Page 12 of The Bastard Heir
Her expression blanked and he realized that not only had that not occurred to her, but that she had no idea what he was talking about. “I’m not from Boston Society,” he explained with a wry grin.
She touched his hand, which was resting on her arm, and her gaze did one quick sweep of his face in a way that made him think she liked what she saw. “You’re not flawed from what I can see,” she whispered.
Chapter Five
Castillo slipped quietly from her room. He was still trying to figure out what the hell had happened in there. One minute he’d been in charge, and the next she had him agreeing to be her fiancé. His response to having her repeat his own words to him was so visceral that it had taken his breath away. Instead of replying, he’d had to leave.
Walking a few steps away, he turned, half intending to go back in there and tell her the plan wasn’t going to work. He had more important things to do than pretend to court her. But he paused because he didn’t have a suitable alternative. He couldn’t keep her tied up in her room the entire week.
An image of what that’d look like swam through his mind. Damn, keeping her tied to her bed all week did hold a certain kind of appeal. He remembered the way she’d looked at him back on the train when she’d thought about kissing him. He doubted she’d admit it now, but he’d seen the way her eyes had gone soft and lit on his mouth. She’d imagined he’d kiss her right there on the train. If he kept her tied up then he’d have plenty oftime to make her look at him like that again. Then she’d be all his.
He shifted, his body already responding to that image in his mind. Damn. Her presence here was ruining his concentration and his plans.
“Cas?” Hunter called his name.
Castillo gave one last quick, befuddled glance toward Caroline’s door and made his way to Hunter.
“What’s going on with Caroline?” Hunter asked when he was close enough to not be overheard.
“She was on the train when Bennett saw us. She heard him call me Reyes.”
Hunter cursed under his breath.
“I talked to her,” Castillo said and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I explained about my grandfather and she’s offered her cooperation. She’s not a problem.”
Hunter raked his fingers through his hair. “That seems a little too convenient.”
“She doesn’t know everything. Just that Derringer went missing with the funds he stole and that Bennett is his son. She has no reason to say anything.” Castillo believed that as long as the dust settled and Bennett or Derringer didn’t make an appearance, she’d stay quiet about the train incident. Or maybe that was just him hoping for luck to land on his side for once.
But Hunter nodded and started walking back toward the stairs. Castillo walked along with him. “That’s good. I don’t want anything to ruin the wedding for Emmy.”
“It won’t, Hunter. Zane and I will make sure of that.” Once again a pang of jealousy threatened to rear its head. God knew he didn’t begrudge his brother his happiness, but that didn’t mean Castillo wasn’t mourning his own lack of a family.
“We’ll make sure of that,” Hunter said, pausing at the landing and meeting his eyes. “I’m still in the brotherhood.”
“You are, but this week is about you and Emmy.”
Hunter smiled, his eyes going warm as they usually did when he talked about his bride. “Come on, the old man wants to talk to you downstairs.”
Castillo sighed. He’d known this confrontation was coming. Better to get it over with now so that he could sleep in peace tonight, but he was so bone weary he didn’t think sleep would be a problem. He and Zane had spent the past two days looking for Bennett and finding dead ends.
“There’ll be whiskey.” Hunter smiled as if that would sweeten the deal.
Castillo conceded that it did make the talk more palatable. He barely grumbled as they made their way down the curving staircase to the study in the back of the house. The women were either still outside on the porch or had already gone up to bed, because he didn’t see them anywhere as Hunter led him through the semi darkened house. Wall sconces lit the way, their light gleaming off the polished wood floor where it wasn’t covered in Persian rugs.
The study door was open, and Tanner was seated in one of the tall, wingback chairs before the fireplace. A low fire was burning to chase away the little bit of coolness in the air. He stood when Castillo and Hunter walked in. “Castillo. Thank you for joining us.” His hand came up to offer a tumbler of dark, amber-red whiskey.
Castillo nodded as he accepted it, aware of the door closing behind him and how it made the room feel stuffy. He tried to ignore the way the skin at the back of his neck suddenly felt two sizes too small. Instead, he focused on the man before him.
Tanner had aged well and still had a headful of hair the same tawny color as Hunter’s with just a few strands of silver at the temples. His forehead was grooved and lines spread out from his eyes and bracketed his mouth. But they made him lookdistinguished instead of merely aged. He must be around fifty—Castillo didn’t actually know how old his father was—but he was the image of vitality.
As a child, Castillo had listened to his mother talk about Tanner Jameson often. Usually when she was putting him to bed at night. She’d smile in that way she’d had that brightened her entire face and tell Castillo how he’d gone to seek his fortune, that he’d come back for them one day. Castillo had never been sure if the blurry images of the man he’d carried in his mind had been memories of his father or pictures she’d painted with her words.
That was, until his mother died and he’d knocked on the front door of Jameson Ranch five years ago and come face-to-face with the man. His face had matched the image in Castillo’s mind, except the grooves had grown deeper. Castillo had been surprised that he’d remembered the man so clearly. He’d also been surprised to not feel anything at seeing his father—not happiness, not sadness. Nothing except a swell of anger that this man had made his mother cry.
Tanner indicated Castillo should take the seat opposite him, and he sank down into the matching chair and brought the whiskey to his lips. The familiar warmth of the liquor going down soothed him. Hunter poured his own drink and sat on the sofa. When Tanner settled down, the leg he’d injured in the war jutted out a bit because the knee didn’t bend properly. Firelight gleamed off the black lacquer of the cane propped next to him.
Tanner cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence that had settled in the room. “Thank you for coming to the wedding. I’m glad you could make the trip.”
