She mustered a prim tone. “I won’t miss the sunsets because there is a small porch out back. Papa said it was my mother’s idea, to build it, that she loves the sunsets, too, and they spent every evening on it before dinner.”
“Rumor was he beat her and that’s why she left. Was that true?”
“Of course not!” she said sharply in her father’s defense.
“Then why’d she leave him?”
“I was hoping he could tell me. He actually blamed your family for it—well, the feud. One more reason for him to hate Callahans.”
“That would be—incredibly unfortunate if it’s so.” Hunter’s powder-blue eyes were gazing at her intently.
“Why?”
“Because that’s a dumb reason for a woman to abandon her husband and sons. Because you and I could have grown up together if she hadn’t run off. Because we’d be married by now.”
How dare he assume such a thing! Indignantly she said, “Do not presume that would have happened if I had grown up here. If I had, it’s much more likely that I would have fallen in love with your brother Cole, since he’s more my age.”
She marched back into the house before he could reply to that.
Chapter Forty-Seven
TIFFANY WAS SURE HUNTER had left after all, but he came inside a few minutes after they’d adjourned to the dining room. Hearing the sound of boots on the polished wood floor, she peeked over her shoulder and saw him standing behind her in the doorway. He was just in time to hear her apology.
“I assure you I didn’t plan to impersonate a housekeeper,” she was saying to Zachary and Mary, who were sitting next to each other. “When your sons assumed I was Miss Fleming and offered me the job, I realized it was an opportunity to get to know your family without the feud modifying your behavior in my presence.”
“But your pa didn’t even know,” Zachary said, then turned to Frank. “Or did you?”
“No, she wasn’t ready to meet me yet. But that’s a private matter—”
“It’s all right, Papa. They have a right to know. The fact is that I didn’t know my father. I had no memory of him. My brothers would visit me in New York, but Frank never did.”
“Now that ain’t so,” Zachary disagreed. “We know where he went when he took off with his boys. Came home every time with gray hair. We figured Rose was scaring the bejesus outta him,” Zachary ended with a snicker.
“It was a damn disguise,” Frank mumbled.
“So you did beat her while she was here? Threatened to shoot you if she ever saw you again, eh? Figured as much.”
“Don’t be an ass,” Frank retorted.
Zachary didn’t take offense. He was chuckling to himself over getting Frank’s goat. Tiffany gave both of them pointed looks so she could get on with her apology.
She addressed the Callahans again. “Mama made me promise to come here, but I didn’t promise to stay with my father. You gave me the means to avoid him, for which I was grateful at the time. I was certain he didn’t care about me—and because I thought that, I had convinced myself that I didn’t care about him either. I was wrong on both counts.”
“So all patched up?” Mary said with a smile.
Tiffany smiled back. “Indeed.”
“Apology accepted, gal,” Zachary added gruffly. “No harm was done—”
Hunter cut in, “Depends on how you define harm.”
No one wanted to address that remark, least of all Tiffany. They assumed he was referring to how angry he was over the deception, but she was afraid he was talking about compromising her. If he got all noble and told her father about it . . .
Standing behind Tiffany, he dropped a letter from her mother on her plate now before he took the seat across from her. She stared at it, tried to resist opening it, pretty much knew what it would say. She couldn’t resist.
Have you taken leave of your senses? were the first words on several pages. Do you realize how hurt your father is going to be if he finds out you’d rather stay in the enemy camp than with him?!
Tiffany read no further and quickly stuffed the pages back in the envelope. “Bad news?” Hunter asked, watching her.
She glanced across at him. “No—it’s just my mother has a bit of a temper.”
“A bit?” Franklin said, and even grinned slightly.
“More like a volcano in britches,” Zachary said, actually agreeing with Franklin.
Tiffany blinked at the oldest Callahan. “My mother wore britches here?”
Her father answered, “She did occasionally when she was in a hurry to go riding.”
“She was wearing them when she came to my place to tell me I was going to give my boy to you in marriage,” Zachary added. “Said she’d shoot me, too, if I didn’t honor a truce till then.”
“I wasn’t aware she threatened you,” Franklin said to Zachary.
“He’s exaggerating,” Mary put in. “Well, she did say that, but it was after he’d already agreed to the match.”
“That was your doing,” Zachary reminded his wife.
“It was a good idea,” Mary insisted.
“But she must not have thought you’d honor it, or she wouldn’t have left,” Franklin said coldly.
“Now hold on,” Zachary growled. “You ain’t putting the blame for that on us!”
Tiffany intervened with marked disapproval, even tapping her fork against her empty wineglass in case someone didn’t hear her. “If you please, a civil tone will be maintained at any table I sit at. And my father was mistaken. It is embarrassing to admit it, but we don’t actually know why my mother left Montana.” Then she abruptly changed the subject, telling Hunter, “There will likely be another letter from her in the next day or two delivered to your ranch. Papa already telegraphed her to let her know I’m with him now, but her second letter will have already been dispatched.”
