Harry was about to point out the presence of the cat. However, words died in his throat once he had a clear look at the animal’s folded-over ears.
Here was the cat who had visited his bedroom. The cat who was the sign that he’d needed to stay in Glenfinnan. The cat who’d been with the witch that night.
And the cat sought refuge from Miss Portia Maclean. She had covertly shooed the cat underher chair as if not wanting her mother to catch sight of the kitty.
For a second, Harry was so shocked he couldn’t think. All that searching, and the woman he wanted was standing right here in front of him.
Portia Macleanhadbeen avoiding him, but not because of spinster shyness. She was afraid he’d recognize her.
And on some level, he had. Of course, he had thought it was physical attraction, but now he knew differently ... or did he?
Harry paused, unwilling at this moment to confront her. One should always be certain of one’s enemy before making an attack.
Meanwhile, Monty was mumbling excuses and trying to keep control over his dog, and Miss Minerva and Lady Maclean were occupied trying to soothe Lady Emma’s offended pride.
Portia Maclean had turned her back to the room, protecting her cat from Jasper, who continued to howl and struggle against Monty’s hold although he was now outside. She couldn’t see Harry’s expression so she didn’t know that he was aware his quarry was in sight.
But the cat knew. Her curiously shaped head popped up over her shoulder. She didn’t look in the direction of the dog. She couldn’t give a care.
Instead, the cat looked right at Harry. Her huge amber eyes seemed to gleam with a fiendish delight, almost daring him to speak out.
Fenella.She was here.
She was Portia Maclean.
Harry turned and left the house, but he would be back.
Chapter Eight
After the disaster of the afternoon, it took hours for Portia to calm her mother, who had demanded smelling salts, her dinner on a tray and a soothing hot bath.
“We’ve been humiliated,” Lady Maclean had declared. “That boor Montheath and his dog have destroyed our social standing.”
“I doubt that, Mother,” Portia had answered.
“Did you not see Lady Emma? She practically ran from the house.”
Portia could have told her mother that Lady Emma had left because Colonel Chattan had taken his leave and she was not, and never would be, interested in befriending the Macleans. But then, that comment would have set her mother off into new hysterics about losing her chance to wed Minnie to Colonel Chattan.
For her part, Minnie confessed she wasdelighted that their mother had something to rail against other than her intentions to marry Mr. Tolliver.
“I’m more worried over what Lady Emma will do,” Portia answered. She’d managed to free her spectacles from her mother’s grasp and now pushed them up her nose. It felt good to be able to see clearly again. A headache had been forming, but Portia didn’t know if it was from going so long without her spectacles or from the stress of the afternoon.
“She can’t blame us for what happened today,” Minnie said. “We don’t own the dog.”
“Yes, but we hurt her pride,” Portia answered. “Mother is also upset that we laughed over all the damage. She feels we are not sensitive to our social position.”
“Oh posh,” Minnie said with good humor. “The furniture was rickety to begin with. That table would have broken sooner or later. Of course, having the dregs of the teapot dumped into Lady Emma’s lap would have upset anyone. Her riding habit truly was an exquisite outfit. I don’t know that the stain can be repaired.”
They were in the kitchen, tidying up. The sisters had sent Glennis home, telling her they could take care of themselves for dinner.
Portia had to suppress her laughter at thememory. “It truly was a good moment when she stood up and put her foot right into the bread and butter plate and almost fell on her face. I know I shouldn’t make sport, but the girl is like a medieval princess in this valley. What she says goes, and if she doesn’t like someone, well, then ‘Off with her head.’ I am very tired of her petty jealousies and threats.”
“Threats? She doesn’t like one of us?” Minnie asked, looking up from where she was taking a boiling pot of water from the fire. “She has nothing to fear from me now,” she said, a smile coming to her lips. “She may claim all the men in the valley for herself. Oliver is the only man I want. Oh, Portia, I can’t believe I’m going to marry him.”
“Does it not bother you how upset Mother is?” Portia had to ask. Minnie seemed almost carefree, something that was a bit out of character.
“Of course it bothers me, but she’ll have you here and, well...” Her voice drifted off. She looked up at Portia. “I must live my own life. I love him, Portia. I can’tnotbe with him. I don’t expect you to understand. You are far too rational. You can’t imagine how I feel.”
