Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

A s dusk settled, the sky darkened with shades of amber and vermillion. Jenny, trained by her brother Joshua to move quietly, navigated the dense woodlands that acted as a natural boundary between her family’s land and that of Jeremiah Colton, a neighboring rancher whose lands were rumored to be as vast as his wealth. His grandson, Caleb Callahan, was the target of her ire.

She secured her trusted stallion, Hercules, to a branch behind the dense foliage with a gentle pat. Hiding behind a tall juniper, she observed the main house on the property of the Tumbling S. It was a striking three-story building, its size indicating the prosperity of its owners. The house was well-built, with large sash windows and the land around the house spread for miles with rolling grass and scattered trees leading up to the distant dark mountains. The outline of junipers and pines against the backdrop of the ranch added a wild, natural beauty.

Jenny waited in the dense woodlands with patience learned from tracking with her brothers. She stood behind the tree for more than an hour observing. Most of the noise came from the bunkhouse several hundred yards from the main house. There was no light in the main house. From her understanding, only Mr. Callahan and his grandfather lived in the main house with their housekeeper and cook. Perhaps they had gone into town to watch the circus.

She moved purposefully among shadows as she approached the main house. The cover of night was her ally, allowing her to slip undetected across the open ground. With practiced ease, she reached the front door and tested it gently, a wave of relief washing over her as it gave way without protest. The interior of the house greeted her with dim light that had not been evident from outside. The few lamps cast long, flickering shadows that danced across the walls and floors, creating an almost unsettling atmosphere.

She did not pause to admire the intricate details of the house’s interior or how the sparse lighting added a layer of mystery to the already imposing structure. Instead, Jenny’s focus was singular—finding Caleb Callahan’s bedchamber. She hastened down the long hallway, headed for the grand staircase that dominated the entrance hall. She carefully moved up the steps, listening to the silence of the house. Once on the second floor, Jenny moved like a ghost through the hallway, opening doors with a careful, almost reverential touch. Room after room, she searched, her heart pounding and each space fueling her determination and heightening the anticipation that thrummed through her veins.

Surely, another hour passed in the time it took her to search the second floor. Time seemed to stretch, each minute an eternity, as she continued her quest. Finally, her persistence was rewarded. On the third floor, facing east, she found a large bedroom practically decorated with rustic yet comfortable furniture, with touches of personality—a fencing sword mounted on the wall and a painting of England—that made it distinctly Caleb Callahan’s bedchamber.

As she stepped into the room, a familiar and distinctly masculine scent enveloped her, potent and evocative. Unbidden memories surged of a moment shared in proximity: standing close enough in the bank line to breathe in his scent, thinking it nothing short of divine. The memory brought an unexpected blush to Jenny’s cheeks, and she scowled.

That she had this unpardonable reaction to him was another reason to put a bullet through his dishonorable hide. Jenny moved to a large armchair in the corner of the room, its bulk offering a semblance of concealment and comfort. Settling in, she positioned herself with her gun in hand, waiting for the moment Mr. Callahan would enter. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply to slow her pounding heart.

Who exactly are you, Caleb Callahan, that you would seduce a lady and then leave her to face the consequences and judgment of society alone?

Her brothers had an instinct for judging men’s characters and their abilities. The youngest of her brothers, Noah, had met Mr. Callahan when he first moved to his grandfather’s ranch, and her brother had not been able to form an impression of Caleb Callahan.

Lord Caleb .

She snorted, uncaring that his brother was rumored to be an earl, which meant he was an important figure in the country he had left. After several minutes of waiting, footsteps echoed outside. She tightened her grip on her Colt. Jenny’s senses thrummed with awareness, and her heart, which she had calmed, quickened. Despite the veil of darkness that shrouded the room, Jenny felt rather than saw the imposing figure of Mr. Callahan as he entered his bedchamber.

The air seemed to shift with his presence, a testament to his physicality and the inherent strength in his frame. She heard the unmistakable sounds of a man unwinding after a long day—the soft thump of boots hitting the floor, the jingle and slide of a belt being undone, followed by the muted sound of it being tossed aside. Then, a deep, tired groan accompanied his descent onto the four-poster bed that dominated the room, its sturdy frame creaking slightly under his weight.

The room fell into a profound stillness, and Jenny could hear the rhythmic pattern of his breathing, a sound that, for a fleeting moment, seemed to sync with her own heightened senses. She remained motionless, a statue in the shadows.

