скачать книгу бесплатно
“If I hadn’t ridden fifteen miles today, I would be honored to be your partner again.” He smiled to soften the blow.
Her gloved hand latching on to his forearm, she leaned closer than good manners dictated. “Let me purchase you a lemonade then. You must be parched after so long a journey.”
“Maybe another time.”
Vivian accepted his excuse with a barely concealed pout. “I look forward to seeing you again, Duncan McKenna.”
Bidding her goodnight, Duncan went to reclaim his belongings. He’d met forward young ladies in almost every town he’d sojourned in and had avoided them like the plague. The woman he desired for a wife and helpmeet wouldn’t be so desperate for male company that she latched onto random strangers.
A young lawman waited beside Duncan’s pack, boots planted wide and arms crossed beneath a glinting silver star, no doubt bent on interrogating him. Caroline’s assessment wasn’t far-fetched. Small towns tended to be suspicious of strangers.
“Good evenin’ to ya.” He held out his hand. “Duncan McKenna’s the name.”
“Ben MacGregor.” With hair more deeply red than his own, and green eyes that seemed inclined to mischief, the man could’ve hailed from the same bonny isle as Duncan. His accent bore an easy Southern cadence, however. “I don’t recall seeing you around these parts before. Family in the area?”
Resettling his pack on his shoulders, he shook his head. “I’m here for work. Albert Turner hired me to care for his horses.”
“You’re the new stable manager? I heard he found someone to replace old George. Welcome to Gatlinburg.” His smile turned rueful. “I see you’ve already met Albert’s daughter.”
Duncan surveyed the milling crowd. “Who? Vivian?”
“Ah, no. Caroline Turner.” Ben jerked his chin in the direction of the refreshment tables. The blonde was there in what appeared to be a supervisory role. The girls enduring her instructions clustered together, their expressions reminiscent of those in the presence of royalty.
The exhaustion he’d been keeping at bay poured through him. His body begged for a dark room and a soft mattress where he could stretch out and sleep without having to listen for wild animals on the prowl or two-legged creatures up to no good. The anticipation over his new employment waned. He would have to cross paths with the snooty socialite on a regular basis.
“Does Mr. Turner have any more daughters I should be aware of?”
Ben tucked his thumbs in his pockets. “No, and we should count ourselves fortunate on that score.” At Duncan’s continued scowl, he chuckled. “Caroline’s not so bad once you get to know her.”
Before leaving Boston and his family behind, he’d known scores of women exactly like her. He had no wish to associate with more.
“Come with me,” Ben said. “I’ll help you locate Albert.”
They wove their way through the throng of youngsters and adults. As they neared the table Caroline was stationed behind, her almond-shaped eyes lit on his and with a disapproving frown, she turned away. Duncan could well imagine her reaction when she learned the news of his employment and hoped he was around to witness it.
* * *
Caroline descended the stairs much later than usual the next morning. Disturbing dreams had troubled her sleep. Lack of rest wasn’t the only reason she’d lingered in bed. Today she would make yet another trip to the bank, enduring the clerk’s censorious stare as she made up another false story about an expensive bauble she wished to purchase. Then she’d ride out to the north side of the property, where she’d leave the demanded amount. She wondered how long this would continue. Eventually she’d run out of money, and then what?
As she neared the dining room, the rich aroma of hot coffee mixed with chicory wrapped around her. Her father had gone to New Orleans last month and purchased multiple tins. Her anticipation vanished the moment she crossed the threshold. The hulking Scotsman from last night’s festivities was seated at her table. A china plate piled high with Cook’s usual breakfast offerings was in front of him.
“You.”
He appeared marginally tamer this morning, with the charcoal-gray shirt molded to the impressive breadth of his shoulders looking clean and pressed. In the light streaming through the windows, his hair had the rich sheen of mahogany. Once again, he’d restrained it with a strip of leather. He looked like a man who spent much of his time apart from society, nothing like the distinguished Charleston businessmen who usually used her home for a mountain retreat.
Shockingly, it was his untamed quality that appealed to her. Caroline’s world was constructed of rigid rules and expectations. Duncan McKenna seemed to live to please himself. A heady prospect. The fact that she’d never partake in such personal freedom stoked her bad mood.
Lifting his head, he did a lazy inspection of her with his cobalt blue gaze.
“Good mornin’, Caroline.” His voice was deep and thick. The way he pronounced her name, with a slight roll of the r, sounded like music.
She advanced to the table and gripped the top rung of the chair opposite him. “I want you to leave.”
He took a long draw of coffee, then plucked a sausage link from his plate and bit off half. Grinning as he chewed, he said, “’Tisna your house, is it, but your father’s. I’m here on his approval.”
