Page 2 of Breathless (Old West 2)

Chapter One

Santa Catalina Mountains,

Arizona Territory

Spring 1885

“I wonder how it feels to be that much in love.”

In response to the question, Portia Carmichael glanced up from the ledger she was working on to look over at her sister, Regan, standing at the window. “I’ve no idea,” she replied as she refocused on the column of numbers she was adding. Regan was gazing cow-eyed out at what Portia assumed were their aunt Eddy and uncle Rhine Fontaine. The sisters were in the business office of the Fontaine Hotel and although the twenty-five-year-old Regan longed for love and children, Portia, two years older, wanted neither. Being the manager of the family’s successful hotel was more than enough to make Portia’s life complete.

“To have someone look at you that way and know you are their entire world—oh my.”

“Please don’t swoon, or at least do it elsewhere,” Portia teased. She didn’t have to look up to know Regan responded with a shake of her head that held equal parts amusement and pity.

“Numbers won’t keep you warm at night, sister mine.”

“That’s what quilts are for.”

“One of these days, Cupid’s going to hit you with an arrow right between the eyes. I just hope I’m around to see it.”

Smiling, Portia ignored the prediction only to hear Regan gush, “Oh my, they’re sharing a kiss.”

Portia sighed audibly. “Why don’t you step away from the window and let them have their privacy.”

“They’re having a picnic by the gazebo. If they wanted privacy they’d be in their suite behind closed doors.”

She supposed Regan was right. The couple’s love was legendary and they didn’t keep their mutual affection a secret. At any moment of the day one could round a corner and find them stealing a kiss, holding hands as if still courting, or drowning in each other’s eyes. Not that Portia found their affection unseemly; she was glad they were in love and that it extended to their nieces.

Regan vowed, “When I find someone to marry I want that type of love.”

Their mother, Corinne, had been in love, and when her intended demanded she cast her daughters aside because they weren’t his progeny, Corinne put the then twelve-year-old Portia and ten-year-old Regan on a train to their aunt Eddy in Virginia City and never looked back. In the fifteen years since, they’d not heard a word. Portia wanted no part of something that could cause such irreparable harm. She planned to remain unmarried and immerse herself in work. Work didn’t break hearts.

“Don’t you want to marry, Portia?”

“Not particularly, but if I do, he’ll have to be an exceptional fellow who loves me for my intelligence and business acumen, not for how I perform on my knees. I’m not Mama.”

Regan turned from the window, her voice thoughtful. “Do you ever wonder where she is?”

“Sometimes.” Portia would never admit how much her heart still ached from being abandoned so callously or how often she thought about her.

“Do you think she wonders about us?”

“I don’t know.”

Corinne had been a whore, and the hardship of their life with her still held a pain they rarely discussed. Thanks to Aunt Eddy and Uncle Rhine they’d survived though and were still together.

Regan’s attention returned to the scene outside the window. “I would love to be as happy as they are.”

“I added this column wrong,” Portia muttered, and began searching for her mistake. She blamed the error on being distracted by her sister’s chatter.

“Thoughts of being in love can do that.”

“No, your going on and on about love can do that,” she replied, humor in her voice.

“Don’t you want a man you can sneak off into a corner with and who will kiss you so passionately you don’t care if the whole territory is watching?”

Portia shook her head with amusement. Regan changed beaus as frequently as some women changed their gloves but never stayed with any of them very long. “You’re so shameless.”

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