Her Scoundrel, Bad Luck Wedding #7 (Bad Luck Brides trilogy book two)

by Geralyn Dawson

  Seated beside Luke in the carriage, Kat’s flamboyant grandmother, renowned sculptress Monique Day, glanced over her shoulder and winked at Kat and her sister, Mari. “Aren’t we the lucky ones?”

  Kat didn’t care if the man was naked or clothed or wearing a dress, she intended to have a chat with Mr. Jake Kimball. The newspaper might call him an adventurer, a treasure hunter or an explorer, but she knew better. Jake Kimball was a scalawag and a thief.

  But he was also the man who would make things right for the fatherless child Kat carried in her womb.

  Kat wrapped her woolen shawl securely around her shoulders, climbed down from the carriage, and stepped to the edge of the grass-covered dune. “Mr. Kimball?” she called. “Mr. Jake Kimball?”

  The man looked up, and Kat caught her breath. Kimball’s scruffy beard didn’t hide the rugged, masculine beauty of his sharp jaw, thin straight nose and eyes as blue and hard as the sapphire necklace hanging around Mari’s neck. Something stirred inside of Kat when his gaze met hers, and she felt a flutter of awareness unlike any she’d known before. Different, even, from anything she’d felt with Rory when he’d drawn her under his spell. She clutched her shawl closer.

  “Well, now.” Monique clucked her tongue as she linked her arm with Luke’s. “Isn’t he a fine specimen? Reminds me of the model I used for the bronze Apollo Mrs. Astor bought for her Manhattan home.”

  Kat thought he looked more like a pirate than a Greek god, especially with the gold hoop earring dangling from one ear and a jeweled knife in his hand.

  “Yeah?” His mouth lifted in a slow smile as he studied her face. “I’m Kimball.”

  Then his gaze slipped lower, locked on Kat’s belly. He frowned, and a hint of alarm entered his eyes. His gaze flew back to her face, and he examined her features again. The alarm faded.

  No, I am not a ruined lover come to seek the father of my babe. From his reaction, Kat suspected he’d experienced such a scene in the past. No wonder he did business with Rory. The two men were just alike.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked as Luke stepped up beside her.

  You could put a shirt on. Kat was annoyed that she found the man appealing. He was a means to an end for her, that’s all. She’d had her fill of scoundrels.

  She placed a protective hand upon her swollen stomach as Luke shot her a quick, curious glance, then took the lead. “I’m Luke Garrett, Kimball. My stepfather, Brian Callahan, worked for your father. You and I met once at his home in New York. May my family and I have a few moments of your time?”

  “Yes, I remember you. I’ll be right out.”

  Kimball sloshed toward them, and despite her best intentions, Kat couldn’t drag her gaze away from the slow revelation of tanned, toned skin rising from the water. The man obviously spent a good deal of time outdoors without his shirt. The wet, dark hair on his chest lay flat against his skin and arrowed down his flat stomach to his navel and—

  Kat gave herself a mental shake. Her mother had warned her that a pregnant woman’s emotions ran the gamut, but Kat never expected to find herself staring at a man’s washboard stomach and wondering how it might feel beneath her fingertips. This isn’t good.

  Luke stepped in front of Kat, blocking her view. “Perhaps you could join us at our buggy once you’re, uh, decent?”

  “He looks rather decent to me,” Monique observed, she and Mari having joined Luke and Kat on the dune.

  Luke muttered beneath his breath as he herded the women back to the carriage. Kat picked up words like “scoundrel” and “thieving bounder” and “home knitting booties.” At the last, Mari glanced at Kat and rolled her eyes. Baby booties recently had become a rallying cry for the men in her family. Three days ago, after reading an article in the Fort Worth Daily Democrat about Jake Kimball and his discovery of a cache of treasures attributed to the pirate Jean Laffite, Kat proposed this trip to Galveston. Her father, Trace McBride, suggested she stay home and knit baby booties instead. Then he compounded the mistake by suggesting the rest of the females in the family join her.

  Needless to say, the suggestion didn’t go over well with the McBride women. Though the females in the family understood that Trace equated knitting with safety, Kat, her sisters, her mother and grandmother dealt with the issue by rolling their eyes, wrinkling their noses and going about their business.

