He took her hand then, and led her out of the stable. “Come, it’s time for bed.”
Five
Sugar kept an even pace with Julio as they ambled farther out onto the property. The horse was gentle, took commands well and her sure-footed gait put Portia at ease. She gazed at the cloudless blue sky above. The warmth of the rising sun removed the bite of coolness in the morning air and made the ride pleasant.
Juan Carlos’s felt hat shaded his eyes. Portia had put her hat on, too, one that Juan Carlos, who planned for everything, had given her to wear.
“How are you doing?” Juan Carlos asked after five minutes of silence.
“I have no complaints, Your Highness.”
He paused. Gosh, why did she goad him? Oh, yeah, to put distance between them. “We’ve been riding a while now. Is your rear end sore?”
She chuckled. “A little, but I’ll survive.”
“You just let me know when you want to take a break.”
Things had been a little weird between them since last night. Juan Carlos had put a bug in her ear. He’d given her an out. Up until then, her idea to keep their relationship strictly platonic had rested solely on Juan Carlos’s shoulders. She’d made him promise to keep his distance. But now he’d tossed the ball into her court. And it had gotten her thinking. But it wasn’t a good thing for a woman desperately attracted to a man who was all wrong for her to be given those options.
If you decided you wanted me, craved my body as I do yours...
Those hot words had thrown her. She’d thought of them, of him, all through the night. What would it be like to have Juan Carlos make love to her? What if, here, in this remote, private place, she gave in to temptation and spent the night touching him and being touched. Kissing his perfect mouth, running her cheek along that sexy stubble and nibbling on his throat? What would it be like to have him inside her, the steely velvet of his erection impaling her body?
She squirmed in the saddle, suddenly uncomfortable. Mentally, she forbade Juan Carlos to look over, to see her struggling with thoughts he’d planted inside her head. Don’t look at me. Don’t see the expression on my face. Don’t see me...wanting you.
“Portia?”
Darn it. “I’m fine.” She stared straight ahead. “Everything’s good and dandy.”
She sensed him studying her as they rode the length of five football fields until they came upon a graveyard surrounded by a run-down picket fence. The square of ground was full of weeds, unkempt. The neglect was almost sacrilegious. It was out in the middle of nowhere, a place long forgotten.
Juan Carlos slowed his gelding and she did the same. “We’ll stop here,” he said.
Her rear end rejoiced. She spotted trees that offered perfect shade just yards away. The horses moved toward an oak, massive in size, its roots splayed in all directions.
Juan Carlos dismounted quickly and strode to her. Sugar wasn’t as tall as Julio, but Portia still needed help with her dismount. Either that, or run the risk of breaking an ankle when she tried to slide down the horse’s left flank.
Juan Carlos’s arms were up, reaching for her. She swung her leg over the saddle and his hands found her waist, securing her with a firm grip and guiding her down until her boots hit the ground. He held her for a few beats of time, with her back to his chest, his nose tickling her neck, breathing in her hair. “You smell delicious,” he whispered, and then released her.
She sighed. If only she didn’t miss his hold on her. Didn’t enjoy having him touch her.
I would claim you in an instant and not feel I’d betrayed my vow to you.
He stood beside Julio, gazing at the graveyard as he unlatched a saddlebag and came up with a bottle of water. He walked over to her. “Here,” he said. “Take a drink, you must be thirsty.”
The water, cool and refreshing, slid down her throat. “That’s good.” She handed it back to him. His mouth clamped around the lip of the bottle and he tipped it back. He swallowed a big gulp, then another. A trickle of sweat ran down his forehead and he wiped it away.
Simple gestures. Yet her heart raced being near him, sharing water, doing natural things that seemed to bind them together.
“I’d like to check out the graveyard. You can stay here and rest. I’ll put a blanket down. You’ll be in the shade.”
She shook her head. She was curious about the graveyard, too. “I’ll come with you.”
He nodded and began walking. She followed behind. Wind kicked up and almost blew her hat off. She grabbed it just in time and held it to her head as she approached a wooden gate. Overhead, tree branches made a makeshift archway, and scrolled in wood a sign read: Montoro Family Cemetery.
“So this is where the farm families ended up,” she said.
Juan Carlos nodded. “They were probably distant cousins, relatives of my uncles. I’d bet Tantaberra made sure no one has ever come to honor their graves.”
They walked through the battered gate. There were many headstones, maybe twenty-five in all. Portia stopped beside Juan Carlos as he bent his head in prayer over one after another. She sent up her own prayers for the lives forgotten here, stepping from one grave site to the next. “Do you know any of these names?” she asked.
“Some sound familiar,” he said. The first and middle initials were etched on the headstones along with the last names. “Montoro, of course, and Olivio I’ve heard mentioned, but many I don’t know. I will have this cemetery restored to honor their graves.”
Juan Carlos insisted on clearing away the larger of the weeds that had overgrown the area. She bent to help him. “No, please. Your hands will be cut,” he said.
“I’ll be careful. I want to help.” Her chin up, she was ready to do him battle.
