by Karen Kirst
Duncan pivoted. “Is she that bad then?”
Humor graced his mouth. “This isn’t about Caroline or my opinion of what you should do. I’m trying to put myself in your shoes. I wanted you to know the whole of Gatlinburg isn’t against you.”
“I’d be lyin’ if I said I hadn’t thought of running. I’ve done nothing wrong in the sight of God, and neither has she.”
“I believe you.”
“But it’s my duty to honor the McKenna name. I won’t sully it by acting the coward and sowing seeds of doubt in the locals’ minds.”
And there was the matter of his intended bride to consider. As furious as he was with her, the thought of leaving her to bear the brunt of his rejection troubled him. It would serve her right, he reminded himself, recalling her adamant objection to marrying a common working man. In that moment, he’d been the object of every single man’s pity within hearing distance.
The sheriff held out his hand. “I suppose this means you’ll be adding to our population. Welcome to Gatlinburg, Mr. McKenna.”
“Call me Duncan.” They shook hands.
“I’ll be praying for you and Caroline.”
He blinked at the reference to them as a team. A couple. From this day forward, he’d be irrevocably linked to her.
“We’ll need all the prayers we can get.” Did his face bear the same grave acceptance as his tone?
After the sheriff departed, Duncan returned to his humble cabin, one that didn’t even belong to him. One bright spot in this mess? The thought of watching Caroline adjust to life as a stable manager’s wife.
* * *
“I can’t do this.”
Caroline’s reflection in the mirror was nothing like how she’d imagined a bride should look. With no time to procure a proper wedding dress, Louise had chosen a ball gown from Caroline’s wardrobe that she hadn’t yet worn. Besides the ostentatious design, the color was wrong for her. But she hadn’t had the gumption to argue with her mother, not when she’d caused Louise’s dreams for her to shatter.
Crafted of fine, golden yellow silk and overlaid with white netting, the bodice was snug, the curved neckline lower than she preferred and the skirt boasted poofs of fabric that reminded her of popped corn. She ran her palms over her waist. The style certainly didn’t hide the span of her hips.
Her best friend, Jane Leighton, adjusted one of the yellow paste jewels Betty had woven into her upswept hair. “You’re going to get through this,” she encouraged, her moss green eyes solemn. “Don’t think about what next week or next month might bring. Take things one day at a time.”
“He hates me.”
Jane met her gaze in the mirror. One of a set of identical twin sisters Caroline had known since she was fifteen years old, Jane was practical and calm and wise. She was one of a very small handful of people Caroline trusted.
“I’m sure he’s merely frustrated with the situation he finds himself in.”
Caroline twisted on the low, circular seat. “No, he truly hates me, Jane.”
“Then I suggest you find ways to change his mind.”
“I don’t think anything I could do or say will make him forgive me.”
“There were two of you on that mountain ridge. You didn’t force him to accompany you.” She swept a swath of her thick red hair behind her shoulder, the band on her fourth finger catching Caroline’s gaze. Jane was married to the love of her life. Tom Leighton adored and respected his wife. Sadly, that was not to be the case in her own marriage.
“I haven’t said ‘I do’ yet, and I already know my marriage is going to be a disaster.”
“You can’t think like that, Caroline. Focus on being friends first. The rest will come later.”
Exactly what the rest was comprised of worried her. Once Louise had unleashed the brunt of her disappointment, she’d attempted to broach the subject of wifely duties. Horrified, Caroline had cut her off. Theirs wasn’t the caring mother-daughter relationship that would make such a delicate conversation easy.
She comforted herself with the fact that Duncan’s intense dislike would prevent him from pursuing that aspect of their relationship. She recalled the way his casual touch made her feel—jumpy and awkward and strangely empty—and prayed she was right.
Louise breezed inside the bedroom. “It’s time, Caroline.” She appeared to have acquired dozens more wrinkles about her mouth in the hours since that morning.