  In Kat’s case, her business was planning the trip to Galveston to confront Jake Kimball. Her father argued against her going, but she presented her point just as strongly. Then, because Trace McBride had been unable to refuse her much of anything since she’d returned to a family who for months had mistakenly believed her dead, he’d given in. Mari volunteered to accompany Kat, naming her husband’s history with Kimball and the opportunity to visit his sister who lived in Galveston as justification to make the trip. Monique tagged along because she claimed to be suffering a case of ennui and yearned for the scent of salt air.

  “So here we are,” Kat said softly as the babe in her womb gave her a kick. Kat didn’t care that the newspapers called Jake Kimball a courageous explorer, a brave adventurer. To her he was nothing more than a criminal.

  A criminal who even now climbed the sand dune while buttoning a blue cotton shirt. Kat’s eyes widened at the sight of his dripping denim pants cut off above the knees. He was barefoot.

  “Luke Garrett.” Kimball’s mouth quirked in a crooked smile. “I wondered if I might run across you or your brothers during my time here in Texas. How are Rory and Finn?’

  “Dead.”

  Kat didn’t believe Kimball’s expression of surprise, and she stepped into the fray by announcing, “I married Rory Callahan, Mr. Kimball.” It was true enough, in spirit if not in fact.

  The pirate arched a brow.

  “You’ve made quite a discovery here on Galveston Island, sir, and I believe it’s fair to say that wouldn’t have happened if not for Rory.”

  Kimball’s gaze swept her from head to toe, pausing again briefly upon the bulge of her seven-month-gone belly. Sympathy colored his tone as he said, “I employ many individuals in the course of my pursuits, Mrs. Callahan. I pay them well for their assistance, extremely well, whether their help results in a find or not. I do not offer shares in the discovery, ma’am, so if that is what you seek, I am afraid—”

  “I want the altar cross.”

  His gaze shifted from her to Luke, then back to her. The slight narrowing of his eyes told her he knew very well what she meant. “The altar cross?”

  Kat lifted her chin. “The Sacred Heart Cross that was lost almost a hundred years ago when pirates attacked the Spanish ship bringing it to America. It is solid gold and encrusted with jewels, including a heart-shaped ruby at its center. You stole it from Rory Callahan. I want it back.”

  He studied her, taking her measure. His gaze once again slid to her swollen womb, and pity softened his eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I did not steal the cross from your husband. Rory sold the piece to me for a substantial amount of money.”

  Eyeing the sincerity in Jake Kimball’s expression, Kat’s stomach did a slow somersault. Had Rory lied about that, too? Lied as he lay dying? As Mari reached over and took her hand, Kat went hard and brittle inside. Had Rory Callahan been totally without redemption?

  No. No. No. He’d saved Mari, hadn’t he? In the end he’d done what was right. In the end he’d tried to provide for Kat and their child.

  “I don’t believe you.” When the pirate simply shrugged, Kat continued, “He told my sister that the altar cross was our child’s inheritance. He said it as he was dying. Not even Rory would lie at a time like that.”

  “Maybe he referred to the money I paid him,” Kimball suggested. “The account is in a New York bank. As his widow, you must have records of it. Perhaps the money is still there.”

  “I’m not,” she said softly. “His widow, that is. It turned out our marriage wasn’t legal.”

  “Oh.” He glanced at a scowling Luke. “I see.”

&
nbsp; Kat closed her eyes against the pity in Jake Kimball’s gaze. She’d seen too much of that from her family in the months since returning to Fort Worth. It made her feel like a fool.

  Of course, that’s exactly what she was. She’d married the King of Liars, hadn’t she? A man already married, already a father. If he’d lied about that, why wouldn’t he lie about the cross?

  Luke placed his hand on her shoulder. “If the money is there, Katrina, we’ll get it for you. Rory would want your child to have it.”

  “Perhaps I can help with that” Kimball said. “Let me write to—”

  “No.” Kat shook her head. “No, I don’t want money.”

  She wanted the cross. She had to have the cross. It was the answer. It was the key to everything! It would fix the trouble she’d caused, help wipe away the shame.

  Kat straightened, her chin came up. “Very well, sir. I will buy it back from you. I trust we can reach a fair price. I won’t begrudge you a profit over what you paid Rory.”

