Katriona's Keeper (The Alphabet Mail-Order Brides Book 11)

by Lynn Winchester

  Chapter Two

  Katriona watched out the window of the crowded stagecoach, getting glances at the town as they rode through to the stagecoach station. It was a well-built town with sturdy wooden buildings, roads made of packed dirt, clean boardwalks, and lots of little shops lining the street. Compared to New York City, this town was quaint, less crowded, and though it was ringing with sounds, it wasn’t anywhere near as noisy as the home she’d left.

  Isn’t that a good thing? A person can think in a town like this.

  And was that a large mansion on the hill?

  Good heavens, that is a big house. For a moment, she wondered who lived there, but then she remembered that the town founders had a fortune, and they spent it on investments in the town. They’d built the town with their own funds, their own ideals, and they made it into a haven for people no one else wanted.

  Sounds like the perfect place for a vocational school.

  As the carriage began to slow, Katriona patted the bonnet on her head, suddenly self-conscious about how she looked. She’d always preferred a shorter hair style; it required less maintenance. She knew she was pretty enough, but her freckles sometimes gave her the look of someone far younger than her twenty-two years. She was petite, walked with a swagger, and like to wear trousers when doing her share of the chores. Skirts got in the way when one was trying to scrub floors on their hands and knees. Unfortunately, before leaving Madame Wigg’s, she’d been strong-armed into buying two new dresses, a new pair of boots, and a new bonnet. Not a pair of trousers in the bunch. She’d never been all that interested in dressing to impress, but Mia had insisted she wear her best to meet her intended. She said that “first impressions can decide the course of the relationship.” While Katriona didn’t know anything about relationships, she did know that Mr. Horace Tucker had already made an impression on her.

  It was his eyes. The image of him from the Bride’s Gazette was safely tucked away in her carpet bag. She’d cut it from the catalog—it had been a fit of insanity—and hid it away under her pillow. She looked at it every night, wondering what he was really like. It was a black and white picture, but she couldn’t help imagining that his eyes were the most striking part of him. They seemed to stare right through her.

  Despite the heat of the day and the hot air in the stuffed stagecoach, she shuddered, a chill running roughshod over her nerves.

  As the stagecoach slowed, Katriona recalled what Horace’s reply letter had said.

  “I think we will get along well together. You seem the practical sort, which is exactly what I need in a wife. I am including a ticket on the train, directions for the stagecoach from San Antonio, and some travelling money. I will be waiting on the platform for you when you arrive…”

  He’d be waiting for her. Her heart in her throat, she felt the stagecoach rock to a stop beside a long, low building. She couldn’t see anyone outside the small window—she was stuck between a couple on one side, and a snoring septuagenarian on the other side, so there were too many hats and limbs in the way to get much of a look at anything but the buildings.

  She heard the driver jump down, which meant the door would open soon. Which meant she would meet her groom soon. Her stomach flipped, making the back of her throat tingle.

  Why are you so nervous? This is what you wanted, the chance to start your own life, your own school—stop dithering and start acting right. Properly chided by her own thoughts, Katriona gathered her carpet bag to her chest and waited for the couple to step from the stagecoach before rising from her seat and ducking her head to step from the conveyance herself.

  Once her feet were on solid ground, she took a moment to check her appearance. Her dress was nice enough—a light pink thing with white lace at the cuffs and high neckline. She supposed she probably looked pretty enough—

  “Miss Wigg?” a deep, velvety voice asked, and she looked up into the eyes of the palest purple. Her breath stuck in her chest as she tried to form thoughts and words.

  The man removed his hat, stepping up to stand before her with a lopsided grin on his strikingly handsome face.

  Say something, you ninny! “Mr. Horace Tucker?” she asked. The man before her grimaced, his straight nose scrunching up. She took that opportunity to take him in. He was tall, with rich brown hair that brushed over his broad shoulders, and the leather vest he was wearing seemed molded to the flat planes of his chest and body. She didn’t know for sure, but she’d bet her bonnet there wasn’t an ounce of extra flesh on his frame. Katriona swallowed at that thought. He was certainly well-made.

