Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Two years later …

The Tumbling S.

T he night was alight with celebration. Several large bonfires blazed, and sparks danced in the air, reminding Caleb of fireflies. The music was a lively heartbeat of the get-together, created by the spirited strumming of banjos and the cries of fiddles. Caught up in the energy of the occasion, the musicians played with infectious enthusiasm. The gathering was vibrant with laughter and dancing, men and women’s dancing figures silhouetted against the flames. Others stomped their boots to the rhythms and shouted encouragement to the dancers.

Caleb stood apart from the revelry, resting against the sturdy base of a tree, enveloped by the darkness. Jenny Kincaid held his regard, and he stared at her, no longer daunted by the hunger that crawled through his body for her. Once, it had infuriated him, for he did not like the notion that he was not the master of what he felt. Now, Caleb accepted that she had the power to provoke his heart and body.

She tipped back her head and laughed at whatever the lady beside her said. Jenny’s raven black hair was arranged artfully on top of her head, a few strands dangling over her cheeks and down the slender elegance of her throat. She wore a yellow Mexican-style summer dress that hugged her upper body and flared from the waist down. The lady’s curves were mouth-wateringly sensual, and whenever she moved, her motions were infused with confidence and sensuality.

Caleb had never met a woman like Jenny Kincaid. She was a hellion at heart and far from the genteel ladies with their perfect manners that he knew in England. A woman like her did not belong in his life, and he did not belong in hers. However, that reasoning did not stop the curious hunger in his gut to know this woman. The memories of the last time she snuck onto the Tumbling S wafted through his thoughts. It had only been a few months after the first time, and even then, the memory of their first encounter had tied him in knots. It was her soft womanly scent that had roused Caleb, and then he’d felt her presence and heard the cock of her gun. The damn woman had been sitting on the edge of his bed.

“ I can tell that you are wanting more kisses, Jenny Kincaid . Surely there can be no other reason for you sneaking into my bedchamber a second time? ”

She’d made a low dismissive sound, and the warm sensation he’d felt in his chest was baffling.

“ You are a menace, Miss Kincaid . What is it this time? ”

Caleb had said that too fondly, for she had smiled, the beauty of it striking his heart with want.

“ Some of your men are rustling cattle from the Triple K and being a menace . It needs to stop, English.”

Shock had blasted through him, then outrage. “ That is not our style .”

“ I followed the tracks from one of our poisoned wells to here, Caleb Callahan! ”

“ I will investigate it .”

“ See that you do .”

Silence had lingered, and the hellion made no effort to leave.

“ This did not warrant you sneaking into my room again, Miss Kincaid . I cannot help but think you snuck into my bedchamber for another reason, perhaps a delightful one .”

She had sniffed and started to stand when Caleb had gripped her hips and hauled her on top of his body. The feel of her curves and womanly scent had rushed to his head, intoxicating his senses.

A rough, hungry sound had rumbled in his throat. “ By God, you feel so good .”

“ My gun is still cocked, English .”

He had felt the harsh thumping of her heart against his chest. “ Kissing you will be worth the bullet . Try to miss vital organs .”

“ You are infuriating! ”

“ You still want to kiss me .”

Her aching sigh had pierced his heart with unfathomable sensations.

“ I do, English, so very much .”

How soft her words had been filled with want and confusion. This time, she had been the one to slam her mouth against his, kissing him with eager passion. Hunger surged through him like wildfire racing through dry brush. She’d ended it before he could roll her beneath him. Jenny had lurched off his body and hastened from his bedchamber. The next day, Caleb had ridden out to the Triple K with flowers. She had ridden out to meet him with many ranch hands and even her parents watching. Jenny had stared at the flowers in his grip for a long time, a flush on her cheeks. The eyes that peered at him were shadowed with doubt and mistrust.

“ I am not interested in courting or marriage, Mr. Callahan .”

Though it felt like a boulder had slammed into his gut, Caleb nodded, handed her the bouquet, wheeled his horse, and rode away. He had visited the Triple K a few times afterward to discuss business with August Kincaid, and each time, Caleb had taken flowers for her. She would accept them, bury her nose in the bouquet, and peer at him with that inscrutable expression before walking away.

