by Karen Kirst
The floor creaked and suddenly Duncan was there in her line of sight, dressed for the day in tan trousers and a pine green shirt, his short hair damp and shiny and his manner grim.
“You’re awake. How do you feel?”
Confused. Nervous. “Okay.”
“You were asleep when I returned from the stables last night. I moved you to the bed and I slept on the pallet.” Spoon in hand, he gestured to the stove. “You hungry? Breakfast is almost ready.”
Sitting up, she held the quilt to her throat. “Why would you do that?”
His brows lifted. “You didnae eat supper. I figured you’d be ravenous this morning.”
“No, I mean why didn’t you leave me down there.”
“Ah.” His lashes swept down. “After the injuries you sustained, you deserved the soft bedding. Besides, my mother’s training has stuck with me long after leaving the schoolroom.”
Caroline blushed thinking how he must’ve carried her. “Do I really snore?”
His gaze shot to hers, and his slow, lopsided smile infused her with wonder. “Now that’s information I’m no’ ready to divulge.”
Rattled by his smile’s effect, she studied the quilt’s design.
“Caroline?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
The sincere humility in his voice brought her head up. He looked uncomfortable, and she got the sense he didn’t often apologize for his actions. He was a proud, complicated man.
“I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. After breakfast, I’m going to the Monroes’ house. I’ll explain what happened and hopefully get your clothes back.”
Astonishment zinged through her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It will only make an embarrassing situation worse.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
His troubled expression lingered. Unused to this side of him, she said, “I’m sorry, too. For reacting the way I did.”
When he advanced to her side and held out his hand, her mouth went dry. Without the beard obscuring his face, his princely features were on full display. The cedar scent clinging to his shirt mingled with a hint of soap that had her wanting to get closer.
“Truce?” he said huskily.
Letting the quilt slip free, she placed her hand in his and nearly gasped when his strong, lean fingers closed around hers. “Truce.”
His cobalt gaze, framed by slashes of auburn brows, took on surprising warmth as it roamed her face and the hair spilling past her shoulders. Their isolation left her feeling vulnerable and exposed.
His brow knitted. Releasing her, he returned to the stove. “I’ll have this ready in a few minutes.”
While he was occupied, she hopped up and rifled through the single remaining trunk for her dressing gown. Once she’d donned the snow-white article and fastened every button, she used the cracked, dusty mirror hanging from a nail beside the wardrobe to tie her hair back with a ribbon. She wasn’t accustomed to anyone besides the household staff seeing her at less than her best.
“Do you prefer milk? Coffee? Tea?”
“Milk will be fine.”
His expression remained unreadable as he poured her a glass of milk and set it at her place setting. He waited for her to sit before taking the chair opposite.
“I’ll say grace.” When Duncan extended his hands across the table, palms up, she hesitated. “Force of habit,” he explained. “Whenever we shared a meal, my family joined hands around the table for prayer. I’ve eaten most of my meals alone since I left.”
He started to pull back. On impulse, Caroline placed hers atop his. His eyes widened.
“I-It’s a nice tradition,” she said breathily.
Displays of affection hadn’t been part of her upbringing. The physical connection felt good. More than good, actually. As Duncan applied light pressure, his hold gentle, she closed her eyes and opened up to the heady sensations cascading through her. If such a simple gesture made her feel like she was soaring above the clouds, how would a hug from him make her feel? Or, dare she imagine it, a kiss?
“Heavenly Father above, we thank You for Your provisions. We ask that You guide us forward on this path You’ve set us upon. Grant us wisdom. Grant us compassion.” He paused. “Forbearance would come in handy, too. In Jesus’s name, amen.”
The prayer’s beauty was in its simplicity. Her father’s prayers didn’t sound anything like this. Once Duncan was finished, she lamented the loss of his touch, a sign she was more vulnerable than she’d realized. She’d do well to remember that her husband wasn’t interested in any sort of relationship with her.
Picking up her spoon, she dipped it in the bowl of oatmeal. Melted butter and cinnamon pooled on top. “Tell me about your family?”
He stabbed a forkful of fried egg and chewed. “My grandfather immigrated to this country fifteen years ago. Five years after that, my parents decided to join him. They packed the four of us boys up, along with about half our worldly possessions, and secured tickets aboard a ship. We settled in Boston and, while we miss our extended friends and family, we consider ourselves Americans now.”
“I would’ve liked to have a sibling. Are you the oldest? Youngest?”
“Second oldest.” He filled the bottom of his teacup with milk, then added tea the color of molasses from a tin kettle. “Ian is the oldest. He’s thirty. Works with my father. He’s married to his first love and is papa to three wee bairns. Alistair is twenty-four. He’s a law professor. Still single, last I heard. And Bram is far behind at nineteen. He’s studying to be a lawyer.”
Cupping the china in both hands, he lifted it to his lips and tested the liquid. Clearly satisfied, he took a long sip.
“Four sons. That must’ve been a handful. My father had wanted a son.” She lowered her gaze before he could decipher betraying emotions. Albert’s disappointment that she was a girl had never waned. Seemed like any normal father would be happy to have a healthy child. Not hers.