He stared at her. “I forgot to bring you gloves.” And then he warned, “See that you are careful, Princess.”
She smiled and something tugged at her heart. He was angry with himself for the oversight. “I promise to be careful.”
He began to pull away tumbleweeds clustered around the graves, staring at the names embedded on the stones as if embedding them into his brain. She, too, had little family. She could see the sadness and the loss in the contoured planes of his face, in the shadows of his dark eyes. The dictatorship had taken so much from his family.
“Let me see your hands,” he said when they were all through. They’d cleared away as much as they possibly could. The wind was howling; breezes that had cooled the day’s heat were swirling more rapidly now.
She turned her palms up.
Juan Carlos inspected her hands carefully, turning them one way then another.
“See. I’m not a wimpy princess.”
He laughed, the shine returning to his eyes. “I’d never describe you that way. I’m grateful for your help.”
“You’re welcome. But there’s one more thing to do.”
His right eyebrow shot up. “What would that be?”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t follow me. I’ll only be ten minutes.”
She left him in the graveyard. This was something she wanted to do by herself. For his family. He leaned against the post outside the cemetery and watched her march into the fields. Every time she turned, his gaze was glued to her. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight. She got that. He was a protector by nature. Gallant. He didn’t interfere with her independence though and she appreciated that.
Ten minutes later, she returned to the Montoro family cemetery. Juan Carlos smiled broadly as he gazed at the large bunch of wildflowers she’d gathered in her hands. Some were probably classified as weeds, but they were indisputably pretty anyway. Bluebonnet blues, pale yellows, creamy whites and carnation pinks.
“Would you like to help me lay these down?”
He nodded, a play of deep emotion on his face.
&nb
sp; They walked through the cemetery one last time, offering up the flowers to grave sites and headstones to tell the deceased that someone remembered them. Someone cared.
They left the place quietly, Juan Carlos taking her hand. It was a solemn moment, but a sweet one, too. Portia was moved by the care he’d taken with his distant relatives, the honor he’d bestowed upon them.
How many would have just ridden past? How many wouldn’t have bothered to stop and clear up the neglect and mess?
This feeling she had for Juan Carlos wasn’t going away. It grew stronger each moment she spent in his company.
The horses whinnied upon their return, huffing breaths and stomping hooves. Juan Carlos dipped into the saddlebag again, this time to offer the animals a handful of oats to keep them satisfied. “There, now. You two be quiet. No more complaining.” He stroked Julio’s head a few times and then turned to Portia. “Let’s sit a minute. Take a rest.”
“All right.”
He grabbed a blanket and spread it out under the tree. The shade was no longer an issue; the weather had cooled and gray clouds were gathering in the skies. She shivered and walked to her saddlebag, picking out a jacket from the things she’d brought along.
“Cold?”
“A little bit.”
“We can head back.”
It was too early to return to the house. They had more ground to cover and she didn’t want to delay their mission because of a little cold weather. Her family hailed from Scandinavia, where food was put out on windowsills to freeze quickly, where the elderly lived over one hundred years because germs couldn’t survive the environment. She refused to slow Juan Carlos down.
“Ten minutes is all I need,” she said.
She put on the jacket and sat down. He sat next to her and roped his arm around her. It seemed only natural to put her head on his shoulder.
“There is a giant rock formation about half an hour from here. The terrain is rough but these horses can make it up there. I found it on a GPS map of the area.” His voice soothed her even as he spoke of a tough task. She closed her eyes. “I think it’s a good hiding place for the artwork. I suspect caves have formed between the interlocking rocks. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.”
“Sounds reasonable. We’ll check it out.”
“Are you up for it? We can return tomorrow if you’re not.”
“I’m up for it,” she said. “We’re already halfway there, aren’t we?”
“Yes, but the weather might be a problem.”
“It won’t be, Juan Carlos. I’m not a wimpy princess, remember?”
Laughter rumbled from his chest. “How can I forget? You keep reminding me.”
“Good,” she said, snuggling deeper into his arms.
The solid beats of his heart were like the revving of a powerful engine. It was dangerous and thrilling and though she hated to move, it was time to break this cozy moment with him. She slid away from his grip and rose to her feet. “I’m ready when you are.”
He bounded up, regret in his eyes, as if she’d taken something precious from him.
From both of them.
* * *
The rocks were adobe-red, huge and intimidating. They were also beautiful against the landscape of gray skies and brown earth. The horses treaded with agility through the gravelly terrain, their sure-footed gait assuring her she would not fall to her death as they climbed a plateau that led to the face of the mountain. “This is amazing. It reminds me of Sedona back in the States. Have you ever been there?”
“In Arizona?” Juan Carlos gave his head a shake. “No, but I’ve seen pictures. It’s an artist colony, isn’t it?”
“Yes, among other things. There are some wonderful galleries and art exhibits in the area. I studied there one summer.”
“Did you ever climb the rocks?”
She nibbled her lower lip. “I’d been tempted a few times, but no, I didn’t climb the rocks. I was there for the art. Are we climbing rocks today?” she asked pointedly.