Caleb had been unable to take another woman to his bed since he first met Jenny Kincaid. Her mere presence was a temptation, her smile a beautiful thing to behold. In total, he had kissed her five times, each deeper and hotter than the last. He carried her sweet taste, soft moans, her fingertips gliding through his hair as they kissed to his dreams and even when they woke, the hunger for more dodged his footstep. However, the last time she allowed him close enough to steal another kiss was eight months, one week, and three days ago.

When will I stop wanting you this badly?

She was now laughing and dancing with a cowhand, moving her feet impossibly fast at the crowd’s encouragement. She tilted her head ever so slightly and looked directly at him. The shadows should have hidden him from her view, yet Caleb felt as if her stare pierced him.

Even with the distance separating them, he could see the beauty of her forest-green eyes. There was a paradoxical allure in her gaze—a daring challenge that seemed to warn him to maintain his distance, yet simultaneously, a gentle, almost imperceptible invitation that tempted him closer, whispering the promise of a dance and perhaps more kisses. Caleb, however, ruthlessly denied the desire to approach her and remained an observer for the moment, rooted in the comfort of the shadows.

“You are watching that young lass like you want to eat her up,” an irritated voice said at his elbow. “Why don’t you go to her?”

Smoothing his expression, he turned to his grandfather and arched a brow. “And here I was, under the impression you were too exhausted to make an appearance at your own birthday celebration.”

His grandfather’s eyebrows furrowed into a deep scowl. “How is one to find any semblance of rest with such a racket outside?” he grumbled, clearly vexed by the disruption to his sleep.

Caleb smiled. “Is the commotion the sole reason for your presence tonight?”

In response, his grandfather’s sharp, blue-gray gaze—mirroring Caleb’s own—fixed him with a stern look. “Why else would I forsake the comfort of my bed if not for this infernal noise?”

He moved a bit closer to his grandfather. “Perhaps the widow Johnson might be a compelling reason? I noticed you observing the festivities from your window, and curiously, you descended almost immediately following her arrival.”

To Caleb’s mild amusement, a noticeable blush spread across his grandfather’s cheeks. Even at seventy years old, Jeremiah Colton stood as a testament to resilience and vitality, actively engaged in the ranch’s day-to-day operations. It was rare to witness such a flush of youthfulness on his weathered face, hinting that his heart wasn’t as guarded as he liked to portray.

“Why don’t you join Mrs. Johnson, Grandfather? She is also looking at you.”

His eyes sharpened, and his lips thinned. “No.”

“She asked about you earlier. It seemed she also knitted you a blanket as a gift.”

“I am too old for this nonsense,” he grumbled, raking his fingers through his hair.

Caleb grinned. “You do not look a day over fifty years. I think you have plenty of this romance nonsense left in you. Mrs. Johnson seems to think the same.”

His grandfather smiled, his mustache twitching. “Perhaps I will have a short conversation with her.” He turned to walk away and paused. “Are you not going to ask that lass to dance?”

No . “Perhaps,” he said noncommittally.

His grandfather muttered something about young fools and kept walking. Caleb smiled and watched as he approached Mrs. Johnson, who patted her hair when she saw him coming over.

There is no reason to dance with Miss Kincaid and fall deeper into her allure. Not when I will be leaving soon .

Though he had lived in the West for three years, Caleb had never felt like he belonged. Separating from his family in England had been difficult, and there were days when loneliness sometimes cleaved him in two. Caleb’s relocation to the western frontiers of America, where he settled with his maternal grandfather, marked a significant shift from his earlier life. In London, Caleb had reveled in the company of numerous friends, indulging in the exuberant pleasures of youth. They spent their nights attending balls or questionable clubs and gambling dens, savoring the finest liquors that money could buy, and engaging in spirited wagers over the swiftest horses. His social circle regarded him with respect and camaraderie, and he stood out as a distinguished figure among the young gentlemen of the ton .

