Читать книгу Wed By Necessity - Karen Kirst - Страница 15

Chapter Four

Caroline was still burning with embarrassment when she reached the house. Oh, he’d tried to mask his amusement, but it had been there in his eyes. He enjoyed seeing her squirm. In the hallway, she removed her boots and wet stockings, and wrung the excess water from her petticoats and overskirt. Beneath the anger, there existed a disturbing ache for something she couldn’t quite name. As she hurried up the staircase to the second floor, she remembered the shocking solidness of his wide chest. It had been like poking her finger into a wall of iron. Iron sheathed in warm, firm flesh, she amended.

She entered her bedroom and braced herself for hysterics.

“Can I help you, Mother?”

Louise turned from where a half-dozen dresses were laid out on Caroline’s bed. The wardrobe doors had been thrown open.

“We must choose your outfit for tonight...” Her jaw sagged in a most undignified manner. “Look at you! You’re a mess! What happened?”

“There was a mishap at the pond.”

Her hands pressed against her cheeks, Louise inventoried the damage. “You’ll have to bathe again. I hope there’ll be enough time for your hair to dry. You know how difficult it is to work with if it isn’t.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Tonight has to be perfect. Theo’s interested, but according to his father, he’s balking at matrimony. You must dazzle him in order to wring a commitment from him.” Twisting back to the bed, she fingered a beaded ivory gown. “This one is lovely, but it will draw attention to your wide hips.”

Looking down, Caroline skimmed her hips with her hands and grimaced. It was a common complaint of her mother’s.

“If only you had inherited my physique.” Louise tutted, “instead of Albert’s mother’s. Ah, well, there’s nothing to be done about it. Let’s hope the Turner name is enough to draw him in.”

The familiar feeling of not measuring up, of not being good enough, coiled inside her chest, slowly suffocating any measure of contentment she was able to eke out of her daily life.

She hugged her middle. “I don’t wish to marry Theo Marsh.”

“You’re not a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old.” The skin around her watery blue eyes tightened. “You can’t afford to be picky at this stage. Theo will be considered a good catch.”

“You wouldn’t mind that I’d be living in Charleston? What about my responsibilities here?”

“I’m perfectly capable of handling Gatlinburg’s affairs.” Rifling through the dresses, she lifted a floaty creation of seafoam green and studied her daughter with a critical eye. “This one might do.”

Caroline drifted over to the large four-poster bed. “You wouldn’t see me very often,” she persisted. “A couple of times a year.”

Louise cast her a sharp glance. “What’s the matter with you? You’re not getting sentimental all of a sudden, surely.”

“No, of course not.”

She’d stopped yearning for hugs and bedtime stories long ago.

“Good.” She picked up the pale green dress. “Wear this one. I’ll send Sylvia and Betty up with the tub.” She sniffed. “You may borrow a sample of your father’s latest soap—he’s calling it Parisian Citrus—a blend of grapefruit, orange and tangerine with white musk from France. Hopefully that will be enough to rid you of the lake stench.”

Caroline’s gaze slid to her dressing table and the bottom drawer where she’d stashed the documents. Was the white musk truly from France?

“It’s been years since I’ve toured our facilities,” she rushed out. “I think a trip to Charleston would be perfect this time of year, don’t you? We could go as soon as the Marshes and Lightwoods leave. I’d like to visit our old neighborhood, perhaps attend services at our church. I’m sure we could fit in a trip to the factories.”

“You know your father resents anything he sees as interference in his business. If I delve beyond the most basic of inquiries, he gets testy. It’s not a woman’s world, he says. There is the issue of safety to consider, as well.”

“He allowed me to visit as a child.”

“You’ve forgotten the filthy conditions.” Her nose wrinkled. “And the smell, at times, can overwhelm a body.”

“I haven’t been out of Gatlinburg for two years, Mother. I’d like a change of scenery.”

Being in Charleston would give her the opportunity to discover if the information in those documents had been fabricated. She could pretend interest in the family business and gain access to the offices, the machinery, storerooms where they kept the ingredients and even the laboratory where new compositions were tested.

“Then stop balking at the issue of marriage. If you want out, Theo is your ticket.”

With that, she swept out of the room.

Caroline sank onto the mattress, testing the idea of taking her satchel and going alone. If she hoped to be free of the blackmailer’s evil plan, she had to find out the truth. Her father saw her as an empty-headed heiress, good for hosting dinner parties and little else. He wasn’t going to divulge his deepest secrets to her.

