Derringer is here.”
“Damn right. I bet we find Derringer before he knows what hit him.”
Castillo laughed, his mood improving for the first time since losing Bennett on the train.
“Come on. Let’s get you fed.” Hunter slapped him on the back and led the way toward the dining room.
Castillo followed, his belly grumbling as he anticipated Willy’s famous biscuits with the buffalo-berry jam she made to go with them. He’d been hooked on them ever since the housekeeper made them for him the first time he’d come home with Hunter. They’d make suffering through useless conversation with a few guests worth it.
Hunter put his hand on the crystal doorknob but paused before opening the door to the dining room. “The old man’s inside.”
Castillo took in a sharp breath through his nose. He hadn’t seen his father since his first visit after his mother’s death. Her last request had been for Castillo to go meet his father, so he’d gone to honor her, but Castillo had had nothing to say to the man who’d abandoned him and his mother. Though he’d known it was inevitable that he’d see Tanner Jameson this week, he’d managed to push the reality of that aside. Now it was time to face it.
He let the breath out slowly, forcing the tension in his shoulders away. Be civil. Avoid him. Hunter deserved that much from Castillo. “Let’s get it over with.”
Hunter smiled and opened the door.
The candlelight from the large chandelier overhead wrapped the room in a warm glow. He’d eaten meals here many times when Tanner had been out of town but had never seen the room like this. Several candelabras sat at intervals down the middle of the table, light from the candles flickering off the pristine white tablecloth and glinting off the silverware. The candles created an intimacy that hadn’t existed before. Or perhaps it was that the table was large enough for twelve but only set for five people. They were all gathered at one end.
Tanner sat at the head, in the middle of telling one of his elaborate stories, but paused when he caught sight of Castillo. His mouth hung open, a momentary lapse in composure, before he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “Castillo. What a pleasant surprise.”
Emmy sat to his right, with Hunter’s place vacant beside her. Two blonde women sat across from them, one of them a bit older, but Castillo didn’t pay them much attention. He opened his mouth to reply, but he’d never called the man Father and wouldn’t start now. However, calling him Tanner might seem rude with guests present. Damn, he probably should’ve thought this through. “Sorry if I’m interrupting. I offered to wait, but Hunter insisted.”
Tanner started to wave off his concern, but Hunter interrupted. “Ladies, you’ll have to forgive our provincial ways. This is my brother, Castillo. He’s just returned from Boston and we’ve missed him. I didn’t think you’d mind if he joined us.”
“Why, of course not.” The older woman seated at his father’s left pushed back from the table and rose to greet him. “I’ve been anxious to meet your brother. Besides, we’re only on the second course.” She laughed as she offered her hand to Castillo. She had golden hair streaked with gray at the temples, but was still very pretty with vivid blue eyes.
“This is Prudence Hartford Williams, my mother’s first cousin,” Hunter said, an obvious fondness for the woman in his voice.
“Your father has told us many good things about you, dear. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” Prudence’s smile brightened when Castillo took her fingers in his hand. If he wasn’t mistaken, her sharp gaze took in his shoulders with some appreciation. He couldn’t help but smile back at her.
He was shocked that she’d stood to greet him and that Tanner had spoken of him to her. He was also surprised that she didn’t seem to give his accent and darker complexion a second thought. He’d grown accustomed to the differences between himself and Boston society types, but sometimes those differences mattered to them.
“This is Caroline Hartford, her niece.” Hunter’s voice lowered conspiratorially and he smirked, winking at the women. “They were the only ones of the whole Hartford lot I could stomach during my years in Boston.”
“One would like to think he’s exaggerating, but he’s not. It’s going to be a long week.” Prudence smiled.
Hunter threw back his head and laughed. Castillo smiled, having heard from Hunter how much he disdained his mother’s side of the family. Hunter had been all but disowned by them when he’d chosen to stay out West with his father, who was already estranged from the Hartfords. They’d wanted him to become civilized and live in Boston with his mother. It was heartening to know that some of his mother’s family could appreciate him.
The niece moved, coming to her feet, as well. She had the exact shade of golden-blonde hair as the woman he’d saved on the train. And there’d been a woman passing by on the street in Helena who’d had similar blue eyes. It was funny how often he’d thought about her since that strange encounter. There had been something about her, some look in her eye that had drawn him in. Some instinct within him that had recognized a part of himself in her. It sounded crazy, but when he’d walked away it had been with a deep regret and an acknowledgment that he was leaving something important behind.
When the niece turned to face him all the air was sucked from his lungs.
It was her. She wasn’t smiling at him, like her aunt had, but staring at him with wide blue eyes. Eyes that recognized him as the man—Reyes—she’d met on the train who’d been chasing a man with a gun. Eyes that now knew him as Castillo Jameson.
Mierda. She knew who he was. Aside from the gang and Emmy, no one else here knew about his double identity as leader of the Reyes Brothers. Her knowledge could ruin everything. Hell, not only could it ruin everything, it could get them all thrown in jail or killed. His skin tightened as though he was about to spring out of his own body as his heart tried to pound its way out of his chest.
Her lips trembled, and she parted them twice before finally speaking. His next moments, hell, his entire future hinged on the words she would say. Her voice was clear and strong. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jameson.” She watched him carefully, her gaze holding fast to his, and he couldn’t look away.
At least she hadn’t called him Reyes. He took her offered hand, and that same jolt he’d experienced on the train moved up his arm to settle in his belly. She was wearing her spectacles this time, the thin gold rims perched high on her nose, making her look more prim and ordered than she had then. Her eyes weren’t wild from excitement, her cheeks weren’t flushed and her lips weren’t parted and gasping for air as they had been when he’d held her in his arms.
As if she was remembering the same thing, her lips did part and she took in a shaky breath. His gaze honed in on those perfectly formed lips the same way he stared a man down when looking for weakness. Only he wasn’t looking for weakness in her. He breathed in deep through his nose, breathing in the lavender scent he remembered from the train. His gaze dropped to the pulse fluttering beneath the pale skin of her neck.
She appeared off balance, just like she had then. Real. He didn’t like prim and proper on her, though she wore it well. She was elegant, with her hair tied up intricately, shining gold in the candlelight. The gown she wore fell just off her shoulders, the tastefully low cut of her neckline revealing just enough pale skin and shadows to draw his gaze to the hint of her breasts. She breathed in and they swelled beneath the pale pink silk. Elegant suited her, but he preferred her real and flushed, like on the train. The strange mix of emotions from that day came flooding back.
He forced himself to blink, hoping to break her spell. Now was not the time to notice her as a woman, as she could easily become an adversary. The silence had begun to drag out noticeably, so he brought her fingers to his lips. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Hartford.”
She took in a sharp breath and stared down at her fingers as if she was afraid she might not get them back. Good. She should be afraid of him. That edge of fear