“Of course.”
No, he had no intention of telling her how much time and effort he’d expended on this trip to the seaside. Who would have thought that wooing a woman could be quite so exhausting? But this was Portia and she was worth it, he amended, watching her as she breathed in the salty air, tendrils of fair hair curling from beneath her hat. Oh yes, it was worth it. Marcus felt rather proud of himself for being so unselfish. Maybe he was turning over a new leaf?
Or maybe not.
His gaze dropped to the swell of her breasts beneath the high-necked bodice. He wondered if she’d be grateful enough to let him tumble her over the picnic luncheon, if he gave Zac the nod to distract the dragon.
Now that would be a perfect ending to a perfect day.
Luncheon was spread out upon a blanket on an isolated little beach along the coast from the village and hidden from view around a rocky point. Portia and Marcus had to scramble down a cliff path to reach it, and by the time they arrived, Hettie had everything prepared and was guarding the picnic from any hungry sea gulls. Marcus could see that Portia was delighted. She sank down on the cushions Zac had carried from the carriage and cast an interested eye over the dishes.
There was cold roast lamb, pigeon pie, chicken mayonnaise, salmon, asparagus, and salad with boiled eggs. All of this to be followed by a gooseberry tart. There was champagne, too, which Marcus supplied and that had been cooling in the rock pools farther along the beach.
They ate hungrily, the sea air having increased their appetites. Portia gave up long before Marcus, but eventually even he’d had enough. He lay sprawling on his side, with his head propped up on one hand, eyes narrowed against the glare, watching her.
“How did you know it was going to be a fine day?” she asked him, sipping from her glass, her back still ramrod straight. “What if it was raining?”
“It wouldn’t dare!” he said in mock outrage, and enjoyed the laughter dancing in her eyes.
“You must have thought about it, Marcus.”
He hesitated, and then gave an uncomfortable shrug. “I thought about it far more than I like to confess to,” he said, and the admission embarrassed him. Not because it was a weakness, but because worrying wasn’t something he normally did. “I suppose we could have huddled under a tree.”
She smiled as if his unexpected vulnerability touched her. It probably did. He reminded himself that he would never understand women.
“Didn’t you say you used to come here as a child?” A moment after the words slipped out, she bit her lip, as if it was a question she had sworn not to ask.
“My aunt has a house near here. I used to spend holidays with her.”
“You must have been company for her,” Portia said in her best “opening a fete” voice.
> He burst out laughing.
Portia’s eyes widened. She looked as if she wished she could take the words back, or hit him with her parasol. “What did I say wrong?”
“I’m sorry. It’s just…Minnie is one of those eccentric ladies whose hobby is traveling. A camel journey through the desert, an elephant through the jungles of India, or a canoe on the Amazon, it’s all one to her. Intrepid and fearless are her middle names, and she certainly doesn’t require the company of her feckless nephew to cheer her up.”
“Ah, she is an adventurer like Lady Hester Stanhope.” Portia understood now. “I would like to meet her.”
He flashed her a sideways look. “You probably have. Minnie has been to Buckingham Palace. She’d recognize you in an instant, and then there’d be questions. Do you think it’s a good idea, Portia? But if it is your wish—”
“No, no. You’re right. It would mean more questions and someone may slip up.” She smiled and took another sip from her glass, as if she didn’t care, but there was something in her face that made him think she was disappointed.
Marcus looked over to Zac and caught his eye. Zac nodded and strolled up to Hettie, who was perching on a rock like a disgruntled pelican. Marcus watched them arguing, before Hettie was led away, still protesting, to fetch more champagne.
When they were out of sight, he reached over for Portia’s glass and set it down. “You’ll spill it.” She laughed breathlessly as he tugged her down onto the blanket beside him. And then he was kissing her and it didn’t seem to matter.
“Do we have time?” she murmured, already unbuttoning his shirt.
“Zac won’t come back for a while yet.”
“What if someone else comes by?”
“Worrying again?” he mocked.
As if to show him he was wrong, Portia sat up and took off her straw hat. She began to remove her pins, and her hair tumbled like golden honey about her shoulders. Gazing down at him with a little, wicked smile, she unbuttoned the high neck of her bodice. He reached to caress her, stretching up to kiss the hollow at her throat, enjoying the warm fragrance of her skin. She arched against him, her lips parting with a gasp, and her hair curled down her back and beyond her hips.
Marcus slid his hands down to her waist, spanning it with his fingers, and lifted her so she was astride him. Her skirts billowed out over them, providing some modesty. “There, now,” he murmured. “If anyone does come by, they still won’t be able to see what we’re up to.” His warm hands slid up her stockinged legs, squeezing the bare flesh of her thighs. “Unless…unless you scream again, Lady Ellerslie. Are you going to scream?”