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 house?”
She wasn’t about to give up the opportunity to explore the compound further. “No, I’m fine.” To her chagrin, he veered from the direction of the buildings, steering her to the gardens beside the house.
“You may enjoy taking a closer look at the garden tomorrow. Chad, the gardener, does a marvelous job.” Even in the swiftly lengthening shadows, Rachel could see he spoke the truth. The plants were heavy with blooms, their fragrance stinging the air. It would be even more impressive during the day.
With seeming idleness she said, “He must be very talented. How did you convince him to take a job so far from civilization?”
Caleb halted, and together they watched the sun sink behind the mountains in a spectacular display. “I never saw a sunset like that in San Francisco. I’ve yet to grow tired of it.” Belatedly, he answered her question. “Chad is one of our recruits. Those with particular talents often serve in a slightly different capacity.”
Disappointment rose. She ruthlessly kept it from her voice. “How lucky for you that your recruits are so gifted. Dinner tonight was excellent.”
With a touch on her elbow he guided her to a bench at the side of a path, and they sat. “Yes, Eliza is a jewel. She came to us from the Sons of Freedom. Have you heard of them?” Rachel had. “Their loss was my gain.” His teeth flashed in the growing darkness. “I’ve put on five pounds since she’s been here.”
She smiled at the pun, but her mind was busy. She would have stood a better chance of extracting bits and pieces of information from hired help. From his words, she assumed that everyone on the compound was a part of The Brotherhood. Did that mean that Carpenter was paranoid or just very careful? Either way, her job had just gotten a little more challenging.
She pushed the thought aside and seized the opening he’d offered. “If I’m going to eat like that every night, it won’t be long until I start tipping the scale myself. I’m used to being quite active.”
Her words had the desired effect. “Of course you are. Feel free to use the training facilities any time you wish. They’re stocked with state-of-the-art equipment.”
“I’m not surprised.” She turned to face him more fully. “From what I’ve seen there’s been no expense spared in the complex. You must be quite proud of what you’ve accomplished here.”
“Personal wealth makes a great many worries fade away. I feel strongly about what I’m doing. Your father was also a patriot for the cause, wasn’t he? I remember reading about his death when I was in college. You must have been, what? Twelve?”
“Fourteen,” she murmured, averting her gaze. She had to steel herself for the questions that would follow. She didn’t want thoughts of her father crowding in at a time like this, not when she had the opportunity to build a tenuous bond with the man beside her. But the memory of Hans Grunwald would very likely prove valuable in forging that bond. He had, after all, died for the very convictions Carpenter so fervently believed in.
“I’m