Snaring Theo was a short-term solution. Sure, she’d get to Charleston. She just wouldn’t get out. She’d be locked into a loveless marriage like her parents’, an intolerable proposition.

Once she was clean and her hair dry, she dutifully donned the seafoam green gown, choosing pearl-and-emerald earbobs and a matching necklace to accompany it. She sat for an hour while Betty brushed her hair and twisted the mass into a tidy twist. Then, pasting on her best smile, she descended the stairs and entered the parlor. All the guests turned to greet her. Theo, distinguished in his black suit, his short dark hair brushed off his handsome face, waited until everyone had drifted back to their original conversations to take his turn. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her knuckles. His gray eyes gleamed with appreciation.

“You’re even lovelier than the last time I set eyes on you,” he drawled. “I’m glad my father insisted I come.”

Unexpectedly, Duncan’s mocking blue gaze entered her mind. She blinked it away. “You’d rather be somewhere else?”

He lowered her hand but didn’t release it, his thumb stroking her knuckles. While pleasant, his touch didn’t evoke butterflies in her tummy or prickles of excitement along her skin. Duncan didn’t have to make contact for that to happen. All he had to do was come close. Irksome man!

“I had planned a hunting trip with my friends. But Father’s been in correspondence with Albert, and he hinted how lonely you’ve been. I thought I’d see if I could remedy the situation.”

The strange light in his eyes made Caroline uncomfortable. Intuition warned he didn’t have serious intentions.

Pulling out of his grip, she lifted her chin. “I’m afraid you gave up your hunting trip for nothing. Your father was misinformed. If I were lonely, I wouldn’t need you to assuage it. I have plenty of pets already.”

Glancing about to ensure they weren’t overheard, he leaned close, a hardness entering his gaze. “Careful, Caroline. Your reputation as a cold, bitter shell of a woman means your options are few. A light flirtation with me would go a long way in convincing others that you’re not a lost cause.”

His words sliced into her, mainly because she sometimes did feel hollow inside. Maybe he was right. “My mother thinks I should aim for a marriage proposal from you.”

His head jerked back in horror. “Marriage? To you?”

The couple standing beside the fireplace turned to stare. Humiliation surged. Louise’s glass halted halfway to her mouth. Disapproval wrinkled her skin, and her gaze seemed to scream what Caroline had always suspected—you’re a mistake, a complete failure as a daughter.

She turned away and hurried for the nearest exit, desperate for privacy.

Outside, the brisk, moisture-heavy wind tugged her hair and skirts. Jogging to the stables, she made for Rain’s stall and began readying her for a ride. All she wanted was to be on her horse, climbing high into the mountains, with nothing around save for the birds and trees.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

From the aisle behind her, the rolling accent lashed at her. She didn’t have the strength to deal with Duncan right now. Not looking at him, she fought threatening tears. “Going for a ride, what does it look like?”

His boots scraped along the cobblestones as he came nearer. “Postpone it. The sky is about to unleash its fury.”

“Can’t.” She settled the thick pad across Rain’s back.

His hard hand clamped on to her arm and spun her around. In the barn’s dim interior, his eyes blazed blue brilliance. “Going out right now is a foolhardy act.”

Caroline averted her face so he couldn’t see how upset she was. “Apparently I am a fool.”

He was silent a long beat. “What?”

Injecting steel into her voice, she said, “Release me at once, Mr. McKenna. This is my horse, my choice. Besides, you don’t know this area like I do. This is a passing rain shower, nothing more.”

His hand fell away. With a muttered exclamation of displeasure, he stalked off. So she was stunned to see him on Jet minutes later, his Stetson tugged low over his eyes.

“Why—”

“Seeing as how you’re determined to go despite my warning,” he bit out, “I’m obliged to accompany you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s no’ you I’m worried about. It’s the horses.”

Caroline pressed her lips into a tight line and, nudging her heels into Rain’s flank, guided her toward the woods. She didn’t want him around, but it didn’t look as if she had a choice in the matter.

The satchel flashed in her mind. Freedom from her parents’ displeasure, from her current lifestyle and her disappointment in herself, dangled like a rare, delicious fruit ripe for the picking. There was no reason to stick around any longer. Leaving Gatlinburg was the answer to her problems.

