They could be a family. Her child would have a father. And, just perhaps, she would have Branch’s love.
It was the grandest of all dreams.
Daybreak the next morning found Pretty Girl and her mistress headed south on the road toward Liberty. Traveling at a steady pace, Katie hoped to make Brazoria and Riverrun Plantation within the month.
She’d have a nice little belly growing by then.
KATIE SMOOTHED her skirt, unhappily aware of the idleness of the gesture. Over three weeks of hard traveling couldn’t be so easily erased, and besides, after traveling in this open wagon all morning she’d be covered in road dust when she finally arrived at Riverrun. She might as well have ridden Pretty Girl straight from camp instead of going into town and catching a ride out to the plantation.
She winced and brushed a layer of dirt from the sleeve of her yellow gingham. She should have planned better, worn a traveling cloak, and changed into this dress just prior to arriving at the Garrett home. But she simply hadn’t been thinking straight—the nerves rumbling around in her stomach demanded too much attention from her mind.
At least she’d thought to wear the yellow dress. Of the three she had packed in her bag, it alone had the fullness required to hide the signs of her advancing pregnancy. Even so, she’d have to be careful how she stood; it wouldn’t do for a Garrett to get a good look at her from the side.
The driver interrupted her thoughts. “Missy, we’ll be there directly.”
“Wonderful,” she replied, not thinking it wonderful at all. I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought. I’m going to meet the Garrett family and ask for their help. Really, I ought to be shot for even thinking of crossing Riverrun’s boundary.
She swallowed hard as the wagon turned onto a road marked by two brick pillars. Mounted on each was a metal sign with raised letters that read Riverrun.
A hedge of Cherokee roses lined the road. “Where is it?” she asked the driver in a squeaky voice.
“The Big House? Why, it’s two miles yet. The cane fields are off to the left, behind that stand of oaks. See, there be the slave quarters, look through that open space.”
Katie caught a glimpse of a cluster of frame cabins, probably twenty by twenty feet, with brick chimneys.
The driver asked, “You seen a cane plantation before, Missy?” Katie shook her head, and he continued. “You’ll have to look close to get a looksee at this’un. Hoss Garrett, he keeps it all hidden back amongst the trees, blacksmith’s shop, the overseer’s house, the carriage house, barn, stock pens—all of it. He don’t want nothing distracting from a visitor’s first glimpse of the Big House.”
Shortly, Katie understood Hoss Garrett’s reasoning. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. No wonder Mr. Garrett had spoken of his home with such love. On the west bank of the Brazos, the afternoon sun bathed the redbrick dwelling in shimmering light. A lump grew in Katie’s chest as she realized what Rob had given up in his attempt to save her daughter.
For the first time, she looked forward to meeting Hoss Garrett. Perhaps she could find some way to convey her gratitude to the man whose son had died in violence that awful night. But first, she’d inquire after Rob’s brother.
The road circled in front of the mansion, and as the driver pulled the wagon up to the front steps, he whistled. “Glory be, they’ve done a fine job of getting the gardens ready for this party tonight, that’s for sure.”
Katie whipped her head toward him. “Party?” she asked.
“Ain’t that what you’re coming out here for?”
“Oh, no. I didn’t realize the Garretts were entertaining today.”
The driver climbed out of the wagon, nodding as he did so. “Sho’nuff. Big dance here this evening. You know what? The whole top floor of that house is a ballroom. Fancy that, these rich folks are something else.” He walked to the wagon’s side to assist Katie down from her perch.
She looked to the house with dismay. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Well, you’re here now,” he said, “and I gotta get these things around to the kitchen. If you’re ready to head back before me, hitch on around that way.”
He climbed back into his seat, and with a click of the reins, the wagon squeaked round the drive. Katie took a deep breath, dusted off her skirts, and climbed the steps to the front porch.
A gentleman, not yet thirty, Katie guessed, answered her knock. With his dark hair and blue eyes, he looked so much like Rob Garrett that he took her breath away. “Come in, come in,” he said. “We are so pleased you could join us. Actually, you’re our first guest to arrive, so…”
“Excuse me, I’m afraid I’m not a guest. Well, that is, oh—” Flustered, Katie gave a quick toss of her head and said determinedly, “I’ve come to speak with Mr. Garrett. Mr. H. R. Garrett, if you please.”