Jane gave her hand a final squeeze. “You’re going to be fine. You’re God’s beloved child. He’s allowing this for a reason.”
Caroline worried over that tidbit the entire trek down the stairs, through the main floor and out into the sweltering July afternoon. The heavy air closed around her like a wool glove. The heat, combined with nerves, caused her palms to grow damp. While she considered herself a follower of Jesus Christ, she’d never felt like a beloved child of God. She’d never felt like anyone’s beloved.
The yard was blessedly empty of most of the morning’s onlookers. As she made her way into the shade of a multitude of oak and maple trees, her gaze swept those in attendance. Their out-of-town guests, including Isaiah and Theo, congregated on her left. Theo’s expression was inscrutable, his light eyes intent on her. The group on her right was comprised of her friends and their husbands. Tom was there waiting for Jane to rejoin him. Shane stood with his arm around Allison, his wife, who shot her a reassuring smile. Caroline’s gaze fell to Allison’s unmistakable pregnancy, and she stumbled. Panic clawed its way to the surface.
“Miss Caroline.” Wendell stood shyly off to the side, wearing his finest clothes, his wispy black hair slicked off his face. He held out a bouquet of white and yellow blossoms plucked from the gardens. “For you.”
Her fingers closing around the stems, she brought the flowers to her nose, hoping the rush of emotion would pass.
“How thoughtful of you, Wendell,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
He dipped his head. The affection in his brown-black eyes made her want to weep. Since the day they’d arrived in Tennessee, the older man had taken a shine to her. He’d been kind. He’d invited her to help him with the flowers, and she’d accepted, mostly because she’d known Louise wouldn’t approve. But then she’d started to enjoy his company and the work, and an unlikely friendship had flourished. He’d become like a benevolent grandfather.
Unable to linger, she took a single step and encountered the reverend standing with a striking, somewhat forbidding stranger. Caroline halted. She scanned the manicured lawns. Where was Duncan?
She peered at the stranger a second time. His expression had gone grimmer than before, his familiar cobalt gaze searing her like a branding iron. She hadn’t recognized him at first. His auburn hair had been cut military short on the sides and back, the top locks left slightly longer to spill over his forehead. The beard was gone. The planes and angles of his face were uncovered for her inspection. His jaw was square and firm, his chin unyielding, his full, sculpted mouth softening the noble beauty of his features. His tan was uneven, but a few days in the sun would fix that.
Caroline’s lungs squeezed every last drop of air out. In his crisp black suit and snowy white shirt, her husband-to-be was elegant and refined, his bearing that of a king assured of his subjects’ loyalty. His new appearance couldn’t hide the untamed part of him that fascinated her, however, and she knew then and there she was in big trouble.
* * *
“Please join hands.”
Duncan automatically obeyed the reverend’s directive, reaching for Caroline’s and enclosing them in his. Her skin was smooth and cool, the opposite of his work-worn hands. He thought his heart might fail him. As the words rolled from the older man’s lips, Duncan stared at the woman who was about to pledge to love, honor and obey him. She didn’t love him. Didn’t respect him. As for heeding his wishes?
He doubted she’d do that without a fight.
She didn’t look like any bride he’d ever seen. Brides were supposed to wear flowing white gowns and appear serenely happy as they met their groom at the altar. Caroline may as well have been attending a costume ball or an opera. And she didn’t look serene in the slightest. Gone was the haughty disdain. She looked as if a single tap of his finger would shatter her into a thousand pieces. Not an auspicious start to any union.
Unfortunately, the garish ensemble didn’t lessen her outward appeal...an appeal he would have to fight against. He’d seen her reaction to his polished appearance. He’d assumed, wrongly, that she’d prefer him shorn and shaved. But the moment she’d spied him, she’d glanced about for a way of escape. He repulsed her.
