“What?” he demanded sharply. She didn’t have an answer for him—at least not one that she wanted to give. It didn’t matter, Jeremy had the answer.
“Let me see, maybe I can answer this myself. You don’t want them to know that you did something so desperate as to marry a man you despised to save a house. That you sold yourself for a pile of bricks.”
She was itching to slap him, but he must have known it because he caught her wrist before she had barely made a move. “No, Christa,” he warned her huskily.
She didn’t want him as close to her as he was. She didn’t want to feel the husky tenor of his voice, nor the heat of his body. She was very disturbed to realize that there were things about him that fascinated her. The size of him, the feel of him, the strength of him, the look of his bronzed hands with his long fingers and blunt cut nails against the pale ivory of her flesh. Something inside of her responded to him, whether she liked it or not.
She looked up into his eyes. They were steel gray with warning. His jaw was set at a hard-edged angle.
“Then quit being so horrible!” she charged him.
“All right.” To her great unease, she was closer to him once again. He drew her very close, and whispered to her with his mouth just inches above her own. “We tell them that, yes, it was a matter of expediency. But the more we thought about it, the more wonderful it was. We’re not really enemies at all, not now that the war is over. And of course, they’re both home now. You don’t need to guard the place anymore. You have your own life to lead. You’re coming west with me.”
She gasped. “I can’t come west!”
“Whether you do or don’t doesn’t really matter at the moment, it’s just something to say.”
She stared at him. She wanted to wrench away from him, and she wanted to tell him that she’d never, never come west with him. But he was right—it didn’t matter at the moment. She just had to get through today.
“Are you ready?” he said impatiently.
She moistened her lips. No, she wasn’t ready. But he took her hand and started down the stairway, dragging her along with him.
The others were in the parlor to the right side of the entryway. Christa could hear their hushed voices as they came down the stairs. She bit her lower lip. She could hear Callie’s voice. Though she couldn’t hear her sister-in-law’s words, she knew that Callie would be defending Jeremy. Then she heard Daniel, and she knew that he was concerned.
Then she heard Jesse. And though she couldn’t make out a single word he was saying, she sensed that he was damning himself a thousand times over, certain that it was his fault that she had felt so forced to do something desperate.
“Well?” Jeremy arched a russet brow to her at the double doors to the parlor.
“Go on,” she said.
“Oh, no, my love! After you.”
She cast him a scathing glare and pushed open the double doors.
Four pairs of eyes turned to them instantly—and very guiltily.
Jeremy paused at the doors, closing them behind him, then leaning against them and watching Christa.
She was a wonderful performer, he determined.
She walked into the room with a beautiful smile—a Madonna’s smile—on her lips. “It’s so wonderful! I can’t believe that you’re all home—together. Where are the children?” She kissed both her sisters-in-law on the cheek, then gave Jesse a big hug and turned to Daniel.
Daniel accepted the hug stiffly. The silence in the room was deafening.
Christa didn’t let it bother her. She spun around, the perfect hostess in her own home. “How on earth are you here?” she asked.
Jesse, an arm on the mantel, arched a brow. “A little matter of the house, Christa,” he said sternly. “A friend of mine in Washington heard that there was some dirty politicking going on here and that someone had made sure this house would go for back taxes. We picked up Daniel and Callie on our way through Richmond, and here we are.” He paused, walking across the parlor to reach her. “I thought that we were going to be too late. I had this awful fear in my heart that we were going to get here to find the house burned to the ground.” He took both Christa’s hands. “What happened, Christa?”
Maybe it was time to jump in, Jeremy thought. No, not yet.
“Umm …”
All right. She could fume later. It seemed time to jump in and save her for the moment.
“Something was going on, Jesse,” he said, eyeing the eldest Cameron squarely. “I came down to see Callie before being reassigned, and I happened on a slovenly misfit tacking a notice on this place. We had until sundown to do something about it.” He walked across the room, setting his arms around Christa’s waist and pulling her against him. Her hair just teased his chin. “The best solution in the world came to us,” he said huskily. “Marriage.”