“Did your parents want more children?” he asked.
“I think my father gave up after I came along.” Reluctant to pursue the topic, she said, “Don’t you miss them?”
“I do.” His expression grew guarded. “I had planned to go to Boston sometime this year.”
“Don’t let an unasked-for bride stop you.”
“There’s plenty of time to discuss a trip home.”
Caroline doubted he’d invite her to join him and told herself it didn’t matter.
This wasn’t a love match. Or a union based on mutual needs. They were a pair of strangers, pushed together to protect the Turner name. She’d given her money to save her father from embarrassment. And now she’d given her freedom.
“How long were you going to play the part of nomad?”
His gaze became hooded. “Until I found a place I liked enough to settle down, I suppose.”
“It seems I’ve messed up your life in more ways than one. For better or worse, you’re stuck with me and this town.” She laid her spoon down, unable to eat any more. Her husband was going to resent her, just like her father resented her for not being what he wanted. The hope she’d nourished of a different future evaporated. “Thank you for breakfast.”
Carrying her barely touched plate to the long counter hinged to the log wall, she fought for equanimity.
Still seated, Duncan said, “I like what I’ve seen so far of this area.”
“That’s one consolation.” She strove for a nonchalant tone.
His chair scraped the floor, and his footsteps were measured as he approached. “I’ve got to get to the stables. The Lightwoods are leaving today. Would you mind cleaning the dishes?”
He’d asked instead of demanded, she noticed. “Okay, but don’t expect me to cook the noon meal. I have n
o idea how to work that thing.” She pointed to the ancient stove.
His smile was polite. Impersonal. “Can you manage a cold lunch?”
She couldn’t bear to witness his disappointment. “I’ll see what I can scrounge up.”
After he’d slipped outside, Caroline went to the window. His hat pulled low, he walked with purpose and confidence past the tiny vegetable garden.
Duncan may like Tennessee, but there was no guarantee he’d ever like her.
Chapter Nine
“What are you saying? That I can’t access my own money?”
Dread congealed in her bones.
The clerk wore a smarmy smirk. “We must have your husband’s signature before you withdraw any amount above what’s stated on the documents.”
A paltry amount that wouldn’t meet a single demand her blackmailer made. So far, she’d received two missives per month. It was mid-July. If his routine remained unchanged, she would receive another one soon.
“Did Duncan come in here today?”
“No. Mr. Turner made the arrangements.” Flicking a glance at the queue of customers waiting inside the door, he said, “Is there anything else, Mrs. McKenna?”
Caroline twisted the wedding band on her finger. Mrs. McKenna. It would take time to get used to her new name. “Since you won’t grant me access to my own money, I guess not.”
Shoulders stiff and head high, she marched outside into the sunshine. What had her father been thinking? That he hadn’t consulted her smarted. He might’ve given her the courtesy of alerting her, thus saving her the embarrassment of being denied.
The boardwalk was bustling this Monday morning. She passed the post office crowded with people and Josh O’Malley’s furniture store. He saw her through the window and waved. A flash of poppy red across the way caught her eye. Walking to the street’s edge, she observed the girl emerging from the mercantile. The brunette was a longtime resident who rarely left her isolated farm higher in the mountains. The stylish dress she wore looked like an exact copy of the one Louise had ordered from Paris, France, one Caroline had been saving to wear to the annual tea she and her mother hosted each August.
The girl laughed with her companion, strolling along without a care in the world, drawing attention from everyone who passed by. And why not? It was a magnificent design, the fabric crafted by the best seamstresses money could buy.
Caroline couldn’t breathe. That was her dress.
Indignation overtook her. She stepped into the dusty street, intent on action. A holler on her left registered, and she leapt out of the way as a horse and rider pulled up hard. The horse tossed his head and pranced to the side. The rider glowered at her.
Whirling about, she left Main Street by way of a deserted alley between two buildings. This isn’t fair, Lord. I had plans! I was going to alter the course of my life. This marriage has ruined everything.
She still had her travel bag. If things between her and Duncan became unbearable, she’d use it, marriage certificate or no.
At home, she headed straight for her father’s study. He was seated behind his massive desk, bent over a sheaf of papers, and didn’t welcome her with the paternal affection she’d witnessed in other families.
Impatience tightened his eyes. “Caroline, I’m afraid I don’t have time to chat. There’s a problem in our Northside factory that requires my attention.”
Her thoughts went straight to the blackmailer’s accusations. “What kind of problem?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.” He scratched his fountain pen across the utmost paper and, frowning, gave it a little shake. “Out of ink.” He set it down and searched for another in his drawer.
“I don’t mind business talk, Father.” Perhaps she could ferret out the truth without having to outright broach the subject. “I’m particularly interested in how our soaps are made. As your only offspring, I should be apprised of the inner workings of our factories.”
Head bent, he gave a dismissive flick of his hand. “You’re a married woman now. You have plenty to occupy your time.”
