Katriona’s Keeper: Alphabet Mail-Order Brides #11: A Dry Bayou Brides Novella

by Winchester, Lynn

  But… He’d known she wouldn’t be there. He couldn’t stomach the idea of going home to an empty house, not after how empty it seemed when he and Katriona hadn’t been speaking to one another. If he had his way, he’d never allow them to fall into that kind of pattern again; it had been torture to have her so close and not actually be with her.

  After bedding Twister down in the lean-to with Marigold, Katriona’s new horse—one she had yet to learn to ride—he opened the door to the cabin and was greeted by the scents of sweetness.

  His belly growled again. “Hmmmm, somethin’ sure smells delicious,” he murmured as he stepped up behind Katriona who was at the wash basin. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. Sighing, she leaned back into him.

  “Welcome home, Race,” she said then turned in his arms to plant a kiss on his lips. “Supper is nearly done—just need to wash my hands and then get the ham out of the oven.”

  “Ham? I haven’t had a good ham in years.”

  She grinned, her blush coloring her cheeks. He loved making her smile…and blush. It made her all the more delectable.

  “You’ve never had ham like this—go on, wash up. I’ll get supper on the table.”

  With one more kiss, he headed to the bedroom to remove his boots and change out of his work clothes—they were stiff with sweat and smelled of livestock. Once he was in clean clothes, he returned to the kitchen to find the table had been set, a pan with a succulent looking ham sitting in the middle of the table, and another pan with what looked like sweet potatoes was beside it.

  “This looks incredible,” he said, helping Katriona into her seat before taking his. He sliced into the ham, dishing out slices to each of them as she spooned out heaping helpings of sweet potatoes.

  “This is my own personal recipe,” she said, pointing to the deep orange colored tubers.

  Starving, Race took a bite of the sweet potatoes and groaned at the explosion of deliciousness on his tongue. “All things holy and bright—this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten!” he enthused, taking another bite and then another while Katriona watched with glimmering eyes.

  “I use sugar, molasses, nutmeg, and butter,” she ticked off the ingredients like she hadn’t just made magic in a pan.

  He swallowed another bite. “Make this every night.”

  She giggled, cutting into her ham. “I glazed the ham, too.”

  He sliced into his own ham and ate it. “Heaven’s woman! This is even better! What’s in that glaze? Ambrosia?”

  Katriona giggled again, before taking her own bite.

  And that’s how dinner went; they ate, chatted a bit about his day, and they retired for the night after Katriona cleaned up the dinner dishes.

  The next day was the same. The day after that, the same. They made conversation at meals, made love at night, and then spent all day doing whatever needed doing—on the ranch and on her school. They didn’t fight any more, but they also didn’t seem to spend all that much time talking about things of real importance. It was always light conversation followed by periods of comfortable silence.

  They’d settled into a new sort of pattern, one that should have made him happy. His life was good, his wife was doing what she was passionate about, and he was working to provide for them. So why did it feel like something was missing?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Katriona grinned at the chicken pecking at the kernel of corn and wondered why she hadn’t had chickens before.

  The previous week, Race had built her a chicken coop, complete with six chickens, and she’d watched him do it, asking him questions, and helping him when he needed an extra set of hands. Spending time with him like that had been an experience she wanted to repeat—perhaps they’d build a hog pen or a larger lean-to for Twister and Marigold. But she hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with him about it. He’d been awfully busy with new foals coming, repairing what needed fixing, and managing the everyday running of the ranch that when he got home at night, they simply ate dinner, chatted about nothing of consequence, then went to bed.

  Every day for the last two months, it was the same thing.

  Certainly, Katriona appreciated that Race was keeping his promises and being a good husband to her, but…something was missing.

  She must have been frowning because when Moira appeared beside her, she remarked, “Ye looked troubled, lass.”

  Surprised by the woman’s quiet approach and her words, Katriona dropped the rest of the kernels on the ground. The chickens squawked and pecked at each other in their hurry to get to the food.

  “Moira,” Katriona breathed, “what brings you out here? You didn’t bring another basket of food, did you?” She’d told the woman months ago that she needn’t worry about her and Race, still, random baskets of jam and vegetables would appear on the porch every once in a while.

  Moira smiled, shaking her head. “Nay, love. I’ve come bearin’ an invitation tae supper. The elder Ducharmes have returned from their travels, and they’d like tae meet ye. They were pleased as plum puddin’ tae hear that Race got himself married.”

  Katriona hadn’t met Billy’s parents, Ray’s in-laws, but the thought of sitting down to dinner with such vaunted company made a tingle of unease move up her back.

  Wiping her suddenly sweaty hands on her trousers, she replied, “Well, I’m not sure…”

  Moira’s penetrating eyes seemed to focus on her sharply, as though she saw something she didn’t like. “I asked ye if there was somethin’ botherin’ ye, and ye didna answer.”