Ladies found him attractive, competing for his attention with hopes of securing him as a partner. He had a few lovers who were widows but had never kept a mistress. Caleb had been the quintessential catch—an eligible bachelor expected to lead a life of ease, prosperity, and distinction. He had met a lady he wanted to marry, but that did not last.

Then, one night, he’d found his sister, Daphne, curled into a ball, sobbing, bruises on her arms, lips swollen, and heartbreak in her eyes. Caleb had mercilessly beaten the lord who had tried to take such ruthless advantage of her. The only problem was that the man had been the son of a duke. In the pecking order of the aristocracy, as the second son of an earl, Caleb was not able to bring the law into the entire matter.

He did not regret his actions, but his brother had urged him to leave England to avoid the wrath of a powerful duke who could manipulate the law to serve his purpose. Caleb had expected his brother, the Earl of Tallant, to offer his support. Instead, George wanted to bury everything, so the families did not suffer from any scandal. Their mother had agreed, saying their family would never recover from such a scandal, and all his sister’s chances for a decent match would be irrevocably ruined.

That aching grief welled inside Caleb’s chest once more, and he walked away from the revelry, going deep into the woodland where he had turned an area by the brook into his alcove. The letter in his pocket taunted him. He had read it several times since receiving it months ago. Still, he reached for it and unfolded the paper, tilting it toward the moonlight.

Dearest Caleb,

It is with deep sadness that I write to inform you of our brother George’s sudden passing. He collapsed in his office a few days ago without any prior signs of illness, leaving our family in a state of shock. Now, more than ever, Mother and I need you. With George’s untimely departure, you have inherited the title of the 12th Earl of Tallant, a role I know you never expected to assume, especially given that George was only five and thirty. The formal writ has been sent to Parliament, and it is imperative that you return home to take up the responsibilities of the earldom.

Mother and I have missed you terribly, and I believe George felt your absence deeply, often expressing regret over your departure. Rest assured, there has been no scandal here; Lord Brandon and I have managed our difficulties quietly. I must confess, the memory of how you defended me from him still brings me solace during trying times.

Enclosed with this letter are additional documents detailing the legal and financial aspects of your inheritance.

Please return as soon as you can. We await your presence with eager hearts.

With all my love, Daphne

He had also received several other letters from his mother and the estate’s solicitors. It had taken almost a month for Caleb to accept that he was now the Earl of Tallant. The initial shock left him feeling numb for over a week before he managed to respond to their letters and address the tasks they outlined. During this time, his grandfather Jeremiah suffered a fall from a horse, resulting in a couple of broken ribs and a severe fever. Despite his health concerns, Jeremiah insisted on Caleb’s return to England, his eyes reflecting a mix of loss and sorrow as he spoke. Feeling torn between the needs of his family in England and his ailing grandfather, Caleb finally saw a glimmer of hope as Jeremiah began to recover.

Still, Caleb was reluctant to leave because his grandfather also needed him to help run the ranch since his half-brother, Samuel, seemed disinterested. Jeremiah had given up on cattle in the last few years, with the Kincaids driving more to the market than he ever could. The ranch had been floundering, and needing a distraction from hungering for the life he left behind for the last three years, Caleb poured everything he had into the ranch’s operation. Their profits had increased by thirty percent in the first year, pushing his grandfather to admit that perhaps his education obtained from Cambridge University had some use.

Caleb lifted his gaze to the sky, taking a deep breath. He then reached for another unopened letter—this one from Lady Henrietta Moulton, a woman from his past whom he once thought he wanted to marry until he caught her in a compromising embrace with his brother George. His brother was more appealing than a second son with less wealth.

As he contemplated opening Henrietta’s letter, Jenny Kincaid’s voice broke his concentration.

“I can always tell when a man is thinking about a lady. Who is she?”

Startled, a jolt ran through Caleb. He shifted on the stone bench.

“Miss Kincaid,” he responded, watching as she stepped closer.

The moonlight illuminated her features enough for him to notice the playful curl of her lips.

“Mr. Callahan,” she murmured.

“You followed me.”

“That I did. You did not join in the dancing.”

“Is that why you came after me?”

