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“Time for dessert.” His mother placed a warm pecan pie in the middle of the table.
Standing, Josh brought his empty plate to the counter. “I’ll pass tonight.”
“But it’s your favorite,” Mary protested, carrying dishes into the kitchen.
He squeezed her shoulder. “Save me a piece for tomorrow?”
Kate approached, her plate still half full. “You are a marvelous cook, Mary. However, I’m afraid I couldn’t finish it all.” She smothered a yawn.
“Oh, my. You’ve had a long day, haven’t you, dear?” Mary said. “Joshua, will you walk Kate out to the cabin?”
His and Kate’s gazes clashed. Then her lashes swept downward, her expression neutral.
What could he say? No, I don’t want to spend even a second alone with her? This woman reminds me of Francesca’s treachery and my glaring failure.
He swept out his arm. “After you.”
Chapter Three
With her hat in one hand and her skirts in the other, Kate swept past him onto the narrow porch, her shoulder brushing against his chest and a stray chocolate curl caressing her cheek. The creamy skin of her nape glowed alabaster in the moonlight. Her fresh, citrusy scent, carried on the gentle breeze, filled his nostrils and stirred his blood.
Closing the door behind him, Josh inhaled the cool, pine-scented air in an effort to displace her scent. Kate was a lovely woman, and he was a man craving comfort. Disgusted with himself for even noticing, he gave her a wide berth and started across the lawn.
“Mr. O’Malley?”
She hadn’t moved an inch. From the soft golden glow spilling through the windows, he saw her hesitation and retraced his steps.
“It’s Josh. What’s wrong? Did you forget something inside?”
“No. I, um—It’s pitch-black out there.” Her voice faltered. “Back home, gas streetlamps line the streets and give off quite a bit of light.”
He held the kerosene lamp aloft. “This will light our way.”
An owl hooted. Kate’s gaze darted to the dense woods. “What about wild beasts? I’ve read a few books about this area. There were accounts of black bears attacking people.”
He suppressed a smile. “While it’s true there are bears in these parts, they normally stay in higher elevations. Bear attacks are rare and most likely the result of someone coming too close to a momma bear and her cubs.”
He approached and held out his arm, but she didn’t immediately take it.
“So you’ve never seen a bear anywhere near here?”
“I didn’t say that. But mostly they keep to themselves.”
Her slender hand curled around his biceps, the warmth of her light touch seeping through his shirt. “I’m safe out here then?”
He guided her across the yard. “I can pretty much guarantee a bear isn’t going to break into the cabin while you sleep. You should watch out for snakes, though, especially rattlers and copperheads.”
Her nails dug into his skin. “Snakes?”
“And spiders,” he added, disregarding the twinge of his conscience. He was only telling her the truth. “Black widows and brown recluses are the ones to watch out for. Nasty bites. You could lose a limb.”
“Oh, dear.” She shuddered. “My books didn’t mention any of that.”
“Just be careful around tall grass. And don’t reach into dark corners and crevices where crawling insects like to hide.” He pulled away from her. “Here we are.”
Opening the door for her, his gaze fell on the burst of color in the corner of the room. More wildflowers. He’d borrowed his mother’s only crystal vase and placed the arrangement on the dining table as a small token for his wife-to-be.
He frowned. This night was supposed to have played out much differently. He’d imagined Francesca’s reaction to the home he’d built for her, had hoped she’d be pleased.
Instead, a stranger stood beside him.
Moving forward, her skirts whispering in the silence, Kate’s gaze assessed the airy, open space that made up the seating area and kitchen.
“You built this yourself?”
He nodded. “With help from my father and brothers.”
“You did a great job.” The admiration shining in her eyes was a soothing balm to his battered soul.
“Thanks.”
In the kitchen, she trailed her fingers along the gleaming walnut tabletop. Her gaze shot to his, a small wrinkle between her brows.
“This is similar to the one at your parents’, only smaller.”
It was one of his most recent pieces, carved with his own hands. For some reason he couldn’t identify, he was reluctant to tell her about his furniture business. Not even Francesca knew.
