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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.
Chapter Four (#uc2a5bf7e-f825-58ca-b2ee-36a6e762e345)
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?”
