Page 36 of The Duke Says I Do
She wasn’t subject to nerve storms, yet this morning she felt as jumpy as a scalded cat. Her horse, Cleo, a mare as even-tempered as her mistress, picked up on Portia’s edginess and shied at every shadow.
“Cleo, settle down,” Portia murmured, as the mare jumped at a harmless bush poking out of the murk.
“She’s in a state, that’s for sure,” Rankin said from behind her.
Her groom criticized the rider rather than the horse. Rankin never blamed an animal, only the humans around it. With her rescues, Portia had taken that lesson to heart.
She told herself to calm down, but that was easier said than done. Although she had a grim presentiment that she’d put Rankin, Cleo and herself through this chilly torture for no purpose.
The duke might have decided that he preferred to keep Portia at a distance. Heaven knew it would be easier. In less than a day, her life had become vilely complicated. He must feel the same.
The idea that those knee-shaking kisses might be her quota left her in such a funk, she didn’t notice the tall man on the path ahead. Only when Jupiter barked a welcome did she realize that she’d stumbled upon His Grace of Granville at last. Not on horseback as expected. Instead he was on foot, walking his plebeian dog on a leash.
Unfortunately, a barking dog placed the seal on Cleo’s woes, although if any horse in England was used to dogs, it was her. She reared on her hind legs and neighed. Which only set Jupiter barking anew.
“Cleo, stop!” Portia said breathlessly, struggling to keep her seat. “It’s fine, darling. Nothing to worry about.”
Rather than presenting a cool and elegant image to the duke, she found herself clinging to Cleo’s neck and praying that she didn’t end up flat on her face.
Before Cleo could bolt, Granville caught her bridle. “It’s all right, my beauty. No need to worry. Only a dog. Only a dog.”
The singsong tone brought Cleo back onto four legs. Portia felt her trembling, but at least she wasn’t about to bolt. Jupiter, bless him, now sat in silence.
Alaric’s croon had an incendiary effect on Portia. With difficulty, she forced herself to stay in the saddle, when all she wanted to do was spring to the ground and fling herself into his arms.
To hide her reaction, she collected the reins in one gloved hand and straightened the black high-crowned hat that finished off her riding habit. This morning, she’d taken a ridiculously long time dressing. She’d never been someone who preened and primped, but she’d definitely primped today.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” She hoped Rankin wouldn’t hear the unnatural note. The duke, she was sure, did. After yesterday, she’d never again dismiss Alaric Dempster as less perceptive than the average block of wood. Not much escaped those gleaming green eyes.
Gleaming green eyes that focused on her. When she met his intent gaze, color rushed into her cheeks. He looked concerned, not bent on seduction. But seeing him again revived last night’s fevered fantasies.
His smile asked so many questions, most of them inappropriate for casual acquaintances meeting in Hyde Park. “Are you all right, Lady Portia?”
No, I’ve turned into a complete wanton, and I don’t know what to do about it.
“Yes, thank you, Your Grace.” She was conscious of Rankin behind her, listening to every word. She settled on a less fraught topic than her unsuitable desires. “How is Jupiter this morning?”
“In fine fettle. I’m not sure I can say the same for myself.”
“Oh?” She was pleased to note that he sounded amused, almost fond. Any fears that Jupiter might wear out his welcome faded.
“There was something of a battle last night over who would occupy my bed.”
Portia laughed, although she really didn’t want to think about Granville in bed. Thinking about Granville in bed made her think about joining him there. “Who won?”
“I did, but it was a close-run thing.”
“I commend your grasp of strategy. My money would have been on Jupiter.”
The dog stood beside his new master, wagging his tail. He knew that they were talking about him. “Would you like to come down and say hello and perhaps walk a little way with us?”
“I would.” She struggled to keep her voice even, almost impossible when she felt like she contained a sky full of fireworks. “Rankin, will you please hold Cleo?”
“Aye, my lady,” her groom said in an uninflected tone. He must guess that this rendezvous wasn’t accidental, but he’d cooperate as he always did.
“Let me help you.” Granville stepped forward, regarding her from under the brim of his stylish gray hat.
The moment that she looked into his eyes, her insecurity vanished. They were warm and interested and alight with admiration. She hadn’t imagined the rapport she shared with him.
