Wed by Necessity

by Karen Kirst

  “I don’t take orders from you, Duncan McKenna!”

  Why should she give up her things simply because his home was inadequate? And why should she alter her lifestyle because he’d decided he was tired of providing for his own needs? Darn his socks, her foot. Jane was right. While it had been Caroline’s decision to go for a ride with a storm approaching, she hadn’t held a gun to Duncan’s head. He was the one who’d decreed they couldn’t come home until morning. She wasn’t going to be the only one to make sacrifices.

  But what to do about the trunks? There were too many, crammed as they were on the stone fireplace hearth, around the shoddy pine table and chairs and blocking the hutch and cast-iron stove. They had to have room to maneuver. However, no solution presented itself.

  Exhaustion clawed at her, rendering clear thinking impossible. She’d slept very little in their mountain shelter and had been running on high emotions since their return. The bruises she’d sustained reminded her of her brush with death every time she moved. Going over to the bed that didn’t appear large enough to hold two people, she gave in to her body’s demand for rest. Just for a few minutes. But the moment her head found the dip in the pillow, she drifted off to blessed oblivion.

  * * *

  He was pretty sure he could watch Caroline sleep for hours and not get bored. Stationed beside the bed, his hands tucked in his pockets, he shied away from sorting through the confusing feelings she aroused in him. Duncan had learned many lessons throughout his twenty-six years. Allowing his heart to get tangled with a woman such as her would produce nothing but disappointment and grief.

  Nestled on her side atop the faded quilt, her hands tucked beneath her cheek, she slept deeply. Between the jewels in her hair, the pearls draped about her neck and the shimmering golden fabric rippling about her still form, she looked out of place in the rustic cabin. Like a fairy-tale heroine who’d wandered far from her castle and gotten lost. Her eyebrows pulled together, forming a crevice there, and he wondered what she dreamt about. He knew very little about his wife. What he did know made him question whether or not it was possible for this union to be successful.

  I still don’t understand why you’ve allowed this, Lord. Love is out of the question. I can’t see how she and I could possibly build a relationship that would satisfy either of us. I’m not even certain we can be friends.

  His spirit heavy, he checked the trunks and his wardrobe. She hadn’t accomplished a single thing in the hour and a half he’d been in the stables. Bombarding her earlier with the list of demands had been a petty move on his part. Irate over this entire situation, he’d found himself wanting to punish her in some small way.

  “Nap time’s over, lass.”

  She stirred, the V between her brows deepening as she burrowed deeper into his pillow. It was going to smell like her lemon verbena scent, he was sure of it. She proved difficult to rouse. When spoken commands didn’t work, he reached down and gave her a gentle shake.

  Caroline batted his hand away. “Leave me be, Betty,” she groaned, her voice thick.

  Duncan had to admit, she was adorable in this state. He would’ve liked to explore her cheek’s soft promise. He didn’t dare.

  “Up with ya now,” he said in a booming voice. “We’ve work to do.”

  Bolting upright, she gaped at him in confusion. “Why are you yelling at me?”

  “Mayhap because it would take a firecracker to blast you from sleep.” He tapped the nearest trunk with his boot. “I thought I made my wishes plain.”

  Moving her legs around and setting her feet on the floor, she shot him a scathing glare. “I’m not getting rid of my things.”

  He crossed his arms and counted to ten in his head. “And I say you are. Unless you wish to use the forest as your closet.”

  Caroline rose and faced him. Her right cheek was pink and creased from the pillow, and stray strands had escaped the tight roll at the back of her head and now skimmed her jawline. Annoyance aside, he itched to smooth them behind her ear.

  “I don’t recall being consulted about where we live. Why does it have to be here?” She wrinkled her nose. “You can just as easily move into the main house with me.”

  “Honestly, Caroline? You’d have me move into your bedroom and live under the same roof as your parents?”

  Clearly aghast at that prospect, she worried her bottom lip, which brought his attention to things better left alone. He was a male, after all, and had been left to his own company for too long. Reminding himself that she’d turned his life upside down because of a silly whim, he shoved the attraction aside.

  “My guess is your mother wouldn’t tolerate having the man who ruined her daughter’s life underfoot. Besides, I happen to like my independence and privacy. For now, we stay put, which means this stuff has to go.”

  Hefting the nearest one in his arms, he carried it out to the wagon. When he returned inside, she looked disconcerted. More stunned than when he’d listed off the tasks in store for her. She found her tongue after the second trip.

  “Where are you taking my things?”

  “The church. Reverend Munroe will know who to donate it to.”

  She trailed him onto the porch. “You can’t do this!”

  “Trust me, you’ll soon get used to living with less. You don’t need hordes of material goods to be happy.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” she exclaimed hotly. “You’ve no idea what it’s like to live in comfort.”

  He brushed past her, disappointed by her attitude. He knew exactly what it was like to live in comfort, but he didn’t want that life anymore. Maureen’s tirade had sounded similar. He wouldn’t soon forget that day he’d gone to her and explained his reasons for breaking off their engagement.

  “I may be poor in your eyes, but I’m rich in what truly matters.”

