Even now her traitorous body yearned for him, but the truth was, the game had changed. She’d discovered she wanted what he was not willing to give.
There had been a time when Portia had wondered if the sameness of her life was to continue on forever without any variation. She’d wantedmorein those days without knowing what “more” was.
Now she wished she could return to where she’d once been—a time when she’d not risked anything of herself.
Harry would never love her. The curse had seen to that. He avoided love, and if he hadn’t, someone more beautiful and more clever than Portia would have caught him long before now.
And then there was Crazy Lizzy’s warning. Portia didn’t know what the woman meant with her prediction of Harry’s death. However, the threat gave Portia one more reason to stay away from him. To protect her own heart, to protecthim, she must stay away from Harry.
Portia heard a soft feline growl from Owl before the cat jumped up on the bed. Until now, she hadn’t known the cat was present in her room.
Owl stalked the length of the bed before reaching Portia’s arm and rubbing her face against it. Portia reached over and scratched Owl’s ears.
“Nowyou show up,” she whispered to the cat. “Where were you earlier when I needed you?”
Owl rolled onto her back and playfully batted at Portia’s fingers before reaching up to nudge her hand for another pet. Portia obliged, laying her head on the mattress so that she was practically nose-to-nose with the cat. Even in the dark, Owl’s eyes appeared large and human in their understanding.
“Areyou a reincarnated soul?”
The cat began purring.
“Is that a yes or a no?” Portia whispered.
The purring didn’t stop or change.
“I see,” Portia said. “It is for me to decide.” She lightly touched one of Owl’s folded-over ears with one finger.
Owl grabbed her finger with both paws, as playful as a kitten.
“What shall I do, Owl? I love him. Yes, I’ve been foolish. I didn’t think of anything beyond the moment when I let him make love to me. Itwas so wonderful,” she confided to the cat. “Every moment in his arms has been heaven. Except now I want what I cannot have. He’s too above my touch, Owl. I’m like Icarus whose father made him wings out of wax and he thought he could fly. But he went too close to the sun, and fell to earth. I thought ...” She paused, her heart as heavy as a stone in her chest. “I thought I could fly. Now I realize I’m probably like every woman Harry Chattan has ever met. I’m just one more. I had thought I’d be the exception or, at least, able to control my emotions. My father’s callousness did not rub off on me and I suppose I should be glad, but it just hurts so much—ow.”
Owl had bitten her finger.
The cat jumped to its feet and then leaped off the bed. She padded to the closed bedroom door and meowed.
The bite had hurt. Portia couldn’t tell in the moonlight if there was blood. Sitting up, she sucked the hurt away, frowning at the cat. “Why should I do anything for you?” she asked, and then was struck by the obvious realization the door was shut and had been ever since she’d gone to bed. Owl had not been in the room, or had she? Harry had her imagining Owl had ghostly powers as well.
Owl meowed at the door, impatient, insistent, sounding very much like what she was, a spoiled cat.
If Portia didn’t do as Owl wished, then the cat could yowl at the door all night.
Portia rose from the bed. She still wore her evergreen cambric day dress with its long sleeves. She pushed her hair back from her face. Her curls were going every which way. She should take a brush to it after she changed into a nightdress. She was exhausted but it wasn’t the tiredness that led to sleep. No, she felt spent, defeated, and overwhelmingly sad.
She opened the door. Owl went out, then stopped in the dark hallway, a silver shadow. Portia started to close the door, and the cat slipped back in.
Frowning, Portia said, “I’m not playing this game with you.” She started to shut the door, but the cat boldly put herself in the doorway. “Move on,” she ordered. “Make a choice. In or out.”
Owl grabbed the hem of her dress with her teeth and pulled.
It was a strange action for a cat.
For a second, Portia stood in indecision. The cat wanted her to follow.
Owl turned to go out the door.
Portia was tempted to shut the door, but then a new apprehension reared its ugly head. Her first thought was Harry.
“Is he all right, Owl?”
