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“Yes, ma’am.”
Duncan stopped beside a room she’d failed to show him. He touched the handle. “What’s in here?”
“Personal storage.” She made a dismissive gesture and continued walking.
He thought it odd to keep such items in a stable, but he chose not to question her.
They exited into the sunshine. The humidity closed in around him. If Tennessee’s climate was anything like North Carolina’s, he was in for some sweltering summer days. He reached up and tightened the strip restraining his hair. He needed to cut it. His parents and brothers wouldn’t recognize him. After working in the great outdoors these many months, his skin had taken on a cinnamon hue, and he’d acquired more freckles on his forearms. He’d let his hair grow to his shoulders, and his beard was thick. He stroked it now, thinking it was probably time to shave it off.
Caroline caught the gesture and frowned.
He mentally shrugged. Or not.
She showed him the various sheds, smokehouses and other buildings. To his surprise, she was knowledgeable about the farm’s workings. At the barn, which was half the size of the stables, she introduced him to another employee.
The gentleman had stooped shoulders, flyaway black hair and skin like leather. His Native American heritage was obvious, and Duncan wondered if he were Cherokee. His brown-black gaze, when it lit on Caroline, brightened like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.
“Wendell takes care of the livestock,” she told him matter-of-factly. “But his primary task is making sure the landscaping is up to Mother’s exacting standards.”
“Miss Caroline is the true gardener around here,” Wendell said with obvious pride.
Bending to pat the orange cat sniffing at her skirts, she frowned. “Don’t let my mother hear you say that.”
Duncan watched the exchange with interest. He couldn’t imagine pristine Caroline Turner getting her hands dirty.
“We have to continue on, Wendell.”
After he shook hands with Wendell, Caroline led Duncan outside. To their right, chickens pecked at the ground inside their pen. She checked the watch pin attached to her bodice, and her features grew pensive.
“You’ll have to explore the rest of the grounds on your own.” Without another word, she headed in the direction of the house.
“You’re abandoning me midtour then?”
She turned and shaded her eyes with her hand. “I have an important matter to tend to.”
“A shopping excursion that can’t wait?” Plunging his hands in his pockets, he strolled to her side. “Or a gossip session with your friends? Is it your habit to abandon your duties, Caroline?”
That pulse at the base of her throat leapt again. Her fascinating eyes, however, remained frost-edged. “I don’t know how you conduct yourselves over in Scotland, but around here, the hired help is expected to treat their employers with utmost respect. My father has high expectations, Mr. Turner. Fail him and you’ll be cut loose.”
Duncan wasn’t sure why he was intent on baiting this woman. The only reason he could think of was that she was a handy target for the anger he’d thought he’d released long before now. He wanted to tell her that money and prestige didn’t make her better than him. He was tempted to tell her that her family’s wealth was a drop in the bucket compared to the McKennas’. He did neither. He’d rather have her honest dislike than fake regard.
Duncan liked what he’d seen so far of this part of the country. While he didn’t plan on settling here, he didn’t intend to ruin what time he did have.
“I didnae step off the boat yesterday.”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
With that parting shot, she left him standing there, making him wonder what it was that made her so unhappy.
* * *
The isolation of this part of their property unsettled Caroline. The forest had closed in after she’d passed the stable manager’s cabin—Mr. McKenna’s home for the foreseeable future—and the terrain had become steeper. At the gurgling, rock-strewn stream, she slid to the ground and, keeping hold of the reins, inspected her surroundings. She couldn’t see any signs of other human life. Lofty trees marched in uneven succession in all directions. The forest was mostly a study in contrasts of brown earth littered with decomposing leaves, darker brown trunks and vivid green foliage—from leafy bowers twitching in the breeze to ferns growing in profusion on the forest floor to lichen patches on trunks and moss ringing the trees.
A testament to God’s artistic perfection, the Smoky Mountains were wild and beautiful but not without hidden dangers. Somewhere nearby, someone lurked, possibly watching her.
Her hands clammy, she removed the black pouch from her pocket. She picked up her skirts and, picking her way across the rocks, laid it on the remains of a tree stump. Like every time before, she questioned if what she was doing was right. Should she confront her father? They’d never had a close relationship. Questioning his integrity would wound his pride and drive him farther away. But how long could this continue? Her funds weren’t unlimited.
The blackmailer had working knowledge of the Turner factories in Charleston. He knew that despite her father’s semi-retirement, he still had control of operations. He also knew Caroline had access to her inheritance. In January, she’d received the first note threatening to expose her father’s unsavory business practices. If valid, the claims in the documents had the potential to crumble the Turner empire. Over the years, her father had cultivated a reputation of providing the very best in skin care.
Their products—ranging from soaps and emollient creams to perfumes and bath oils—had become synonymous with opulence and self-indulgence. Only the wealthy could afford them. The exorbitant prices were justified by their exotic, hard-to-obtain ingredients. Caroline’s blackmailer maintained that, while Albert had initially adhered to such practices, he’d recently taken to forgoing the expense of locating and transporting said ingredients and substituting them with common chemicals. Until Caroline could find a way to substantiate these claims, she would meet his demands.
She was halfway across the stream when a rustling sound to her right made her stumble. Her boot sank into the cold water. Sucking in a sharp breath, she completed a jerky revolution, searching the woods below and rocky outcrops above. Had he decided to expose his identity? Would he do her physical harm?
