Kitty: Bride of Hawaii (American Mail-Order Bride 50)

by Janelle Daniels

  Sweat misted her skin. How could she even think of Warren, dream of being with him for a moment when this was the life he lived? If he knew of her illegitimacy, he’d turn away from her. She’d known that on the ship, but couldn’t bear to tell him.

  For the first time in her life, she’d been wanted because of who she was. What she’d accomplished. Not judged because of who her father was, because her parents weren’t married.

  They’d traveled farther down the path when he pointed to a large, two-story wooden structure. “That building over there is where the men sleep. You’ll want to keep your distance. None of them would hurt you, but they tend to get a little rowdy when they’ve had too much to drink.”

  “Thank you for the warning.” She appreciated it, but she’d learned such things during her time alone.

  He pulled into a circular path, six houses flanking the drive. “These houses are for the foreman and higher-up operators on the plantation.” He pointed out the middle house on the left. “That house is Mr. Banner’s. And soon to be yours.” He smiled a large toothy grin as he pulled the cart to a halt.

  He vaulted to the ground, rounding the vehicle to assist her down.

  The home was modest, but pleasant and clean. She’d enjoy living here very much. It far surpassed anywhere she’d stayed since being on the run. “It’s wonderful.”

  “Mr. Banner would’ve heard about the Castle Crown’s arrival by now. Let’s head in and see if we can find him.”

  “All right,” she said, her smile freezing on her face. This was it. She was about to meet the man who’d be her husband, the man she’d bind herself to for the rest of her life. She should feel excited, happy even. But lead pooled in her stomach as thoughts trailed toward Warren and their time on the ship.

  “Hello?” Mr. Pratt called out after entering her fiancé’s house. “Mr. Banner? Kalea, are you here?”

  Kitty hovered outside the door. “Kalea?”

  “Mr. Banner’s housekeeper and cook. She’s usually here during the day.”

  Kitty’s brow raised. Housekeeper and cook? Mr. Banner lived a much more comfortable life than she’d imagined. While thoughts of cooking and cleaning didn’t intimidate her—she knew how to work hard, after all—they didn’t appeal. Having someone around to help was definitely a boon.

  “Mr. Pratt.” A large woman, her form encased in a holoku made out of a startling calico fabric, dried a dish with a cloth and peeked through a doorway from the entry. “I’m happy you arrived home safely. There was a large storm a few days back, and we worried.”

  He doffed his cap, holding it in his hands. “It was touch and go, but the Castle Crown and most of its crew made it through just fine.”

  “Well, good.” She nodded, but her lip quivered before she turned away.

  “Could you tell us where Mr. Banner is? This is Miss Kitty Jones, his fiancée.”

  Sad brown eyes met hers, and Kitty’s stomach clenched. Something very bad had happened.

  “Mr. Banner’s fiancée?” Tears escaped down the robust woman’s cheeks.

  Mr. Pratt shifted, uncomfortable with the woman’s tears. “Yes. Can I do something for you, Kalea?”

  They waited while Kalea regained her composure. “No. I’m sorry for carrying on. I assume you haven’t heard.”

  “Heard what?” Kitty asked, unable to bear the suspense a moment longer. She’d had more bad news in her life than she could tolerate, and it was easier to hear it swiftly.

  “About Mr. Banner.” Kalea looked between the two of them. “He was in an accident in the field. He passed away yesterday.”

  No. Ice flowed through her veins. “Mr. Banner died?”

  Kalea nodded slowly, sympathy streaming from her eyes. “I’m sorry, miss.”

  While Mr. Pratt demanded details of Mr. Banner’s demise, Kitty reeled. If Mr. Banner died, she couldn’t marry him. Wouldn’t have his protection.

  And then it hit her. She was in a foreign land with no money, no friends, no husband.

  No job.

  She had nowhere to live and nowhere to go. She was stranded here, in an even worse position than she’d been back East.

  There had to be some way to support herself. But even as she thought of the menial labor she’d have to do to survive, her heart ached for the chance to use her education, to take a position she’d trained for.

