Читать книгу Wed By Necessity - Karen Kirst - Страница 13

Chapter Three

Duncan slid the succulent beef into his mouth and savored the mushroom gravy it was coated in. He hadn’t enjoyed a spread like this since before he’d set out on his own. The dining room was a sumptuous, understated display of elegance in hues of silver and blue. Dark, heavy furniture contrasted with papered ivory walls. Suspended above the table, the chandelier sparkled with a hundred crystals. Candles that were interspersed among serving platters shimmered off the silver-rimmed china. If not for his upbringing, he’d have been intimidated by his host’s obvious wealth and social connections.

Albert sat at the head of the table. Louise helmed the opposite end.

“How long have you been in the country?” Reverend Monroe, a serious man who wore compassion like a second skin, asked from the far end beside Louise.

“Ten years. My grandparents came five years before that and, once settled in Boston, encouraged my father to join them. I was sixteen when we left Scotland. I havnae been home since.”

“Scotland or Boston?” Louise chose to belatedly acknowledge his presence with a sardonic question.

“Scotland is the jewel of my heart. I will always consider it my home.” His gaze was drawn to the woman seated opposite. Caroline poured a thin stream of cream into her teacup. He had yet to catch her eye. That she resented his presence was obvious. “As for Boston, I havnae visited that city since I left, either.”

While he yearned to roam the rolling green hills of his native land once more, his feelings about the bustling city where his soul had nearly succumbed to darkness were more complicated.

Claude Jenkins sat on Duncan’s left. “What made you decide to travel?” he asked.

His wife leaned forward to address Duncan across Claude’s barrel chest. “You’re plenty old enough to settle down. Aren’t you interested in finding a wife? Starting a family?”

“I was engaged once,” he admitted. “It didn’t work out.”

Over the lip of her china cup, Caroline’s navy-hued gaze swerved to his. Her curiosity was plain. Was she wondering what type of woman would agree to marry him?

Mrs. Munroe made pitying noises. The reverend wore an expression of confidence. “‘Delight thyself also in the Lord, and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart.’ Keep praying. God will lead you to the right woman in His time.”

Before Duncan could respond, Caroline lowered her cup and spoke. “You didn’t answer the other question. Why did you leave Boston? What would possess a person to leave their friends and family behind?”

He got the impression her aim wasn’t to provoke him but to glean an honest answer. Surely the lady wasn’t thinking of leaving her privileged life?

“America is a land of abundance,” he said. “Varying landscapes. Fascinating people. I yearned to explore more of it.”

He spoke the truth, just not its entirety. Edwin Naughton’s face as he lay dying flashed in his memory, and the familiar shaft of guilt and regret gutted him. He may not have caused his valet’s death, but it could’ve been prevented if Duncan had taken action. Sometimes, when he thought back on his former life, he didn’t recognize the man he used to be.

Albert nodded sagely. “The desire for adventure is built into a man’s character, as is the drive to conquer his world.”

“My father encouraged me and my brothers to do just that.”

“I only hope you’ve had enough to satisfy you for a while.” Albert’s smile was polite and entirely professional. “We’d like to keep you around as long as we’re able.”

Caroline suffered a coughing fit just then. Covering her mouth with her napkin, she mumbled an apology.

Claude asked about his travels, about the people and places he’d seen, and so Duncan regaled them with the more interesting and humorous bits. Neither Louise nor her daughter remarked on his speech. While the older woman regarded him as one would a pesky rodent inside the flour bin, Caroline followed the conversation with barely concealed interest. Well aware he wasn’t her favorite topic, he surmised that stories of other places intrigued her. The Turners had the means to travel, but perhaps she’d chosen to stay close to home.

Louise rose to her feet and, diverting her guests’ attention, announced that dessert and coffee would be served in the parlor. Duncan intercepted her reluctant glance his way and decided to offer his thanks for the meal and return to his cabin. While Albert and the other couples had made him feel welcome, the Turner females would clearly like to be rid of him. His proud Scottish heritage welled inside him. In his younger years, he would’ve stayed to spite them. He’d changed in more ways than one. No use sticking around where he wasn’t wanted.

* * *

Duncan hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He’d come inside to discuss the ordering of supplies when he’d heard Caroline utter his name. In the hallway outside Albert’s study, he hesitated, debating whether to step into the open doorway and announce his presence or leave the way he’d come.

“Why him?” she lamented. “Why not hire someone local?”

“Because no one local has his qualifications.” Exasperation colored his tone. “George had been struggling the last few years to accomplish his tasks. I kept him on as a courtesy. McKenna’s just the man to restore things to their rightful order.”

“Father, you haven’t heard the way he speaks to me. Mr. McKenna has the manners of a...of a...” she said, floundering. “He’s infuriating!”