  As his wife, she was assuming a less prominent role in society, one she’d disdained in front of half the town. Getting rid of her excessive belongings was a huge step in forcing her to face that fact.

  Outrage churned in her heavily-lashed eyes. “You’ll regret this.”

  When she realized he was intent on his task, she hurried to open the remaining trunks and began to pile articles of clothing on the bed. By the time he got the cabin cleared out and the wagon loaded, his anger had cooled, and his conscience warned him he was making a mistake. He couldn’t relent at this point, however. She’d never respect him.

  Rolling into the reverend’s yard long minutes later, Duncan halted the team and experienced a twinge of unease. His temper had gotten him into fixes before and unpleasant consequences had followed. Something told him this wasn’t going to end well. While the older man was surprised by Duncan’s visit, he expressed his gratitude over Caroline’s generosity. There were plenty of needy families in these mountain coves, he said, and promised to return the empty trunks within the week.

  The ride back to the cabin passed in a blur. Now that he’d had time to think it through, Duncan was convinced he’d made a grave error in judgment. He could’ve easily stored her clothes in the barn’s hayloft. Or returned some of them to the main house for temporary storage. But he’d let his feelings about being forced into marriage get the best of him.

  Not the smartest way to start out your marriage, McKenna.

  He was going to have to apologize, he realized. More important, he was going to have to forgive her for her part in this forced union and take responsibility for his own role.

  Words of humility were forming in his mind when he halted the team at the edge of the profuse forest surrounding the cabin. His throat tight, he jumped down and strode across the yard. He had one boot on the bottom step when he noticed the clothes strewn about the porch. His clothes.

  “She wouldn’t dare,” he growled.

  Snatching up his suit coat where it lay half in
the grass, he was filled with disbelief. Gathering up an armful, he shoved the door open with such force it banged against the wall. His chest heaved and blood channeled through his veins until he felt light-headed.

  Caroline calmly turned from the wardrobe. She had the audacity to smile. “There wasn’t enough room for everything. You won’t be needing that stuff, right?”

  Chapter Eight

  He was going to explode.

  Caroline’s pasted-on smile slipped. Perhaps tossing his clothes out had been an extreme, not to mention immature, act of retaliation. But she was still so very upset with him. He had no right to do what he’d done.

  A muscle in his jaw throbbed. His glare bore the heat of a hundred campfires. “You are fortunate I’m a God-fearing man.”

  He prowled toward her. She leapt out of the way. Not looking at her, he proceeded to rehang his clothes in the scant inches available in the hulking furniture. The tension in the room made her feel as if it were filling with water and she had maybe a minute’s span of oxygen left. She didn’t know whether to stay or leave.

  The sound of feminine chatter passed through the windows and, moments later, a knock resounded through the space. Duncan froze.

  “I’ll get it.” Caroline rushed to greet the visitors, grateful for the intrusion. “Jane. Jessica. What are you doing here?” The twins both held baskets, the contents obscured by blue-and-white-checked fabric. “I—I mean, what can I do for you?”

  “Sorry for stopping by unannounced, but we couldn’t let the day go by without presenting the newlyweds with a gift.” Jessica, the more spirited sister, didn’t look the least bit apologetic. Curiosity brightened her eyes as she peered past Caroline. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to attend the ceremony.”

  Jane’s gaze bore the weight of concern. “Um, did you know there are articles of clothing out here?”

  Behind Caroline, Duncan snorted. Her face flushed. “Um, yes. Thank you, Jane. We’re still sorting through everything. Won’t you come in?”

  As the sisters deposited the baskets on the table, Caroline looked everywhere except at Duncan. She listened with half an ear as they unpacked their wares, chattering about baked goods and preserves.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your husband?” Jessica’s innocent request brought Caroline’s whirling thoughts to a standstill.

  “Of course.” Smoothing her hands over her skirts, she made the introductions, risking a glance at him as he greeted the twins. He’d managed to school his handsome, aristocratic features into a mask of polite civility. When his gaze punched hers and his mouth tightened, she almost wished Jane and Jessica could stick around. He’d have no opportunity to unleash his displeasure.

  “My husband, Grant, and I would love to have you over for dinner sometime.” Jessica’s smile was welcoming. “You’re an official resident now.”

  Duncan nodded. “I’d like that.”

  “And after that, you’re invited to our house,” Jane added. “Tom mentioned he’d like to hear about Scotland.”

  Caroline found herself wondering about Duncan’s homeland, as well. His background was a complete mystery to her. He’d mentioned having been engaged. Why hadn’t it worked out?

  All too soon they were taking their leave, and Caroline lingered in the doorway watching them stroll down the dirt trail, the setting sun throwing long shadows over them. They were returning to their happy homes, to husbands who’d welcome them with affection.

  Take me with you, she was tempted to call out.

  “Caroline.”

  She jumped at the nearness of his rumbling voice. Spinning, she latched onto the doorjamb for support.

  “It’s getting late. Neither one of us got much rest last night. We should eat and prepare for bed.”

  “Bed?” Her fingers dug into the wood. Maybe she should’ve had that talk with her mother, after all.