Slipping his hands into his pockets, he asked casually, “Do you like it?”
She stepped back to study it. “It’s sturdy, solid. Simple lines. But here—” she traced a fingertip along the carved edge “—this is truly magnificent. The detail of the leaves and flowers is amazing. Was it done by a local craftsman?”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“Does he live nearby?”
Closer than you think. “Yes. Very near.”
“You should tell him his furniture would sell extremely well back East.” Her praise brought a rush of pleasure, especially considering her family’s estate was most likely furnished with the finest money could buy.
“I’ll do that.”
She smothered another yawn. Time to go. He wasn’t sure why he’d lingered anyway.
“Good night, Kate.” He paused. “Lock the door. You’ll feel safer.”
Kate stared at the closed door a full minute before crossing the room to slide the wooden bar in place. His woodsy scent lingered in the silent room. He’d been stiff, watchful, his blue eyes revealing his misery. Oh, Fran. How could you?
Her heart ached for the pain he was enduring.
Turning, she relaxed against the rough wood and stared at the home intended for her sister. Prestige and money were everything to Fran. If she were here, she would scorn this rough-hewn dwelling, no larger than her private bathroom. She would not appreciate its charm, the love and care poured into it. Everywhere she looked, Kate saw little touches meant to cheer.
The bouquet on the table. The floral-print high-backed chair beneath the curtained window. A rainbow-striped rug in front of the stone fireplace. A painting of a waterfall on the wall behind the sofa.
Josh obviously loved her sister. What would it feel like, she wondered, to be loved like that? Sadness pressed in on her. She couldn’t recall hearing the words I love you a single time.
Her parents weren’t given to displays of affection.
That was for the lower classes, her mother had said when Kate questioned her.
She recalled walking through the park with her nanny, envious of the children holding hands with their mothers, the little boys balanced on their father’s shoulders looking happy as could be. The longing for love and affection had only grown with time.
God loves you, a small, still voice told Kate. Her eyes smarted with unshed tears. Help me remember, Father, that You love me even when I’m unlovable.
The stillness reminded her that she was alone. For the first time in her life, there were no ladies’ maids waiting behind the scenes to help her undress or fetch her a soothing cup of tea. The realization was both heady and daunting. What would it be like to be an independent woman?
Exhausted from days of travel, not to mention emotionally drained, Kate decided to deal with unpacking later. Instead, she began the tedious process of undressing. First the skirt, then the underskirt. Bustle. Corset cover. Petticoat.
The ivory satin corset presented a problem. Without assistance, it was next to impossible to undo the tight stays. Huffing and grunting, arms twisting every which way, she was at last able to free herself from the rigid contraption. She resisted the unladylike urge to toss it across the room.
Tucking the despised article beneath her arm, she went to investigate the bedroom. Covering the wide bed was a handmade quilt similar to the one on the sofa, this one in pale blues and pinks done in the pattern of interlocking rings. She thought of the thick, luxurious silk coverlet on her own bed. Beautiful, yes, and expensive, but not unique. Before she left, she would ask Mary if she’d be willing to sell her one of hers.
Locating her satchel, she changed into her night rail. Next to the bed was a waist-high table where the oil lamp stood. Extinguishing the flame, the room was plunged into inky darkness.
Kate froze. The blackness closed in on her. Images from her childhood flashed through her mind. Her nanny’s contorted, angry face. The dark closet. Musty-smelling coats, piles of boxes and broken, discarded toys distorted by the shadows. Her lungs struggled to draw in air.
How she hated the dark!
This room was small, the ceiling low. And there were no windows to open, as in her spacious, airy bedroom at the estate. No gentle light from the row of streetlamps to ease her fear, or the occasional sound of horses clomping down the lane to comfort her.
No. I mustn’t give in to the memories.
But they came anyway … of another time, another place. The wine cellar. A man she’d adored. The extinguished candle. Her panic. His calm reassurances and mesmerizing touch. She’d felt so loved …
No! Reining in her thoughts before the shame consumed her, she scrambled beneath the covers and tugged them up to her chin.
