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Chapter Eight
So that the guests wouldn’t be tossed around in the bed of a wagon on the unpaved roads to the Fontaine Hotel, Portia and Regan each drove a buggy to the train depot while Cal Grissom guided the buckboard that would transport their luggage. Kent was mounted on Blue and rode slowly beside Portia while Matt flanked Regan.
“How long are these people staying?” Kent asked her.
“Five days.”
And she was looking forward to immersing herself in her duties so her mind wouldn’t have time to dwell on the kisses from the man riding beside her. For the past two days, she’d done a good job of keeping herself focused on the last-minute preparations, but when her guard slipped the memories roared back of how shamelessly passion had made her behave. As if in agreement her nipples tightened. A glance his way showed a ghost of a smile playing at the edges of his beard-shrouded lips as if he knew where her thoughts had led.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.
“Just thinking about the arrivals.”
“Uh-huh,” he replied knowingly.
“What else would I be thinking about?”
He leaned down and said, for her ears only, “Me. You. The band of silk I hope you’re wearing beneath that schoolmarm blouse and what’s going to happen if I catch you alone to see.”
The reins went slack in her hands.
“No?” he asked innocently.
She didn’t reply but she knew by that seductive smile of his that this was not over and the parts of herself that couldn’t wait for him to catch her alone shouted with glee.
The train was just pulling into the depot when they arrived. As the four guests stepped out of the car, Portia was finally able to put faces to the names of the people she’d been corresponding with for the past few months. Dr.Phillip Pratt was tall with light skin. He greeted her with a smile.
“Welcome,” Portia said.
“Thanks. This is my sister, Elvenna Gordon.”
Elvenna nodded and Portia couldn’t help admiring her fashionable sable-brown traveling ensemble and matching confection of a hat.
The brown-skinned Dr.Winston Jakes’s startling gray eyes flashed surprise when Portia introduced herself. Standing with him was his short stocky mother, Ada, in an old-fashioned rumpled black ensemble and matching wide-brimmed hat.
Portia then introduced her sister and the men who’d accompanied them.
Elvenna immediately sidled up to Kent and said huskily, “My aren’t you a handsome cowboy, Kent Randolph. May I ride with you? You do let widows ride, don’t you?”
Her brother, Phillip, shook his head with apparent disgust. Portia hid her displeasure but knew right away the widow Gordon was going to be trouble.
Ada Jakes asked, in a voice Portia imagined a bullfrog would have, “Can you at least wait until we reach the ranch before you throw yourself at the man?”
Elvenna raised her chin. “That was very unladylike, Ada.”
“And you’re very unladylike so the shoe should fit.”
Elvenna gasped.
Portia shared a speaking look with Regan before clearing her throat. “Mr.Grissom will take care of your trunks. This way please.” She gestured them towards the waiting buggies.
“Mr.Pratt, you and Mrs.Gordon will ride with my sister, Regan.” Elvenna glanced over at Kent mounting his horse and remained where she stood as if waiting for him to look back her way. When he didn’t, her lips tightened and she let her brother hand her into Regan’s buggy.
That left Portia with Mrs.Jakes and her son, who was still eyeing her with barely masked interest. Portia didn’t encourage him. With his good looks and respectful smile, she thought he could be someone Regan might care to know better.
On the ride back to the Fontaines’, Portia was peppered with questions about the hotel.
Ada Jakes asked, “Do you get many Colored guests?”