Then, cutting through the silence, a low and surprisingly calm voice said, “Why are you in my bedchamber, Jenny Kincaid?”

Despite her careful silence, the shock of being discovered jolted through her. How had he known? The room was cloaked in darkness so complete that she had been confident of her invisibility. Yet, without a single lamp to guide his sight, he had pinpointed her presence.

“Have I stolen the words from your tart mouth?”

She narrowed her eyes at that mocking statement.

“I can smell you, Miss Kincaid, like honeysuckle and sun-ripened peaches. I have never scented this fragrance on another woman. A most delectable blend.”

His voice’s low, soothing timbre vibrated through her, and her breathing quickened.

“Women only sneak into my bedchamber for one thing,” he drawled provocatively. “Is that why you are here, Miss Kincaid?”

Jenny’s heart raced, caught between the urge to confront him and the irrational wish to flee, to vanish into the night as silently as she had come. Jenny cocked her Colt, the sound a dangerous warning in the silence of the room.

“Ah, it is a murderous intent, then. A pity. The tiredness had fled my bones at the thought you were here for something more wicked.”

The wretched man had no shame.

“You have a gun pointed at me. Why? You and I have no hostility, Miss Kincaid.”

“You are new to these parts, Mr. Callahan, so you might not understand how we do things around here,” she drawled.

“I am waiting to be enlightened.”

His tone was flat and cold.

“You will marry Ellie-Marie. This fills me with regret because no honorable gentleman would pursue a woman without marriage in mind. She deserves a man of honor who would treat her with kind consideration.”

“Hmm,” he said, the low sound unconcerned and dismissive.

Jenny’s anger spiked. “While Ellie deserves better than to marry you, it is best that she does so than face the condemnation that will follow her as an unwed mother. The sweet words that you used to get her into your bed, you will use them to make Ellie understand that you want to marry her, or I will put a bullet through you,” Jenny said icily.

“I was never the kind of man to take kindly to threats,” he said softly, the bed creaking as he shifted.

Jenny saw the outline of his body as he rose, and she stood, the gun steady in her grip. A match flared, and the lamp on the desk beside his bed was lit; the wick turned low. Dark pockets of shadows still lingered in the room, but there was enough light for her to take the full measure of Caleb Callahan. Her belly tightened with a strange heat when she took in his partially nude body. He presented a picture of rugged sensual appeal that infuriated Jenny because all her senses thrummed with awareness. Why had she never noticed how compelling he was before?

You did , a silent voice murmured.

He wore denim that hung low on his hips, the top buttons undone. His feet were bare, and he wore no shirt; the sculpted contours of his torso were on full display; his chest was well-defined, and the muscles across his abdomen were sharply etched, each line and curve speaking to the physical demands of his life in the West. His face, clean-shaven and strikingly handsome, was framed by a mane of midnight black hair curling slightly at the nape of his neck. The sight of it, so carelessly perfect, stirred an unexpected impulse in her, a desire to reach out and feel the softness of those curls between her fingers.

“You are staring, Miss Kincaid.”

Jenny felt like she couldn’t drag enough air into her lungs. “You are half-naked, Mr. Callahan. It is normal to stare at beautiful things.”

Oh, God, why did I say that?

His gaze sharpened, drifting over her like gliding hands. “I understand the temptation. Try not to toss yourself into my arms. I have always been a tad irresistible to ladies.”

“Self-flattery and conceit oddly suit you, English,” Jenny said, using the moniker many people in Bravo used when they spoke of him.

A small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth, rendering him astonishingly handsome.

Irritated with her reaction to him, she jutted her chin, aiming her Colt with calm and calculative deliberation at his kneecap. “Will you give your word to marry Ellie-Marie, Mr. Callahan?”

He took a few measured steps closer. “No.”

Jenny stiffened her spine and narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you no care for her future?”

A hard smile touched the curve of his mouth. “None.”

“ Why ?”

“Her future is no concern of mine.”

How callous and uncaring!

Jenny aimed above his knee. Sensing her intention, he darted forward with graceful agility just as the shot rang out, missing him. He knocked the gun from her hand in one swift movement. Her wrist stung, but Jenny darted away from him, her hand going to her thigh with speed, unsheathing the Bowie blade strapped there.

“Bloody hell,” he hissed, his gaze dropping to the knife held low against her side. “You hellion!”