* * *

The deeper into the mountains they traveled, the more convinced Duncan became that their outing would end in disaster. Like a whistling locomotive, the wind barreled through the shallow valley, whipping the trees rooted into the steep inclines on either side into a frenzy. Both horses were on edge. If either of them had possessed nervous dispositions, he or Caroline would’ve already been tossed from the saddle. The strip of sky visible above them was a churning, purple-gray mass of impending doom.

Anger simmered beneath his thin veneer of control. Caroline rode ahead of him, as silent and stiff as a marble statue. Maureen had acted similarly whenever she was miffed, which had been often. When he proposed again, it would be to a sweet, easy-to-please lass of poor means. Money complicated matters.

“What’s put a bee in your bonnet?” he called. “Someone not act as you wished them to?”

The slope of her shoulders went rigid, but she didn’t answer him.

“Whatever’s upset you, ’tisna worth risking the horses. Let’s turn back.”

She angled her head so that he could see her profile. “I didn’t ask you to accompany me. Leave if you want. I’m not ready.”

A raindrop splattered on his sleeve. Shifting his Stetson up his forehead, he eyed the sky again. On a typical midsummer evening, they’d have several hours of daylight left. Not this night.

“It will be dark soon.” He tried to reason with her. “We don’t have lanterns.”

Frowning, she lifted her head to the heavens. Was she finally going to act sensibly?

“You don’t wish any harm to come to the horses, do you?” he tacked on.

With a low command, Caroline brought Rain to a halt. He did the same with Jet, smoothing his palm along the animal’s quivering muscles.

“I suppose we have no choice, do we?”

The resignation in her voice aroused questions. When she circled around, he glimpsed the depth of her melancholy. Something was troubling her. Something more than a mix-up with the hors d’oeuvres or a snag in her stockings.

Rain began to fall in discordant patterns. Tugging his brim lower, he said, “Stay close. We may have to find shelter if this gets out of hand.”

Not waiting for her response, he maneuvered Jet around on the tight path. Thunder roiled through the valley. The storm wasn’t on them yet. Seeking God’s assistance, he prayed they’d reach the Turners’ safe and sound. The clouds opened up, releasing sheets of moisture that drenched him in seconds. Riding behind him on the trail, Caroline was unprotected in her fancy evening gown.

Duncan didn’t have time to worry about her comfort. Squinting to see his way ahead, he searched for the rocky outcrop they’d passed fifteen minutes earlier. No point trying to continue in this onslaught. They’d wait out the storm until it was safe to ride again.

He glanced over his shoulder every few minutes. While her misery and worry were apparent, she remained in control of her horse, and he admitted she was an adept horsewoman. One point in her favor.

The thunder pealed again and, this time, the intensity of it shook the ground. Jet balked. Duncan tightened his grip on the reins. Lightning cracked like a whip, striking a tree close to the path. Caroline screamed.

Twisting in the saddle, Duncan found his chest seizing with horror as Rain reared, front hooves slashing the air, eyes rolling in their sockets and nostrils flaring. And suddenly Caroline was sliding off. Rain’s rear leg caught the lip of the path, the soft earth crumbling beneath her hoof. The large gray went down, taking Caroline with her.

“Caroline!”

Vaulting to the ground, he paused long enough to secure Jet to a tree limb before scrambling down the slight slope. The interwoven treetops above kept some of the rain at bay. Soaked to the skin and splattered with mud, she struggled to sit.

He crouched beside her, searching for visible injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Her wince communicated otherwise. “Please, see to my horse.”

Duncan twisted and saw Rain farther below them. She was on her feet, at least.

“Are you sure nothing’s broken?” He turned back. “What about your head? Did you strike it?”

Her hair hung like twisted wet cords and her eyes were large and anxious in her pale face. “I’m bruised, that’s all.”

Thunder rumbled through the valley again. Duncan hurried to check on her horse. A gash the size of his fist had opened up her side, likely from a broken-off tree limb. It was deep and raw and would be prone to infection. A fresh wave of anger washed over him. A fine, dependable animal was hurt because of Caroline’s selfishness.

She navigated the slippery terrain to join him, her hands skimming the horse’s good side. “Is she all right?”

“I’m afraid not,” he gritted. “Take a look for yourself.”

