In the shadowy coach she could not see his expression, but she sensed wariness. “Why?”
“Perhaps I need comfort.”
“Then you should have stayed with your husband.”
“Even if he has killed my brother?”
After a moment, he said, “You’re not seeking comfort.”
“No,” she sighed, “not exactly. I need to know…. Bryght is the only man who has really kissed me. I need to know.”
After a moment he laughed. “Well, I’m likely to get skewered for what they think I’ve done, so why not?” He took her hand, tugged her against him, cradled her head and kissed her.
It was the same business of lips and hot breath, and it was not unpleasant. It was Fort, and Portia liked Fort. But there was something missing, the something that excited her senses and drove her wild. She wouldn’t be carried beyond wisdom by this.
When he tilted her further back and his hand traveled to cover her breast, she broke free. “No, Fort.”
His hand moved over her breast in gentle suggestion. “Perhaps I could persuade you…”
“No,” she said again, firmly but calmly, though her heart was speeding.
Still he didn’t let her go. “It would quite please me to cuckold a Malloren. Especially if I were the first.”
Portia shuddered and pushed at him. “Stop it, Fort. I won’t be part of your feud.”
“You already are. Has he had you yet?”
Portia realized she’d leapt into a deeper pit than she’d imagined. “That’s none of your business. Think what you’re doing.”
He jerked as if she’d hit him, but his hand still rested on her bodice. She was grateful it was high and modest, but still felt soiled.
“I’m causing problems for the Mallorens. My life’s cause.”
“Why?” she demanded.
“Because they killed my father.”
Portia gently removed his hand from her bodice. “What happened?”
She thought he wouldn’t speak, but then he said, “He wasn’t entirely sane. He was brilliant, but unbalanced. It was through the Mallorens that I discovered what was wrong…. When Cynric Malloren decided he wanted to marry Chastity, it became a cause for Rothgar, and nothing and no one was allowed to stand in his way.”
“Bryght said that your father created that scandal over Chastity.”
“That’s true. But there was no need to destroy Father. And,” he added bleakly, “there was no need to make me their tool.”
Portia took his hand and looked him in the eye. “What happened, Fort? I heard that your father died of a seizure.”
“It was cleverly hushed up. He died of a pistol ball while trying to kill the king’s mother. I fired the pistol…” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the squabs. “He was raving by then, driven mad by Rothgar, and by the destruction of his plans. I couldn’t let him kill Princess Augusta. She was innocent, and it would have ruined the family entirely….”
Portia squeezed his hand. “You can’t entirely blame the Mallorens.”
He opened his eyes then. “I can blame them enough. And I rather begrudge you to Bryght. I gather my kisses don’t have the potency of his.”
“Bryght has never been intent on rape.”
“I wonder. If you don’t give in to him, he’ll force you one day. How else is he to get children? And he needs children. That way, since Rothgar will not marry, he controls the marquessate from the grave.”
Portia thought of children, children taken from her, and wanted to weep for all of them. “Don’t impose your own twisted thinking on Bryght. Don’t hate so much. You’ll hurt yourself more than you could possibly hurt them.”