The young man’s brow lifted in an amused slant. He ushered her into the house, where she marveled at the beauty of the long hallway. Baskets of flowers lined the walls leading to a circular staircase draped in garlands of magnolia blossoms.
“Oh, my goodness,” Katie said, gazing around in awe. “How very beautiful everything looks.”
“Really?” The young man scowled at the flowers. “I think it a bit overdone. Smells something like an undertaker’s in here. Of course”—he grinned then, watching her with an absolutely wicked expression in his eyes—”now that you’re here, the old place definitely holds more allure. Have we met before, Miss… ?”
Katie smiled at him. “Mrs., Mrs. Kincaid.”
“Wouldn’t you know.” He exaggerated his sigh and shook his head. “I’m Chase Garrett, Mrs. Kincaid. Welcome to Riverrun. May I offer you a refreshment?”
“No, thank you. I—”
“Here, come into the parlor. I need something to drink even if you don’t, Mrs. Kincaid. Your beauty leaves me positively parched.” He gestured toward the first doorway on the right. Katie smiled and walked into the room.
Elegant rosewood tables accented the handsome marble hearth. Wool damask draperies hung over two floor length windows, and Katie caught a glimpse of herself in a large, gold-framed mirror that reached almost to the stenciled ceiling. She saw that Chase Garrett watched her behind with undisguised enthusiasm.
She whirled around. He wore a look that reminded her so much of Branch—the innocent angel’s look—that she gave an inadvertent “Oh!”
Immediately he frowned and asked, “Mrs. Kincaid?”
She shook her head. “Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m here to speak with Mr. Garrett about a matter of some urgency. I only learned upon my arrival of the event you are hosting this evening, and I apologize for my untimely intrusion. But do you think it would be possible for me to have just a moment of his time?”
“Why, Mrs. Kincaid, a woman of your beauty could never be an intrusion. Let me hasten to assure you, the only way you could possibly be more welcome would be if there were no Mr. Kincaid.”
Katie stiffened momentarily. Chase Garrett leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed and a besotted smile on his face. She relaxed. “I do believe, Mr. Garrett, you have, as my father would have said, a true gift for the blarney.”
“Thank you, madame.” He bowed his head, and when he looked at her, he wore his wicked grin once again. “I must admit I learned it all at my cousin’s knees.”
“Cousin?” Katie asked, hoping to hear something that could help her bring up the subject of Rob.
“Yep, quite a lady-killer, he is. That’s why I can’t believe he’s actually going through with it. I never thought I’d see the day when good Ol’ cuz… oh, there’s my uncle. I’ll go tell him you’re waiting.”
Katie heard his voice echo down the hallway. “Hoss, there’s a beautiful woman here to see you. Says it’s a matter of some urgency.” Katie could almost hear Chase’s grin as he added, “Where do you find them, Uncle?”
Just what I need, she thought. He’ll think badly of me before he meets me.
From a distance away,
upstairs, she imagined, a deep voice boomed. “I’ll be right down.”
Chase returned and, seeing Katie’s expression, looked somewhat sheepish. “I guess you heard all that, huh? We Garretts tend to forget our manners sometimes and shout our way around this drafty old place.”
Katie smiled but didn’t reply.
“Please have a seat, Mrs. Kincaid,” he said. Walking to a table, he gestured to a pitcher that sat beside cut-crystal decanters. “Lemonade?”
Katie had never tasted lemonade, though she’d heard of it. Although she felt guilty for accepting anything from the Garretts, the temptation proved to be too great. “Please.”
He handed her a tall glass of the pale yellow, pulpy beverage, then fixed himself something from a decanter. Blended whiskey, she supposed.
“While we’re waiting, and since I’ve already demonstrated my capacity for rude behavior, may I inquire as to this urgent matter that brings you here today?” He sat on the arm of a brocade sofa and waited for her answer.
Katie sipped her drink. She puckered, whether from the sour taste of the drink or the question, she knew not. “I’d rather not say,” she finally answered. “It’s a personal matter.”
