Chapter Eleven #3
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, a devil.
“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.
“You are such a good person,” Minnie said.
“Oliver has commented at how happy he is that our family is a far cry from the sort of man Father was. He confided in me today that there had been gossip in the valley when we’d first arrived.
I don’t know how they expected us to be.
We wouldn’t have carried on the way Father did.
We may be Black Jack Maclean’s children but we have the moral standards our father lacked. ”
Portia smiled, not trusting her voice to speak.
Minnie put down her piecework. “I’m so happy, Portia. So very happy. I hope someday you meet someone who makes you as happy. And I don’t believe you are too old. I’ve never thought that.”
“Thank you, dear.” Portia started for the stairs. “I’m going to my room.”
“Oh, Portia, there is something I should tell you. Mother and General Montheath had their heads together all afternoon. He came calling and she received him without one grumble. He’s given her carte blanche to plan his soiree and she is reveling in it.”
“Mother and General Montheath?”
“I know it is amazing, but you know how she likes to spend money. The soiree has turned into a grand Christmas Day dinner. Mr. Tolliver is going to ask his parents to join us. Mother wants to invite the Duke of Montcrieffe and his daughter, Lady Emma. I’m not very excited for that, but Mother feels we must extend the invitation. ”
“How interesting,” Portia murmured. The last thing she wanted to do was spend her Christmas Day with Lady Emma. But she didn’t offer a protest. Instead, she escaped to her room, where she lay on her bed fully clothed as the room grew darker with the day’s end.
What was she doing? She’d behaved today in a way contrary to her good breeding. She’d behaved as her father would have. She must not go to the bothy tomorrow. She had to resist temptation.
Then again, she was Black Jack Maclean’s daughter. He’d certainly enjoyed sensual pleasures—and she did wonder what it would be like to lie naked with Harry.
Harry. Colonel Chattan was a distant figure, a cold one. Harry was a man who whispered in her ear. A man whose touch ignited her senses.
The next day, Portia met Harry in the bothy.
He’d been right. Making love naked was truly remarkable.
And so she met him the following day as well.