regarding him with wary eyes. He seemed delighted with his success, but she had the suspicion he wasn't being totally honest. How could he remember a beating and nothing else?
Besides, from what little she knew of Jacob Wolfe, she couldn't imagine him beating his son. He hadn't struck her as being a violent man. He'd seemed far too gentle for that.
"You don't believe me," he said flatly before she could put her thoughts into words, and Caitlin made an awkward gesture.
"I don't disbelieve you," she said, which wasn't what he wanted to hear, and his lips twisted.
"Well, we know where my father is. Why don't we ask him? Better that than you think me a liar. I assure you, I'm not making it up. I distinctly remember him taking his belt to me—on more than one occasion."
"If you say so." Caitlin was noncommittal. "But how can you be so sure? It could be a memory of something you once read about—or saw. Why are you so convinced? Do you have any proof?"
"Not unless I've still got the stripes across my butt," responded Nathan tersely. "Hey, can I help it if you don't like what you hear?"
Caitlin sighed. "But your father seemed such a—a gentle man. He didn't strike me as someone who'd abuse his son."
Nathan shrugged. "And that's proof that he didn't?"
"No. No—but, for heaven's sake! When he found out you'd been injured, he had to come and see that you were all right."
"Correction," retorted Nathan sourly. "The old guy's half-senile. You've got no idea what he used to be like when he was my age."
Caitlin pressed her lips together. "I admit—he did seem confused."
"Didn't he just?"
Caitlin frowned. "I don't really know him well enough to judge."
"Why not?"
"Why not?" Caitlin looked perplexed for a moment, and then comprehension dawned. "Oh—well, because that was the first time I'd met him."
Nathan stared at her. "Run that by me again."
"What?"
"That bit about your not knowing my father." He scowled. "Are you kidding me?"
"No." Caitlin sighed. "He—didn't come to our wedding because he wasn't well. Or so you said," she added a little resentfully. "In any case, we never met until I saw him the other day."
"And we've been married how long?"
Caitlin swallowed. "Three years."
"Three years?" He was evidently amazed. "Are you sure about this?" He shook his head. "Are you sure you're my wife?"
Caitlin flushed. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well, hell…" Nathan made a frustrated gesture. "You must admit this gets more and more bizarre. I've only your word you are who you say you are, and now you tell me you never even met my family. Why didn't we go to see him after we were married?"
"I don't know." Caitlin had no intention of going into that. "We—just didn't, that's all."
"Any minute now, you're going to tell me that Prescott is a long way from London."
"Well, it is."
"But you didn't think twice about getting on a plane when you found out I'd been injured, did you?"
"No…"
"So, you have to admit, it's pretty strange that you didn't ever meet my father, isn't it?"
"All right." Caitlin spread her hands. "I—I've been negligent, okay? Does it matter?"
Nathan shook his head. "It might. We've only this old guy's word that he was my father, haven't we?"
"No." Caitlin frowned. "I told you. I went to Prescott. I visited his house. The house you grew up in. He—he has pictures of you all over the place."
"Huh." Nathan grunted, but it seemed her explanation had gone some way to reassuring him on that score at least.
However, his next words proved he hadn't totally abandoned the topic. "And, based on what, less than twenty-four hours experience, you're telling me my old man wasn't the kind of man to take his belt to his son?"
"I—I think so."
"So where does that leave me?" She was alarmed to see how drawn his face had become. "Something's not right about this, Kate. I can feel it. I just wish to hell I knew what it was."
He moved then, shifting onto his back again and staring at the roof of the cabin as
Besides, from what little she knew of Jacob Wolfe, she couldn't imagine him beating his son. He hadn't struck her as being a violent man. He'd seemed far too gentle for that.
"You don't believe me," he said flatly before she could put her thoughts into words, and Caitlin made an awkward gesture.
"I don't disbelieve you," she said, which wasn't what he wanted to hear, and his lips twisted.
"Well, we know where my father is. Why don't we ask him? Better that than you think me a liar. I assure you, I'm not making it up. I distinctly remember him taking his belt to me—on more than one occasion."
"If you say so." Caitlin was noncommittal. "But how can you be so sure? It could be a memory of something you once read about—or saw. Why are you so convinced? Do you have any proof?"
"Not unless I've still got the stripes across my butt," responded Nathan tersely. "Hey, can I help it if you don't like what you hear?"
Caitlin sighed. "But your father seemed such a—a gentle man. He didn't strike me as someone who'd abuse his son."
Nathan shrugged. "And that's proof that he didn't?"
"No. No—but, for heaven's sake! When he found out you'd been injured, he had to come and see that you were all right."
"Correction," retorted Nathan sourly. "The old guy's half-senile. You've got no idea what he used to be like when he was my age."
Caitlin pressed her lips together. "I admit—he did seem confused."
"Didn't he just?"
Caitlin frowned. "I don't really know him well enough to judge."
"Why not?"
"Why not?" Caitlin looked perplexed for a moment, and then comprehension dawned. "Oh—well, because that was the first time I'd met him."
Nathan stared at her. "Run that by me again."
"What?"
"That bit about your not knowing my father." He scowled. "Are you kidding me?"
"No." Caitlin sighed. "He—didn't come to our wedding because he wasn't well. Or so you said," she added a little resentfully. "In any case, we never met until I saw him the other day."
"And we've been married how long?"
Caitlin swallowed. "Three years."
"Three years?" He was evidently amazed. "Are you sure about this?" He shook his head. "Are you sure you're my wife?"
Caitlin flushed. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well, hell…" Nathan made a frustrated gesture. "You must admit this gets more and more bizarre. I've only your word you are who you say you are, and now you tell me you never even met my family. Why didn't we go to see him after we were married?"
"I don't know." Caitlin had no intention of going into that. "We—just didn't, that's all."
"Any minute now, you're going to tell me that Prescott is a long way from London."
"Well, it is."
"But you didn't think twice about getting on a plane when you found out I'd been injured, did you?"
"No…"
"So, you have to admit, it's pretty strange that you didn't ever meet my father, isn't it?"
"All right." Caitlin spread her hands. "I—I've been negligent, okay? Does it matter?"
Nathan shook his head. "It might. We've only this old guy's word that he was my father, haven't we?"
"No." Caitlin frowned. "I told you. I went to Prescott. I visited his house. The house you grew up in. He—he has pictures of you all over the place."
"Huh." Nathan grunted, but it seemed her explanation had gone some way to reassuring him on that score at least.
However, his next words proved he hadn't totally abandoned the topic. "And, based on what, less than twenty-four hours experience, you're telling me my old man wasn't the kind of man to take his belt to his son?"
"I—I think so."
"So where does that leave me?" She was alarmed to see how drawn his face had become. "Something's not right about this, Kate. I can feel it. I just wish to hell I knew what it was."
He moved then, shifting onto his back again and staring at the roof of the cabin as
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