by Karen Kirst
“It’s getting dark,” she said.
“You can light the lamp if you’d like.”
After lighting the wick and setting the lamp in the grass, she resumed her seat and was imagining how to construct a butterfly mask when his deep, accented voice startled her.
“Caroline, would you mind if I asked you a personal question?”
“What about?”
“Something occurred to me just now,” he said, not looking at her. “Have you ever had a serious suitor?”
“Are you asking if I’ve ever been in love?”
He transferred the pole to his other hand. “Have you?” His tone was serious. “I’d hate to think this marriage prevented you from being with someone you already admired.”
“There’s no one else.”
There never had been. A couple of the Charleston bachelors who’d visited over the years had expressed interest. She’d rebuffed them because she’d been holding out for an elusive, impossible dream.
“You were engaged once. What happened?”
“We didn’t want the same things. Don’t get me wrong, Maureen’s a vibrant, engaging woman. She fascinated me from the moment I laid eyes on her at the Winstons’ Christmas ball the year I turned twenty-three.”
Uncomfortable with his glowing remarks about his former fiancée, Caroline regretted opening the subject. She could all too easily picture the pair meeting and falling in love at the function they were both working. Had Maureen been a kitchen helper? Or a maid?
“What did she look like?” She despised the weakness that allowed the question to pass her lips.
“Oddly enough, she’s a redhead like me. Fairer skin, of course, because she shields herself from too much sun. And her eyes are green like those lily pads there.”
“I see.” Caroline quelled further questions. The answers only brought her grief.
“She had scores of admirers. Even so, I decided I had to have her. I pursued her. She relished the game. I don’t think she took me seriously until the night I proposed.”
Disquiet arrowing through her, Caroline scrambled to her feet and walked farther down the bank. She couldn’t listen to this, not so soon after their awkward, stilted vows. The muscles between her shoulders were so tense they ached. Reaching up, she kneaded the area and a slight groan escaped.
Muffled movement warned her of his approach. “Are you okay?”
“Of course.” Although her features were likely as shadowed as his, she faked a smile. “My legs were getting stiff.”
His gleaming gaze caught her feeble efforts to ease her discomfort. “How are you recovering from your fall? Are the bruises fading? Should you see Doc—”
“I’m fine,” she interrupted, lowering her arm to her side. She didn’t like to be reminded of her reckless stupidity. “Much improved.”
He edged behind her and gingerly settled his hands atop her shoulders, his thumbs aligned on either side of her spine. The weight and warmth of him seared through her thin cotton blouse.
“What are you doing?” When she would’ve turned, his hold tightened, preventing her.
“You’ve been doing chores you’re not accustomed to.” His mouth was close enough that his breath stirred the tendrils on her nape. “And so soon after being bucked off a horse. You’re bound to be stiff.”
At the first gentle pressure of his fingers on her poor muscles, Caroline closed her eyes and blew out a long breath. Languid warmth flowed through her. Bliss. That’s what this was. The knots gradually melted away beneath his careful ministrations. She had to fight to remain upright instead of sagging against his chest.
She almost protested aloud when he stopped.
He bent his head close. “All better now?”
Awareness roared to life. Caroline envisioned him sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her back against him, maybe even nuzzling her cheek.
“Caroline?” he prompted, his voice thicker than usual.
She started. “Yes! Yes, I’m fine. If I was any better, I’d be a puddle at your feet.”
His hands fell away, and she bit her lip. Wrong thing to say?
Turning, she searched his features for a sign he felt something other than repulsion. His expression was frustratingly blank.
“Thank you, Duncan.”
“Glad I could help.” He gestured to the blanket. “Shall we stay and try for a fish? Or would you rather leave?”
Caroline wanted to stay. She craved his company, ironic considering how she’d initially felt about him. But he didn’t truly want hers. So she strove for an excuse to give him some time alone.
“Actually, I need to stop in the house and get something from my old bedroom.”
Nodding, he bent to retrieve the lamp. “I’ll walk with you.”
“No.”
He looked up sharply.
“I mean, it’s not necessary. Stay. Enjoy your hobby for a while longer.”
“All right.” When he handed her the lamp, their fingers tangled, and his laugh had a self-conscious ring to it. “Don’t get lost.”
With a quick, perfunctory smile, she left him there, her heart clamoring for the impossible.
Chapter Thirteen
Duncan was struggling with growing dissatisfaction, and it was centered around the woman at his side. Collective voices lifting in song resonated through the church building. Caroline possessed a fine, clear voice. His gaze was drawn to her for what seemed the hundredth time since she’d met him at the wagon, ready for services. Outfitted in the audacious dress she’d worn for their wedding, she’d left her hair loose. It spilled down her back like a silken waterfall. He sorely wished to curve his arm around her shoulders and caress the length of it. A hairpin was tucked above her left ear, exposing the shell pink lobe and the creamy skin of her nape. Not so long ago, he’d come close to pressing kisses in that exact spot.
