His Haunted Heart by Lila Felix

you to feel obligated to apologize for anything. And isn’t part of the fun of being a husband getting to buy things for his wife?”
    I’d never seen my father have such fun.
    “To each his own, I suppose. But when do I get to give you something?”
    I’d finally reached the stairs when his hand reached mine. “The things you give me cannot be bought with money, Delilah.”
    I hadn’t realized I’d given him anything but a hole in his pockets and a headache.
    “Let’s go before it gets too late. It’s already early afternoon.”
    My family’s tour of the house must’ve taken longer than I assumed. Then again, I was mostly in a trance the entire time, hoping one of them didn’t try to rustle the curtains under their skirts or produce a knife from one of their purses and try to finish what they’d started on my face—or worse, try to hurt Porter.
    We walked out to the stables. When the worn building came into view, I remembered Rebel and his haunting stare. His words had slithered over me like an invisible cobweb. I contained a shiver, but just barely.
    “Benjamin doesn’t get ridden very much. He’s fickle and won’t let anyone else ride him.”
    He walked into the barns and Benjamin whinnied from the back, letting Porter know he’d been waiting.
    “Can you do me a favor? Take this while I saddle him up.”
    I took the bag from him. I hadn’t even noticed he was carrying a bag before. I watched as he sweet-talked Benjamin into leaving the stall and gave him a full brushing before saddling the tallest horse I’d ever seen.
     
     
     
                 
    Chapter Eight
     
    Porter
     
     
    On the ride to the cabin, my insides were still shaking from the confrontation with her father. Until the words left my mouth, I hadn’t really planned anything for the day, other than riding Benjamin. Rebel wasn’t in the barn which meant he’d finished his jobs for the day and had flown to his home as soon as possible. He’d never done anything other than the bare minimum.
    It was a selfish thing I was doing, bringing her to the cabin. My mother called it the honeymoon cabin. She and my father used to go out there for weekends, leaving me with June, who was the nanny and the cook at the time.
    I got onto the horse first, after securing the bag, and then reached for Delilah. But this time, she sat in front of me instead of behind me. I placed her sideways so that her modesty wouldn’t be compromised. It was important to her, I could tell. I still wasn’t sure of her state after the morning’s events. She seemed jumpy and frail. The ride would be good for both of us.
    “They’ve hated me all of my life,” she whispered halfway through our journey.
    “Why?”
    “I’m not sure. I did everything I was told. I got good marks in school. I can’t cook a thing, Porter. I wouldn’t know how to make biscuits if someone glued the instructions to my face.”
    She was funny. I bet no one else knew that about her. She hadn’t mentioned any friends. My stomach soured at the fleeting thought of another man who may have held her heart, even as a friend.
    “June won’t allow you to cook, anyway. The only thing Mother is allowed to do is make tea.”
    She crooked her neck in my direction. Her body moved with the jerk, causing me to tighten my grip at her waist.
    “Then why did you ask me if I could cook? I nearly fainted when you asked that.”
    I shrugged. “I thought it was what I was supposed to ask. All of my breath was lost when you came down the stairs.”
    “I bet it was.”
    “Hey, none of that.” I kissed her temple. I’d done it like it was second nature to me. “Sorry. It was—I didn’t think.”
    A tear streamed down her face—just one. “It’s not an imposition, Porter. Trust me.”
    I made a mental note of her acceptance of affection. I had made sure not to invade her space, but it seemed she didn’t mind.
    “Why did you think they hated you?”
    “It wasn’t just me. They hated