A Marriage Deal with the Outlaw

by Harper St. George

  “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 was the only certainty he had that she’d keep quiet for now. It was a fine line. Too much fear could make her reckless. He’d have to play her carefully.

  Castillo dropped her hand because Emmy had come around the table to embrace him.

  “Welcome back,” she said. “How was your trip? Did you get to see any sights?”

  He gave the standard answers: the trip was fine, the food on the train was awful, and yes, he’d gone to a play at the Bijou Theater. The whole time he spoke, he was taking in the reactions around him. He’d had too much practice having to be constantly aware of the mood in the room.

  Hunter had noticed that something transpired between him and Caroline Hartford. His shoulders straightened and the smile fell from his lips as he put a hand at Emmy’s waist and pulled her close.

  Prudence had noticed, too, though her response was very different. She didn’t know about his other identity and their constant need to be vigilant of danger. She only knew that her niece had reacted to him, and she watched them both now with a gleam in her eye, looking back and forth between them as if she’d had the thought to play matchmaker. He’d have to figure out a way to get Caroline alone before she could talk to anyone. She needed to know what was at risk before she inadvertently revealed the Jamesons were the Reyes Brothers.

  Tanner indicated that they needed another place set at the table. A maid who’d been standing at attention along the wall sprang into action, taking a place setting from the glass-faced cabinet at the end of the room. Hunter led Emmy back around to their side of the table.

  “Put him there, next to Caroline.” Prudence smiled, already meddling. “I’d love to hear more of what you thought about Boston, Castillo. Caroline loves the theater. We’ll take you next time you visit.”

  The woman wasn’t subtle. “That was my first and only visit, senora.” Castillo waited for the women to sit, before daring a glance at his father and taking his own seat. Tanner didn’t seem to notice that Caroline had had a reaction to him. His brow was furrowed, but his thoughts seemed to be turned inward. Castillo wasn’t looking forward to the after-dinner confrontation they were certain to have. He hadn’t seen Tanner in years. The man would certainly want to speak to him.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Jameson.” The maid murmured near his ear as she leaned forward to place a glass of wine on the table for him.

  He nearly smiled but only inclined his head. “Mary.” Most of the time the household ran with a skeleton staff, but she must’ve been brought from town due to the extra guests. She usually worked for Glory at Victoria House, not in the brothel upstairs, but serving drinks and beefsteaks downstairs in the various dining rooms. Though she’d made it clear to him several times that she’d be willing to make herself available for more. What would the uptight guests from Boston think if they knew a serving girl from a brothel was serving them their dinner?

  She stepped back and a bowl of pea soup was placed in front of him. He’d been starving, but now he felt too damned tired and anxious to eat. His shoulders were tight, and he was on edge, so attuned to Caroline Hartford at his side that he was aware of every breath she took. Every time she gathered one in, he tensed, knowing that this time she’d tell everyone at the table what she knew. It wasn’t until she resumed eating her half-finished bowl of soup that he relaxed enough to pick up his own spoon.

  Caroline. The name didn’t suit the woman he’d held on the train. She’d been bold and only barely fazed by the ordeal. This woman was a little afraid, but not subdued. Her brow was furrowed and her shoulders tense. She was quiet because she was plotting. He could practically hear her thoughts churning. It was an unpredictable combination that kept him worried.

  “May I ask what took you to Boston?” Prudence asked.

  “I escorted my younger brother, Miguel. He starts university there in autumn.” Castillo inwardly cringed at the explanation. There was no way to adequately explain Miguel’s existence without labeling either Hunter or Castillo a bastard and Tanner a man with two wives. This was one reason he avoided social interactions with the Jamesons.

  Tanner had grown up in Texas and married Castillo’s mother shortly after being injured in the war. It had been a simple ceremony in a chapel on Castillo’s grandfather’s property. But after Castillo had been born, Tanner had been lured to Montana Territory by the promise of wealth in the mines, and he’d forgotten about his first family. He’d soon married Isabelle Hartford, daughter of the wealthy Hartford family from Boston. Unlike with Tanner’s first wedding, however, all the appropriate papers had been filed to prove the marriage was legal and binding. Castillo’s mother had been heartbroken at the abandonment, but she’d eventually moved on and Miguel had been born from a new marriage.