“But you loathe one another!” Callie gasped out.
Jeremy smiled, amazed to discover that he was as good a performer as Christa. “Well, now, maybe that’s what it seemed. But I swear to you, Christa wanted to marry me. More than she’s ever wanted anything in the world, right Christa?” His arms tightened around her.
“Right!” she gasped out.
The Camerons still weren’t convinced. “Dammit,” Jesse swore suddenly. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let them order me back to Washington. I should—”
“Hell, Jesse, it wasn’t your fault,” Daniel said bitterly. “I was the Reb, remember? The enemy to cause all this.”
“Daniel, I’m the eldest. It was my responsibility—”
“Wait!” Christa cried out softly. “Will you two stop, please?” She leaned back against Jeremy, running her fingers tenderly over the arms that held her against him. “There’s no fault here! My Lord, Jeremy and I are so happy! What’s the matter with you all? We should be having a toast, you should be wishing me well!”
There was silence again. Jesse cleared his throat. “Jeremy, could I see you alone in the study?”
He released Christa, bowing his head in acquiescence. Jeremy opened the door to lead them out. Callie was on her feet in a split second. “Alone,” Jesse said.
Callie sat. But Daniel was following him out.
“She’s my sister too,” he reminded Jesse.
Jeremy preceded the two to the study where he had overimbibed on Cameron brandy the night before. This morning he stood by the door, arms crossed over his chest, as he faced the two of them.
Jesse wasn’t pouring brandy. He had the whiskey bottle out, even though it was still morning. “Jeremy, hell, I owe you,” Jesse said, passing him a tumbler full of whiskey. He was quiet for a minute, and Daniel was silent behind him too. “I owe you for fighting here long before the war was over when the place was threatened by that misfit, Eric Dabney.”
“Dabney was threatening my sister too,” Jeremy reminded him. “You’re not in my debt, Jesse. Neither is Daniel, Not now, not ever.”
“Then what the hell happened yesterday?” Daniel demanded.
Jesse looked at his brother-in-law. The accusing tone was gone. There was anguish in his voice. Daniel adored Christa. He knew the feeling. Knew what it had been like to come home and find Callie gone.
He could have reminded Daniel of that now. He decided not to.
“It happened like I told you,” he said. He set his glass down, leaning across the desk to talk to them both. “Look, I swear, I’m legally married to your sister. I’ve the certificate in my saddlebags. She would have liked you all to have been there, but it didn’t seem to be worth the house being burned down to wait on the right kind of ceremony!”
Quick glances flickered between Jesse and Daniel. “We are in your debt,” Daniel said. Jeremy knew that it must have been damned hard for him to say it. The Confederacy had lost the war, and Daniel accepted it, ready to go on. But some things were hard for him, like being in the debt of a Yank other than his brother, even though that Yank was now his brother-in-law. He inhaled and exhaled. Despite their differences—despite eve
n the fact that they were both cavalry, that they might have met anytime in battle—they had formed something of a friendship. But this—this was hard for them all.
“Hell, Jeremy, it’s just that Christa is our only sister!” Daniel said. “If you intend to divorce her—”
“I don’t intend to divorce her,” he interrupted quickly.
It was the truth. He hadn’t really realized it until now. He hadn’t known what to look for in the future. Now he knew. They might have no love lost on one another, but he didn’t intend on a divorce. He had no heart left. Neither did she. Maybe they were made for one another.
He had discovered that he wanted her. Desperately. Maybe that was enough. Maybe it was much more than some had.
“You don’t?” Jesse said.
He shook his head. “I admit, it was all rather sudden. I have to report back to Washington, and I have orders to head west. Maybe she’ll come with me, maybe she’ll stay here. There’s a lot to decide about the future. But I don’t intend on a divorce.” He was silent for a moment, feeling them both watch him, feeling the relief that seemed to grow within them like something tangible. What else could he say with conviction? A wry smile touched his lips. “She’s probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Why on earth would I want a divorce?”