Garrett shrugged, but the curious look remained on his face. Katie was relieved to hear the approach of heavy footsteps. A large man with graying hair entered the room. Dressed in a casual, though elegant, white ruffled shirt with black string cravat and navy pants tucked into tall leather riding boots, the man looked hauntingly familiar.
Chase stood and performed the introductions. “Mrs. Kincaid, may I present my uncle, Hoss Garrett. Sir, Mrs. Kincaid.” He sat right back down as though he intended not to miss a word.
“Welcome to Riverrun, Mrs. Kincaid. Do you know my wife was a Kincaid? Could it be we’ve a relative come to call?”
Katie ignored the wings fluttering in her stomach. “Yes, Mr. Garrett. I believe so.”
When he raised his eyebrows, she noticed the color of his eyes. Gold.
Garrett clapped his hands and said, “Wonderful. You know, my wife had cousins by the dozens, and we’re always glad to have Kincaid’s visit us here at Riverrun. Especially today. I hope you will stay for the entertainment, Mrs. Kincaid. We’re giving a dinner to be followed by dancing this evening, and we’d love to have another guest.”
Katie shook her head. This was turning out to be much more difficult than she had anticipated. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “I’m looking for someone; that’s why I’m here.”
“Looking for someone, huh?” Garrett repeated. “Well you’ve certainly come to the right place. Half of Texas will be here soon. Chase”—he looked at his nephew—”go upstairs and get the man of the hour. He’s the one to help Mrs. Kincaid. He has the guest list.”
Chase left the room before Katie could stop him. Oh dear, she thought, why not take out an advertisement in the local paper, “Wanted: Lost Husband.”
“Mr. Garrett, I’d rather keep this between us if possible.” She clicked her tongue and shut her eyes for a moment, gathering the strength to admit the truth. “You see, this is somewhat embarrassing. I believe the man I’m searching for is your son.”
“What?”
Katie hung her head. Miserably, she continued. “He’s probably told you about me. I’m the woman who—”
“Just a moment, young woman. Here’s the boy now. Let’s see what he has to say about all of this.”
“But, Mr. Garrett,” she pleaded.
She turned her head away, mortified, as another person entered the room. She’d never been so embarrassed in her life. She took a sip of her lemonade. Perhaps it would cool the heat in her face.
Garrett was saying, “Here he is, Mrs. Kincaid. Britt, do you know this relative of your mama’s?”
Katie’s head snapped up at the strangled sound the newcomer made. The lemonade spewed from her mouth. “Branch Kincaid!”
“What in the hell are you doing here?” Branch’s words cut across the room like a bowie knife.
When she heard his voice, the delicious timbre she’d dreamed about, Katie felt her baby kick.
CHAPTER 18
SILENCE LAY LIKE A corpse in the parlor.
Hoss Garrett’s face wrinkled in scorn, visibly appalled at his son’s outburst. Chase pursed his lips in an inaudible “Ooh,” and took a step backward. Katie clutched her glass of lemonade, her lips parted in disbelief.
Branch stood as though turned to stone. Riotous emotions coursed through him at the sight of Katie Starr, and he called on every skill he’d learned at the gaming table to keep those feelings hidden.
His mask slipped for a moment when a petulant, feminine voice inquired, “Darling, are you acquainted with this woman?” For chrissakes, he thought, Eleanor!
A flush stole up Katie’s body, and her blue eyes flashed at Branch. Deliberately, she folded her hands in front of her and turned a vapid smile toward the woman who’d followed him into the room. Mockingly, she said, “I certainly would say so, wouldn’t you, Branch?”
Branch looked from Katie to Eleanor, then back to Katie again. Eleanor, prim and elegant in a green poplin morning dress, looked like one of Hoss’s prized thoroughbreds while standing next to Katie, disheveled and dirty—a perfect match for her unsightly mare, Pretty Girl.
Of course, Pretty Girl ran a mighty fine race.
Hoss found his voice, and in clipped tones he said, “Britt Garrett, your language is inappropriate.”