Holding his hat in his hands, Duncan fought his rising temper, fingers crushing the crown. How dare she? If she cost him this job... Of course, there’d be others. But he’d just got here. He wanted to explore, meet the locals. Rest from his long journey over the mountains separating North Carolina and Tennessee.

“He seems like a perfectly reasonable man to me. Has he made untoward advances?”

Silence. Duncan’s whole body tensed. If she lied, he’d be run out of town.

“No,” she said at last.

His head fell back and he offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving.

“Give it some time.” Albert’s leather chair creaked. “This time next week, you’ll be too busy entertaining our guests to exchange more than a dozen words with him. Your mother tells me Theo Marsh is looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Mother is engaging in wishful thinking.” She made a huff of displeasure. “What about after everyone leaves? How am I supposed to go about my daily life with him around, waiting to antagonize me?”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating. Duncan comes on the highest recommendation. We need him.”

“But—”

“I suggest you apply your energy to what you do best—parting me from my money.”

Duncan pivoted and walked lightly down the hall, bent on escape. Anger firing his blood, he pushed into the sunshine and smashed his hat on his head. He felt like kicking something. Or planting his fist into a wall. He settled for hefting grain sacks from the delivery wagon to the feed room. The physical labor helped expend the resentment burning through his veins. He was mucking out the stalls when she strode through the entrance.

“Why are you doing Anthony’s job?”

The temper he’d wrestled with his entire life begged to be let loose. Calling on his self-control, he tunneled the pitchfork into the straw.

“Why does it bother you?” he bit out.

“Forget I asked.”

He continued working while she saddled her mare. As she made to lead Rain outside, he couldn’t maintain his silence any longer. Fingers still curled about the pitchfork, he moved into the aisle. She slowed, her demeanor wary.

“I heard you talking to your father about me.”

Color brushed her cheekbones. “You were eavesdropping?”

“That wasnae my intent, I assure you. Nevertheless, I heard what you said, and I want you to know I plan on keeping this job. I’m no’ keen on traversing those mountains again anytime soon.”

Averting her face, she caressed Rain’s neck. “I realize you have to earn a living,” she conceded. “And since my father is resolved to keep you around, I suggest we agree to steer clear of each other.”

Surprise stilled his tongue. She was offering a practical solution?

He became enthralled by the affection shining in her eyes as she gazed at her beloved horse. What would it be like if she were to turn that affection on him? Yearning arced through him like a bolt of lightning, rooting him to the ground. He didn’t like Caroline, so why entertain such thoughts about her?

Had to be loneliness. He’d broken off his engagement to Maureen Craig a few weeks before he’d left Boston, which was well over a year ago now. He hadn’t courted a woman since. Of late, he’d been thinking more often about finding a wife, settling into married life and starting a family.

He cleared his throat. “I, ah, believe that’s reasonable.”

Their gazes meshed, and he found himself searching for answers. What made this woman tick? Was there more depth to her than he’d first thought?

“Then we have an agreement,” she said. “You stay out of my way, and I stay out of yours.”

His fingers curled into the wooden handle. “Aye.”

Focused on her exit from the building, he didn’t hear Wendell approach and nearly jumped out of his skin when the man spoke directly behind him.

“You misunderstand Miss Caroline.”

Turning around, he said, “Good morning, Wendell. Can I help you with something?”

Wendell’s brown-black gaze was knowing. “Miss Caroline is like a cactus fruit. Prickly on the outside but soft and sweet on the inside.”

“There’s nothing sweet about that woman.”

“A wise man learns to look beyond the obvious. She hasn’t had an easy life.” His attention moved beyond Duncan’s shoulder to the grand Victorian-style house visible through the entrance, the sun bathing its green exterior and white trim in golden light.

Duncan had sensed that all was not well between Caroline and her parents. Didn’t mean she had the right to treat others, mainly him, as if they were the dirt beneath her high-priced boots. Being around Caroline was like looking into a window to his past. He used to think like her. Before he’d become a follower of Jesus, he’d bought the lie that earthly riches and achievements gave him value. He’d treated those he considered his equals with respect. Those who were poorer, who were of the working class or not members of the right family, he’d ignored altogether. He cringed with shame every time he thought about his boorish behavior.

“Give her a chance,” Wendell advised, bringing him back to the present.

The man’s words stuck with him the rest of the day. As the days rolled past, he couldn’t get them out of his head. Was she hiding her true self behind that aloof exterior? Or was she exactly what she presented to the world?

Disgusted with his preoccupation, he went out of his way to avoid her. A week passed without them having to exchange more than a simple greeting. There were no more dinners in the Turner house. Whenever he needed to confer with Albert, he waited until he was certain she was out of the house. And any time she entered the stables, he found an excuse to tend to tasks elsewhere. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but it maintained a tenuous peace between them.