Ripping his gaze away and refocusing on the reverend, he tried to expel the memory of their time at the pond and how a straightforward offer to alleviate her discomfort had transformed into something else entirely. The intense need to hold her had almost obliterated his decision to maintain his distance. They were finally making progress, sharing parts of themselves and their histories. He didn’t want to slow the process or, worse, halt it altogether.
The piano music trailed away and, bidding the congregation to sit, the reverend shared important announcements. Duncan’s gaze wandered to the pews on their right and snagged on a familiar arrogant profile. A slow burn set up in his gut. Theo Marsh was up to something. Why else would he be inventing excuses to linger on the Turners’ property? First it had been flimsy concerns about his horse. Then it had been a digestive issue.
He looked over at Caroline and was absurdly relieved to find her attention on the reverend. While Duncan hadn’t seen any evidence that she harbored feelings for the other man, he couldn’t be certain Theo had accepted she was out of reach. What other draw was there in Gatlinburg besides Caroline? At the thought of their history, which was unknown to him, jealousy crept up, catching him unawares. He bunched his fists. You’re being unreasonable, McKenna. She’s wearing your ring, not his.
A late arrival entered the church, heels clacking on the polished floorboards. Beside him, Caroline stiffened as Vivian strolled past, a vision in canary yellow, and assumed the empty space beside Theo. The two exchanged polite greetings. Then Theo glanced over his shoulder, his gray gaze seeking Caroline, smoldering with unnamed emotion.
Duncan was about to come out of his seat when the sound of Caroline’s name snatched him out of his ruminations.
Reverend Munroe was staring straight at them. “Don’t be shy, Caroline. Come on up here. I’d like to say a brief word.”
The congregants twisted in their seats, open speculation on their faces. A sense of forebodin
g swept over him. Glancing at her, he noted her sudden pallor.
Staring straight ahead, she slowly gained her feet and walked to the front. She faced the crowd as if they were about to lob raw eggs at her. Oblivious, the reverend beamed with paternal pride, his smile stretched from ear to ear.
Duncan gripped the pew seat on either side of his legs, the desire to create a diversion and spare her seizing him. Time seemed to slow. The rainbow-hued light from the stained-glass windows blurred in his peripheral vision.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve asked Miss Turner up here—”
Someone interrupted with a muffled comment Duncan couldn’t hear.
The older man laughed and patted Caroline’s shoulder. “Forgive me, young lady. I’m still getting used to the fact you’re a married woman. I’ve asked Mrs. McKenna up here today to publicly thank her for her awe-inspiring generosity. As you know, Caroline and her mother have long been involved in charitable works. But she recently went above and beyond what was expected of her. For those of you who don’t know, Mrs. McKenna donated nearly an entire wardrobe to be distributed to the needy in our community.”
Caroline’s gaze hit the floor. Shoulders curved inward, she was the picture of abject humiliation.
Whispers and gasps of surprise filtered through the space. Duncan wanted to snatch her out of the church and take her far away. This was his fault.
“As a congregation, we thank you, Caroline. You are a true example of God’s commands regarding the care of those less fortunate. The rest of us would be wise to take note.”
Hearty clapping erupted, punctuated with cheers and whistles, and she cringed. With a clipped nod at the reverend, she walked with her head held high and resumed her seat. She was trembling. Duncan ached to offer her comfort. But would she accept it from him?
The moment the noise died down and the preaching commenced, he slipped his arm through hers and found her hand. He wove their fingers together and waited. She didn’t resist. Didn’t pull away. But nor did she react.
Bringing their joined hands onto his knee, he used his free hand to press heat into her cold flesh. Once again, he wished he could undo his actions. Caroline was a private woman who’d taken pride in her position in the community. Whether or not he agreed with that, he’d been unfair to act as he had.
At the closing of the service, she made a beeline for the exit. He had to dodge several people to catch up and, when he did, a pair of matronly ladies blocked their path.
Caroline stopped short, the need to escape written across her face. “Excuse me, Mrs. Smith. Mrs. Plumley. I can’t tarry today.”
“We won’t keep you, Caroline,” the plump, bushy-haired one cooed. “We wanted to express how proud we are of you. Your heart is truly the most generous we’ve encountered in a long while.”
Caroline began to blink rapidly. Her throat worked. The obvious cracks in her composure became apparent. Placing a hand on her back, Duncan nodded to the ladies. “You’re very kind. I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a rush to get home. Perhaps you can pay my wife a visit later on in the week?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her sharp side glance.
“That would be lovely.” The second woman whose figure resembled a barrel clutched her hankie to her chest. “We actually have a family who’s suffered an extended illness and is in dire need of assistance. We wondered if Caroline could enlist donations.”
They both looked to Caroline, who quipped, “I’d be happy to help. However, you’ll have to get my husband’s permission first.”
The barrel lady’s mouth formed an O. The bushy one’s eyebrows disappeared beneath her bangs.
Duncan smiled and curved his arm around her waist. “Of course you don’t need my permission for such a noble cause.”
Not meeting his gaze, she edged away from his side and worked out a time for the women to meet her at Albert and Louise’s house. She marched to the wagon and climbed onto the seat without his assistance. Boarding on his side, he released the brake and guided the team out of the churchyard. He waited until they left Main Street behind to speak.