She wouldn’t even meet his gaze. Her luminous blue eyes, dark and tumultuous, were fastened on his collar. Every few seconds, she’d moisten her lips and pull in slivers of air. Because her hair had been pulled into a tight roll at the back of her head, he could see the rapid pulse in the curve of her neck. Duncan had the inane urge to place his fingertips there, to soothe her anxiety, to make her feel better about what was happening.
Who was he kidding? She wouldn’t welcome his touch.
“Do you, Duncan McKenna, take this woman, Caroline Turner, to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
He didn’t speak. All he could think was that his parents and his brothers were missing the most momentous day of his life. He pictured his kilt hanging in his wardrobe and his great-grandmother’s ring that had been kept in the family safe for his future bride. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to have gone.
At his prolonged silence, Caroline finally lifted her eyes to search his. The whirlwind of emotions there punched him in the gut.
“Aye.”
Her throat worked, and in that moment, her disquiet was palpable.
“Do you, Caroline Turner, take this man, Duncan McKenna, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I...” Her hands were trembling now. “I do.”
Her lids slid down, blocking his view.
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Duncan stood there, numb to the core. He was locked in a marriage he hadn’t asked for, all because of this woman’s willful behavior. A fresh shock of anger pulsed through him.
He released her hands and adopted a casual air. “We can skip that part, Reverend. We all know ’tisna a love match.”
Several of the women gasped. Louise, his new mother-in-law, latched on to Albert’s arm. The reverend frowned, uncertain how to proceed. Caroline kept her gaze on the grass at their feet. Was she paler than she’d been a few moments ago? Did that mean she was relieved at having been spared his attentions or was she merely annoyed at his rude behavior? At the moment, he couldn’t find the energy to care.
His father-in-law saved the day. Lifting a hand above his head, he invited everyone to join the bride and groom in the parlor, where refreshments had been set out to mark the momentous occasion. Conversation joined the birds’ song as a few came over to offer awkward congratulations. A dark-haired man approached Caroline, and she edged closer to Duncan.
“Theo. Meet Duncan McKenna.”
He shook hands and murmured the proper pleasantries, but his eyes were hard and his smile predatory. Disregarding Duncan’s presence, Theo rested his hands on Caroline’s shoulders and bent his head.
“Congratulations, Caroline,” he murmured. Then he pressed a prolonged kiss on the corner of her mouth.
Possessiveness caught him unawares. Duncan shifted closer and curled an arm around her waist, forcing Theo to remove his hands. She stiffened.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Duncan purred, “cake and lemonade await.”
Theo’s gaze snapped with annoyance, but he bowed deeply and stepped aside. As Duncan guided her across the lawn, his hold on her unrelenting, she said, “I’m not in the mood for cake and false pleasantries.”
“Can’t say that I am, either, but it’s expected of us.”
“I didn’t figure you for a man who acted to appease others’ expectations.”
They’d reached the base of the porch stairs. Glancing about to ensure no one was watching, he guided her to the corner of the house.
“What are you doing?” The tremor of unease in her voice prodded his pride.
Pulling away, he snapped, “Never fear, sweet lass, I’ve no intention of forcing my attentions on you.”
The way she kicked up her chin was at odds with how she wrapped her arms around herself in a defensive gesture. The storm of emotions in her eyes were too jumbled to measure. “That’s a relief.”
The jealousy that had been doing a slow burn through his veins surged. He crowded her space. Her eyes went wide and her lips parted. “Let me make something perfectly clear, my wife. I willnae tolerate infidelity. This may no’ be a true marriage of our hearts and minds, but in the eyes of the law and this town, we’re husband and wife. Whatever’s been goin’ on between you and that businessman can no’ continue. I willnae allow it.”
“Nothing has been going on between us.”
“He’s the man your parents wished you to marry, is he no’?”
“There are a number of men my parents considered for me.”
“Forget them.”
The breath whooshed out of her. “You’re impossible.”