  ‘I’m sorry, but the cross is not for sale.”

  Frustration rolled through her like a storm. “Everything is for sale, Mr. Kimball.”

  “Not the Sacred Heart Cross.”

  Beneath her skirt Kat’s toes took to tapping. “Mr. Kimball, I come from a family of business people so I appreciate the fine art of negotiation. However, at this particular moment I have neither the time nor the inclination to dicker. Please, sir, name your price.”

  He folded his arms and shook his head. “Listen to me, lady. The cross is not for sale, not under any circumstances, for any price.”

  “Why not?”

  Kimball looked toward Luke. “Your father worked for mine for many years. Surely you recall my father’s passion for his quests?”

  “Brian was my stepfather,” Luke was quick to correct.

  Even in her agitation, Kat noted how he always made the distinction that her family hardly ever made with Jenny. It illustrated one of her great worries for her child. Her baby should have a stepfather who was simply a papa, just like Jenny was a mama to the McBride girls.

  That’s one reason why it was so important for Kat to succeed in securing the Sacred Heart Cross. She needed it for her child, for the hope its restoration to its rightful place could bring.

  Kimball continued, “My father collected art, coins, toys, and even butterflies, but his special interest was artifacts related to Texas. With your family’s help, he amassed quite a collection of Texana before he died. While he continually added and deleted items from his other collections, he never surrendered a single piece of Texana. That is the way of collectors.”

  Impatient, Kat interrupted. “What does your father’s Texana collection have to do with my cross?”

  Jake’s expression hardened. “First off, Mrs. Callahan, the cross isn’t yours. Second, the Sacred Heart Cross was the last gift I gave my father before he died. It was the crowning piece to his Texana collection. That collection is his legacy, and I’ll not break it up.”

  He sounded frustratingly sincere, and Kat sensed she’d need to use her strongest arguments to sway him. “How did your father die, Mr. Kimball?”

  Curiosity at her question registered in his eyes. “He was playing golf and a thunderstorm blew in. My father was struck by lightning.”

  Kat nodded, totally unsurprised. “It’s bad luck. I knew it. Rory died because of it. That altar cross has brought bad luck to everyone who’s come in contact with it.”

  Kat’s grandmother leaned toward Mari and murmured, “The Bad Luck Altar Cross? I’ll go along with Bad Luck Dresses and Bad Luck Cakes, and even Bad Luck Brides. But religious artifacts? That’s taking this family trend a bit overboard, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Kat,” Mari added in a chiding tone.

  Kat turned toward her sister. “It’s true, Mari. I know it. The cross is cursed and it’s all part of the Curse of Clan McBride, don’t you see?”

  “Oh, honey.” Mari glanced toward the men. “Excuse us a moment, please?”

  She led Kat away from the buggy, then lowered her voice and said, “Kat, what’s going on here? I thought you wanted the cross because Rory left it to you and the baby. I thought you wanted the money it would bring so you wouldn’t be dependent on Papa. You never said anything about the curse. Please, tell me you don’t truly believe that the cross is bad luck.”

  Fury surged like fire through Kat’s veins. “Stop it! How can you do this? How can you revert to your old, skeptical self? You believe in the McBride bad luck and in the curse and the cure, Maribeth. Don’t try to tell me you don’t.”

  “I believe,” Mari snapped back. “But, Kat, this makes no sense. Why would you think that Rory’s lost cross has anything to do with breaking the curse? It hasn’t a fig to do with anyone named McBride!”

  “But it does. This is my task, Mari. It’s been revealed to me, just like Roslin of Strathardle said would happen!”

  Two years ago, prior to their elder sister, Emma’s, wedding, the three sisters had visited a gypsy fortuneteller in Fort Worth’s Hell’s Half Acre. Instead of Madam Valentina, they’d encountered an ethereal Scotswoman who gave them each a beautiful necklace and told them a fantastical story about a family curse— the Curse of Clan McBride. She imparted the news that if the three McBride sisters each completed a mysterious task, and in doing so found a love that was powerful, vigilant and true, they could end the curse for all time. McBrides could once again be lucky in love, without going through significant trials such as those suffered by their father and Uncle Tye.