  But that wasn’t possible now. Who would hire her without references? Without a recommendation? No decent family would even meet with her.

  She didn’t have a place to sleep tonight.

  Perhaps Warren would be kind enough to let her sleep in Mr. Banner’s home for a few days until other arrangements could be made.

  Her heart stilled. She might not have the connections she needed to obtain a respectable job, but Warren did. Perhaps if she asked, he might help place her.

  She weighed her options, hating to ask him for anything after the way they’d parted after the storm. But what other choice did she have? She was desperate.

  If she had to grovel, she would. Warren wouldn’t turn away a woman in need.

  Would he?

  * * *

  Warren stormed into his house, hoping no one spoke to him. He had never abused his servants as others of his class did, never raised his voice. The people working for him were the lifeblood of his business. Nothing would function without them. They deserved every ounce of his respect.

  Oh, but he was itching for a good fight. It’d be a way to release pent-up frustration.

  She’d rejected him. And five days later, it still stung.

  He slammed his study door closed and reached for the liquor cabinet. His hand shook, grasping a bottle of whiskey as he poured.

  He’d put himself on the line.

  What had he expected anyway?

  All attempts to forget her on the ship were for naught. At least he hadn’t crawled to her cabin and begged.

  He knocked back the drink, embracing the malty burn.

  He’d never connected so firmly with another human being as he had during the storm. Sure, he could chalk up his feelings to the chaos, to the danger. But it was so much more than that.

  When he thought she’d go over…

  He poured another drink.

  He sloughed off his coat and cravat, throwing them over the nearest chair in the immaculate room.

  He didn’t have any power over her. If he did, she’d never marry another man. A part of him hoped that she’d come to her senses before they docked, that she would acknowledge the pull between them, trust him with whatever was in her past and to handle the situation with Banner.

  She hadn’t.

  It was unfair to rail against her, but he couldn’t stop. She’d chosen the honorable path. She’d kept her promise to Timothy Banner. He admired that quality, respected it.

  Demanded it.

  But right now, he resented it.

  A light knock sounded on the door. “Sir?”

  “Not now.”

  “All right.”

  Warren cursed, stomping to the door and wrenching it open. Taking a deep breath of beeswax-tinged air, he calmed his anger. “I’m sorry, Wallace. It was a hell of a trip. Did you need something?”

  The aging estate manager bobbed his head, using a handkerchief to blot droplets of sweat from his brow. “Most of it can wait if you’d prefer, but there’s one thing you must be made aware of.”

  “Come in.” Warren walked around his desk toward his chair. “Would you like something to drink?” he offered, still holding his own glass.

  Wallace eyed the jostled decanters. “No, thank you, sir.”

  Warren settled at his polished desk, but Wallace rooted to the floor opposite him, not taking a seat. Had he truly upset the man? “I’m sorry again for my tone, Wallace.”

  “It’s no trouble, sir.”

  “All right. Why don’t you tell me the bit of news that can’t wait? We’ll put off the noncritical reports until later.”

  The graying gent
leman nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement. “I’m not sure how to put this.”

  “Directly is best.” Wallace looked pale. Perhaps Warren would need another drink.

  “Mr. Banner was in a fatal accident yesterday in the field.”

  Warren blinked several times as thoughts flooded his brain. His foreman died. In an accident. In the fields.

  Kitty’s Mr. Banner.

  Warren shot from his chair. “He’s dead?”

  More emphatic nodding. “Yes. There wasn’t anything we could do. His injuries were too severe.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Machete mishap. Severed a main artery in his leg. He bled out quickly.”

  Poor soul. There were worse ways to die, but he’d been so young. Too young. His whole life had been ahead of him. He’d had a fiancée…

  Warren had to get to Kitty. She’d have heard by now. She was alone, with no prospects and no direction. She had to be afraid.