He blocked her retreat, unsure why he was persisting but unwilling to drop the matter. “I mean it, Caroline. You have my complete and utter loyalty, and I expect yours in return. Do I have your word?”
Anguish flashed. “I understand you don’t want me, and you don’t want anyone else to, either.” Her face shuttered as the starch went out of her. “Never fear, Duncan. I promise to be true to our vows.”
She entered the house without him, leaving him to wonder why he suddenly cared.
Chapter Seven
She’d thought her life couldn’t get any worse. She’d been wrong.
As she stood in the midst of what could only be dubbed a glorified shanty, her former complaints struck Caroline as trivial. The weight of the plain gold band on her finger felt strange. Twisting it round and round, she pondered her new identity as Duncan rearranged her trunks in an effort to make enough space to walk. He’d shed his suit coat and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. The muscles of his shoulders and upper back rippled with his efforts. His forearms were thick and strong, his wrists compact, his hands large and tan, his nails short and clean. This space magnified his size, increasing her awareness of their isolation.
She still smarted from his refusal to seal their vows with the traditional kiss. His obvious disdain as he’d pulled her aside and grilled her about Theo cut deep. Like many others in this town, he didn’t like her. Only, he didn’t try to hide it.
“There are too many,” he announced, his palms slapping his outer thighs. “You’ll have to get rid of all but one. Since you willnae be needin’ your fancy clothes any longer—” he eyed her popped-corn dress askance “—I suggest you donate them.”
“Of course I need them. I’m the second in charge of the Gatlinburg Benevolent Society. I host ladies’ functions. I organize and direct town-wide events such as the Independence Day celebration. I must dress the part.”
He planted his hands on his hips. He wore a gold band that matched hers, and she was struck by the fact that, just as she belonged to him, he belonged to her. A familiar longing took root inside...the longing to be close to someone, to love and be loved, to share the deepest parts of her with someone in complete trust and acceptance.
“You’re going to have to cope with the fact that you’re no longer the pampered daughter of Gatlinburg’s wealthiest man. You’re a common laborer’s wife now.” His beautiful, bright blue eyes rimmed
with spiky auburn lashes taunted her.
“Surely you don’t expect me to give up my charitable endeavors?”
“You willnae have time for such things. You’ll be too busy cooking my meals.” Patting his taut midsection, he said, “I warn you, I have a hearty appetite. I like meat and lots of it. Then there’s the matter of my clothing. My socks will need darning, my pants patched and my shirts and handkerchiefs ironed. You’ll also be tending the pigs and chickens, as well as the vegetable garden. I also like fresh fruits and vegetables. Tomatoes are my favorite.”
Horrified by the images passing through her mind, she said, “I don’t know how to do any of that!”
He shrugged. “I’ll teach you.”
“I have money. I’ll hire someone. That way, I can continue my charitable work. Nothing has to change.”
With someone else to perform all those chores he’d listed, she could spend most of her time in the main house. She wouldn’t be forced to spend every day, all day, in his company. Just the nights. Anxiety congealed in her stomach. No need to worry about that. He viewed her as a worm in the soil.
Gesturing to their surroundings, he said, “Look around, Caroline. Everything has changed. This is your home and I’m your husband. As such, your money is now mine to use as I see fit. And we’re not hiring someone else to do what’s your place to do.”
Fear left an acrid taste in her mouth. If Duncan garnered control of her money, how would she meet the blackmailer’s demands?
Running a hand through his shortened locks, he sighed. “I have work to do. Go through your things and pick out the clothes you wish to keep. Choose sensible items you won’t mind getting dirty and a couple of dresses for church. Don’t bother moving anything. I’ll take care of it when I get back.”
Snatching up his Stetson, he left without another glance, assuming she would follow his instructions. Caroline snatched the nearest object, a cracked enamel mug, and lobbed it at the closed door. It bounced off the wood, hit the floor with a thud and rolled beneath the bed.