  Realizing he’d been looking her over while she’d been looking him over, she sniffed, trying to toss the wide, floppy brim of her bonnet out of her face. It was then she caught sight of the most beautiful pair of lips she’d ever seen. And they were on a man! The bottom lip was just the right amount of pouty, and the top lip looked firm, commanding, like, when they kissed, he’d devour her whole and make her thankful for his ravishment.

  Inwardly shaking at the sensuality of her thoughts, she fought back the urge to say something brassy.

  “Is that you or not?” she prodded instead, her hands growing sweaty inside her gloves, gloves she hadn’t wanted to wear but Mia insisted on it.

  He seemed to grow even taller before her eyes as he pulled his broad shoulders back and looked down at her, his violet eyes glittering.

  “That’s me, but I…well, I prefer the name Race. Horace sounds like the name of a favorite horse and not a son…or a husband.” He ducked his head to hide a smirk but she caught it, her mind latching on to his words.

  “A horse, eh?” she tapped her temple, giving the impression she was thinking hard about his preferences. “I don’t know, I think Horace is a noble name—”

  “For a horse,” he interjected, causing a smile to break out despite her intentions to tease him a little longer—and why she thought to tease him at all she couldn’t figure. She’d never been the teasing sort, at least not with complete strangers.

  A beautiful redhead chuckled, making Katriona turn to look at her.

  “Look at you two, already gettin’ along like two biddies chit-chattin' the night away.”

  Katriona lifted an eyebrow, a sort of curiosity about the woman nipping at her.

  “I think that being able to hold an intelligent conversation is important…especially in a marriage,” she intoned, chancing a glance at Horace—Race—to see his reaction. He nodded in agreement.

  “That’s right,” he drawled, his deep voice like velvet wrapped around her nerves.

  “Come on, you two,” the sprightly redhead chirped. “Reverend Marcus ain’t got all day.” Before Katriona could speak, the redhead stuck out her hand, a wide smile on her face. “My name’s Ray,” she said. “This here is my husband, Billy. We’re your witnesses!” Katriona couldn’t help but grin back at the woman’s winsome personality.

  Katriona took Ray’s hand, shaking it heartily. “Good to meet you, Ray, Billy,” she nodded at the darkly handsome man beside Ray. “And I appreciate you taking time out of your day to witness our nuptials.” She couldn’t believe how calm she sounded. She was talking about her nuptials like they were attending Sunday supper instead of her wedding.

  Ray waved off Katriona’s remarks. “We are more than happy to see Race, here, get himself hitched. He’s been moanin’ about his lonely state for years now, he just hasn’t done nothin’ about it til recently.”

  Race grunted, his eyes snapping to Ray, but Katriona didn’t see the annoyance she thought she might. Instead, she saw a flash of humor and a tad bit of embarrassment.

  “I hadn’t had the time to think about gettin’ hitched until recently,” Race explained, his gaze flicking to Katriona and staying. Her chest seemed to shrink from the pummeling it took from her heart.

  Nervousness…that’s all it was. That’s all it could be.

  Swallowing the rising tide of apprehension, Katriona allowed Race to lead them all down the boardwalk toward the large,
white church up the street. Surrounded by wide green lawns, the church was set apart from the town but still felt like the center of everything. It was a beautiful building. The sign at the edge of the front-most lawn read Dry Bayou Community Church.

  From beside her, Race cleared his throat. “I know this might be a little hasty—”

  She shook her head, interrupting him. “Not at all,” she remarked. “I knew, full well, that we’d be married almost the moment I arrived. As you said in your letter, I am practical. It is better to get this out of the way so there’s no confusion or complications down the line.”

  His violet eyes registered momentary surprise, but then satisfaction took its place.

