"When she arrived at her tiny house smoke was curling from the chimney and the windows glowed golden. Lily went up and stood in the empty flower bed to peer in through the glass, and she was incensed to see Caleb sitting at the table, smoking a pipe as if he owned the place. She shoved open the door and stormed inside to demand, "What are you doing here, Caleb Halliday?" He gave her a distant, noncommittal glance. "You were almost out of firewood," he said, "so I brought you some from my place. I'll have more delivered in a few days." "Couldn't you have told me that without walking into my house and making yourself at home?" The insolent grin she expected did not curve Caleb's lips. He only sighed and drew once on his pipe before saying, "April evenings can be cold. I wanted to make sure you were warm, that's all." Lily felt foolish, and she was strangely disappointed in Caleb's reaction. "Well, I don't like smoking in my house," she snapped. "When you get a house that belongs to you, and not the army, I guess you'll be able to dictate things like that," Caleb responded evenly. He sounded abjectly bored. "Sit down, Lily. We have some things to talk about." Too weary to argue, Lily took off her cloak and sat, her chin propped in her hands. "Have you had your supper?" "I'm not a child, Caleb. I'll eat when I'm hungry." His"