Branch grabbed Katie’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come on.” He dragged her past his outraged father, his amused cousin, and his pouting fiancée into the entry hall, beyond the baskets of flowers, and down toward the library.
Katie punched his ribs. “You river rat, you lowdown snake, you…”
He put his hand over her mouth.
She bit him.
“Ow!” He had a death grip on her upper arm. She stumbled and he kept her from falling. “You’ve enough brass in your butt to make a kettle, showing your face around here,” he muttered.
Hoss Garrett had followed them into the hall. “Britt, what is going on here?” he called. “The guests will arrive soon, and we’re scheduled to announce your betrothal in one hour. I trust you’ll have this problem dealt with by then?”
“Later, Hoss, please,” Branch snapped. He slammed the library doors shut behind him. When he turned, he saw her hand brush a lamp on the desk. By the look of her he thought she just might throw it at him.
“You lied to me,” she said, “the entire time, you lied. You told me you were Branch Kincaid. It wasn’t real, any of it!” Suddenly, her eyes flew wide and her face bled white. “Betrothal?”
He might have taken great satisfaction in her shock, but instead she was killing him with every word. She looked like a disillusioned waif. He took a step toward her.
“You’re Britt Garrett,” her voice was ragged, her eyes bleak. “And that woman—she’s Britt’s fiancée.” Katie shut her eyes. “You’re getting married to somebody else!”
Hell, he’d missed her so damned much. He yanked her into his arms and kissed her, knowing it was madness. His mouth slanted across hers, angry fire that covered and consumed. He tasted lemon and sugar and a little bit of heaven.
Then he felt the bulge in her stomach.
He shoved her away.
She lifted her hand to her mouth, and they stared at one another, chests heaving, gazes locked.
“You’re pregnant!”
She lifted her chin defiantly. “I had hoped you wouldn’t notice.”
“Damn you, Katie Starr,” he cursed softly, raking his fingers through his hair. His gazed dropped to her waistline. “It’s the Indian’s kid, isn’t it?”
“Oh, you… ,” she said, her voice tight with rage. Her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed, she drew back her hand and slapped him viciously across the cheek.
He lifted his hand to slap her back, but the same bulge that made him want to hit her stopped him.
With a wounde
d cry, Katie stumbled to a chair and sank down. Branch stared at his upraised palm, hating it, hating himself. What had he become? How could he feel such rage, such hate for the woman that he’d… He didn’t finish the thought. He couldn’t.
Branch dropped into a chair beside Katie. He stretched his legs out straight, the heels of his boots resting on the floor. Though they sat but inches apart, the distance between them stretched as wide as the Gulf of Mexico.
Five minutes passed before either spoke. Though the questions in his mind numbered in the dozens, Branch asked for an answer with a single, soft word. “Why?”
Katie rubbed her eyes with her fingertips and took a deep breath. “I came here looking for Branch Kincaid. He was Rob Garrett’s brother, this was Rob Garrett’s home. I’d hoped Branch would be here, or if he wasn’t, the Garretts would know where I could find him.” She mocked herself, saying, “But I won’t find Branch, will I? Because you’re Britt. This is your home. This is where you’ll marry your elegant fiancée.”
Branch grimaced at the truth so baldly stated. He pushed out of his chair and paced to the window, where he stared out at the beauty of roses in bloom. “Dammit, Kate, why the hell were you looking for me? If you think to try and bring up that bond business…”
“I found him, Branch.”
He slanted her a piercing look.
“I found the man who killed my Steven and Mary Margaret. I know who set the fire.”
Branch spoke with icy rage. “Well, you’re still trying to save the father of your bastard, aren’t you? You must have figured out I wouldn’t let it rest until I sent your precious Shaddoe to his grave!”
Cold eyes scorned him as she lifted her chin, unthreatened. “Your jealousy blinds you. I never took you for a fool, Britt Garrett, and I guess that makes me one. Very well, you don’t believe me. Allow me to speak with your father so I may share his son’s dying words and offer the proof I have discovered.”
Branch cursed. Threading his fingers, he cracked his knuckles as he sat on the corner of the mahogany desk and said, “Very well. Let’s hear the lies it’s taken you two months to concoct.”
The Texan's Bride Page 27