Tiffany was still eager for that second letter and Rose’s permission to leave. As much as she’d like to spend more time with her father and brothers now, her feelings for Hunter were too powerful. She had to get away from them, away from him, and the sooner she did, the sooner she could start forgetting him. Because she still couldn’t marry him. Her mind hadn’t changed about that. Her own reasons paled in comparison to the one he’d given her himself. It didn’t matter what she looked like, wouldn’t even matter if he thought he loved her. Deep down, the hate he’d lived with all his life would always be between them.
Ironically, she would never have found that out if she hadn’t impersonated Jennifer. But then that’s who he was actually attracted to, a woman who’d done things for effect, for the role she’d been playing, a role that had allowed her to behave with abandon and do things Tiffany would never otherwise have done. She tried not to blush but she felt her cheeks growing warm. He wasn’t going to like the real her, her sophistication and elegance, and her adherence to propriety. She hoped he’d figure that out before the night was done.
She had planned to introduce the dreaded subject of the feud with dessert, so as not to spoil the dinner, but no one was comfortable at the table after they had nearly just come to blows. She still tried to delay it, introducing a few neutral subjects, but only Hunter, or occasionally his mother, replied. His brothers were still staring at her as if they’d never seen her before. Zachary was sitting there with a deep frown now. Frank was tight-lipped. Her brothers were, too, for that matter. Hunter—well, she tried to keep her eyes off him, even when he replied to something she said.
At least they were eating, if not talking. Frank must have told his cook to outdo himself tonight. Was it universal, the need to impress one’s enemies? The appetizer was French, individual bowls of onion soup crusted with cheese. The main course was English, a large roast so pink it was nearly rare, with a half dozen baskets full of Yorkshire-pudding buns added to the table.
Tiffany’s own stomach was tied in knots. What she said tonight could end the feud—or make it worse. With most of them almost done with the roast, she gave up trying to wait any
longer.
“I would like to discuss the future—and the past,” she said, glancing between Frank and Zachary. “There may be some things our two families aren’t aware of. I’ve heard both sides of the story of the feud now. I wonder if anyone else here can say that.”
“We lived it, gal,” Zachary said with a snort. “What’s not to know?”
“That facts may have gotten lost over the years or were never revealed. For instance, did you know that Elijah was actually unfaithful to Mariah that night? He did cheat on her, which was why she shot him the next morning.”
Zachary didn’t answer, but she could see in his expression that she’d surprised him. “So many people have suffered over this because those two couldn’t work things out. They’re dead, and their only legacy is to still cause suffering?”
“She never should have followed us here,” Zachary finally spoke up. “Never seen my pa so furious. That wasn’t an easy move, and he did it just to get away from her, but she shows up here? That was nuts!”
“I think even she knew it was,” Frank chimed in. “I was as surprised as you were to find us neighbors again.”
“Then why didn’t you leave?” Zachary shot back.
“Because she convinced me she’d never find peace without some sort of resolution.”
“Is that some fancy name for killing my pa?” Zachary nearly shouted.
Frank glowered. “They were intimate before they shot each other. You were there to see it. Who’s to say she didn’t intend to put an end to the animosity?”
“And changed her mind afterwards?”
“You never told me they made love, Zach,” Mary piped in.
“Because I didn’t believe it,” Zachary mumbled.
“They were barely dressed, Zachary,” Frank said.
“Doesn’t matter, I don’t doubt she shot him first.”
“I don’t doubt it either,” Frank said.
“Stop agreeing with me, damnit. Ya’ll tore down our fences!”
“No, actually, my herd did that with no help from me,” Frank replied. “A cow wants water, it’s going to damn well get to it. You know that.”
“And which time are you talking about?” Zachary growled. “The first, or the fifth?”
Mary intervened, asking her husband, “Does it matter? That first fence went up just because Elijah had a point to make, that the Warrens shouldn’t have followed us here. It continued to go up out of pure orneriness. But you and Frank finally had it out, as I recall. That was a nasty fight, but at least you two didn’t bring your guns to the table.” Then she glanced at Tiffany to explain, “Warrens tore down the fence, Callahans put it back up. That went on for nigh six months. It ended up that both sides would just keep any cattle that crossed over the creek. That didn’t decimate either family’s herd, just gave the cowboys something to brag about.”
“Until the night Zachary had someone shoot me, and my wife left less than a month later,” Frank said bitterly.
“I didn’t tell anyone to shoot you!” Zachary denied hotly. “And if Rose was so all-fired upset about it, she would’ve mentioned it when she came to my ranch that night. She didn’t say a single word about you being shot. She was only interested in getting a truce going. I’ll warrant she already knew she was leaving and was just doing what she could to protect her boys.”
Silence followed that particular speculation. Tiffany was actually inclined to agree with Zachary. But since only Rose could confirm or deny it, and she wasn’t there to do that, it wasn’t pertinent to what they needed to discuss tonight. And it was time to say it.
“I’m going to suggest a permanent end to a feud that never should have started,” she began carefully.
“We’ve already agreed to an end,” Zachary reminded her.