  “Glad you agree,” he stated before turning back to continue their short walk to the church in silence. And she was glad of it, too, because the closer she got to the church, the faster her heart pounded, until it was stampeding through her chest like a herd of children on chocolate cake night.

  As they stepped up into the church porch, Katriona drew a deep breath. Race turned to her, anxiety was written on his handsome features, but his lopsided grin was still in place.

  “Shall we?” He offered his arm, which was bunching and flexing as the muscles moved under his shirt, and she took it, slipping her own arm through his.

  Ray and Billy entered the building first, walking down the wide central aisle, and Race and Katriona followed close behind. Katriona didn’t have the time to take in the interior of the church, she only had eyes for the tall man, dressed in black clothes, with a welcoming grin on his aged face, who stood beside a beautifully carved pulpit.

  “Welcome to the blessed couple,” he called out, the room echoing with his commanding voice. “We ready to get married?”

  Katriona, her breath lodged in her throat, could only nod as her groom walked her down the aisle to her future.

  To her surprise, Reverend Marcus wasn’t a long-winded man, he presided over the ceremony with efficiency, not droning on about martial duties and the like. She blinked and they were at the part where she would vow to love, honor, cherish until death did they part. She didn’t hesitate to say, “I do,” and neither did Race. She’d come to Dry Bayou to marry, not dither and simper.

  Get done what needs doing.

  They were married in less than fifteen minutes, and when the reverend said, “You may now kiss your bride,” her gaze met Race’s…and as he bent down, slowly, to press his firm lips against her cheek, she nearly collapsed in relief. It wasn’t the thought of her first kiss ever being with her husband—as it should be, really—it was more that she didn’t know if she could remain standing after that man put his warm, beautiful lips on hers.

  Chapter Three

  The wedding was over before he knew it, and he was sitting beside his new wife as he drove the surrey back toward the ranch.

  What was he supposed to say now? When he’d first seen her striding purposefully toward him, he’d been immediately taken in by the look of her. She was small, had the look of a pixie about her, and had eyes the color of the wide-open skies. She wasn’t beautiful in the typical sense, but she sure was cute. He could live with cute. And when they’d touched, their hands sliding against one another during the wedding ceremony, he felt a warmth emanating from her that he wanted to wrap himself in.

  He could tell she was nervous; she sat stiffly on the seat next to him, her gaze taking in everything at once. He knew this was her first time in Texas, and there was a lot to learn about life in Dry Bayou, but he couldn’t help the thought that she’d do just fine. During their short introduction on the stagecoach platform, she spoke with intelligence, and when she smiled—Lord, but he nearly fell over. When she smiled, it lit up her whole face, drawing him in like a firefly to a flickering candle.

  I haven’t even known her ninety minutes and I am already in trouble…

  Eager to ease the tension between them, he asked, “Did you have a good trip?” He sounded like an idiot, asking such an inane question, but it was a much simpler question than: “Did you feel your heart jump into your chest during our wedding like I did?” No, he’d get laughed out of the surrey asking that question. He needed to keep his thoughts to himself, especially around a woman he’d just married after only knowing her for an hour and a half.

  Long enough to know you like her… Yeah, he liked her, even if he didn’t know much of anything about her. But they had plenty of time to remedy that.

  As if realizing he’d asked her a question, she turned her face toward him, tipping her head to the side in a manner most becoming.

  “The journey was as expected, I suppose. I’ve never gone further than a few blocks from my home, so actually taking the train out of the state was a wholly terrifying experience. But I’d do it over again if it meant having the chance to start something of my own, no matter how far I had to go to do it,” she stated, matter of fact.

  Not surprised at the openness in her answer, Race offered a slight smile.

  “I can understand the fear—and the drive. I came east all by myself when I was nineteen. All I had was a pack, a handful of money, and a will to make my own way.”

  Her gaze took in his face, dropping to his chest, tarrying there for several heartbeats, and then flicked back up to his eyes. He couldn’t read her expression, and he suddenly wondered what she saw when she examined him like that. Did she find him wanting?