Her forehead crinkled in bewilderment. Coming around to where he stood, she saw the injury and gasped. “Oh, Rain.” Her arms went around the horse’s neck, and she buried her face in the gray coat.

Duncan hardened his heart. This was her fault. She’d disregarded his warning, and her horse had gotten injured because of it.

The storm’s fury intensified. The sky lit up with successive lightning streaks. Tethered to the distant tree, Jet pranced to the side and tossed his head.

“Let’s get these horses out of the elements.”

A shudder racked her. Moisture clung to her exposed shoulders and arms. Taking hold of the reins and speaking in soothing tones, she led Rain up the ridge.

* * *

Cold leached into her from the rock against which she was wedged. Her head resting on her bent knees, face hidden in the dirty layers of her skirt, she was mired in shame. Beneath the rocky outcrop he’d discovered, Duncan stood apart from her, preferring the horses’ company to hers. She didn’t blame him.

The thunder and lightning had grown distant, but the rain’s relentless pursuit remained constant. It pounded the earth, splattering mud in all directions. At least here, in this cramped space, they’d have the chance to dry out before heading home.

She couldn’t stop shaking. The scene replayed in her mind yet again, the lightning striking within feet of them, the sensation of falling through the air and slamming into the ground, expecting to be crushed at any moment beneath her horse. She offered up a prayer of thanksgiving that Rain hadn’t suffered a life-threatening injury. If she’d broken a leg or dislocated a shoulder, Caroline would’ve been returning home without her.

There was still a possibility of infection. She’d never forgive herself if that happened. And neither would Duncan. Caught up in her problems, she’d ignored his advice and put them all at risk.

The weight of her burdens threatened to suffocate her. Her father’s indifference, her mother’s disappointment, Theo’s scorn and Duncan’s contempt congealed into a single, sharp accusation. Caroline couldn’t please any of them. The need to be far from Gatlinburg was a living, breathing thing.

Registering movement, she kept her head down until Duncan sank to the ground and nudged her.

“Here. Put this on.”

Threading the damp strands out of her eyes, she focused on the bundle of material. Darkness had fallen. His features were wreathed in shadows, his eyes gleaming and the crimson-red undershirt snug against his upper body.

“It’s no’ completely dry,” he said with a hint of impatience. “But at least you’ll be covered.”

She slipped her arms into the too-long sleeves of his shirt and overlapped the side panels over her midriff. A cedar scent clung to the fabric. “Thank you.”

He shifted his legs and, resting his forearms on his bent knees, linked his hands. The man took up a lot of space. He was big and close, his upper arm butted against her shoulder, and Caroline was acutely aware of their seclusion. His body generated blessed heat that she yearned to share in. She glanced over, inexplicably fascinated by the patterns of faint veins on the backs of his hands, the thickness of his wrists and the fine spattering of freckles on his corded forearms. Regardless of the enmity that existed between them, Caroline accepted that the rugged Scotsman affected her on a level she hadn’t before experienced. She would’ve liked to trace those freckles, test the texture of the fine auburn hairs and curl her hand into his, drawing strength from him when her own seemed to have failed her.

“As soon as the rain stops, I’ll search for kindling that isn’t completely waterlogged and try and start a fire. ’Twill be a long night.”

Disquiet muddled her thoughts. The fact that spending time alone with Duncan didn’t bother her set off alarm bells. Admit it. He fascinates you.

“We can’t stay here.”

He swiveled his head her direction. “There’s no moon, and we dinnae have lanterns. I’m no’ about to risk further harm to the horses or ourselves to satisfy your whims.”

Hurt lanced through her. “My parents will be searching for me.”

“Let them. Unlike us, they’ll be prepared to travel by night.”

Caroline stared straight ahead, trying to picture her parents in a panic. She couldn’t quite manage it. Would they even try and locate her? Or would their guests’ comfort trump hers?

She twisted her hands into a tight ball. “Rain’s going to be okay, right?”

“As long as we’re diligent in her care, I’d say she has a good prognosis.” His voice was brusque, his manner aloof.

Caroline’s mind explored the nine years of friendship she’d shared with Rain. Her heart squeezed with regret.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to say in a strangled voice. “I should’ve listened to you.”

“Feeling sorry won’t change anything. ’Tis a hard lesson you need to learn, Caroline Turner. The world doesn’t spin on your orders. Cease thinking of yourself first, and mayhap another accident like this can be avoided.”