Undercover Bride. Kylie Brant
She literally shook with false fury. “Am I to understand that I can’t bathe without fearing an intrusion?”
The soldier was taking in the scene with avid interest. Good. An audience only made the pretense more valuable. If Sutherland was going to align himself against her, she may need to discredit him in the future. The young man in the hallway could prove to be a witness if it came to that.
Sutherland had recovered. “I apologize. I mistakenly believed you were in need of assistance.”
Ice edged her words. “In the future, please wait until your assistance is invited.”
She thought for a moment she’d gone too far. Sutherland clenched his jaw and took a step toward her. Then he drew himself up, visibly reining in his temper. “Be careful here, Miss Grunwald. Be very careful.” After delivering the warning, he spun on his heel and marched to the door. As he was pulling it closed behind him, the soldier called, “Oh, and ma’am? You’ll dine with the general at six-thirty.”
Surveying the panels of the closed door, Rachel took a deep silent breath. The magnitude of the scene began to register. Earlier Sutherland had made it clear he didn’t approve of her presence here. Now it was obvious that in addition to Carpenter she had yet another powerful enemy to contend with in The Brotherhood. It only remained to be discovered why.
Chapter 3
She was exquisite in candlelight. As sounds of Chopin crashed around them, Caleb sipped from his glass, unmindful for the moment of the finely aged wine he tasted. Some would consider it sacrilegious not to savor every drop of the rare wine. It seemed even more sinful not to feast on the beauty before him.
“You’re staring.”
He inclined his head, unabashed to be caught in the act. Despite her accusation, she continued to eat the succulent pheasant. She was clearly used to male appreciation.
“You’re very beautiful.”
His words were a simple statement, and she accepted them with a shrug. “I’ve found that the true measure of a person lies beneath the surface.”
He nodded slowly, setting his glass down. “Usually, although with some people what’s on the surface is all there is. You’re different, though. There’s something about you, Rachel, that hints at layers, one wrapped tightly around the other, to conceal secrets you rarely reveal. It makes a man want to be the one to peel those layers back, one by one, and discover…everything.”
To disguise the slight tremor in her hand, she laid down her fork. There was no reason this man’s words should affect her. His seductive words were just that, not an indicator that he suspected she wasn’t what she seemed. But the shiver that skated over her skin wasn’t completely due to a fear of his mistrust. She reminded herself that he was a master of words, one who used them as weapons, to cajole, threaten and condemn. Just as her father had. Thought of her father had the tremors abruptly dissipating.
“And what about you, Caleb Carpenter?” Her tone was light, the reason behind the question wasn’t. “Is there a part of yourself that you seek to keep from the world?”
He chewed carefully, as if pondering her question. “I suppose many would regard me as a very private person, yes. It suits my purposes to keep important matters to myself.”
“Is that what caused you to advertise for a wife, rather than seeking one out in a more traditional manner?” Her words were almost a dare, although they were delivered innocently enough. The literature Sutherland had given her stated exactly what had caused Carpenter to search for a wife. He’d reiterated as much in his words to the troops shortly after her arrival today.
This time his answer was even slower in coming. He picked up a napkin and wiped at his mouth before answering. “I confess I never thought overmuch about the qualities I would look for in a wife.” His gaze warmed, and he reached over to enclose her fingers in his. “And only recently have I begun to discover what those qualities are.”
The heat in his look was mirrored in his touch. She smiled, but after a moment, removed her hand under the guise of reaching for her wineglass. She preferred to avoid his touch. It had a way of clouding her thoughts, momentarily blurring her intent. The unfamiliar feelings were no doubt caused by a combination of fatigue and adrenaline. However explained, they were annoying. Emotion had never been allowed to infiltrate an assignment. It never would be.
He was a man who would appear at home in a roomful of shimmering people, clad in a designer tux and cupping a cognac snifter in his hand. She didn’t doubt that he was cultured, but knew the veneer could be an effective disguise. Most would never question his charming, civil mask. Most would never perceive the underlying element of quiet menace about him that he strove to conceal.
Conversation lagged, and neither made a move to end it. Caleb was content to study her in the resulting silence. She’d chosen a pale-yellow sleeveless sheath that was a perfect foil for her hair, which she’d again pulled up in a knot. Despite his earlier words, he knew the value in taking it slow with her. He’d been only eight when he’d spent time tagging along with the gardener on his parents’ estates, admiring the roses. Anxious for the buds to unfurl into full bloom, he’d systematically peeled a full dozen of them, convinced that once he’d stripped the delicate petals aside, the rose would be fully visible. Instead, he’d been left with a path strewn with destroyed flowers, and a stern scolding. The man had learned much from the child; there would be far greater pleasure to be had if he peeled away the layers of Rachel Grunwald one filmy strip at a time. The patience it would take was no deterrent. Patience was a particular strength of his.
Her words interrupted his reverie. “You spoke of family earlier. Do any of them visit you here?”
His gaze dropped and he reached for his wine again. “No. I go to San Francisco to see them every month or so.”
His answer was just short of brusque, but it didn’t stop her from probing further. “Do they share our convictions for the future of the white race?”
The music changed, into something moody and melancholy. “My family is very traditional and extremely stubborn. We’ve agreed to disagree about what I’ve chosen to do with my life.” Because the admission was accompanied by a twinge of regret, he pushed his chair back and rose. “Are you finished? It’s still early. I could show you the grounds.”
Rachel stood, a genuine smile curving her lips. “I’d like that.”
The grounds, she soon learned, consisted of a lush, well-kept lawn surrounded by three hundred acres of land. The compound had been built on a plateau surrounded on two sides by the picturesque Sawtooth Mountains. As they rounded the house, Rachel saw again the buildings that dotted the vicinity, and asked about them.
“Some are living quarters for the troops. The few families here have their own homes. Kevin lives in one with his daughter. Careful.” His hand lightly touched her elbow. “The walk there is uneven.” The shiver his touch evoked was due to the rapidly cooling temperature, she assured herself. The sun was already bleeding across the sky. “The other buildings are for training purposes. The troops follow a daily regimen…weaponry instruction, hand-to-hand combat and so forth.”
He was describing a day much like any other she’d spent within various militias. “I spent quite a bit of time in the Comrades compound teaching hand-to-hand tactics and martial arts. I’d be interested in seeing your facility, even in providing some instruction if there’s a need for it.”
She caught him smiling, and arched her eyebrows. “You find that amusing?”
He held up his hands placatingly. “I’m not impugning your talent, believe me. But I don’t like the thought of you wrestling with some of these gorillas here.”
“Gorillas don’t frighten me.” Still intent on scanning the area, she started a little when he slipped his gray suit jacket over her shoulders.
“You’re shivering. The temperature drops quickly at night. Would you like to return to the