  No, she hadn’t, because she didn’t know the answer. Was there something bothering her? Thinking back over the last couple of months, she couldn’t think of any one thing that stood out as bothersome…only…

  “I think I am in love with Race,” she whispered, her heart hammering. Over the last several weeks, she’d had a sinking suspicion that her feelings for Race were deepening. Every time she saw him, her belly would flutter, her blood would turn to liquid fire, and her skin would tingle. Also, when they sat down to eat, she really enjoyed just hearing his voice, like thick butter on the sweetest rolls.

  She was falling—fast and hard. And she was terrified.

  Moira chuckled, taking Katriona’s hand in hers. “Well now, that’s how it’s suppose tae be when yer wed. But what bothers ye so about that, love?”

  Feeling the heat of the sun beat down on her, Katriona invited Moira to sit on the porch bench, out of the sun’s glare. It also got her off her feet, which were aching something terrible from all the walking she’d been doing. Yes, Race had borrowed a horse for her, but he hadn’t yet had the time to teach her how to ride. So, Marigold spent most of the day grazing out back.

  Once they were settled in the cool shadows of the covered porch, Moira asked, “Is it Race? Does he no treat ye well?”

  Katriona gasped. “Oh no! He’s not like that at all. After our first few tumultuous weeks, he’s been the perfect husband.” Provider, lover, friend…but that’s where it ended.

  There has to be more.

  “It’s just that…well, I don’t think he loves me back.”

  “Did ye ask him?”

  She shook her head violently. “No. Absolutely not. What if he says he doesn’t love me and that he’s just happy with the way things are?”

  Moira tipped her head thoughtfully, her gaze questioning. “And what way is that?”

  “Comfortable,” Katriona answered. “It’s the same comfortable, predictable routine every day.”

  Nodding as if understanding, Moira supplied, “And ye think yer missin’ somethin’?”

  Breathing out heavily, she said, “Yes. I’m not an expert on marriage but I can’t help but feel that there’s a part of it that isn’t there, like we’ve been dancing around it, trying not to step on each other’s toes.”

  “What do ye think it is?” Why was Moira asking all the painful—yet right—questions?

  Katriona leaned back, placing her head against the wall behind h
er. She closed her eyes, picturing their conversations. They talked about the ranch, his family, her family, their future ideas for the cabin and eventually their own home on their own land…but they never talked about her school.

  “He never asks me about my school,” she finally said.

  “And that bothers ye, does it?”

  “Yes. I know it was a sore spot between us when we first got married, but then it seemed like he was willing to get involved. He asked me about it, even wanting to see where it would be built, but after that…it’s like there’s an invisible wall around the topic. He doesn’t ask questions and I’m too afraid to bring it up because I don’t want to bother him with it if he really doesn’t care about it.” Day after day, as her school plans moved closer to full fruition, and as word spread, and as her excitement grew her desire to share the excitement with Race grew as well. She wanted to share all she could about it with him, to share her passion with him, but she couldn’t.

  Moira patted Katriona’s hand where it was clasped tightly in her lap.

  “Why dinnae ye go inside out o’ the heat and get some rest? Maybe it’ll be different tonight.”

  Katriona allowed the older woman to escort her into the cabin, where she made Katriona a pot of tea, then left her in the echoing quiet. Alone. She replayed Moira’s words in her head, but she couldn’t make herself believe them.

  She loved Race Tucker, and it was pure agony knowing he didn’t feel the same, and probably never would.

  Just do what needs doing, she thought, staring out the window over the pastures, golden from the late afternoon sun. Yes, she’d do what needed doing, and if that meant she needed to build her school on her own, without her husband’s care or support, then she’d do it. She’d already come so far on her own, anyway. The carpenters and masons said it would be complete within the month, and then she could order the desks, the blackboard, and all the other materials she would need to make sure the students had everything they required to learn to their heart’s content.

  Despite the ache of loneliness in her chest, she smiled. If her husband didn’t want to be part of her life—then she didn’t need him there.

  Determined to go on as she had been, she began preparing supper, all the while pushing away the sadness she refused to acknowledge.

  At supper, they did as they usually did; talked about simple things, keeping to topics that would bore even the most boring of bores. Once she finished clearing the table and washing the dishes, she decided that, rather than sit on the couch and talk about nothing some more, she’d keep herself busy folding the laundry she’d hung out to dry that morning.

  “Katriona,” Race called, patting the couch beside him. He looked comfortable, handsome in his loose shirt and worn trousers. Goodness, she didn’t mind curling up beside her good-looking husband, but she couldn’t make herself sit there beside him knowing what she felt about him and knowing that he didn’t feel the same.

  You can’t spend the rest of your life avoiding getting close. She bristled at her own thoughts—of course she could! It needed doing—she needed to do what she could to guard her heart from the pain of rejection. She already knew the bitter taste of disappointment, in herself for falling for Race in the first place, and in him for failing to be more than just her keeper. She didn’t want or need a keeper—never had. What she wanted was love. Race’s love. She wanted affection; more than just embraces and kisses, because even those were missing the true intimacy she craved. They were missing the closeness that came with sharing every part of themselves.

