“Oh?” She definitely didn’t have the same snappy and scintillating conversational skills as the heroine in her book.
Gwen pressed Maddie’s head to her shoulder, cupping the little girl’s free ear as if keeping her from hearing what she was about to say. “Josh was diagnosed with PTSD. Things got bad. Then really bad and Katie had no other option except to leave.”
Gwen dropped her hand. “A few months ago, Katie received a threatening e-mail from her ex. I won’t go into detail, but suffice it to say we added extra security measures around here.” Her voice dropped into an almost growl. “No one, but no one is going to touch this child.”
Rachel’s gaze dropped down to the lovely bundle in Gwen’s arms, currently stroking the gardenia. “I’ll second that.”
“And since you might be staying here a while, and you possess super senses, you can help.”
Maddie reached up with the white flower and ran it down Gwen’s nose, mirroring Gwen’s move from moments before. Gwen grinned. “Isn’t she adorable?”
Rachel agreed, at least that the little girl was definitely a cutie pie. “I’m not sure how I could be of any use.” Not in a place brimming with individuals stronger and faster than herself.
Gwen stepped from the garden onto the soft grass. “Just keep your senses open to anything, well, sinister. The guys pass through the house more often of late, but their work keeps them mostly outside. Except Rome, who’s taken to helping Annie in the kitchen or Melinda with the guests whenever possible.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure by now you know Rome checks out all the guests.”
“Hmm.” A noncommittal response because Rachel still wasn’t sure what she thought of that kind of intrusion.
Maddie started to fuss and Gwen abruptly swung in a circle, sending Maggie into peals of rapture. “However, that doesn’t include the drop-ins, or at least not all of them. People come by on occasion asking for guac, especially if the local stores are out, or seeking rooms without a reservation. Melinda, of course, won’t turn anyone away if we have availability. Others want to check out the cave.”
Rachel almost tripped as the terrain under her footing changed from grass to dirt. “The cave?” She vaguely remembered something about a cavern from her conversation with Melinda, but a lot of that was a bit fuzzy, considering how tired and nervous she’d been.
Gwen glanced over. “You really don’t know much about the Orchards, do you?” A wave of her hand that cut Rachel off before she could say anything. “Never mind. Santos and Ria discovered a cave out in the reserve about seven months ago. Because of some, uh, unfortunate business, word leaked that it was a possible hiding spot for Claude Morgan’s treasure. Thankfully the interest has died down, but it’s still a large draw to curiosity seekers.”
Oh, wow. Another interesting tidbit about this unique pack. Rachel opened her mouth to ferret out more information when something caught her eye in the distance. Switching her gaze, she stumbled to a halt when she saw a large black horse barreling from one end of a lengthy oval corral toward a man who stood calmly at the other end, near the large two-story tan barn.
Porter. He held aloft a long black cane in his hand, remaining statue-still as the mammoth beast galloped toward him, those four deadly hoofs pounding with earth-shaking force into the packed dirt, as if it carried Death itself on its back.
Chapter Six
Rachel’s cat leapt to the surface, snarling for her to run, but even before she could engage her legs, she knew the distance was too great. Despite what her brain was telling her, her torso lowered and she took a hasty step forward, only to be caught by surprise when Gwen’s arm linked around hers, effectively arresting her headlong flight. “Relax, Rachel. He knows what he’s doing. Just watch and enjoy the show.”
Rachel’s body vibrated with an overwhelming need to get to Porter. “Watch Porter be trampled to death? Are you insane?” She couldn’t take her eyes away from the horrific scene unfolding in the distance, her stomach roiling as the horse flew at Porter without hesitation.
At the last possible second, the animal came to a halt, rearing back, its dangerous forelegs waving right over Porter’s unprotected head.
Rachel’s knees nearly went from under her as Gwen spoke, her tone adopting a soothing quality that did nothing to calm Rachel’s jangling nerves. “He does this all the time. Trains horses.” Keeping her arm tight around Rachel’s, Gwen resumed their walk.