“My father doesn’t make a habit of inviting drifters to share our table. What did you do? Follow me here last night? Did you sleep in the woods and wait for your opportunity?”
His grin faded. “I’m no’ a drifter.”
Her nails dug into the polished wood. Her mother would throttle her if she marred the furniture. Inhaling deeply, she lowered her arms to her sides. She would not allow him to provoke her. Dealing with irritating people and situations was commonplace.
“Who are you then?”
Determined footsteps echoed in the hall and her father entered, newspaper rolled and tucked beneath his arm. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed off his high forehead. Dressed in a severe black suit, a gold tack pinned into his red tie, he’d long ago perfected the image of a successful businessman.
Caroline used to be in awe of him, of his accomplishments and the respect he had commanded in their former home of Charleston, the state of South Carolina and beyond. Now, whenever she was in the same room with him, she questioned if his character was as sterling as she’d thought. Was his success based on honest practices? Or was he, like other kings of industry she’d read about, pursuing wealth at the expense of integrity? The documents the blackmailer had provided as an impetus to meet his demands were upstairs in her room. Copies, of course, in case she was tempted to destroy the evidence. But were they copies of authentic documents or were they falsified?
Albert spared her a brief glance. “Ah, Caroline, I see you’ve met Duncan. He’s taking George’s place.” Striding over to the silver urn, he dispensed coffee into his cup and stirred in a generous portion of cream. “How did you fare last night, Duncan? Does the cabin suit you?”
“Aye, sir. I slept like a bairn.”
George? Cabin? “Y-you hired him?”
Mr. McKenna’s gaze, bright with humor, shifted to her. He ducked his head, but not before she saw his slow grin. He was enjoying her shock.
“Yes, Caroline.” Looking down his hawkish nose at her, Albert addressed her as one would a difficult child. “Mr. McKenna is our stable manager now. He came highly recommended from the Stuarts.”
“Your friends in North Carolina?”
He nodded. Leaning against the sideboard, he said, “I expect you to make him feel welcome. In fact, you can give him the grand tour of the property. I’ve got a meeting at the bank this morning.”
“Bank? Why are you going there?” Anxiety rose up to choke her. “Is there a problem?”
His brows pulled together over his nose. “You’re acting strangely this morning. Perhaps you need to eat your breakfast instead of peppering me with questions.” He started for the door, pausing but for a moment to address Duncan. “We’ll talk later.”
Duncan dipped his head. “Aye, sir.”
When they were alone again, he motioned with his fork and winked at her. “I recommend the flapjacks.”
She stiffened. “I don’t need your recommendations, Mr. McKenna. Cook has been with us since I was eleven.” Stalking over to the sideboard, she filled her plate without paying attention to what she was doing, her thoughts focused on one thing—her life had just gotten more complicated.
When she took the seat across from him, he blinked in surprise. “A hearty appetite, I see. Wouldn’t have guessed it. But then, I learned a long time ago not to judge people on their appearance.”
The arrow hit home. Sipping her tea, she wished he’d leave.
“Does Cook have a name?”
The cup rattled as she replaced it in the saucer. “Of course she does.”
“What is it?”
Caroline raked her memory and came up empty. The buxom, wiry-haired woman who prepared their meals had always been referred to as Cook. “If you’re so interested, why don’t you ask her?”
He smirked, his gaze condemning. Duncan McKenna thought she was a snob.
“You don’t know it. To you, she and the other staff aren’t people. They’re simply fixtures here to make your life easy.”
His condemnation shouldn’t sting. He was a crude, ill-educated stranger who was clearly envious of those who’d achieved success.
“You don’t know anything about me, Mr. McKenna. Who’s the one judging now?”
Surging to her feet, she tossed her napkin over her plate and opted to escape. These days, trying to protect her father’s reputation consumed all her energy. She didn’t have the capability to cope with an infuriating employee on top of everything else.
Chapter Two (#uc2a5bf7e-f825-58ca-b2ee-36a6e762e345)
He’d driven her from her breakfast. Not exactly gentlemanly behavior. Nor was it wise to provoke the boss’s daughter.
Duncan scraped his chair back and hurried into the high-ceilinged, papered hallway in the center of the house, catching up to her on the veranda that ran the length of the rear exterior. Pots of cheerful yellow blossoms lined the white railing and flanked the steps. White wicker chairs were arranged to take advantage of the pastoral view, verdant fields that gave way to forest framed by majestic, blue-toned mountains.
“Caroline, wait.”