  “Come on over, Katriona. I know your back has been achin’…I can help you get the kinks out.” His grin was slightly wolfish, and she’d usually jump at the chance to have his hands on her but…

  “No, that’s alright. I need to finish with the wash, then I need to sit down and make a list of all the little things I need to order for the school.” She nearly gasped at her own slip. She held her breath, waiting for Race to make an expression of annoyance, but when he didn’t, Katriona let the breath escape. Hope on the edge of a razor, she continued, “I still need to order chalk and books and rugs, and slates for each student, and, of course, I’ll need my own desk, too. Wouldn’t want to have to keep bringing my work home with me.” She finished folding a pair of knickers before she dared a glance of Race. He was staring at the floor between the arm chair and the couch, his expression unreadable.

  What was he thinking about so deeply? Suddenly, a fire she hadn’t felt in months began churning in her belly.

  “Race,” she fumed, “if you don’t want me talking about the school, just say so. Don’t ignore me like my life means nothing to you.” Her hands trembling, she abandoned the folding and spun toward the door, desperate for some fresh air and a break from the overwhelming staleness in the cabin. Before she could swing the door wide, strong hands wound around her waist, pulling her back into a wall of hard flesh and blood.

  “You honestly think I don’t care about your life?” he ground out, his voice vibrating between them.

  “I know you don’t,” she snapped, trying to pull away.

  “What do you think I’ve been doin’? I work all day, breakin’ my back to put food on the table. I provide for you, I keep you company, and I see to your pleasure. What more do you want from me, Katriona? My blood? My soul?”

  A sob caught in her throat. I want your heart, her own heart cried out.

  “Tell me what I’ve done wrong to make you upset. I’ll fix it. We can go back to bein’ happy,” he murmured into her neck, his warm breath skittering over her skin like invisible fingers.

  Go back to being happy? Did he actually think she was happy? Every day a little more of her died. Every day another flicker of her fire died out. She was crumbling to pieces on the inside, and it was all because she had become weak, vulnerable. Her sisters had been right, she failed at the “appreciate a man who wants to take care of her” part of their marriage, because if taking care of her meant ignoring what mattered most to her, then she would never appreciate it.

  She pulled away from him again. He let her go this time, and she turned to face him, her expression blank—well, as blank as she could get it when the whole inside of her was burning to ashes.

  Katriona crossed her arms, pinning Race with her gaze. She saw a flicker of hurt in the violet depths of his eyes, but it was gone too quick to actually mean anything.

  “You’ve done nothing wrong, darling,” she said, her voice falsely sweet. “It was all on me.”

  His eyebrows shot upward followed by his mouth dropping open just a tad.

  “You? What did you do wrong?” he asked, incredulous. It almost tickled her that he thought it impossible for her to do wrong…or at least admit she was wrong.

  Shrugging, she said flatly, “I broke my own rule.”

  The room seemed to hold its breath, and Race must have felt it too, because the tension rolling from him was practically visible.

  “What rule is that?” he asked, his tone heavier than it had been.

  “To never rely on anyone when I can do just fine on my own.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next month was just like the one before; breakfast and suppers together, and banal conversations. Katriona made delicious foods and small talk. She spent most of her time tending to the chickens, cleaning the cabin, doing the wash, making more lists for her school, and overall being what any man would expect from a mail-order bride.

  But it wasn’t enough for him anymore. He’d lost something long ago and he wanted it back, but he’d be damned if he knew what that thing was.

  He was sitting on the couch, tugging his boots on and mentally preparing for another hard day, when Katriona exited their bedroom dressed in a gown he’d never seen before.

  Bright blue with white ribbons, it brought out the color of her eyes, the creaminess of her skin, and the golden shine in her short, curly hair.

  “Where are you off to lookin’ so fine?” he asked, standing to appre
ciate the view from another angle.

  She waved off his compliment and hurried to the door.

  “I have a meeting in town, and I can’t be late,” she answered, her words clipped.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d brushed off his words over the last thirty days—since their last dust up—and he had to admit it hurt that she didn’t care.

  “You walkin’ all the way in that dress?”

  “What?” she asked, startled, before answering, “No. Ray is coming by to get me. We’re going to ride into town together.”

  A strange sort of sick feeling began to fester in the pit of his belly. She didn’t want to talk over breakfast as they usually did, and she was obviously in a hurry to get to something she hadn’t even told him about.

  And why does that bother you? Aren’t you happy with the way things are? Isn’t this the life you wanted; comfortable and argument free? Wasn’t that why he’d stopped asking her about her school or even talking about it at all? He knew it was a sore spot between them, and rather than risk their being another fight over it, he just left it alone. She could have her school. She didn’t need him putting his nose in her business…especially when she did so well on her own.

  “…I can do just fine on my own.” Her words still rang in his ears, like a pealing bell that never stopped clanging.

  “Alright then.” He walked her to the door and then out onto the porch. “Will I see you for supper?”

  She avoided meeting his gaze. “Of course. I do what needs doing, and that means providing my keeper with hearty, delicious meals.”

  Her keeper? Was that all he was to her? “Well, hold on now—”

  “No time for a chat, I need to get doing,” she interrupted, stepping off the porch to plant a foot clad in matching slippers in the Texas dust.

  “I thought you said Ray was comin’.”