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“I have to be frank,” Rhine stated, his voice bringing his attention back. “Even with the prison sentence I’m assuming you’re still no monk.”
He hid his grin.
“If you think to add my girls to the notches on your bedpost, think again. I will geld you, Kent.”
The hidden grin died. “Understood.”
“Wanted to make that clear.”
And then as if he hadn’t just threatened to turn him into a eunuch, Rhine said, “Bath is through that door and there’s inside plumbing. Feel free to walk around the place to get your bearings if you have a mind to before dinner. And if you need anything, press that button on the wall. It rings in the housekeeping office.”
Kent glanced over at the small gold button and nodded. The place was even more modern than he’d first thought.
“Are you hungry?”
“As a bear.”
“Okay. I’ll have one of the staff bring you a tray.”
“Thanks, Rhine.”
Rhine moved to the door. “Welcome back, Kent. Glad to have you with us again.”
Kent’s heart swelled with deeply felt emotion. “Good being with you again, old man.”
Rhine grinned. “I’ll see you later.”
After his departure, Kent glanced around. He hadn’t had a room to himself since leaving Virginia City. It felt odd, but good, too. There were no dirt floors littered with sleeping bodies to maneuver around in order to find a spot to lie down for the night as in the prison, and no bunkhouse filled with belching snoring men like on the ranches he’d worked. He set his saddlebag at his feet and stepped into the washroom. He eyed the big claw-foot tub and smiled his delight. All this luxury was going to take some time getting used to again but he was up to the challenge.
After his bath he dressed in the only clean clothes he had, a simple shirt and a pair of trousers, and walked outside to sit on the bench he’d seen there earlier. It was still desert hot but he hoped the temperature would drop and cool the air a bit now that it was past midday. Yesterday at this time he and Blue had been slowly making their way west from their last job on a spread in Colorado. The ride held no tub filled with hot water to soak away the weariness, no big bed to look forward to sleeping in. Just a bedroll on the ground beneath the stars. There’d certainly been no pretty girl to get reacquainted with. Which brought his thoughts to Portia. When she initially approached him outside, once he got a good look at her, he knew who she was right away, and her stunning beauty hit him like the kick of a mule. He thought he might have been struck dumb for a few moments because all he could do was stare at her gorgeous ebony face, the alluring, black feline eyes and the full sultry mouth. She was definitely all grown-up. With her hair pulled back and wearing a high necked blouse, she’d looked very prim and proper, even if the sway of her skirt belied that. However, the way she’d jumped when he accidentally brushed her arm gave him pause and brought back memories of how wary and fearful she’d been of men when she and her sister first came to live with Rhine and Eddy in Virginia City. He’d had no idea what she’d seen or experienced with her mother that made her so leery but she would visibly tense whenever a man came near, wouldn’t hold lengthy conversations with him, Rhine, or Jim, and if any of them were in a room with her, she’d either abruptly leave or stand with a chair or sofa in front of her as if having a barrier made her feel more secure. Granted he hadn’t given her problem more than a cursory thought back then, after all she’d been a youngster in his eyes and he was more intent on serving drinks and finding a willing woman to bed. He did notice that as time went by, she seemed to become more comfortable. So, could remnants of that fear be why she’d been so skittish when he brushed her arm and why she didn’t want to marry? The realization that that might be the answer made him ashamed of his earlier judgmental conclusions. If Rhine was able to find him a job at the hotel, he’d be spending more time with Portia, so he needed to be the perfect gentleman and not give her a reason to feel threatened in any way.
Portia searched through her armoire for a suitable gown to wear to the evening’s anniversary celebration. There’d be a large buffet, music, and drinks, and she’d be expected to wear something more stylish than her usual serviceable skirt and blouse. She took down the emerald green dress she’d gotten in San Francisco last year but thought the neckline might be too bold. Growing up in Denver her clothing had been hand-me-downs from churches and local benevolent societies and they’d always been threadbare, too large, or too small. That she would one day own more dresses than her arms could hold and shoes to match hadn’t even been a dream in those days because it would have been too far-fetched. She paused, remembering the summer they’d received no donations and she and Regan were forced to wear the stitched together flour sacks their mother, Corinne, had somehow managed to obtain. They’d been barefoot that entire summer as well. Wondering if she’d ever rid herself of those tragic years, she pushed aside the haunting memories and refocused her attention on the emerald gown.
“You should wear that,” Regan said behind her.
“No, I don’t think so.” She hung it back up in the armoire.
“Why not?” she asked, coming in and closing the door that connected their rooms. “You’d look beautiful.”
“It’s more suitable for the opera, not a dinner.”
“How about that rose-colored one?”
Portia took it down and considered it. It was a lovely gown. The neckline was modest, the bodice fitted, and there were small satin roses of a darker hue along the hem of the flowing skirt. The short wispy cap sleeves would leave most of her arms bare but that wouldn’t be bothersome.
“Have you heard that Kent Randolph is here?” Regan asked, pausing to check her lip paint and hair in the mirror of Portia’s vanity table. “One of the maids brought him a tray earlier and said he’s incredibly handsome.”
“I was with him earlier,” she replied, doing her best not to remember her reaction to his warm voice. “He was in need of a shave.”
“Did he say what he’d been doing all this time?”
“No.” And she told herself she wasn’t interested, even though a small part of her was curious.
“Did he mention how long he’d be staying?”
“No, but you can quiz him as much as you care to when you see him.” It never occurred to her that he might be staying. If he did, she hoped it would only be for a short time. She didn’t want to have to spend her days battling her reactions to those male eyes of his, but then again, maybe she’d build up an immunity to them, the way children built up an immunity to the pox.
“He’s in one of the guest rooms down the hall.”