He moved much faster than she anticipated, wrapping a hand around her waist, and turned swiftly, causing them both to fall onto the bed. She dropped the knife on the floor, knowing the danger of being accidentally cut when they were pressed this close. Jenny was immediately, overwhelmingly conscious of everything about Caleb Callahan—his rousing scent, the hardness of his body, the smooth, silky feel of his bare skin.

As Jenny tried to squirm from under him, her legs parted, unintentionally creating an opening for him to settle his weight. His powerful body came over hers, pinning Jenny on the mattress. She wriggled beneath him wildly, bucking her hips to unseat him. Shockingly, the move pushed her upward on the bed, allowing him to cradle even more perfectly between her parted thighs. The hard ridge of his rising erection was unmistakable. Jenny’s limbs became weak. Her heart kicked painfully against her ribs, and she had trouble drawing in a breath, redoubling her efforts to unseat the brute.

A sharp hiss slipped from him, and he froze above her. “Be still!”

Jenny could feel his heart thudding against her breast. Warmth unspooled low in her belly, and a peculiar feeling tightened her nipples. Infuriated with her reaction, she lurched upward and sank her teeth into the muscles of his chest.

“You damn hellcat,” he snarled, wrenching his body off hers.

“You deserve it!”

He lowered his head, his teeth clamping over the soft hollow of her throat. When Jenny realized he meant to bite her in retaliation, a garbled sound of shock left her. She stilled, conscious of the feel of his mouth against her flesh, his teeth raking against her pulse. Her heart pounded a harsh beat, and she realized he had also frozen, and his mouth had softened.

She slammed her eyes closed and swallowed tightly. “I think you need to get up.”

The softness of his lips eased from her skin.

“Will you shoot at me again?” he murmured, his breath fanning against her skin.

“I can make no promises in that regard, Mr. Callahan. The outcome will depend entirely on your skill of evasion.”

A low sound of amusement came from him, and he lifted his head. Jenny could not make out his features, straining her eyes to catch any detail hidden within the shadows.

“You shot at me. What if I had been hit?”

“You would have lived,” she snapped, “but the pain would have reminded you of your cruelty to a woman who trusted your words, you…you…flea-ridden mangy dog filled with maggots.”

There was a beat of silence, and then he laughed, the low sound far too warm and sensual.

Incensed further, Jenny said through clenched teeth, “You dare to laugh?”

“A most inventive curse,” he murmured, his breath fanning her forehead. “However, it is time I confess I have no notion who this Ellie-Marie is.”

“You do not even remember her?” Jenny asked, her voice cracking. “How many lovers do you have you scoundrel!”

“I recall every woman who has ever been between the sheets with me,” he said with icy indifference. “I also recall their names. Ellie-Marie is not a past lover unless she lied about her identity.”

Her heart slamming against her ribs, Jenny said, “She has blue eyes, blonde hair, and is very beautiful. We are often together and the few times you and I encountered each other in town, Mr. Callahan, Ellie was with me.”

“I have never spoken to the lady, nor is she my lover.”

Alarm cascaded over her senses. “What did you say?”

“This Ellie-Marie is not my lover, nor will she ever be.”

His words were like a low growl. Jenny’s chest squeezed. It bemused her that she believed the sincerity in his tone, and even more puzzling was that she did not understand the relief rushing through her veins.

Thank God they are not lovers , she said silently, briefly closing her eyes.

“I…” her throat tightened. What could she say to justify her impetuosity?

“Did your friend name me as her seducer, or did something else lead you to that understanding?”

Jenny heard the dangerous throb in his tone.

“This is a misunderstanding,” she said softly, not wanting to implicate Ellie until she understood why her friend told such a lie. “Mr. Callahan, I am sorry—”

“Surely you can call me Caleb after breaking into my chamber and trying to kill me.”

Jenny sniffed. “I was aiming for the soft flesh of your thigh. You would have lived.”

He grunted, shifted, and rolled from her, taking his warmth. Jenny sat up, her mass of hair tumbling over her shoulder and down to her midback. She felt behind her for the pins that came loose in their tousle and encountered something hard.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a low, strained tone.

“I am searching for the pins that held up my hair.”

“Woman, does that feel like a damn pin to you?”

Jenny did not understand what kind of deviltry inside pushed her to squeeze his flesh so she could understand exactly which part of his body she accidentally touched. He groaned, the sound rough and sensual. Understanding dawned, and she snatched her hand away as if she had been burned.