  Frowning, he massaged the back of his neck and studied the floor. “I meant what I said. You’ve no need to worry on that score.” Turning on his heel, he went to the hutch, removed a set of plates and began to fill them with the savory items the girls had brought.

  Relief swept through her, at odds with the twinge of despair. That her husband had no wish to be close to her troubled her more than she thought possible.

  You’re being ridiculous, she scolded herself. Between the lack of sleep, the soreness in her ribs and muscles and the surreal events of the day, she was overwrought. She had no desire to be close to him, either.

  She advanced to the middle of the room. “There’s only one bed.”

  Duncan paused in his movements, his gaze touching hers and sliding away. “I’ll get another one tomorrow and hang quilts from the ceiling. We’ll need privacy for dressing, anyway.”

  “What about tonight? Where will you sleep?”

  He laughed, a brief, humorless sound. “It’s my cabin. Where do you expect me to sleep?”

  “A gentleman would let me have the bed.”

  “A rolled-up quilt will act as a proper barrier. If you don’t like it, sleep on the floor.” He shrugged and bit off a slice of ham. “There may be mice, though.”

  Upset again, battling an onslaught of loneliness that pushed her to the edge of despair, she curled her hands into fists. “I’d take the mice over you any day.”

  His face was a blank mask. “Fine. More space for me.”

  Infuriating, callous man! “What can I use to make a pallet?”

  With a sigh, he ceased eating and gathered a pair of wool blankets, a pillow and a quilt from a cedar chest at the foot of the bed. He pushed them into her arms. “Here you go. Sleep well, lass.”

  * * *

  Not bothering with a lantern, Duncan stalked out of the cabin. Caroline didn’t require his presence as she got ready for bed. A separate bedroom sure would’ve come in handy. He was going to have to talk to Albert about expanding. The one-room structure might’ve been fine for a couple of love-struck newlyweds. Not for them. They would need enough space to give each other a break. Something as expansive as his parents’ estate would’ve meant they wouldn’t cross paths unless they wished to.

  A sense of loss invaded him. The dream he’d cherished of a genuine, loving relationship was out of reach. Impossible.

  Walking past dark woods and tranquil fields to the main house, he entered the stables and was surprised to see Wendell standing at Rain’s stall.

  “Evenin’,” he said, coming alongside. “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s her usual content self.”

  “Good to hear.” The mare butted her head against his shoulder. Chuckling, he petted her face. “You’re a fortunate one, that you are.”

  He sensed Wendell’s gaze on him. The black pools were sorrowful.

  “What’s on your mind?” Duncan said, although he had a pretty good idea. He’d seen the fondness on Wendell’s face that afternoon as he’d presented Caroline with the flowers.

  “You didn’t wish to marry her.”

  “Everyone’s aware of that,” he said drily. “She didn’t want this, either.”

  “She deserves a man who will cherish her.”

  Duncan bit the inside of his cheek. Cherish and Caroline didn’t fit in the same sentence.

  “You will give her a chance?” Wendell persisted. “Get to know the woman behind the mask?”

  “This sounds like a speech I should be getting from her father.”

  “Exactly.” He nodded. “But you didn’t get that from Mr. Albert, did you?”

  He patted Rain’s neck. “No, I didn’t. Why is that?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not inside that house. But I see her unhappiness. I see Mr. Albert busy with his work and his friends. He has no time for his daughter.” Crow’s-feet appeared at the corners of his eyes. “I ha
d a daughter once.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She became ill and died. She was eighteen. Beautiful. Kindhearted.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “She’s been gone many moons.” He got a faraway look.

  Duncan began to understand Wendell’s attachment to Caroline. He viewed her as a substitute daughter. “Do you have other children?”

  “Two strong sons and many grandchildren. Make my wife and me proud.” He smiled then. “You and Caroline will have fine, strapping children.”

  “I can’t think about that right now.” Ruthlessly banning images of blond-haired babies with his wife’s stunning blue eyes, he pushed off the stall door. “I should go back.”

  “Think about what I said.”

  “Good night, Wendell.”

  Duncan chose the exit that was closer to the barn. As he passed the smokehouse, he heard voices. One of the barn’s doors was open, and low light from inside illuminated the figures of a man and woman. He recognized Theo Marsh at once. The woman’s back was to him, so he couldn’t make out her features. The hair escaping her bonnet was light brown, and she was small and thin and dressed in what appeared to be a uniform. Their furious whispers indicated they were arguing.

  Not wanting to intrude, he veered to the left and followed the paddock’s fence line until he’d left the outbuildings behind. Who was Theo meeting in the late evening hours out of sight of the Turners? And why?

  * * *

  The pop and sizzle of frying bacon teased her awake. Caroline burrowed farther into the soft ticking, her aching body’s protests shredding the last remnants of sleep. Opening her eyes, she stared at the rafters from which dried herbs and garlic bulbs hung suspended. To her left, the clink of utensils against cookware was interspersed with the creak of floorboards as Duncan moved about the kitchen. Slowly shifting her head on the pillow, she searched for the pallet on which she’d started the night. It was gone.

  Her scraped-in breath was audible. How had she gotten from the dirty, rock-hard floor to the bed? Her mind raced with possibilities.