On the crest of the steps, she slowly pivoted. Her delicate features were arranged into a controlled mask, but he could see the rapid pulse leaping at her neck. She wasn’t as nonchalant as she’d like him to think.
“I don’t recall giving you leave to address me by my first name.”
“You were right back there. I don’t know you and have no business commenting on your character.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You didnae touch your food. I’ll leave you alone to enjoy your breakfast.”
She regarded him with a less-than-friendly gaze. Despite her attitude, she presented a vision that, if a man wasn’t careful, could blind him to her obvious faults. Her sapphire-blue dress, a perfect choice for her fair complexion, draped over her figure like a glove. Her white-blond tresses were arranged in a sophisticated style, parted down the side and swept into a tight chignon at the back of her head. There were no diamonds today, only a ribbon choker about her neck and a blue-and-white cameo nestled in the dip of her collarbone.
“I lost my appetite.” Presenting her back to him, she pointed to the stables situated close to the house. “Let’s get this over with.”
A dignified figure rounded the house and made to intercept them. The epitome of studied elegance, the lady was an older, more pinched version of Caroline. Her eyes weren’t nearly as stunning, the color a washed-out, watery blue, and her blond hair was threaded liberally with silver. He didn’t need Caroline’s introduction to make the connection. Louise dismissed him with a single glance.
“Caroline, what are you doing?”
“Father asked me to give Mr. McKenna a tour of the property.”
“We have to plan our menus for next week.”
“Can we do that after lunch?”
Her mouth puckered and lines fanned out above her upper lip. “I suppose I can rearrange my schedule.” Squinting, she fussed with her daughter’s sleeves, plumping the fabric. “This color is all wrong for you.”
Pink rose in Caroline’s cheeks. “No one is going to see me in it, Mother.”
He caught the implication. No one that counted, himself included. As a hired employee, his opinion about such things didn’t matter. They viewed him as unimportant because they assumed he was poor and uneducated. Bitterness surged. He’d happily left this sort of narrow-minded attitude behind in Boston.
“I told you to stick to pastels.”
“We’re boring Mr. McKenna.” Caroline’s smile was brittle. “We’ll discuss this later.” Head held high, she started for the nearest stable entrance.
“Excuse us, Mrs. Turner,” Duncan said.
Her nose wrinkled in distaste and she disappeared into the house.
Duncan entered the long building. The air was sweet with the scent of hay. High windows had been opened to let the breeze circulate. Dust motes danced in the square of light spilling through the open entrance.
Speaking in brisk tones, Caroline showed him the tack and equipment rooms on his left. A sturdy ladder led to a hayloft that extended the length of the building. The cobblestones beneath their feet were worn to a shiny patina and swept clean. Box stalls flanked either side of the wide center aisle. Only about half of them were occupied. One by one, she introduced him to the ten horses they owned. When she got to the last one, affection lightened her voice.
“This pretty lady is Rain.” Pulling a carrot from her pocket, she fed it to the mare and ran her hand lovingly along its neck.
Duncan found himself captivated by the pure joy Caroline radiated and the way it softened her. He wouldn’t have pegged her for an animal lover. His conscience pricked him. The Turners weren’t the only ones capable of making judgments.
Joining her, he greeted Rain, taking in the healthy state of her dapple-gray coat and black mane. “She’s yours?”
“Yes. I was unhappy when we first moved here from Charleston. My father bought her in hopes of appeasing me.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
Old enough to have strong ties to her former home. As much as he preferred his current life, there were things—and people—he still missed.
“Did it work?”
Her rose-hued lips rolled together, pressing down. “Rain is my one bright spot.”
Before he could question the cryptic statement, she stepped back, businesslike once again. “As you can see, we have ample space to board our frequent visitors’ animals. Next week we have several guests joining us. You’ll have extra duties.”
“I can handle it.” He shrugged. “You have an impressive setup.”
She lifted her chin. “Ours are the largest, most well-equipped stables in Gatlinburg.”
Duncan refrained from telling her that the McKenna stables were triple this size.
An adolescent boy walked in the far entrance, thin arms straining with a pair of buckets. Duncan strode to help him.
“Thank you, sir, but I can manage.” His brown hair was cut short, and there was a gap between his front teeth. “Good morning, Miss Caroline.”
“Anthony, I’d like you to meet your new boss, Duncan McKenna.”
The lad snapped to attention, chest puffed out. “Glad to meet you, Mr. McKenna.”
“Likewise.” Duncan pointed to the buckets. “Sure you won’t be needing assistance?”
“No, sir.”
“I’ll return shortly to see to Rain,” she told Anthony. “You may turn the others out to the paddocks.”