“I…I…am sorry, I did not…” Mortification and amusement rushed through Jenny, and laughter spilled from her. She had touched his manhood! Good heavens. “I do not know what to say! I assure you I have never groped anyone before.”

His hand snaked around her hips, sharply tugging her so that she fell atop his chest. He rolled with her, and she loathed how wonderful it felt to have his weight pressing her into the mattress once again. Her entire body flushed as a shiver of need arrowed through her, the sensation so acute Jenny almost cried out.

“You are going to want to shoot me again, but it will be worth it,” he said softly.

“What will be worth—”

He kissed the words from her mouth, swallowing the soft moan that rose in her throat. Her heartbeat danced swiftly, and a tremor went through Jenny’s body. He flicked his tongue against her bottom lip, coaxing her to part them with small nips and licks. She whimpered at the wonderful taste of him. Curious hunger bloomed inside, and she touched him all over, gliding the tips of her fingers through his hair down to his neck, his shoulders, his back. Jenny gripped his arms, dazedly marveling at his hardness, and opened her mouth. His tongue surged inside to tangle with hers in a wicked, sensual glide.

So this is a proper kiss …

They kissed for a long time, short kisses, then deep ones. Pleasure rolled over her in hot, devastating waves when he rocked against her, his manhood dragging over her sex.

Jenny moaned and tightened her fingers on his shoulders. She felt as if she wanted to surrender everything to this man. Shocked by such a thought, she wrenched her mouth from his, panting.

“By God, you are so sweet, so incredibly sweet,” he murmured against her skin, dragging his mouth down to her throat where he sucked the flesh. “I want to taste all of you.”

She moaned, hips lifting in instinctive want. He rocked against her again…hard, the thick, hard bulge in his pants dragging over her clitoris. Pleasure slammed into her belly, and wetness saturated her folds.

“Stop,” she gasped, alarmed by her body’s response.

To her surprise, Caleb immediately rolled his weight off her body, his chest lifting harshly.

“That was a mistake,” she said, breathing raggedly. “I…” her throat closed over the words, and Jenny truly did not know what to say.

“Go,” he said tightly. “I am barely holding on to my restraint.”

She rushed from the bed and his bedchamber, sprinting down the hallway as if the devil himself chased her. Jenny slowed her steps once she reached outside, keeping to the shadows as she approached the woodlands. She glanced over her shoulder and upward. The faint outline of a shadow stood before a window on the third floor.

It was Caleb. Despite the darkness, Jenny felt he watched her with perfect clarity.

Raucous laughter and the sound of a fiddle came from the two-story bunkhouse in the distance. She untethered Hercules, mounted him and steered him on the familiar path leading to the Kincaids’ land. She rode at a quick pace, trusting her horse and her instincts until she reached home. Jenny dismounted and led him to the stables, where she rubbed him down, took him to the water trough, and fed him an apple.

“Sleep well, Hercules,” she murmured, then handed him over to one of their stable hands, Timothy.

Jenny rubbed the back of her neck, sighing wearily. The main house was aglow with light, and she gathered they were eating supper. Why had Ellie lied? Jenny did not understand it because they had always been honest with each other.

“Damn it, Ellie, what do you want me to do?” a voice demanded harshly.

Jenny frowned, glancing toward several bales of hay in front of the stables. Was that Jack? She almost called out but stopped herself, walking over.

“I love you, Jack,” Ellie sobbed. “I cannot raise this baby on my own. If you tell Jenny that you and I…that we…she will understand and give us her blessings.”

Jenny’s heart lurched, and she faltered.

“Don’t you know who Jenny Kincaid is?” Jack hissed. “She is liable to shoot first and ask questions later. She will not forgive me for this betrayal.”

“Do you not love me, Jack? Is that it?” Ellie snapped, her voice breaking. “It did not seem like it when you sweet-talked me to your bed!”

“I…you know I do! I simply love Jenny, too.”

She rounded the hay, a lump forming in her throat at the sight of Ellie wrapped in Jack’s arms. Jenny stared at them until her eyes smarted. The ache in her chest swelled until she could barely breathe around it.

“I love Jenny as well, Jack,” Ellie said between sobs. “I do not want to hurt her, but you cannot marry her and leave me alone with our babe.”

“Ellie, please, give me some time to figure—”

“What is there to figure out?” Jenny coldly drawled. “I would not forgive is you leaving Ellie to face having a child alone.”