  Mari had believed the woman to be a charlatan, and she’d dismissed Roslin’s claims until last year when she found her true love, Luke Garrett.

  Now Kat believed her turn had come. Reaching beneath her shawl, her left hand grasped the emerald necklace hanging around her neck while her right rested over the child in her womb. “You figured out your task, and now I’ve figured out mine. I must deliver the Sacred Heart Cross to its rightful place. That’s my task, Mari. Once I do that, then I’ll find a love that is powerful, vigilant and true. I’ll find a father—not a stepfather—for my baby so she can grow up safe and happy and secure!”

  “Oh, Kat.” Mari hugged her sister, then took a step back. Her blue eyes gleamed with sympathy. “I understand now. I do. You’ve had us all fooled, you know. The family thought you were taking this pregnancy so well, that you felt positive about the future. You must be so frightened.”

  Tears stung Kat’s eyes, but she batted them back furiously. “I’m not frightened,” she declared, trying to convince herself. “I’ll be fine and my baby will be fine. I won’t need to worry about being a scandal or having to live off Mama and Papa the rest of my life. I know that we’ll be all right, that we’ll have a man in our lives to support us and comfort us and love us. There is a great love waiting for me out there somewhere, a man who will love my baby as his own. The first step in finding that love is to get that cross from Jake Kimball and put it where it belongs!”

  “All right,” Mari soothed. “Settle down, now. Don’t get yourself all worked up. It can’t be good for the baby.”

  Kat glanced over at the buggy where Monique sat regaling the men with one of her never-ending stories, attempting, Kat realized, to distract them from the scene the sisters were making.

  “What do I do, Mari? He doesn’t seem to want to cooperate.”

  “No, he doesn’t, does he?” Mari glanced at Jake Kimball, then clucked her tongue. “Monique was right—he is a fine specimen of manhood.”

  “Mari Garrett…What a thing for a newlywed to say.”

  “I’m married but I’m not blind, Kat” She let out a sigh. “Well, if you’re certain this is your task, then I’ll do everything I can to help you.” She paused a moment, then asked, “Do you really think the cross is bad luck?”

  “Taking its history just from the time of its discovery…” She ticked off on her fingers. “The poor man who dug it up was almost killed, the men who took it from him ar
e in jail, Rory took it from them and he’s dead. Kimball’s father was struck by lightning, for pity’s sake. Jake Kimball, here, is an accident waiting to occur.”

  “I believe in the Curse of Clan McBride, but it still goes against my nature to accept that an altar cross, of all things, is bad luck. However, since you’re sure, then we need to come up with a plan for you to get it.”

  Kat grinned. “I love it when you sound like your old Menace self.”

  Mari shrugged. “It’s who I am. I’ve accepted it. In fact since we’re talking about the curse and the cure, you should know that I’ve come to believe that the task I needed to complete to fulfill my part of breaking the curse was not to find you and bring you home but to find myself.”

  Kat wrinkled her nose. “So finding me was just what? An afterthought?”

  “Finding you was the best day of my life.”

  “Even counting your wedding day?”

  A man’s voice answered, “Even that.” Luke stepped up beside them and said, “We love you, Kat. We want you safe and happy. The sun’s going down now, and the air is beginning to cool. Why don’t we go back to my sister’s house and have a cup of tea?”

  Kat glanced back toward Kimball, who was chuckling at something Monique had said. “But what about him?”

  “I think we should take our time with Mr. Jake Kimball. He’s obviously no pushover. We need to get Emma in on this, too, and develop a plan fit for a McBride Menace.”

  A smile played on Kat’s lips. “He won’t stand a chance.”

  “No, he won’t.”

  Amusement glinted in Luke’s gaze as he looked from one woman to the other. “I pity the man. I probably ought to warn him about tangling with the likes of the Menaces, but I think I’ll stay on the sidelines this time out.”

  “Good decision, dear.” Mari patted his arm.

  “Are you ready to leave, then, Kat?” Luke asked.

  “I am. Let me have a minute to visit alone with Mr. Kimball. I want to try one more time. It’s only right that he be warned that he’s risking a run of bad luck by keeping the Sacred Heart Cross. I won’t have his death on my conscience.”