Looks were quickly exchanged between the brothers once again. A slow grin broke out across Daniel Cameron’s face. “Well hell, then, welcome to the family!” he said. He reached out a hand.
“Hell, nothing!” Jeremy murmured. “You already joined the McCauley family,” taking the hand that was offered to him.
Jesse clapped him on the back. “That’s between the two of you. For my part, congratulations.”
“Don’t worry,” he heard himself saying. “I swear to you both, I would die for her.”
Well, that much was true. He’d put his life on the line many a time for a man, woman, or child put under his care.
Yes. He’d die for her.
“The ladies must be chewing their nails to the bone in the parlor,” Jesse commented. “Think we ought to rejoin them?”
They did so. When they came back to the parlor, three sets of feminine eyes stared at them nervously. “I don’t even know anymore,” Jesse said. “Have we got any champagne in the house, Christa?”
She had been sitting on the love seat, next to Kiernan. She leapt up nervously. “In the cellar, I think. I’ll—”
“No, Jigger is here. He’ll run down. He won’t mind.”
Jesse called to Jigger. Jigger was delighted to run down for the champagne. Everyone drank a toast.
Janey came back with the children. Christa delighted in playing with the whole brood of her three nephews and one niece while Jeremy looked more curiously to the two who belonged to his sister.
Her son, Jared, was the spitting image of his father. Blue eyes, black hair. The little girl, Annie, had McCauley coloring, almost as if it had been evenly divided. She had a riot of russet curls and huge silver eyes.
This is what our children would look like, he thought. Christa’s and mine.
They couldn’t have children, he mocked himself. They had never made love.
Yes, but they were going to. Maybe that would be his part of this bargain. Christa would have her house—Cameron Hall. May it stand forever.
He could have a son. Or a daughter. Maybe a girl as beautiful as Christa. But gentle, with eyes that grew wide with wonder at the world, with lips that turned easily to laughter.
His nephew toddled over to him and pulled at his pant leg. He reached down and picked up the little boy and held him close.
Soon after, Janey came in with a tea tray for a light supper. She promised a big supper for everyone by nightfall.
The afternoon passed quickly. Jeremy was glad to be with Callie, Christa was delighted to have everyone home. He was even drawn into conversation with both Daniel and Jesse about his new orders to ride west. They’d all been assigned to Kansas once, before the war.
Over lunch and dinner they discussed the Santa Fe Trail, the Indian lands, the civilized tribes, and the not-so-civilized ones.
But then dinner ended, and the entire family headed back to the parlor for coffee and brandy.
Christa quickly caught hold of Jeremy in the breezeway, before he could enter the room again.
“What?” he asked her impatiently.
She swallowed slowly. “I—I wanted to thank you.”
He relaxed somewhat, watching her. It was nice to watch her squirm a little. “I don’t know what you said to Jesse and Daniel but—thank you.”
He nodded. “My pleasure.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That I’m not filing for a divorce.”
She inhaled quickly, watching him.
“And I’m not a liar, Christa. I’m a man of some honor, even if it’s ‘Yankee’ honor. So be prepared. It’s a real marriage. You do know what I mean.”
She looked as if she wanted to slit his throat. He smiled. “You do know what I mean?”
“I know damned well what you mean!” she retorted angrily.
“And?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Camerons always pay their debts!” she whispered fiercely. And miserably.
She walked into the parlor. He held back, breathing deeply. It was going to be a real marriage.
He wanted children.
And he wanted Christa.
He went into the parlor. The children had been put to bed, the grown-ups were left alone. Jesse drew out some of the maps he had from his days in the West. He, Daniel, and Jeremy began to study them.
Kiernan excused herself first, saying that she was exhausted. Christa went next—right after she had fiercely hugged her brother and given Jeremy a very dutiful and wifely kiss. After a while Jesse excused himself. Jeremy and Daniel talked on a while longer, then Daniel suggested to Callie that they should retire too.
