Hidden Talents

truth. A man has to be able to face the truth without flinching. You're a man now, Caleb.”
    “Yes, sir.” Caleb had taken the jewelry box as if it were made of molten lead. It had burned his hands.
    “I've raised horses all my life.” Roland had stood at the living room window and gazed out toward the paddock where one of his prized Arabians, a stallion named Windstar, grazed. “If there's one thing I've learned, it's that blood always tells. I've told you that often enough.”
    Caleb's hands had tightened on the jewelry case until he thought it would shatter. He had heard this lecture often enough in the past. “Yes, sir.”
    “You've got her blood in you. There's no denying it. The blood of a cheap little hustler, a no-good whore. But you've also got Ventress blood in you, Caleb. The Ventresses are a strong breed. God knows I've done my best to make certain that your Ventress bloodlines are the only ones that show.”
    Rage had squeezed Caleb's guts, but he kept his face impassive, as always. “I know you have, sir.”
    “And I think I've succeeded.” Roland's voice held fierce satisfaction. “I know I've been a little hard on you at times, but it was for your own good.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I'll tell you the truth, Caleb. Part of what happened all those years ago was my own damn fault. Franklin is right when he says that I was too lenient with Gordon when he was growing up. Your father was my only son and I wanted him to have everything. That was a serious error on my part. My leniency weakened his sense of duty and responsibility. It made him vulnerable. When she came along, he was easy prey.”
    “I know. You've told me that, sir.”
    Roland had made a fist at his side. “But I didn't make the same mistake with you, by God. I've made certain that you learned what it means to be a Ventress, what's expected of you. Now you're off to college. The future of the Ventress family lies in your hands. Don't ever forget that.”
    “I'll do my best, sir.”
    Roland had turned around to look at him, his eyes glittering with determination. “Of course you will do your best. A Ventress always does his best. You will be a credit to this family, Caleb.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And when the time comes,” Roland had concluded with quiet vehemence, “you will marry a good woman, a woman who is above reproach, one who will bring strong, clean bloodlines back into this family. You will choose a woman who is the exact opposite of the cheap bitch who bore you. Do you understand that, Caleb?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    A small, scratching sound on the veranda outside his bedroom broke into Caleb's thoughts. He pushed aside the memories of his eighteen birthday and rose from the bed.
    There was a soft, urgent knock on the French doors just as Caleb reached for the knob.
    “Caleb?” Serenity's voice was barely audible. “Are you in there?”
    He opened the door and found Serenity, dressed in a bathrobe and slippers, standing outside. She had her hair twisted up into a loose knot on top of her head. The style emphasized the graceful line of her neck. She was hugging herself against the cold.
    Caleb felt his insides grow warm and heavy at the sight of her. She was just what he needed to take his mind off the jewelry case. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said softly.
    “Can I come in? It's freezing out there.”
    “Be my guest.” He held the door open. “I wasn't expecting you.”
    “I want to talk to you.”
    Caleb arched one brow as he slowly closed the door. “Something wrong?”
    “I don't know. That's what I want you to tell me. I've got a few questions to ask you.” Serenity broke off as she caught sight of the jewelry case sitting on the bedside table. “What's that? It looks like a woman's jewelry box.”
    “It is. It belonged to my mother.”
    “Really?” Serenity went over to the box and picked it up. “It's beautiful.”
    “It's just cheap plastic.”
    “What does that matter?” Serenity examined the box with an air of excited wonder. “Your mother probably used it to hold things that were very important to her. I imagine it meant a lot to her, and it must mean a lot to you because it's something that belonged to her.”
    “I'm not the sentimental type.”
    Her smile was very knowing. “Of course you are. You're a very emotional sort of person. That was one of the things I liked about you right from the start.”
    “What you liked about me from the beginning was the fact that I could help you