Breathless

by Beverly Jenkins

  “Same here.” When she first came to live with Rhine and Eddy in Virginia City, she’d been twelve years old. He been six years older and the bartender at Rhine’s saloon. She hadn’t paid him much attention, except when he called her Duchess, which annoyed her to no end. The passage of fifteen years had turned him into a man taller than she by at least a foot and with shoulders wide enough to block the sun. Her eyes strayed over the worn gun belt strapped around his waist and the butt of the Colt it held. Snug denims on muscular legs were covered with trail dust as were his boots, single-breasted gray shirt, and black leather vest. She heard he’d gone back East to medical school. With such rugged good looks, he certainly didn’t resemble any doctor she’d ever met.

  “You’ve grown up.” His soft tone grabbed her attention and touched her in a way that made her feel warm, female.

  She blinked. “Um, yes.”

  “Is your uncle here?”

  Realizing she was staring, she shook herself free of whatever his eyes were doing to befuddle her so totally. “Yes. He’s inside. This way, please.”

  She waited while he tied the roan to the post and reached for his saddlebag. Tossing it easily over his shoulder, they set out, his heeled boots echoing against the wooden walk. She got the feeling that he was eyeing the sway of her blue skirt, but she was so overwhelmed by the air of maleness he exuded, she kept walking and tried to ignore his effects on her usually unflappable self.

  Her uncle’s office was in the same building that housed her own, so she led Kent back to the breezeway and past the giant oaks and flowers enhancing the landscaping.

  “Nice place you have here,” he remarked as he looked around.

  “Thank you. We like it.”

  “When the man in Tucson gave me directions to the hotel, I expected something more like the hotels back East or in Virginia City, not a spread like this. Looks more like a ranch.”

  They approached the door. He reached around her to open it. His arm gently grazed her shoulder and Portia jumped nervously.

  “Sorry. Not trying to scare you,” he said apologetically. “Just wanted to get the door for you.”

  “Thank you,” she said, looking up into his face. She wondered if he remembered how uneasy and fearful she’d been around men when she and her sister first came to Virginia City. Because of Corinne’s way of life, Portia had imagined herself fair game to any man in a pair of trousers, and as a result she’d been as afraid as a tiny mouse in a world filled with large feral cats.

  He held the door aside. “After you.”

  She inclined her head and entered.

  The coolness of the interior’s air always offered relief from the blazing Arizona heat. “My uncle’s office is this way.”

  She led him past the large sitting room filled with elegant dark wood furniture. The white adobe walls were adorned with framed brightly hued paintings and plants stood in large colorful floor pots.

  “Feels like Mexico,” he said.

  “We’re not that far from the border.” She stopped at her uncle’s closed door and knocked.

  He called, “Come on in.”

  Kent entered behind her and when Rhine, who was seated behind a big fancy desk, saw him, his jaw dropped and he slowly got to his feet. “Where in the hell did you find him?” There was a smile of wonder on his face.

  “Outside on a horse,” she said with a grin. “I’ll leave you two to your visit.”

  Kent turned to her and said in the same soft tone he’d used earlier, “Thanks, Duchess.”

  “You’re welcome.” Forcing herself to break his captivating gaze, she turned and exited.

  Chapter Two

  “Fifteen years is a long time.”

  Seated in one of the leather chairs in Rhine’s office with a tumbler of fine scotch in his hand, Kent thought about all he’d seen and done since they’d parted ways in Virginia City. “Yes it is.”

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  He smiled ruefully and sighed. “The long and short of it is, I bedded the wrong man’s wife and spent three years in a Mexican prison for it.”

  Rhine showed his shock.

  Kent explained. “He was a don. Pretty powerful, too. After he caught me in his bed, he convinced the local police I was responsible for a series of robberies in the area. Even supplied witnesses who swore they’d seen me at the scene. I was young, stupid, and full of myself. Not anymore.” He slowly swirled the liquor in his glass. Memories rose of the hell he’d lived through and he turned his mind away.

  “Does Doc know?”

  He thought about his father, Oliver. “He was so upset about my not finishing medical school, I didn’t have the heart to write while I was in prison, not that I had access to stationery, but once I was released, I did send him a letter detailing my sins. We’ve corresponded on and off since and in one of his letters he mentioned you and Eddy were here in Arizona Territory.”

  “What have you been doing since your release?”

  “Went to San Francisco first and signed on with a merchant shipping company and sailed the world. Afterwards, went to work at a ranch up near Sacramento. Learned everything I needed to know about horse wrangling. Saved my money. Would like to start my own operation someday.” And since then he’d drifted from California to Wyoming and places in between, hiring himself out as a ranch hand, riding herd on cattle drives, and taking any other work he could find.

  “And now?”

  “Hoping you can give me a job.”

  “How long do you plan on being around?”

  “As long as you’ll have me.” He met Rhine’s eyes and added truthfully. “Looking to settle down.”

  “We already have a bartender but we can find something for you, I’m sure.”

  “Whatever you have will be fine.”

  Rhine raised his glass. “Then welcome back.”

  “Thanks.”