“With stipulations, because even with your parents dead, you still found something to fight over. But let me ask you, did your father really claim a whole lake as his? Wouldn’t you have built closer to it if he did? Or did he only claim it after my grandmother arrived, so she’d know how furious he was that she’d followed him here?”
“We were here first,” Zachary said.
“Yes, and in loyalty to your father, you weren’t willing to share a natural resource. You’ve both enjoyed a truce for fifteen years. You expect it to become permanent through a marriage. Go one better and just end your feud now. Because if you both can’t admit you were wrong to let this go on for two more generations, no marriage is going to help that.”
Zachary frowned. “You calling off the betrothal?”
Tiffany groaned to herself. Had he heard nothing she’d said? And why hadn’t Hunter jumped in to agree with her? He’d hated the burden of their marriage all his life. It should not be a prerequisite for peace! So what if wars had been ended throughout history with marriage alliances. Were they ever happy marriages?
“I’m just asking you to think about what I said,” Tiffany answered.
“What I’m thinking is we’ve overstayed our welcome,” Zachary replied, and stood up.
No one disagreed with him. In fact, the exit was rather quick. Mary said a few polite things in parting, but she was obviously embarrassed. Had she thought they’d be discussing wedding plans tonight?
Chapter Forty-Eight
HUNTER WAS THE ONLY Callahan who didn’t leave the dining room immediately. Tiffany glanced at him to discern what he thought of her suggestion, but the look she got back was pensive, a little curious, utterly lacking in humor. It told her nothing.
But he must have intended to share his thoughts because when he did stand up, he said, “Come out to the porch with me to say good night.”
“Not if you’re going to kiss me again.”
“You strike a hard bargain, Red.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Frank said, actually sounding amused as he left the room to see his guests out.
Hunter came around the table and held out his hand to her. She stared at it a long moment before she took it. They did need to talk. If it wasn’t obvious to him yet, she had to make it clear to him that she wasn’t Jennifer—and without making him angry, because his support was paramount to ending the feud. So she led him out of the room and started to follow her father to the front porch, but Hunter pulled her in the opposite direction.
“That one’s too crowded. Show me where you’ll be watching the sunset.”
She nodded and led him down the hall, which branched to a T at the back, then down another short passage between a couple storage rooms at the left corner of the house, quite a different design from the Callahans’ home. The outbuildings here were even on the right side of the house instead of behind it. The small porch at the end of that passage was private, with no windows looking out on it. It wasn’t completely dark outside. The sun had set, but the moon was on the rise, looking quite beautiful since it was nearly full tonight.
Tiffany ignored the two comfortable, short chaise longues that were placed side by side. They were new. Her father had told her he’d had to replace them every few years due to weathering, but they were the exact same design Rose had picked out so long ago. Tiffany had pictured her parents leaning back in them as they watched the sunset, holding hands.
She moved to one of the corner posts and leaned against it, staring up at the moon.
“Your mother had good ideas,” Hunter remarked as he moved to stand behind her. “You’re going to want a porch like this, too, aren’t you, Red?”
She would have if her future home were going to be in a place that had sunsets as spectacular as they were here, but it wasn’t. “You have to stop calling me that. My name is Tiffany.”
“That’s the problem. In my mind, it’s not. And maybe it’s not in yours, either. Would the woman you’re trying so hard to convince me you are have mentioned kissing me in front of her whole family?”
She tsked. “I know you’re trying to make a point with that logic, but among family is the only time I don’t have to watch what
I say.”
“But with everyone else you do?”
“Certainly, as is only proper.”
“Do you like living that way?”
“It’s ingrained in me. It’s as natural to me as being blunt is to you. What wasn’t natural was my trying to be Jennifer, the housekeeper. That was—difficult. That was wrong. I apologized to your family, Hunter, but that didn’t express how sorry I am for deceiving you. I know you’re angry. You have every right to be.”
“I was,” he said softly, and put his hands on her shoulders. “But do I sound angry now?”
She quickly stepped to the side to get out of his reach and turned to face him. “You sound like you still think I’m Jennifer Fleming, but I’m trying to tell you that I’m nothing like her. I might have gotten a little carried away with the charade, but it’s over. Who you see now is the real me, Tiffany Warren, and this isn’t who you want. You even told me—”
The words caught in her throat as he grasped her waist and lifted her, setting her down on the porch railing next to them, far enough from the post that she couldn’t grab it to get her balance. She had to grab him instead. But he made that easy, lifting her gown enough to move in between her legs to trap her there.
She gasped. “Stop this.”
“Hell no. We’re going to find out who you’re trying to convince of what, because I don’t need convincing of anything, but you apparently do.”
She didn’t have a chance to reply. He held her face as his mouth slanted across hers, so quickly reminding her of that night in the barn when she’d abandoned everything for what he made her feel. It was there again, that passion, blinding her to reason and logic, negating everything she’d just tried to tell him, and she didn’t care! This was the one perfect thing they had between them, where their families didn’t matter, where nothing mattered except each other. . . .
He leaned in closer. She held on tighter, deepening the kiss herself. It was ecstasy to hold him again like this, taste him again. How was it possible to want someone this much?
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