“Caroline—”
“I don’t wish to discuss it.”
Her body was angled away from him, but he didn’t need to see her expression to know how upset she was. The tone in her voice was a mix of stern warning and shaky uncertainty. Praying for wisdom, he remained quiet the remainder of the brief trip. The conveyance rolled to a stop before the barn. She scrambled down. Duncan wrapped the reins around the brake and jumped to the ground, hurrying to catch up to her.
“Caroline, please hear me out.”
“What’s there to say?” she called over her shoulder. Her skirts raised to avoid soiling the hem, she marched through the ankle-high grass.
“I’m sorry.”
Abruptly pivoting to face him, she demanded, “For what? Giving away my belongings? For forbidding me to continue my charitable work and then changing your mind without telling me? Or are you sorry that you ever met me?”
The last one threw him for a loop. He couldn’t answer that. His feelings about her and this marriage were too confused to sort through.
“I’m sorry I’ve bungled things,” he said at last. “I had no idea what the repercussions would be. I certainly never thought the reverend would make a public spectacle of it.” Snatching off his hat, he tunneled his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t consider how seeing other women wearing your clothes would make you feel.”
Her eyes darkened to midnight blue, the only pinpoints of color in her ashen face. Her lips quivered. Releasing her skirts and turning her back to him, she wrapped her arms around her middle. Her forlorn stance carved a deep fissure in his heart. With a flash of insight, he realized she’d been alone for most of her life. Alone in that grand house with parents who didn’t see her true worth and servants who were there just for the money. Alone with her trinkets and shoes and dresses.
Duncan smoothed his hand down her back, registering the slide of satiny fabric and even softer hair.
“I’m sorry my actions hurt you,” he murmured. “I don’t like to see you upset.”
“I’m a selfish person,” she said on a sob. “I wish donating my clothes to the needy had been my idea. You were right. I—I attached importance to things that don’t matter.”
Taking gentle hold of her arm, he urged her around. The sight of her damp cheeks clamped his chest in a vise. This wasn’t a ploy to make him feel sorry for her. He’d seen Maureen’s performances enough to know the difference.
Brushing the curtain of hair behind her shoulder, he ran his hand up and down her arm in reassuring strokes. “You aren’t selfish, lass. A selfish person disnae give of their time and energy to help others. The problem here is I didnae give you a choice. I willnae make the same mistake again.”
Caroline gazed at him with huge, stormy eyes, indecision stamped all over her. Then she did something he never would’ve expected. She stepped into his arms and buried her face in his chest. Floored that she’d seek solace from him, he didn’t immediately react. A second later he snapped into action and he held her securely against him, stroking her long, fine hair while she cried.
He sensed her hurt had less to do with the clothes and more to do with burdens she carried deep inside. Duncan’s protective instincts flared to life. He hadn’t pursued this union, but Caroline was his wife, his to protect and support. And cherish. Don’t forget that.
Holding her like this, he didn’t find the prospect of cherishing her as daunting as he once had.
“Mr. McKenna?”
At the sound of Anthony’s voice, Caroline went rigid in his arms. Duncan lifted his head and directed an impatient stare at the lad. He’d been so wrapped up in her, he hadn’t been aware of anyone approaching.
“Yes, Anthony?”
His fac
e the hue of a ripe tomato, Anthony crumpled his hat in his hands. “I apologize for intruding like this, sir. Mr. Marsh is preparing to depart and insists on seeing you.”
Caroline pulled out of his arms and, keeping her back to the lad, dashed the wetness from her cheeks. Duncan fished a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her, then moved to stand so that Anthony didn’t have a clear view.
“Did he say why?”
“No, sir.”
“Tell him I’ll be along in five minutes.”
Anthony cast a curious glance toward Caroline, then touched his forelock. “Yes, sir.” He dashed back the way he’d come.
Duncan turned around. “I have to go and see what he wants.”
She shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“It’s no’ fine. When I return, we’ll talk, all right?”
He thought she might dismiss the matter altogether. But then her watery gaze met his and she nodded. “All right.”
Duncan hated to leave her. On impulse, he tipped up her chin and dropped a kiss on her cool, smooth cheek, catching a whiff of a fruity scent. “I’ll hurry. The stew should be ready. If you’re hungry, go ahead and eat without me.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
He pondered her wide-eyed wonder during the walk to the stables. How would she have reacted if he’d kissed her lips? Would she welcome his touch?
The sight of Theo in the stable yard drove such thoughts from his mind. He was glad to be rid of the man.
“Mr. McKenna.” Stepping away from his horse, which was already prepped for travel, Theo greeted him with a smug smile. “Thank you for coming. I regret intruding upon your private time with Caroline, but I couldn’t leave town without apologizing.”
Unconvinced of the man’s sincerity, Duncan diverted his attention to the horse, scrubbing the spot between his ears. “I cannae imagine what you have to apologize for.”
“I’m afraid I’m partially to blame for your hasty nuptials.” His attempt at remorse fell short.
Misgivings filtered through Duncan. “I dinnae follow.”