Father God, I need You. I don’t want to remember.
He will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee. She repeated the verse until her muscles relaxed and she drifted off to sleep.
Dressed to go visiting Saturday morning, Mary placed fresh-baked loaves of sourdough bread into the basket on the counter. “How are you holding up? I know it must be difficult having Kate around. I could ask Betty if she’d mind her staying over there.”
Leaning back in his chair, Josh toyed with the handle of his coffee mug. A dear friend of his mother’s, Betty Stanley would welcome Kate into her home. He didn’t doubt she’d treat her with kindness. On the downside, she had five sons. All single. And a touch wild. Sending a delicate beauty like Kate over there would be like throwing a rabbit to a pack of hungry wolves. He couldn’t do it.
Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted to sleep out in the cabin. All alone. With nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.
“No. I’m fine, Ma.” At the questioning arch of her brow, he added, “Honest.”
“If you change your mind, let me know. I’m sure Kate would understand.”
“I’ll do that.”
“What are your plans for the day?”
“I’m working on Mr. Wilcox’s dining table. He’s anxious to have it before his in-laws arrive next weekend.”
She paused in her preparations. “Could you put it off for a couple of hours? I need someone to keep Kate company while I deliver this.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she tacked on, “I wouldn’t ask, except Nathan has been up all night with Bess. I took his breakfast out to the barn about an hour ago, and the calf still hasn’t made an appearance. And your father and Caleb are milking the cows.”
He didn’t want to play babysitter for Francesca’s little sister, but what choice did he have? His mother went out of her way to make life comfortable for him and his brothers, so whenever she asked a favor, he did his best to comply.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
“You’re a sweetheart, you know that?”
“Don’t tell anybody.”
Amid her soft laughter, there came a light knock on the front door.
“That’s probably her. Do you mind, dear?”
Swallowing a sigh, he went to greet their guest. At the sight of her, the greeting on his lips fell flat. Her clothing, fancier even than the previous day’s, was utterly out of place here.
Her silk brocade ensemble put him in mind of the eggplant growing in his ma’s garden—deep, luxurious purple. The slim jacket had sleeves that bloomed out at the shoulders and tightened at the elbow on down to the wrists. A beribboned V emphasized her trim waist, erupting into a six-inch ruffle. The straight skirt below had slits revealing pleated skirts underneath. Corded rosettes adorned both the jacket and skirt, and frothy white fringe peeked out of the wrists.
Her elegant look was spoiled by the mass of chocolate waves tumbling past her shoulders. My goodness, she looked all of sixteen with her hair down. Young and vulnerable. Sweet.
Nope. He took a step back. He refused to be drawn in by her beauty. If anything, Francesca had taught him outward beauty, no matter how innocent-looking, didn’t guarantee a beautiful heart.
“Good morning, Josh.” Her cheeks were a becoming pink. “Might I speak with your mother, please?”
“She’s in the kitchen.”
With a stately nod, she walked past him. He remained where he was, unable to pull his gaze from her retreating form. She moved with grace and poise, head high and spine straight as an arrow, like a queen before her royal subjects.
Frowning, he shook his head. How many hours of practice had it taken to perfect such posture? Time better suited to more productive pursuits.
Bits and pieces of their conversation drifted out to the living room.
He heard the self-deprecating humor in Kate’s voice as she asked for help with her hair. “It appears I’m helpless without my staff.”
“Don’t worry, dear. Let’s go up to my room and see what we can do.”
“Since I’ll be on my own for a while, maybe you can give me some pointers.”
Josh stuffed his hands in his pockets, finding it odd that a young lady would need help fixing her hair.
As the pair ascended the stairs, he wondered how Francesca would’ve coped without servants to do her bidding. He hadn’t given it a thought before this moment, all the changes he’d expected her to make. Instead of being waited on hand and foot, she would’ve had to do everything herself. While he’d been blinded by love, she’d obviously been thinking of more practical things.
In less than ten minutes, Kate and his mother were making their way back downstairs. His mother reached the bottom steps first. “Will you make Kate a cup of hot tea? Her breakfast is on the stove.”
