Tombstone, Arizona—1881 The stranger from the east arrived on the late evening stagecoach. Jake sat at the table, dealing a round of cards as he entered. Looking up, he noticed the fine gentleman dressed all in black. His gaze traveled over the front of the man, he imagined the body beneath. When Jake looked at the man's face, he found a pair mesmerizing dark eyes staring back at him.

Disconcerted by his own immediate response, Jake forced his attention back to the other man at his table. When he finished dealing the cards, he looked at his own hand. The king on top was good, but the three on the bottom weren't worth a damn. He'd need another card.

"Call 'em, my boy." Raymond waited for Jake to decide.

Immediately, Jake knew from Raymond's grin he was all set and didn't want any more cards. Drawing the next card from the deck, Jake laid down a nine. His hand had gone over.

"Your pot, Raymond." Disgruntled, Jake gathered up the cards.

"'Nother round, Jake?" Raymond asked as he gathered the money to his side of the table.

"Nah." He stacked all the cards, then laid them down in front of Raymond. When Jake glanced toward the bar, he saw the stranger still watched him. As casually as he could, Jake got up and headed toward the bar counter.

"On a losing streak tonight, Jake?" the bartender asked as he set a glass down on the counter and filled it with a shot of whiskey. Jake grabbed the glass and downed the shot, ignoring the question.

With a laugh, Robert set the bottle down in front of Jake. Straddling the stool, Jake poured another drink before he turned to look at the man still eyeing him. "You want something?"

"Are you Jake Mathers?" The cultured voice had a slight accent, and Jake figured the guy might be English. "Who wants to know?"

"I'm William Tolliver. Your brother Jason sent me to find you."

Inwardly, Jake stiffened. What the hell did his brother want now? Laying a gold piece on the counter, Jake grabbed the bottle then stood up. "Upstairs. In my room."

The bartender slid a key over the counter, and Jake took that as well. Not bothering to look back to see if William followed him, Jake went up the stairs at the back of the bar. When he reached the room, he unlocked the door then left it open as he went inside. Every damn time Jason sent somebody to track him down, his brother wanted him to return to Boston.

With no regard for courtesy, Jake plopped down on the bed and settled the bottle next to him. William entered the room, and Jake muttered, "Shut the damn door."

After he closed the door, William grabbed one of the old chairs and pulled it closer to Jake, then sat down. "I've got a message from your brother, Jake."

"Yeah, he wants me to return to Boston. Fat chance of that happening." Jake guzzled from the bottle, giving William a sour look.

"I suppose that part would be up to you. I'm only here to tell you that your father died. Since your name is on the will, you are needed to sign the paperwork."

The death announcement didn't surprise Jake, but the other part did. "Bastard disowned me as last I recall."

"Your brother managed to convince your father not to do that."

Aware of the gaze that kept roaming appraisingly over him, Jake was too pissed to react to it. Taking another healthy drink from the bottle, Jake refused to say anything to the man.

In the silence, William sat forward and reached out, grabbing Jake's chin and forcing Jake to look at him. "I'm leaving on the stagecoach at dawn. Either you are on it or you're not."

Glaring at him, Jake jerked his head away. William got up and left the room without saying another word. Silently, Jake fumed. No matter how many times he had told his brother not to bother intervening for him, Jason still did. It completely threw him to realize that his father hadn't cut him out of his will.

It meant both he and Jason were very wealthy men. The life of the Bostonian elite hadn't appealed to Jake and he'd struck out on his own, heading west to Tombstone. In the last ten years, he'd managed to make a decent living for himself. In between odd jobs at different mines and his gambling, he did quite well.

Restlessly, he rolled onto his stomach and set the bottle on the stand near his bed. Did he really want to go back to Boston? Part of him wanted to see Jason again. His brother had been the only decent thing in his life. With their father dead, Jake wouldn't have to worry about seeing the old man. Or listen to his tirades. The old man had done his best to drive a wedge between Jake and Jason. It didn't work because both of them had been too close, but it finally drove Jake out of the house when he'd turned seventeen.

Desire to see Jason rose in Jake, he missed his brother but still refused to return to Boston. By the time he finished nearly half the bottle, the alcohol fuzzed his brain and gave him little room for anything other than the maudlin need to see his brother again. Before he passed out for the night, he'd already made the decision to return to Boston.