“I’ll be right up,” Callie promised her husband. When Daniel had gone, she turned to Jeremy. “You may have fooled them all,” she said softly, “but I don’t believe a word of it.”
Callie stared at him with her wide silver eyes, and he found himself lifting his hands. “Callie, what do you want out of me?” he asked, rising, running his fingers through his hair, then leaning against the mantel. “They were going to burn the house down.”
She stood and came over to him and began to speak softly in a rush. “It’s just that you don’t know Christa like I do, Jeremy. She’s proud, yes. And she can be very stubborn, and she can fight harder than a catfish. But you don’t know what it was like being here for the whole war, not knowing if and when the house would be taken—” She broke off, because he was looking at her, smiling.
“Callie, you’re my sister, remember. I don’t intend to do anything evil to Christa. She wanted to become my wife. That’s all that I intend to ask of her.”
Callie came up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll pray for you both!” she promised. “Jeremy, you are my brother, and I do love you, and I want you to be happy.”
“I’m going to be very happy,” he promised her softly. “You’ll see.”
She smiled wanly, then walked to the door. “Good night, then. Don’t stay up too late. Christa will be waiting.”
He nodded. “I won’t be long.”
Callie left him. Yes, Christa would be waiting. Yes. Camerons always paid their debts.
Fine. He was going to collect.
He started to pour himself another brandy, then decided against it.
He left the parlor behind and started up the stairway. The floor in the upper hallway creaked beneath his footfalls.
She was in the bed when he entered the room. She was in some kind of an all-encompassing nightgown, and her back was to him. He was certain that she was feigning sleep.
He didn’t care. He closed the door behind him with a definite click. He paused for a moment. Let her wait, let her wonder. Let the blood begin to flow too quickly through her
veins. He knew damned well that she was awake.
He strode across the room to the bed. Once there, he methodically took off his clothes. When he was naked, he drew back the covers and crawled in beside her.
He wasn’t going to make her wait any longer.
He put an arm around her, rolling her around to her back. Her eyes were tightly closed.
“Christa, I know damned well you’re awake,” he said.
Her eyes flew open. Burning blue in the night.
He ran his fingers around the beautiful embroidery and lace at the high collar of her nightgown. “Off with it,” he told her flatly.
“You are a son of a bitch!” she told him heatedly.
He nodded. “A Yankee son of a bitch. One you’re going to remember when I’m gone.”
“You’re leaving?” she said quickly.
He nodded. He had decided it just this minute, but it was probably the best thing for everyone involved. “First thing in the morning. I’m going back to Washington until the final order to head west is given.”
He could almost feel her relief. It was not particularly complimentary.
She wasn’t getting out of the night ahead of them. “Christa, get the damned thing off.”
“But—”
“You can take it off, or I can rip it off. Either way, it goes.”
Next thing he knew she was hissing that he was a Yankee bastard and scalawag, but she sat up and nearly ripped the gown herself, wrenching it over her head.
She didn’t scream. She even cursed him just as quietly as she could manage.
She threw the gown furiously on the floor, then she sat there, naked beside him, seething and trembling, her eyes downcast. They rose to meet his, liquid and blue and shimmering. She threw herself back on the pillow. “Go ahead, then! Do whatever you’ve got to do!”
He was hard put not to laugh out loud. He leaned down on an elbow at her side, tossing all the covers back as far as they could go, then running his hand down the length of her body. How had she been created so damned perfectly? Moonlight fell over the rise of her breasts, and added mystery and shadow to the clefts at her hips and the dip between her breasts. At first he just touched her, running his fingertips lightly over her flesh. He felt her inhale sharply as he paused, running his palm over her nipple. Her breasts were perfect, firm and rounded, the peaks large and deeply rouge in color. Tempted, he leaned over her, running his tongue slowly around the aureole, then encompassing the whole of her nipple. She shifted beneath him. He felt the slam of her heart, the quickening of her body. He cupped her other breast with his hand, then rose, meeting her eyes before lowering his head to take her lips.