  Fifteen years ago, after the mob destroyed Rhine’s saloon and Eddy Fontaine’s newly built diner, a younger and cockier version of Kent enrolled in Howard Medical School. Being a doctor was the last thing he wanted—all he ever wanted to do was be a rancher—but he and his physician father had locked horns for years over his future, so to get Oliver off his back, Kent moved to Washington. He’d hated everything about it from the weather to the classes to the sneering condescending attitudes of the East Coast scions of the representative class. He’d enjoyed the young women though and spent an inordinate amount of time studying female anatomy, but in the end, not even that had been enough, so he’d left, much to his father’s fury.

  In response to a soft knock on the closed door, Rhine called, “Come in.”

  His wife, Eddy, entered. “Kenton! Portia said you were here.” She threw her arms wide and a smiling Kent hugged her tight.

  “So good to see you!” she gushed. “My goodness! Where have you been all these years? Did you fall off the face of the earth?”

  “In a way. Rhine can explain.”

  She studied him, studied her husband’s poker face, and said, “Okay. Are you staying?”

  “I am if Rhine can find me a job.”

  Her joyful expression filled Kent’s heart. He’d missed having them in his world. Rhine had been the older brother he’d always wanted and Eddy, the sister.

  “Good. You could use a bath.”

  He chuckled. She’d always been frank.

  Rhine asked her, “Should I put him in our wing?”

  She nodded and said sincerely, “Yes, of course. It’s wonderful having you here, Kent. Rhine will get you settled in and I’ll see you at dinner—which is a party to celebrate our fifteenth anniversary.”

  He paused. “I don’t own any fancy clothes.”

  “None needed.”

  He looked to Rhine for verification before asking, “Are you sure?”

  “I am.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Eddy.”

  She left them and Kent said to Rhine, “Need to get my horse settled in first.”

&n
bsp; “Okay, stables are out back. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  So Kent followed Rhine outside. On the way back to where he’d left his mount tied, they chatted about old times and old friends. “Is Jim Dade here, too?” Kent asked.

  Rhine shook his head. “No. Jim’s in upstate New York now. Opened a restaurant there. Eddy and I visited him last summer. He and his place are doing well.”

  James Dade had been in charge of the kitchen at Rhine’s place in Virginia City and Rhine had looked upon him as an older brother, too. He’d hoped to find Jim still with Rhine and now the prospect of maybe never seeing him again was saddening.

  When they reached his mount, Rhine assessed the big stallion. “You don’t see many blue roans much anymore.”

  Kent untied the reins and gave the strong neck an affectionate pat. “No. Have had him for a while now. Descended from Indian stock. Found him in a herd up in Montana. Broke him myself. Seems content to let me ride him, but I get the feeling that one day I’m going to wake up and find he’s lit out for Montana again.” The horse eyed him with the superior stare Kent had grown accustomed to as if acknowledging the accuracy of his assessment.

  “Does he have a name?”

  Kent smiled, “Blue, of course.”

  Rhine chuckled and they headed to the stable.

  After getting Blue settled into the fenced-in paddock and stowing the saddle in the tack room, Rhine told Kent, “Our head groom is an old cowboy named Cal Grissom. He’s off visiting his sister but will be back in a few days. You’ll like him.”

  Kent saw Blue eyeing a beautiful Appaloosa mare. “That’s a good-looking paint.”

  “Her name’s Arizona. She belongs to Portia.”

  Kent watched Blue walking around the mare.

  Rhine said, “I think Blue might be interested.”

  “I think you might be right.”

  Leaving the horses to get further acquainted, the two old friends resumed their walk to a breezeway that led to an adobe building with a red tiled roof that was set off by itself at the back of the sprawling property.

  “Did you recognize Portia all grown-up?” Rhine asked as they entered.

  “Took me a second or two, but I did.” He didn’t remember seeing a ring on Portia’s finger. “Beaus coming out of her ears, I imagine.”

  Rhine chuckled, “Yes, but they may as well be fence posts for all the attention she gives them. She keeps saying she isn’t interested in getting married. Her sister is just the opposite, though. Left to her own devices, Regan would have men dueling in the streets for her affections.”

  Kent found the information about Portia interesting. As a young girl she’d been stiff-backed and distant, and he’d given her the name Duchess just to tease her. But why didn’t she want to marry? Did she think herself too good for the average male, or was she one of those so called modern women who thought men were as useful as a one-legged stool? Regan on the other hand had been quite the pistol at age ten—open and gregarious. In fact, both girls had been handfuls at first: sassing the teacher, fighting at school, being suspended at school. No one knew how the other children learned their mother was a whore but the girls were berated and teased mercilessly—thus the fighting. And when some of the more sanctimonious parents decided they didn’t want the girls around their children, Eddy had taken them out of school and hired a tutor to teach them at home.

  And now, they were all grown-up. Although he had yet to see Regan, he assumed she was as much an ebony beauty as her sister and aunt. Kent followed Rhine past a nicely furnished sitting room. “This is the family’s quarters. The kitchen and dining room are through that alcove. Eddy does the cooking. She says the staff have enough to do without waiting on us, too.”

  Rhine led him into a hallway and stopped in front of a closed door. “We’ll put you in here. The girls’ rooms are through that door down there, and Eddy and I are in the suite behind that one.” The doors he referenced were at opposite ends of the hallway. “These three rooms in between are reserved for family guests, and since you are family . . .”

  Rhine turned the knob and led him into a space that was large and airy. The bed looked big enough for his six-foot-three-inch frame to sleep in comfortably. There were thin drapes fluttering in the soft breeze from the open windows and a set of French doors that opened to the outside.

  “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.”