  And while they’d left things rocky between them, he wouldn’t make her suffer. No woman should have to face homelessness and hunger because she’d rejected him. He would help her with whatever she needed. He cared about her too much not to. His pride be damned.

  “Thank you for telling me, Wallace.” He didn’t bother donning his coat or tie before leaving the room.

  All that mattered was her.

  * * *

  “Miss Jones, are you all right?”

  Mr. Pratt stepped closer to her when the blood rushed from her head, no doubt worried she’d disgrace herself and faint.

  Kalea pushed past him, taking control. “Sit down. You’ve had a shock. Rest here, and I’ll get you something cool to drink.”

  Kitty nodded but didn’t care about eating or drinking anything. She needed to get to Warren, to straighten things out before dark. “Mr. Pratt, would you mind bringing me to the main house on your way out?”

  “Of course not, miss. I’m happy to help in any way.”

  Her smile wobbled. “Thank you. It’s urgent that I speak with Mr. Castle.”

  “Of course.” He fitted the cap back on his head. “I’ll tell Kalea to skip the drink.”

  “Thank you.”

  Kitty rose from the couch as he left, straightening her appearance. She’d put on her best gown to meet her fiancé—the green silk. But she hated the dress now. It would forever remind of today. And the day she’d met Warren.

  A tear escaped. She sniffed hard against the emotional reaction, telling herself it was dust tickling her nose.

  Why was life so hard? She hadn’t loved Mr. Banner; perhaps that’s what made this even worse. Part of her was relieved, even as another part of her regretted not having his protection.

  “Kitty.”

  Her breath hitched, hearing her name whispered from the doorway. She knew that voice.

  “Warren?” Her lip trembled. “Mr. Banner…”

  He stepped into the house slowly, as if moving too fast would spook her. “I know.”

  Why did his gentleness make her heart hurt more? Why did seeing him here, now, at such a time, make her feel like her trials were over? That she could break down, release all her pent-up worry?

  She sniffed again, reining her control into a tight ball. No man wanted to be around a watering pot. “I’m glad you’ve come, Mr. Castle.”

  He stepped farther into the room, eyeing the door to the back of the house. “Where’s Kalea?”

  “In the back. Getting me a drink.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “I heard about Timothy. I came to see how you’re doing.”

  Her hand fisted at her stomach. “Not well. It’s a shock,” she said, deciding not to lie.

  “I imagine so. Timothy was a good man and a great foreman. It’ll be hard to replace him.”

  What was she supposed to say to that? Agree? She hadn’t known if Mr. Banner was a good employee or not.

  “Please sit, Kitty.”

  She lowered onto the couch as he took his seat opposite of her.

  She’d needed to talk to him, to ask him for a favor. Why was this so hard? She’d like to think they’d become friends while on the ship, regardless of how the voyage ended. She wasn’t asking too much, but she knew why she struggled.

  Pride.

  Gulping, she twisted her fingers in her lap before looking him in the eye. “It’s fortunate that you’re here. I asked Mr. Pratt to bring me to the main house so that I might speak with you.”

  He held out his hands. “I’m here. Ask away. I’ll do anything I can to help you.”

  “Well,” she swallowed any misgivings, “as I mentioned on the ship, I’ve been educated in many areas. I’d always hoped to enter into a respectable arrangement with another family. Perhaps as a governess. Or a teacher. Unfortunately, I have no references, no recommendations, and I don’t know anyone. As this is what I’ve been trained to do, I’d hate to waste my education and take a different kind of work, but I’ve done so in the past and will again if forced to. But I’d hoped…”

  “Yes?’

  “I’d hoped you might assist me in finding a position.”

  There. She’d said it. She’d laid her cards on the table, had asked for his help.

  Silence echoed in the room.

  Why wasn’t he saying anything? Had she done something wrong? Overstepped by asking him for help?

  He leaned forward in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Be at ease. I don’t want you to worry. I’ll find you a suitable position if that is what you wish.”

  Relief gushed through her. She closed her eyes in a quick prayer of gratitude. When her eyes opened, they glistened. “Thank you, Mr. Castle.”

