The thought went through Portia’s mind that perhaps what he saw as a curse was merely a family disposition toward weak hearts or another malady. Perhaps the timing of all the deaths was coincidence?
She held her tongue.
He escorted her from the bothy and picked up the basket for her. “Hold the book for me,” he said, and went to untie his horse.
The bay had a distinct personality and let him know with a butt of his head he’d not been pleased to be left standing for so long. “I’m sorry, Ajax,” Colonel Chattan said, rubbing the animal’s nose. “I was preoccupied.” He smiled and directed the last in Portia’s direction.
She felt herself blush.
He mounted and came over to her, holding out a hand.
Portia had never mounted a horse this way. And the animal was big, larger than any horse she had ever seen or ridden. “I can walk,” she murmured.
“Take my hand,” he ordered in a tone that allowed for no disobedience.
She placed her hand in his. He’d put on his gloves. They were softer than his hands. He easily lifted her up to sit in front of him. His arm came around her waist. She had the book in the basket on her lap.
“Hold on,” he said, his voice tickling her ear. With a kick, they were off.
Ajax was a mighty steed. A warrior’s horse. He carried them at a fast clip through the woods toward Camber Hall.
Colonel Chattan had one arm around her waist. His other hand held the reins. As they rode, the masculinity of him seemed to circle around her, teasing her. He now smelled of sandalwood and the musk of their lovemaking.
They were close to Camber Hall when she felt his breath on her hair. He kissed her, once, twice,a third time, and then brought his lips down to gently kiss her temple. His hand came up to cup her breast. He kissed her neck.
Portia knew she should stop him. She could feel his hardness against her. She had a need as well.
He reined Ajax to a stop. He did not release his hold.
Pressing his head against hers, he said, “I want to see you again.”
Portia started to shake her head. “I can’t, Colonel—”
He hushed her. “Harry,” he said, amusement in his voice. “My name is Harry, and after what we’ve been to each other, I believe we may be less formal.”
“I can’t meet you,Colonel,” she answered.
His hold tightened. “I’m not letting you free until I hear you say my name.”
She glanced at him to see if he was serious.
He was smiling but he didn’t loosen his hold. “Har-reee,” he said, drawing out the syllables. “Try it.”
“I’m not that amenable, Colonel,” she responded, proud of herself for standing up to him.
Her bravado earned a laugh from him. “I’ve known that.” He turned serious. “Meet me again tomorrow.”
The suggestion alone was enough to send the blood racing through her veins. “I shouldn’t,” she said, common sense warring with this newly discovered desire for sexual pleasure. It was wrong to want him. Wrong to be so willing.
“Meet me tomorrow,” he repeated, his voice in her ear. “We need to make love naked, at least once.”
Portia didn’t dare speak. He was her weakness. He was a temptation, adevil.
“I’ll be at the bothy around noon,” he said. “I shall wait for you.” He then let her down to the ground. Portia started walking toward the house, and then began running.
Minnie was in the sitting room darning socks when Portia came in the door. Her sister smiled at her and asked how Crazy Lizzy had been.
Portia stared at her, uncomprehending for a second, and then remembered her excuse for leaving the house. “She is the same as always.” Portia put the basket down on a side table and began removing her cloak.