* * * *

Boston

Staring at the place that had been his home for fifteen years, Jake remained frozen in his seat. Too many memories played in his mind and kept him in place as he mutely looked at the house. Remembered tears of anger and painful bruises left on him echoed in his mind, along with the hateful silences and bursts of anger from his father.

William, sitting across from him, leaned forward and rested his hand on Jake's knee. "Your brother is waiting for you, Jake."

Jake looked back at William but really didn't see him. His gaze returned to the white porch of the old gray stone mansion. The door to the house opened and Jason stepped out, then ran down the stairs toward the coach. One of the servants opened the coach door and finally Jake got out. Immediately Jason enveloped him in a tight hug.

"I wasn't sure you would ever come back," his brother whispered to him.

Jake couldn't say anything. He struggled as it was to keep the tears back. Tolliver stood beside them, remaining silent.

"You must be hungry. Delia has dinner ready." Jason's broad, familiar smile brought one to Jake's lips. In that instant, it had seemed as if he'd never left home.

"I don't know about William, but I'm starving. Nothing can compare to Delia's cooking." Jake walked up the porch stairs and into the house with his brother.

"I'll leave you two to dinner while I retire to my room. It's been a long journey." Smiling at both of them, he bowed his head slightly then headed toward the stairs.

Laughing, Jason's hand pounded Jake across the back. "You're looking mighty fine, brother. Being out west must agree with you."

"I did pretty well, Jason." Jake tried to imagine his brother in the rough and tumble world of Tombstone and could barely hold back his grin. Truly, Jason had become one of Boston's finest in his fancy gray suit. Seeing a gold chain dangling from Jason's pocket, Jake reached out and fingered it. "You've become a gentleman, Jason. How did you manage to fake that?"

As they settled in the dining room, two servants began bringing in trays of food. Once they finished, they left, shutting the door behind them. Jason grimaced at his brother. "I'll have you know I have a box at the Boston League Opera, I am the chair of the Bostonian Theatre, and I contribute regularly to the symphony."

"Oh, my Lord." Jake stared at him, open mouthed before he burst out laughing. After a moment, Jason joined him in the laughter. They both knew most of Jason's refined tastes were no more than a front.

After helping himself to the carved roast, Jake piled several of the vegetables onto his plate. "Have you given up your women for one of Boston's finest daughters?"

"Not as yet. I've managed to escape quite a few traps laid in my direction. Have you given up on your young men yet?" A smirk curved Jason's lips as he filled his plate.

"That'll never happen." After his brother had caught him with one of the stable hands, Jason had kept Jake's secret from their father. As religious as their father had been, he would have outright killed Jake had he known.

To Jake, the time he had been away seemed to melt as the two reminisced while they ate. Occasionally he watched his brother, amazed at the outer transformation. Yet, Jason hadn't really changed at all. Even the house itself felt more relaxed and neither of them mentioned their father. As the elder brother, Jason became the head of the household and things had indeed changed.

After they finished dinner, Jason escorted him to his room. Instead of his old bedroom, Jason had been thoughtful enough to let Jake have a room in the west wing near his and Mr. Tolliver's. Jason continued to his own bedroom as Jake entered his. The first thing Jake saw was a bottle of whiskey sitting on the stand near the bed. He had to grin at his brother's thoughtfulness.

Shedding his shoes and shirt, he moved toward the washbasin. When a knock sounded at his door, he said, "Come in."

He heard the door open and close as he washed his hands and face. Turning, he expected to see one of the servants. Instead a pair of fascinated dark eyes were fixed to his chest.

"I just wanted to check and see how well you were settling in, Jake," William murmured as he walked toward Jake.

During their entire trip, Jake had had the feeling that William had been far more interested in him than he let show. There'd been moments when he'd caught William staring at him most oddly. Yet, in the crowded coach no overtures had been made from either side. "It's not quite the same here as when my father was alive."

"I knew him quite well, Jake." William stopped in front of him, raising one hand to let his fingers trail lightly over the bare skin of Jake's chest. "He had an exceptional head for business, but would never have been able to accept our secret."

Feeling the feather soft touch, Jake's hand caught at William's. "You mean our desire for men?"

"That is exactly what I am talking about." Leaning closer, his lips covered Jake's. Before William could do more, Jake's tongue flit over his lips then pushed into his mouth. Jake had been lusting after William for the whole damn trip, and he wasn't about to let this opportunity pass him by.