  The only hint Prudence gave that she thought the fact he had a younger brother named Miguel odd was when she paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. She was so poised, with her back ramrod straight, that she didn’t spill a drop. “How wonderful. You’ll have a Harvard boy at your table before long,” she finally said, and carried on as if Castillo hadn’t laid one of Tanner’s biggest scandals at her feet.

  “We’re very proud of the boy,” Tanner said. Castillo couldn’t help but glance at him in surprise, but the man’s gaze was on Prudence. Tanner had had enough practice playing the politician in Washington as he fought for statehood that he easily wrangled any awkwardness out of a conversation and smoothed it out. “He’s sharp as they come, if a bit wild from living his life out West. Boston will civilize him.”

  “I’ve no doubt of that, but let’s hope he keeps some of that wildness about him. Too much polish dulls the edges. We could use more men in the world like your sons.” She winked across the table at Hunter, who threw his head back and laughed.

  “I’ve missed you, Aunt Prudie. Never change.”

  “Oh, posh, you can’t have missed me too much. Seems you’ve kept yourself occupied.” She smiled at Emmy and brought her wineglass up in a toast before taking a dainty sip, causing Emmy to blush.

  Castillo couldn’t help but smile and took a drink from his own glass. Red wine wasn’t his first choice, but it went down smooth.

  Hunter smiled at Emmy, and Castillo wasn’t certain his brother was aware of the naked love and adoration on his face for everyone to see. Emmy practically glowed beneath the power of his gaze. Castillo had to look away from their obvious happiness. He didn’t begrudge them their love, but jealousy tore at him, digging its claws in deep.

  It wasn’t that he wanted Emmy for himself; it was that he wanted a wife. He wanted a family, love, devotion, the satisfaction of building a life together. All of that was supposed to have been his before his grandfather had been murdered and his home burned to the ground. In the years since, Castillo hadn’t been able to do anything more than fight to get back what was his. Looking for a wife wasn’t something he could consider right now. Especially when he only had danger and instability to offer her.

  Tanner cleared his throat. “Tell us more about your trip, Castillo. How were the Andersons?”

  For the first time, Caroline broke her silence. As soon as she opened her mouth, Castillo tensed, prepared to cover her mouth and drag her away from the table if he had to. “Yes, Mr. Jameson, I’d love to hear all about your trip.” She took a sip of her wine and shot him a challenging glance over the edge of her glass.

  That glance landed like a punch to his gut. Her eyes shone up at him like sapphires, and he wasn’t sure why she was taunting him, but something in him liked it. A lot. Taking a breath, Castillo launched into a general retelling of his trip to Boston. The tale had the benefit of allowing him to control the conversation, so he didn’t mind, but he kept an eye on Caroline. She made sure her comments were benign, but her eyes snapped at him. She was planning something, but he didn’t know what.

  “Did you take the train out?”
she asked when he’d finished. Mary had just cleared their plates from the table, and Willy had given them bowls of hothouse strawberries with clotted cream. “Aunt Prudie and I took the number two train. You weren’t on that train, by chance? How serendipitous it would’ve been.”

  Castillo clenched his jaw so tightly he nearly saw stars. She was playing with fire, and she damn well knew it judging from the glint in her eye. He shook his head but was saved from responding by Prudence.

  “Oh, that would’ve been lovely. It was a beautiful trip.” She described the scenery they’d passed, leaving Castillo to glare at her niece. Caroline merely glared back.

  Dessert was mercifully short, and then Emmy suggested they all retire to the front porch for brandy. Castillo gritted his teeth as he wondered how to get Caroline alone. He couldn’t let her out of his sight until he’d somehow garnered her cooperation.

  “That sounds lovely, but I’m afraid that I must go upstairs and check on my father,” Caroline said, placing her linen napkin on the table and pushing her chair back to rise to her feet.

  Castillo immediately rose and gripped her chair to assist her. “Your father?” How many potential allies did she have?

  “Yes, he doesn’t travel well, I’m afraid,” Caroline explained.

  “You’ll meet him tomorrow, dear.” Prudence rose. “My brother is a brilliant man, but he’s never taken to travel, and he suffered a brain attack two years ago that only exacerbated the issue. Go on up and check on him, Caro, but then come out and join us. It’s a beautiful night.”

  Caroline cast him a glance that had him thinking she intended to go directly to her father and confess everything. For the first time that night, Castillo’s palms began to sweat. He had to talk to her before she saw her father. Desperate to stop her, he grabbed his wineglass and intentionally fumbled it, spilling the expensive Bordeaux across the tablecloth and down her skirt.