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Chapter Eleven
With Kent’s threat to take her drawers still fresh in her mind, Portia traded her skirt and blouse for a pair of denims and a shirt. She still didn’t know if he’d been teasing, but she figured whatever his plan entailed, her undergarments would be harder to confiscate while inside the denims. A soft knock sounded on the door connecting her room to Regan’s. “Come on in.”
Regan took in her attire. “Where are you going?”
“For a ride.”
“Please, not with Winston Jakes.”
“No.”
“He barreled by me a short while ago looking like he’d seen a ghost.”
Portia brushed out her hair and repinned it. “I told him I was the daughter of a whore.”
“Didn’t take it well?”
She shook her head.
“Good. Maybe now he and the bullfrog will leave you be.”
Portia knew she shouldn’t be encouraging her sister, but the description of Ada Jakes was just so apt she chuckled.
Regan added, “You know she looks like one and with that gravelly voice, she even sounds like one.”
Portia agreed again. “I didn’t like what she said to Kent. Why do people do that to him?”
“Because he’s the strongest, finest stallion in the herd and they’re jealous.”
Portia tied a bandana around her throat.
“I can ride with you if you want company.”
“You’re certainly welcome. Kent and I are going over to the falls.”
Regan stopped. “You’re riding with Kent?”
“Yes.”
“Then I decline.”
“Why?”
“He’s not going to kiss you with your little sister looking on.”
Heat burned her cheeks.
“And I’m not allowing you to use me to protect yourself from something we both know you want. You like his kisses, don’t you?”
Portia tried not to smile but couldn’t help it.
“There’s hope for you yet, sister mine.” Looking pleased, Regan retraced her steps to the door “Enjoy yourself, Portia.”
Once she was alone again, Portia eyed herself in the mirror of her vanity table. Would he kiss her? Probably. Did she want him to? She thought back on those few heated moments in Old Man Blanchard’s house. Definitely. Feeling as shameless as she often accused Regan of being, Portia set out for the stables.
He was there and waiting. Seeing him holding the reins of the already saddled Arizona, she said, “I can saddle my own horse.”
“No one is saying you can’t, Portia. I know how capable you are.”