Rachel swallowed. “Trains? Horses?”
“Yep. It’s fascinating, as well as a little scary, I admit, when you don’t know what’s going on.”
Porter took several steps back after what seemed like an eternity, and the horse dropped to all four legs. Then he grinned and reached up to stroke the horse on its neck, his mouth moving as he spoke too low for Rachel to hear.
The relief hit so hard Rachel thought she was going to lose her breakfast.
Staggering only slightly, Rachel mutely let Gwen guide her the remaining distance to the exterior of the corral. Still grinning, Porter turned and sauntered over to the other side of the wood railing to meet them, the heavily breathing horse now sedate at his side. “So, ladies, what do you think?”
Maddie clapped, spouting baby approval which Porter acknowledged by leaning over the top rail and kissing her little pert nose.
“I think you’re a show-off.” Gwen chuckled, releasing her hold on Rachel. “Rachel was ready to run to your rescue.”
Porter turned his eyes on Rachel, silent laughter gleaming in their depths. “Yeah? You were worried about me?”
Rachel felt her cheeks heat and she cleared her throat, refusing to look away. “It was instinctive. Sorry. I didn’t know you trained horses.”
“Instinctive?” Porter seemed to like that, if the low timbre of his voice was any indication. It had just enough huskiness in it to cause a sweet warmth to invade her belly.
She refused to blush any harder, but she did avert her gaze to eye the animal with a great deal of caution. “They make me nervous.”
“Ah, yes. That’s right. Magnus.” Though he spoke to the horse, Rachel saw out of her peripheral that he kept his own eyes on her. “Mind your manners when meeting a lady.”
He said something in a language that might have been Spanish and Magnus snorted once, his big body dropping as he went down on one knee in a low, equine bow.
Rachel’s jaw dropped. “That’s amazing.” She glanced at Porter. “What did you tell him?”
He spoke something else and the horse rose. “I simply told him to take a bow, praised him, and released him. All in Spanish.”
“Why Spanish?”
His wide shoulders lifted in a negligent shrug. “I find it easier to train in a language other than the one I normally speak. That way I or someone else doesn’t accidentally say a command at the wrong time. I also incorporate hand and arm gestures, but it really depends on what works best for the animal.”
Rachel glanced to the horse and then back at Porter. “How do you know what works best?”
White teeth flashed against the deep honey of his skin. “I talk to them. Get to know them.”
As if things couldn’t get any weirder. A jaguar shifter who trained and commanded horses to do his bidding. Unbelievable. Now Rachel could add horse-whisperer along with ghosts, pirates, hidden treasure, underground caves, vampires, threatening ex-husbands, orchards, private wildlife reserve, her own feline’s strange interest in Porter, and the sight of enough security to rival Fort Knox, to the list of oddities that were part and parcel of this particular pack.
With all of this going on, hiding and worrying about some measly stalker was the last thing on her mind. “It sounds complicated.”
“Not really. It’s like any new relationship. Sometimes it’s a slow melding, submitting of one’s trust and respect as two people get to know each ot
her.” He angled his head to lay those mesmerizing eyes on her with a scorching heat she swore she actually felt. “And sometimes it’s instinctive.”
Alarm bells clanged, but they couldn’t penetrate the sudden feeling of being trapped in a seductive web by Porter’s unwavering gaze. Some part of her being was jumping and waving, desperate for her attention, while the other wanted to slink into a puddle of feminine goo. It wasn’t until she felt her feline half roll over, exposing her belly in a submissive position, that the warning blared through in a single word.
Charmer.
Her jaw tightened, as did her resolve. No doubt he used the same line on countless other females, making them think the fierce attraction between them was special. Rare. Something to take a hold of with both hands and never let go.
Until his interest waned. Would that be after one night or two? Didn’t matter. Neither did the knowledge that she’d nearly willingly and wholeheartedly fallen at his feet. What was important was that she’d caught herself in time.