They sprung apart as if she had tossed water on them. Ellie’s face crumpled, and she buried her head in her palms and sobbed. Jack shook his head dazedly and took a halting step forward. Jenny stared at them, curious about the lack of anger or emotions. She withdrew her gun and pointed it at Jack.

He paled and said, “What the hell are you doing, Jenny?”

“Inside, both of you,” she said. “I will put a bullet in you, Jack Hartigan, if you hesitate.”

Jenny allowed Jack and Ellie to walk before her until they reached the main house. They clambered up the steps to the wide wrap-around porch, opened the door, and entered. The flavorful scent of apple pie and roasted meat lingered in the air. Jenny marched them to the dining room, where her father and mother dined.

Her pa lowered his fork and leaned back in his chair, arching a brow. “What is the meaning of this, Jenny?”

“Mr. Hartigan and Ellie are expecting their first child, Pa.”

Her mother gasped, her eyes widening, then she scowled.

“There is no need to worry, Ma,” she said with a tight smile at Jack, who fidgeted with discomfort. “I did not allow him to kiss me once. I am not losing anything but a cur with little to no honor.”

Ellie burst into tears. “I am sorry ,” she wailed. “I know you did not love him, Jenny…and I…”

“I brought them here, Pa, because we need the town preacher immediately. Mr. Hartigan will likely run off on Ellie, and a wedding needs to happen.”

“I would not run off,” Jack said, fisting his hands at his sides. He looked like a man who badly wanted to talk but held his tongue.

Her father stood and walked over to her. He rested a hand on her arm and eased it down. It was at that moment that Jenny realized her gun had been pointed at Jack’s chest.

“Are you hurt?” her father gruffly demanded.

Jenny peered up at him, and smiled, knowing if she answered yes, he would tear Jack Hartigan’s limbs from his body. There was an emotion in her heart that she did not understand.

“I feel foolish, Pa,” she said softly, “I trusted in their character, but they both deceived me. You taught me how to take the measure of a man and measure the sincere honesty of a friend, and I failed.”

He hugged her, and she went into his arms.

“When you find a good man, you will know,” he said. “If you live with us forever, that is an even better scenario.”

“August,” her mother scolded.

A soft laugh escaped Jenny, but it quickly turned into a sob as the pain she was trying to hold at bay dug deeper.

“Now, Jenny Kincaid,” her father said sternly, “I’ll handle the arrangements for this wedding. You, meanwhile, should head to your room. It’s fine to shed a tear if need be, but remember your sorrow isn’t for the man you’re losing but for the trust and respect broken between two friends.”

Jenny embraced her father tightly before letting go. She turned away without glancing at Ellie and Jack, whose presence suddenly felt like a weight. Jenny made her way up to the third floor of the expansive home her family had built on the Triple K ranch. Her bedchamber awaited—a comfortable and elegant sanctuary within the mansion her father had constructed as a testament to his love for her mother. With its intricate design and modern conveniences, their home stood as a marvel in these parts, often leaving visitors in awe of its elegance and rustic comfort.

Upon entering her room, Jenny methodically removed her gun belt, boots, and clothes. The large bathroom attached to her chamber offered a welcome retreat. She was particularly thankful now for the modern plumbing, which, according to her ma, was a luxury that made her home feel akin to the grand residences of Boston or New York.

Drawing a bath, Jenny let herself sink into the water’s warm embrace, the heat seeping into her muscles, coaxing the tension from her body. As she lay there, the heated memories of being caged intimately inside Caleb’s arms teased her. Forcefully shutting them out, she scrubbed her skin until she was satisfied.

Jenny made her way to her bed, collapsing onto it with a soft sigh. Despite the events that had unfolded, tears did not come. She didn’t dwell on Ellie and Jack, the betrayal of their hidden relationship or Jack’s audacious plan to marry her while entangled in an illicit relationship with Ellie. Instead, Jenny’s mind was filled with the enigmatic figure of Caleb Callahan. Thoughts of him, elusive and intriguing, crowded her mind, following her to sleep. Jenny yawned and rolled onto her belly, burrowing deep into the coverlets. She felt the phantom weight of Caleb’s body behind her, felt the ghost of his kiss against her mouth, and felt that odd ache inside her sex.

What is this? Is it desire?

The feeling was so unfamiliar that she could not name it. Caleb’s presence, though not physical, was there with Jenny, sparking curiosity and a desire to understand who he was and why she found him so compelling.