Juan Carlos spread his gaze over the entire mountainside, studying the terrain. “Just like back then, you came here for the art. So no. We don’t have to climb the rocks. The openings seem to be on the lower levels. We can reach them without climbing.”
She released a tight breath. She didn’t like heights and they didn’t like her, so no rock climbing was a good thing. “I’m excited. I have a good feeling about this,” she said. “I’m imagining the artwork tucked inside the mountain somewhere, deep inside a cave.”
“Then let’s go find it,” he said.
He dismounted and strode over, lifting his hands to her waist again. Dust kicked up by the strong wind mingled with the potent scent of horseflesh and earth. More threatening clouds gathered above, and a shiver shook her shoulders as she slid into his arms. His hands steadied her until her boots hit the ground. Then he took the reins of both horses and they began walking toward a row of rocks, stacked neatly like building blocks five stories high.
He stopped at the base of a formation where two giant boulders separated and an opening appeared. It wasn’t much wider than a double-door refrigerator, but large enough to allow a man to enter. “Wait here,” he said. “Stay with the horses. I’ll go inside and see if it goes anywhere. It might be a dead end. I’ll be back in a minute.” He pulled out a flashlight and turned to her. “Okay?”
She took the reins with one hand and stroked Sugar’s nose with the other. Eyeing him, Portia confessed, “I’m not very patient.”
A grin crossed his features, that gorgeous mouth of his lifting crookedly. “Good to know.”
For real? The man had a one-track mind. “Come and get me, if you find anything.”
“Will do. We’re in this together,” he said, and then disappeared into the gap.
Just then, the wind knocked her back against the rocks. It was fierce today. She huddled behind the horses, allowing them to block the sharp bite of cold. Her teeth chattered anyway. Goodness, it seemed as if Juan Carlos had already been gone for hours but it was more like a minute or two.
Then she heard his approach, his footfalls scraping the ground of the cave. Thank God. A thrill shimmied through her belly. She really wasn’t patient, not when it came to this. If only they could find the artwork today.
When he emerged from the opening, she took one look at Juan Carlos’s expression and her shoulders slumped. “You didn’t find it?”
He shook his head. “Not in there.” His eyes were solemn as they toured over her face and body. “You’re freezing.”
“I’m...not.”
His lips twisted at her denial. Then he turned away from her and grappled with both of their saddlebags, freeing them from their fasteners and tossing them over his shoulder. “Come,” he said, handing her their blankets. “It’s warmer inside. Besides, there is something I want to show you.”
“Really? What is it?”
“You’ll see.” He took her frigid hand and immediately the blood began pulsing more warmly through her veins. One would think he was a flaming hot furnace with how easily his touch could heat her up through and through.
He led her into the darkness. The flashlight illuminated the way and she squinted as her eyes adjusted. Around her, stone walls made up a cavelike space, tall enough for them to stand in and wide enough for an entire hunting party to take refuge. The air inside was cool, but without the outside wind gusts it was warmer by a dozen degrees. “You’re right, it is warmer in here.”
“Take a look at this,” he said, aiming his flashlight at a far corner.
Eyes appeared first, round and frightened, and then the light followed the length of the animal, stretched out on the ground nursing her young. “Kittens!”
Five tiny bodies fought for a place at mama’s table, eager for their meal. The mother cat
, striped in reds, browns and grays, eyed both Juan Carlos and Portia warily. “She’s scared,” Portia said. “Poor mama.” She’d had lots of experience with birthing pups and kittens at the rescue where she volunteered. “She might be feral, though I doubt it. She would’ve been hissing and scratching her way out of here by now. The babies look to be only a few weeks old.”
“You think she’s domestic?” he asked.
Portia crouched down, studying the cat from five feet away. “I think she’s somewhere in between. She might’ve been abandoned. She’s doing what comes natural and found this place to have her kittens. Cats like dark cool isolated places to give birth.”
“Well, she found that,” Juan Carlos said, keeping his voice soft. Both of them whispered now, so as not to startle the wary cat.
“I wonder if she’s hungry. She looks pretty scrawny.”
“About all we’ve got is water and sandwiches.”
“Water, for sure. She’ll need that. And we can pull out cheese and bits of meat from our sandwiches. If she’s hungry enough, she’ll eat it.”
“Good idea. I’m getting hungry. Maybe we should stay inside and eat, too.”
Portia kept her eyes fixed on the new little family. “I’d like that.”
Outside the wind howled. The refuge they’d found would do for now until the weather let up. Portia worked with Juan Carlos to fix the mama cat a meal of beef and cheese, and laid it out on a cloth napkin. She was at a loss as to where to put the water. They had narrow-necked bottles and not much else that would work for a bowl.
“Here,” Juan Carlos said, handing her his hat, tipped upside down in his palm. “She needs it more than I do.”
Under the dim flashlight rays, his eyes were full of compassion. He was a problem solver, but it was more than that. He was doing this as much for Portia’s sake as he was for the sweet cat family. “You’ll freeze your head off when we go back out there.”
A Royal Temptation Page 7