“It’s also instinctive to step on a cockroach,” Rachel retorted.
At her side, Gwen hooted with glee and slapped Rachel on the shoulder. “Nice one, Rach! Now that I know she can handle you,” Gwen shot Porter an indecipherable look, “I don’t have to worry about you seducing a guest.”
Though Porter clamped his mouth shut, his eyes threatened to incinerate Gwen on the spot. “Rachel, if you’re still interested in learning to ride, give me a few minutes to brush Magnus down and saddle up Daisy.”
Rachel smelled a story at the silent message that passed between Gwen and Porter, causing her inquisitive self to lean in, all aquiver for any juicy tidbit. Were Gwen’s words a warning or reminder? Had Porter slept with a guest, resulting in some bad juju?
Not only did Rachel’s inquiring mind want to know, her curiosity always overpowered her natural introvert tendencies. “Actually, if you don’t mind, Porter, I’d like to go with you.” She shrugged, the tiniest of smiles playing on her lips when four sets of eyes looked at her, if one counted Maddie and Magnus. “Maybe I could talk to Daisy while you take care of Magnus.” Her eyes twinkled. “Get to know her and vice versa, as you stated.”
Porter’s face went from feral to blank to smug satisfaction in less than a second. The latter he arrowed at Gwen. It would only take him sticking out his tongue to make the look complete. “An excellent idea.” He spoke to the horse in Spanish and it trotted off toward the barn. “The gate’s just down here.”
“You coming?” Rachel asked Gwen as the two women walked a parallel path with Porter.
“No. I think we’ll head over to the crop shop and see what’s going on.” Gwen peered down at a still very wide awake Maddie. “A little more excitement followed by a quiet story back at the house will probably have her dropping off in no time.”
Rachel smiled at the little girl. “You’re all very good with her, and with Katie. Offering to help out so quickly, I mean.”
The expression on Gwen’s face was nothing less than bewildered. “We’re family” was all she said as they stopped and Porter unlatched the gate, holding it open for Rachel.
Family or pack? In the case of the Felix clan, Rachel was starting to guess the two words were synonymous.
After saying their goodbyes, Rachel followed Porter across the packed earth of the corral and took her first step into the barn, breathing in the mingling scents of hay, horses, leather, and some cleaning agent.
“Oh. It’s so bright and clean!” Of course Rachel had no idea what the inside of a barn was supposed to look like, so maybe this was the norm. Sunlight poured in from the open double doors and windows that looked out from each stall. These were currently open as well, allowing ventilation and even more light to illuminate the interior. A pristine concrete center walkway divided the stalls, and at her exclamation, large heads popped over the chest-high sliding doors in curiosity.
“This is Ares,” Porter stroked the nose of a gray horse. “He’s a Hanoverian.” He grinned when the animal butted his hand. “Young, spirited, and a shameless flirt.”
“Hi,” Rachel muttered as soulful brown eyes looked at her. “Aren’t you a handsome one?”
As if understanding, Ares nodded his head in long sweeps, making her laugh.
“He’s also conceited.” Porter pushed at the gray head fondly and moved to the stall across the aisle to a white horse sprinkled with dainty black spots. “This is Daisy, the one I told you would be best for you to learn on. She’s the oldest of the bunch at eighteen. A Missouri Fox Trotter. Loves long walks. Don’t you, sweetheart?”
Daisy gave a whinny of pleasure at Porter’s affectionate petting. Then he moved down a stall. “You already know Montoya.” The brown horse stared for a moment at Rachel and then let out a snort.
“I take it he’s not thrilled with me?” Rachel eyed the large animal.
“No. He’s just cranky because I took Magnus out and not him. He’s an Arabian and loves his long runs. He could go for hours and still want more.”
When Porter glanced over his shoulder at Rachel, the gleam in his eyes made her think his words meant Montoya wasn’t the only one who could go for hours and still want more, and he wasn’t talking about running.