  “Kitty—”

  Footsteps sounded down the hall, and Warren swallowed whatever he was going to say. But the yearning in his voice touched her.

  Warren stood when Kalea and Mr. Pratt entered the room.

  “Mr. Castle, it’s good to see you.” Kalea smiled a greeting.

  Warren stood and took the woman’s hand. “How are you, Kalea?”

  “I’ve been better, but I’ll survive this. Mr. Banner will be missed.”

  “He will. I want you to know that you’re always welcome here. Should you choose to leave, you will have our fondest regards, but if you’d like to stay, I will find somewhere for you to work. We are always in need of your skills.”

  A large smile crested the woman’s lips. “Thank you, Mr. Castle. I wish to stay on.”

  “Excellent.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll have something for you within a few days. Just sit tight.”

  Kitty watched the interaction between the master of the property and a lower servant. He knew her name, cared about her. Their interaction touched her.

  A swift ache filled her belly as she studied the dark lock of hair caressing his forehead, the chocolate brown eyes filled with compassion for the older woman. Kitty’s desire built swiftly, filling her stomach and heart until it brimmed.

  She wanted this man. Oh, how she wanted him. Why did it have to be so impossible?

  Warren’s attention turned to the sailor. “Mr. Pratt, Miss Jones will be staying at the main house as a guest this evening. Will you arrange to have her belongings directed there instead of the bungalow?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Shock filled her. Warren agreed to help her, but taking her to the main house? It made sense. They had much more to discuss, and what other option did she have?

  “Shall we?” Warren offered his arm.

  She accepted the gesture, gasping at the contact when she touched him.

  Heated eyes met hers. It was the first time they’d touched since the day of the storm. And oh, how she wanted to touch him more. How her body craved to feel him, how her lips begged to taste him.

  Hot color flooded her cheeks, and she looked away.

  She was a bad person. She’d just learned that her fiancé was dead, and she continued to lust after another man. Why couldn’t she stop?

  If she
was to be a guest at his house, even for a night, she needed to get herself under control. Nothing could ever come of her feelings, and she only hurt herself by relishing the rush of being around him.

  She’d show her gratitude to Warren for all he’d done for her and then leave him to live his life with someone who wouldn’t bring him down. Someone who was his equal.

  And no matter how much she wished it, that woman would never be her.

  Chapter Seven

  Taking Kitty to his home gutted Warren. In the days since the storm, he’d started to believe some of his own lies. That she wasn’t as desirable as he’d originally thought, that the connection they shared was nonexistent and only seemed like one because of their close quarters.

  Utter falsehoods.

  “Thank you for offering me accommodations tonight.” Kitty shifted in her seat in the cart to view him more easily.

  He cleared any hint of longing from his throat. Having her suspect his thoughts was the last thing he wanted. “Of course. It’s the least I can do. The house is massive with plenty of space. My mother is in residence, so the arrangement is perfectly respectable,” he added, doubting anyone had mentioned it to her.

  While his mother’s nearness was a constant thorn in his side, he praised it now. It lent an air of decency to this arrangement. For once, his mother would be useful; her mere presence acted as a chaperone instead of an emotional drain.

  The unkind thoughts left a bitter taste in his mouth. While younger, he’d forgiven her selfishness, justified it, and only hurt more in the end when he realized his own mother didn’t love him. In truth, she resented him.

  But one didn’t turn their back on family. His bane in life would be to care for the woman until her passing.

  He shook off the thoughts, refusing to allow his mother to sour the moment.

  “I’m assuming Mr. Pratt brought you down the main drive earlier?”

  “Yes. He was kind enough to point out several points of interest.”

  “So, you’ve seen the house?”

  Her lips curved. “Yes. Impressive. I hadn’t expected anything so grand.”

  Warren chuckled. Other plantation homes on the island were much smaller than Castle House, but his father had wanted the grandeur of it. “Most houses aren’t. It was important to my father, and he had it constructed before he married my mother.”