  You’ve just met…give her a chance to get to know you, that man you are, the man you want to be for her.

  Taking a deep breath, he asked, “What’re you thinkin’?”

  She tipped her head the other direction as if thinking about how to answer. Then, she said, “I was thinking that we are off to a promising start.”

  Her words made his chest swell—she actually liked him.

  “Then again—” she broke in to his hopeful thoughts, “we’ve only just scratched the surface of what we don’t know about each other.”

  “That’s true.”

  “So, I might discover—to my utter horror—that you snore like a hibernating bear. And you might discover that I slurp my soup too loudly.”

  He stifled a laugh, but he knew his smile was right there for her to see. “And do you?”

  She hmmmed in response, her cornflower gaze fixed on his mouth.

  “Do you slurp your soup too loudly?”

  She shrugged. “Not that anyone has told me. Then again, meals at the foundling home were so loud, you couldn’t hear it if a horse galloped through the dining room.”

  He let the laugh out this time, shocking himself with how happy it sounded. He wasn’t one to laugh much—there weren’t many opportunities for levity when you were working your fingers to the bone—but he found that, when he was with Katriona, he wanted to laugh. He liked seeing the flush slide over her features when he did. She was lovely when she blushed.

  “So…do you?” she asked, sneaking a glance at him from beneath her lashes.

  “Do I what?” he asked right back, enjoying the back and forth more than he thought he might.

  “Do you snore like a hibernating bear?”

  He loosened his hold on the reins to tap a finger against his chin as though it took some thinking to answer. When she let out a sound of exasperation, he flicked a teasing grin at her before replying, “Well, I don’t rightly know. None of the other men have complained, and I can’t check for myself when I’m sleepin’…” He paused, his belly clenching at the thought of his next words. “I guess you’ll have to find out, won’t you?” Daring to look away from the road, he caught the way her ears turned beet red at his suggestion of their close sleeping arrangements.

  She sputtered. “Well, I guess I will. I guess there’s a lot we’ll be figuring out about each other.” She was right, of course, but why did she sound so…apprehensive about it? There wasn’t a thing about him that he was ashamed to share; he was what his ma called “an open book, laid down on the table for everyone to read.” He didn’t hide the truth about hims
elf, and he’d hope to marry a woman who felt the same.

  Perhaps there was more to Mrs. Katriona Tucker than met the eye. And he didn’t know how he felt about it.

  Sooner than he’d expected, they were pulling up the lane to the ranch. Shepherd House was about a quarter mile from the main house, out by the 200 acres of sheep-grazing land, where Seamus MacAdams was in charge. He’d married a sweet little nurse, and they were busy growing their own family in a house Seamus, Race, and a few willing ranch hands built. He knew the same men would help him build his own house without hesitation, but…well…he hadn’t really thought to ask them.

  Maybe the hesitation is yours? He shook off the thought and directed the Percheron pulling the surrey northwest, toward isolation, toward the first night with his new wife, toward something far more energizing than he’d dreamed. He knew he should rein in his expectations, she was as new to the married life as he was, but he couldn’t seem to get his body to listen. His heart pounded, his blood sang, his mind reeled, his lungs rattled with his rapid breaths—he didn’t know if he was having a fit or just overeager. Probably a lot of both.

  Get it together, man! She doesn’t need you panting and stumbling all over the place. He supposed his problem was just how much stock he’d put into finding his perfect wife. If this didn’t work out between he and Katriona, he didn’t know if he’d try again.

  And that was the hardest part to swallow.

  As they reached the top of the rise just before the two-acre lot where the Shepherd House sat, Katriona let out a gasp. He looked at her to find her mouth open and her eyes wide.

  “You like it?” he asked carefully. What she thought mattered, because this would be her home until he got around to building Le Chateau Tucker. He waited for her answer, controlling the horse with little too much iron in his grip on the reins. Mossy—the Percheron—whinnied, unhappy with the tension, and he let up. Gritting back a curse.