Perching on the edge of a leather chair facing the desk, she folded her hands in her lap. “Speaking of that, I was at the bank just now. Was it necessary to put restrictions on my account?”
“As head of your household, Duncan needs to have the ability to act on your behalf.”
“Adding his name is one thing. Why put restrictions on my withdrawals?”
Snapping the drawer shut, he looked down his hawk nose at her. “Did you think I wouldn’t hear of your recent habits, Caroline? I don’t want to know what trinkets you thought you needed to add to your collection, but I refuse to stand by and watch you squander your inheritance. With this constraint in place, I won’t have to worry. Besides, Duncan strikes me as a levelheaded sort. I’ve informed him of the new arrangement. He’ll make sure you’re taken care of while making certain you don’t go bankrupt.”
She curled her fingers inward until the nails bit into her palms. What did her father truly care about her well-being? To him, she was a responsibility, nothing more.
“Albert, I’ve instructed Sylvia to pack enough clothes for two weeks.” Louise swept into the room, belatedly noticing Caroline. Her eyes welled with tears. “Look at you.” She put a trembling hand to her mouth. “What have you done to your hair? Did you go to town like that?”
“I didn’t have Betty to assist me, did I?” she retorted.
Caroline touched a self-conscious hand to her hair. All she’d been able to manage without an adequate mirror and supplies was an uneven braid tied off with a ribbon. She’d forgone a corset beneath the royal purple outfit, one of only a handful of acceptable dresses she’d saved from Duncan’s raid.
Louise turned to her husband and threw up her hands. “You see why I must accompany you to Charleston?”
Caroline popped up. “You’re leaving? When?”
“I must pay a visit to Northside. Your mother is accompanying me. After what’s happened, she could use a change of scenery.”
Heat rushed through her veins. “She could use a change of scenery?” Her voice rose an octave. “I’m the one whose life has been turned upside down! Of course she’d make this about her.”
Louise’s mouth formed an O.
Albert’s brows descended. “Mind your tone, young lady.”
Closing her eyes, she battled for control. “What about our tea party? I thought we were going to begin planning for this year’s menu and entertainment.”
“I’m not certain we should host it this year. Everyone will be whispering about your night alone with that man. And your farce of a wedding.” She clutched the brooch on her collar. “I had such high expectations for you, Caroline. You could’ve married Theo and lived excellently. You would’ve been the darling of Charleston society. The wedding we could’ve had for you...”
Caroline tried to imagine pledging her life to the suave, irreverent Marsh heir. Her skin crawled just thinking about it. Oddly enough, Duncan didn’t have the same effect.
“You can’t cancel the tea, Mother. It’s one of the most anticipated events of the year. Think how people will react if we don’t have it. There’ll be even more gossip.”
If she was going to survive this marriage, she needed to stay busy with the things that defined her. She couldn’t let go of that, else she would lose herself entirely.
“I’ll consider it,” Louise said at last.
Albert stood and tugged on his sleeves’ cuffs. “We’re leaving in the morning. Duncan will be in charge of the property in my absence.”
Unease settled in the pit of her stomach. “And what about your guests?”
“The Lightwoods already left. Isaiah is traveling with your mother and me.”
“What about Theo?”
“He’s got ot
her plans. He said something about exploring the west end of the state. Possibly visiting Nashville since he has a friend there.”
She was going to be left alone with Duncan and the staff. That was the least of her worries, however. Coming up with money for the next demand was her top priority. If the truth leaked, her father’s reputation wasn’t the only thing at stake. He could be accused of criminal activity and taken to court. Maybe even wind up in jail. Sometimes, when she was tempted to tell him what she’d been doing to protect him, she reminded herself it wouldn’t raise his estimation of her. Nothing would give her value in his eyes, and that was something she was going to have to accept.
* * *
Duncan couldn’t find Caroline anywhere. His frustration was exaggerated because it was a quarter past noon and he’d worked up quite the appetite. She’d agreed to prepare the meal. It bothered him when others failed to fulfill their promises. He could afford to be understanding, provided she had a valid excuse.
“Duncan, a word.” Albert descended the house’s rear porch steps.
Tamping down his impatience, he went to meet his boss. Er, father-in-law. The exact nature of their relationship had become muddied. Albert hadn’t treated him any differently since he’d joined the family ranks. Would he change his tune if he learned of Duncan’s background?
“Aye, sir?”
“Louise and I are taking a trip to Charleston in the morning. We expect to be away for two weeks, but it could prove to be longer. I’d like for you to see to the running of things.” He gave him a detailed set of instructions. “I’ll leave a written list on my desk.”
When he made to turn away, Duncan blurted, “And what about your daughter?”
“What about her?”
He hadn’t been able to get her comments from breakfast out of his head. Or Wendell’s. “I realize we were married just yesterday, but I’ve been expecting a lecture. The typical speech a bride’s father gives her new husband.”
“Caroline is no longer my responsibility. She’s yours.” His lips thinned. “If you’re seeking insight as to how to handle her, speak to my wife. Louise has far more intimate knowledge of her personality than I.”