In a deliberate move, she took a step back and swiveled to look at the light-tan-colored horse with darker tan markings just across the way. “And that one?”
She could ignore his soft chuckle of amusement, but when Porter strode past her, brushing her shoulder with his arm, the zing of heat that arrowed straight through her body wasn’t so easy to dismiss.
“This is Frieda. My Morgan. She’s so gentle that her strength was often overlooked. She enjoys pulling and it’s a great way to keep her muscles in shape. If we have more riders than horses, or several younger kids not real keen on being atop a horse, I’ll attach the oversized wagon we have in the shed and she’ll happily tow several passengers.”
Rachel watched as Frieda leaned into Porter’s long, soothing strokes, her vision narrowing until all she seemed to be able to focus on was the sight of Porter’s large, calloused hand running over tan hair. An unwanted image of him stroking that same hand over her own naked flank made Rachel’s vision go hazy, her pulse race. She tried for a deep, calming breath, only to breathe in the scent of clean male and amber. That, mixed with the other smells inherent to horses, only made his unique scent more rugged. Powerful. Masculine.
He turned, and brown eyes locked on her wide, green ones, snaring her in a provocative trance. An actual ache infiltrated every nerve—to feel his bare flesh pressed to her own. To know what it was like to have his heat seep into her body, his hands caress her skin, and to touch the muscles defining his arms. Those sensual lips of his, hungry and devouring on her own.
Somehow, somewhere she found the ability to rein in the wild craving and get a slippery grip on reality before she succumbed and did something uncharacteristic. Prior to meeting Porter, her outlet for every naughty fantasy was her writing, but now they had a specific, flesh-and-blood target, and they wanted action. Now.
The shuffling of four legs cracked through the fog of desire and she shuddered from the rough jolt back to reality. Though tendrils of lust remained to distort any true clear thinking, she had enough presence of mind to nod casually at the last occupied stall. “And then Magnus.”
Slowly, as if either uncertain or in pain, Porter moved from Frieda’s stall and crossed to the open gate where the big black horse waited patiently. “And Magnus, of course.” His tone was oddly different now. Lower, but almost flat. No hint of his charming flirtation in any part of his speech. “Why don’t you get some carrots from the fridge in the tack room?” he continued on with the same bland infliction in his voice. “Give each one a treat while I brush down Magnus.”
“All right.” Wondering what had happened to cause the loss
of his innate playfulness, she looked absently about, her eyes landing on Porter’s back as he headed toward the opposite end of the barn. “Where’s the tack room?”
Porter stopped in his tracks, didn’t turn around. A moment later he made a choked sound that had his shoulders bucking.
She frowned at the sight. “Are you laughing at me?” She actually preferred that over the odd detachment from moments ago.
Now if she could only make up her mind on what she wanted, she’d be golden. The sexy flirt was a dangerous temptation, but the remote stranger caused her heart to constrict in sadness.
He pivoted to face her, his eyes bright, his lips twisted in a suppressed smile. “Only a little,” he finally admitted. Then he did smile and the tightness in Rachel’s chest eased. “Sorry. This is the tack room.”
He opened the last door on the left. Bypassing a couple of empty stalls, Rachel peered into the room. Nine saddles were mounted to the wall next to a full-sized, beat-up white refrigerator. To her right, at the back wall of the barn, was a narrow wood counter. The corkboard above it held several long lengths of leather, which she assumed were halters or bridles or whatever they were called. Underneath sat several tall bins, their contents casting shadows on the opaque plastic.
Just inside the door to her right was a shelving unit with large metal bins, filled with all manner of items she imagined was required for owning horses. Everything was clean and neatly put away in their appointed location.
Except a few things, which were really the oddest things she’d ever seen. At least when it came to horses.
Then again, who was she to know what was odd or not?
“Balls?”
Porter had left her at the door while he went into an open area directly across the aisle that reminded her of the showers in high school. A bathing room? For horses?
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