force of his command sent thrills careening through her body.
“Say it, Portia.”
He wouldn’t break his vow to her. She had to do it. He’d told her as much just the other day. His honor meant that much to him and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Without me.” She nodded, convincing herself. “I don’t want you to go to bed without—”
And suddenly, he was there in front her, gazing into her eyes, cupping her head in his hands and brushing his lips over hers. Once. Twice. His hungry mouth devoured her over and over again. His arms wrapped around her, his hand brushing away her hair tenderly, his body trembling as he took her in kiss after kiss.
She was lost in the goodness of him, the thrill of his hands finally on her. The scent of his skin. The power of his body. Tears spilled down her cheeks at the clarity of this moment. She was his. He was hers. It was so easy, so simple. How had she managed to keep this amazing man at bay? How had she not realized earlier how perfect they would be for each other?
“Portia, don’t cry,” he was murmuring between kisses.
“I’m...happy, Juan Carlos.”
“Oh, God. How I’ve waited for this. For you. Say my name again.”
“Juan Carlos. Juan Carlos. Juan Carlos.”
He grinned, a flash of white teeth in a broad happy smile that branded her heart. His gaze roved over her face and traveled the length of her body, his smile fading into something delicious. Something dangerous. And something she no longer feared. His eyes burned with want, the heat in them back full force. The man knew how to smolder.
“Portia.” He breathed her name as if his life depended on it. “I need you.”
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