But the source of her fright turned out to be a bandit-faced raccoon scouting for a meal. Caroline rushed to the other bank and clumsily mounted Rain, ready to be gone from there. Half an hour later, once again in the safety of her home, she was too distracted to give her mother’s disparaging comments about her muddy boots and bedraggled hem much thought. Caroline absentmindedly changed into a lavender outfit that would please Louise’s sense of style.
On a whim, she eased the bulging satchel from beneath her bed and ran her fingers along the supple, caramel-hued leather, stirring the dust on its surface and causing her to sneeze. Inside, there were a couple of outfits, grooming accessories and a wad of money. While the satchel had never been used, it wasn’t new. She’d purchased it three years ago as a sort of promise to herself that, if her life became intolerable, she’d leave this town for good and never look back.
So far, she hadn’t worked up the courage to use it. Or maybe she hadn’t reached her breaking point yet.
Movement in the hallway startled her. Shoving it back under the bedframe, she intercepted their housekeeper in the hallway. Shy and skittish as a mouse, the young woman was dependable and hardworking. Louise fretted at times that she didn’t pay attention to details, however.
“I’m going to freshen up your room, Miss Caroline.” She indicated the mound of clean bedding in her arms.
“All right, Sylvia.”
See? She did know her employees. Duncan McKenna was wrong about her. He had to be, because the picture he painted of her was most unflattering.
On the landing, she cupped the cone-shaped knob on the handrail. “Thank you, Sylvia.”
The housekeeper’s slim face registered surprise. She tucked a tendril of dark hair beneath her mobcap. “Oh, miss, there’s no need to thank me. It’s my job.”
Caroline spent the remainder of the day making out menus and reassigning guest rooms for their arrivals the following week. They may have left Charleston years ago, but their ties to that city remained intact. Business associates and friends visited throughout the year, so much so that her home sometimes felt like a hotel. The news that Isaiah Marsh and his son, Theo, had been added to the guest list wasn’t exactly welcome. Isaiah was boisterous and tended to make crude jokes. Theo wasn’t anything like him. The thirty-year-old heir to a fortune was suave, handsome and smart as a whip. A definite catch. It was the calculating aspect of his personality that gave Caroline pause. He was one of a carousel of suitable bachelors her mother had attempted to pair her with. In Louise’s opinion, any single man between the ages of twenty and forty with the right pedigree and desired amount in their bank account was suitable husband material. Thankfully, Theo was as uninterested in wedding her as she was him.
Marriage didn’t strike her as an institution she wanted any part of. As far back as she could remember, her parents’ strained relationship had been marked with indifference on her father’s part and nagging reprimands on her mother’s. They didn’t esteem each other. There’d been few displays of affection. She hadn’t realized there was anything amiss until her adolescent years, when she’d noticed her friends’ parents’ behavior differed from her own. The situation had only worsened with the move to Tennessee, but her mother’s complaints to Albert had fallen on deaf ears. So she’d determined to become the social queen of Gatlinburg, and Caroline was expected to play her part as reigning princess.
Her nerves were frayed by the time dinner rolled around. Her father had extended an invitation to the banker and his wife, Claude and Merilee Jenkins, as well as the reverend and his wife. As they gathered around the sumptuously laid table, the silver candleholders polished to a high shine and candlelight reflected in the mirrors on the walls, Caroline prayed that Claude wouldn’t mention her frequent visits to the bank.
She had gone to the kitchen to ensure the soup was ready to serve when Duncan McKenna slipped inside the rear hallway. She stopped short to avoid a collision with the Goliath. He put out a hand to steady her. The feel of his rough skin against hers evoked a strange fluttering sensation in her middle.
Caroline jerked out of his grip. “You picked a bad time to speak with my father. He’s entertaining guests.”
The scent of Ivory soap clung to him. The waning sunlight entering the hallway set his hair and beard aflame. The effect of it all, combined with those startlingly blue eyes, made him more striking than any other man she’d encountered, even with the beard.
He didn’t make his apologies and exit as expected. He remained exactly where he was, his potent gaze sweeping her person before lifting once more to her face, giving her the impression he saw much more than was on the surface.
“I’m not sure I agree with your mathair.”
“Excuse me?”
“The color of your dress,” he stated. “I liked the one you had on this morning better. The dark blue matched your eyes and brought a bloom to your cheeks.”
Other men had paid her compliments. Theirs hadn’t filled her with a giddy contentment and longing to hear more.
It’s the accent, she told herself.
“You’re being familiar again, Mr. McKenna. We are about to have dinner. You’ll have to come back in the morning. After breakfast.”
His nostrils flared. Hands on his hips, he bent closer, his sculpted mouth filling her vision. “Tell me something, Caroline. What is it about me that offends you so? Is it because I, a lowly working man, dared to ask you for a dance?”
Her father’s voice dispelled the tart response forming on her lips.
“Ah, there you are, Duncan. There are some people I’d like you to meet.”
Caroline shifted out of the Scotsman’s way.
He smoothed his beard. “I don’t wish to intrude, sir.”
“Nonsense.” Albert made a dismissive motion. “Caroline, put another setting at the table.”
Squashing her objection, she dipped her head. “Yes, Father.”
Before Duncan made to move past her, he looked at her, lips trembling with amusement. Her skin flushed hot. And to think, mere moments ago, she’d been drawn in by what she’d assumed was sincere admiration. This stranger had a habit of laughing at her expense. As the men disappeared into the dining room, she wondered if complaining to her father would do any good. Duncan McKenna was proving to be troublesome in more ways than she’d first anticipated.
Chapter Three (#uc2a5bf7e-f825-58ca-b2ee-36a6e762e345)
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.”
