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Serena shot Caine a look. "Only believe half of what he tells you," she advised, then was off again.
    "Your sister…" Diana trailed off, then with a quick, wondering laugh accepted the slice of bacon Caine offered. "She's not what I expected, either."
    "Do you always have a picture in your head before you meet someone?"
    "Yes, I suppose. Doesn't everyone?"
    Caine merely moved his shoulders and continued to eat. "What did you expect Rena to be like?"
    "Sturdier, for one thing." Diana chewed the bacon absently as she considered. "She seems so fragile, until you really look and see the strength in her face. And I guess I was looking for someone more obviously intellectual, glossier. She's not the sort of woman I would have pictured Justin married to, though I had difficulty picturing him married at all."
    "It could be," Caine said quietly, "that he's not what you think, either."
    Her eyes lifted at that, instantly cool and remote. "No, I don't know him, do I?"
    It was difficult not to be annoyed at how easily she could slip into her armour. Caine sliced through his eggs and continued mildly. "It's never easy to know anyone unless you want to."
    "It isn't wise to lecture on a subject you know nothing about," she retorted. "You had a tidy little childhood, didn't you, Caine?" The futility began to rise in her, and with it, anger. "Mother, father, sister, brother. You knew exactly who you were and where you belonged. You've no right to analyze or disapprove of my feelings when you have no way of comprehending them."
    Caine leaned back and lit a cigarette. "Is that what I was doing?"
    "Do you think it's easy to erase twenty years of neglect, of disinterest?" she tossed back. "I needed him once, I don't need him now."
    "Then why did you come?"
    "To exorcise those last, lingering ghosts." She shoved the coffee cup aside. "I wanted to see him as a man so I'd stop remembering him as a boy. When I leave, I won't think of him at all."
    Caine eyed her through a thin mist of smoke. "You can't pretend you're ice and steel with me, Diana. I was with you yesterday after you saw Justin."
    "That's over."
    "You aren't pleased I caught you being human, are you?" When she started to rise, he gripped her wrist, making no effort to keep his strong fingers gentle. "If you want to be a winner, Diana, you have to stop running away."
    "I'm not running." Her pulse was beginning to pound. The polish had vanished and she had her first clear view of the man beneath—strong, threatening, exciting.
    "You've been running since you stepped off that plane," he corrected. "And likely long before that. You're hurt and confused and too damn stubborn to admit it even to yourself."
    "What I am," she said between her teeth, "is none of your business."
    "The MacGregors take their family very seriously." His eyes had narrowed, their colour only more dramatic when seen through slits. "When my sister married your brother, you became my business."
    "I don't want your brotherly advice."
    He smiled, and his grip gentled abruptly. "I don't feel brotherly toward you, Diana." His thumb brushed across her knuckles in a long, slow sweep. "I think we both know better than that."
    He could switch his mood with more speed than she. Rising, Diana gave him a coldly furious look. "I'd rather you felt nothing toward me."
    Caine took a lazy drag on his cigarette. "Too late," he murmured, then smiled at her again. "The Scots are a pragmatic race, but I'm beginning to believe in fate."
    Diana picked up her coat and meticulously folded it over her arm. "In the language of the Ute, Comanche means enemies." She lifted large angry eyes to his, and for the first time, he saw the full power of her heritage in her face. "We're not easily subdued." Turning, she walked away in her controlled dancer's step.
    With a smile, Caine crushed out his cigarette. He was beginning to think it would be a very interesting battle.
    Chapter Three
    The Comanche, Diana discovered over the next few days, was as