That Friday, he ate his lunch as usual on the porch steps of his temporary home. Situated across the fields and tucked deep in the woods, the cabin couldn’t be seen from the main area of the property. About a ten-minute walk from the main house, the cabin was self-sustainable with a vegetable garden, smokehouse, chicken coop and a decent-sized barn. The home itself consisted of one room, with a bare-bones kitchen—a cast-iron stove in decent condition, a lopsided hutch and a handful of shelves to hold pots and other utensils—and a bed pushed against one wall. Two chairs were situated at the square table made of pine. The place might not be fancy, but it suited his needs.

Finished with his lunch, he started along the path toward the Turners’ house, whistling a jaunty tune he’d learned as a child. When he emerged into the fields, instead of heading to the stables, he decided to explore the section of the property Caroline had failed to show him. According to Anthony, there was a pond large enough for fishing and swimming that Albert had given them permission to use.

Shin-high grass whispered against his pant legs as he strolled past the grazing fields and paddocks, past the vegetable garden with its neat, even rows that were pungent with the smells of sun-warmed tomatoes, green peppers, cantaloupe and toiled earth. He entered the apple orchard next. A small one, compared to the farm he’d worked before this, but ample for their needs. The orchard gave way to mature oak and maple trees that were more distantly spaced than in the forest. Ahead in a meadow dotted with a riot of wildflowers, sunlight shimmered off the glass-like surface of the pond.

Enthralled by the serene view, he didn’t at first notice he wasn’t alone. But as he neared the water’s edge, he spotted the green canoe floating atop the surface. Duncan blinked at the unusual sight of Caroline at rest.

She lay very still, a folded shawl cushioning her head and her hands folded over a leather-bound book, her chest rising and falling in an even rhythm. Water gently lapped the sides of the craft. Overhanging branches cast her upper body in shade, while the afternoon sun painted her in buttery light from the waist down.

In the delicate peach dress, with her countenance smooth, the long, curved lashes kissing her skin and her dusky pink mouth soft and slack, she looked as if she belonged in a painting.

A funny feeling took root in his chest. This girl, the one who wasn’t looking at him with lips curled and eyes as wintry as the North Pole, was someone he might like to get to know. Too bad it was a mirage.

Intending to leave as quietly as he came, Duncan turned to leave. But then his nose twitched, and he sneezed suddenly and violently. With a startled cry, Caroline bolted upright and scrambled to her feet, barely catching her book before it fell. The canoe rocked.

“You!”

Sidling down the grassy slope, he put up a warning hand. “Careful, lass. You could—”

“How long were you watching me?” Color raced along her cheekbones, her expression aghast.

“No longer than five or ten minutes,” he quipped, unable to resist teasing her. “Maybe fifteen. Did you know you snore?”

She sputtered. “I do not snore!”

She shifted and the canoe dipped.

“Caroline...”

Arms flailing, she went right over the edge backward into the blue-green water. Duncan fought the urge to laugh. Wading into the shallow water, he reached her in four long strides.

“My book!” Ignoring his outstretched hand, she dove for it, grasped it with trembling fingers. Mouth pursed in a flat line, she flipped through the now-sodden pages. “It’s ruined.”

“I’ll replace it,” he said. “Give me your hand.”

She inspected the sodden fabric of her dress. “Mother is going to have an apoplectic fit.”

“You have dozens of other dresses in your wardrobe, I’m sure.”

“Our guests are arriving later this afternoon. I’ll have to redo my hair!”

“It’s not the end of the world.” His fingers closed around her upper arm. It was impossible not to notice the warm suppleness of her skin. “Come on.”

She shrugged him off. Chest heaving, she crossed her arms and delivered a withering stare. The effect was ruined by the darkened strands plastered to her nape and cheeks. Her hair arrangement drooped, and there was more than one leaf lodged in the mass.

Her fair beauty was undeniable. He tried to imagine what she’d look like with eyes soft with approval and her mouth curved in a sincere smile. He couldn’t quite manage it.

“This is your fault,” she spat. “If you hadn’t been spying on me, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“I wasn’t spying on you.” Water lapped at his thighs and seeped into his boots. Even so, his temperature ratcheted up a notch. Would she run to Albert with this, too? “Since you neglected to show me this part of the property, I decided to have a look for myself. I didnae ken you were here.”

“We had a deal.” She poked his chest. “This isn’t what I’d call abiding by your word.”

“Do you not know when a man is teasing you? I haven’t the time or the inclination to stand around and watch you sleep.”

Her features pinched and, with a groan of frustration, she pushed past him. She slogged through the muck. Mud clung to the fine peach fabric. By the time he reached the bank, she was already marching through the meadow, boots squelching with each step, outrage obvious in her rigid posture.

A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He knew it was wrong, but he kind of liked seeing Caroline with her hackles up.