She paused, wrapping her arms around herself as if to ward off a chill. “No. Your grandfather mentioned something that…”

Despite the moon’s brightness, the night’s shadows hid her expression from him; however, Caleb heard the sadness in her tone. He stood to face her more directly. “What did he say?”

Delicately clearing her throat, she moved closer, making Caleb’s head spin slightly like he’d had too much whisky. The air was fresh and cool, the heavy fragrance of the pines redolent on the air but still her scent invaded his lungs.

“Mr. Colton said you will soon depart for England.”

Caleb cursed under his breath. His grandfather, it seemed, was quite determined to interfere.

“Are you leaving, English?” Jenny asked.

“Yes,” he responded, more gruffly than he intended.

Her eyes widened, searching his face for a moment. “Would you have left without telling me? Without bidding me farewell?”

“Perhaps.” Only because something inside warned him it would be difficult to bid Jenny farewell.

She tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear, her expression carefully inscrutable as she peered up at him. “How long before you depart?”

“Roughly two weeks.”

Her fingers fluttered to her throat. “Will you come back?”

“To visit,” he replied. “My duties in England will make it difficult to travel often, and I hope to return to see my grandfather after a couple of years of settling some affairs.”

“Oh,” she murmured, disappointment evident in her tone. “You might return in two years and only for a brief time. Is that what you are saying?”

“Yes.”

Her green eyes glittered with indefinable emotions, and she seemed to want to say more. Jenny shook her head, then whirled around. “I... I must return to the celebration. I apologize for intruding on—”

“Stay with me, Jenny,” Caleb said, the words escaping him before he could weigh them.

She stiffened and slowly faced him. In her eyes, he saw relief, which mirrored his emotions. He ran his fingers through his hair, bemused by the depth of their connection, something he had never experienced.

“Stay with you and do what, Caleb Callahan?” she asked, a playful challenge in her tone.

He smiled. “Watch the moon.”

“What the moon?”

“Yes.”

Taking a step back, she tilted her head upward, exposing the graceful arch of her throat. The sight tempted him impulsively, so he leaned forward and pressed a closed-mouth kiss there, his lips lingering. Jenny gasped, but she did not shift away from him.

Bloody hell, why are you not running? he silently snarled.

The way she looked at him, her soft smile, and her eyes glittering with desire gave him the answer. Jenny Kincaid wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“The sky is indeed beautiful tonight,” she whispered, shifting her regard from him to the heavens. “How astonishing. I have watched the stars many nights but never admired the moon. I have never seen it shine so brightly…or so beautifully. I do believe it is moving.”

He lifted his head, wondering who he was around this lady. “Greek mythology claims Selene is the goddess of the moon. She travels across the sky in her chariot every night, pulling the moon behind her. That is a fanciful explanation, but the truth is that the moon keeps moving forward but is also pulled toward Earth due to gravity. This creates an orbit.”

She laughed. “I like the fanciful notion better.”

Caleb smiled. “We will have a better view from the boulder near the brook.”

They walked toward the brook, where a large boulder rested in the gentle flow of water, providing an ideal spot to observe the sky. Carefully, they stepped along the stone path that rose from the water, ensuring their boots remained dry.

Caleb settled on the smooth surface, the sound of the water mingling with the rustle of leaves in the night breeze, the birthday revelry a faint hum in the background. Jenny sat gracefully on the boulder, her raven black hair cascading down her back in a silken waterfall.

He pulled a flask of whisky from his jacket and took a healthy swallow. “Would you like a drink?”

Jenny smiled and reached for the flask, tipping it to her mouth. She handed it back to him, pressing her palms against the rock so she could lean back and stare at the vast, starlit sky. The pulse at the base of her throat beat visibly, and he was once again tempted to kiss her throat.

“Does the sky look the same in England?”

The soft question saved him from acting like a scoundrel. “Sometimes. From our country estate in Hertfordshire, it is just as lovely. London has much fog and often obscures the beauty of the night sky.”

“Why must you leave, Caleb? Is it because you miss your family?”

Jenny’s voice contained an emotion he could not name, but somehow, it hooked deep within his chest, tugging him toward her.