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He hoped Albert Turner would be satisfied with his answers.
* * *
Riding into the stable yard, Caroline forgot the curious sensations stirred by the Scotsman’s nearness. The stirrings of hunger pangs faded. Her hope that their arrival would go unnoticed withered. Horses and men milled about, local farmers who should be tending chores but were no doubt here at the behest of her father. Almost as one, they turned to watch Jet’s ambling approach and Rain following behind, their initial expressions of surprise changing to speculation.
Duncan’s arm circled her waist, balancing her against his chest, and she felt his muscles go taut. His beard snagged her hair again, and a long exhale feathered across her ear. Too late, she remembered that she still wore his shirt, leaving him with nothing but his undershirt. Her skin pricked under the weight of their suspicions.
She recognized the commanding figure on the porch steps as the town’s sheriff, Shane Timmons. He was conversing with her father and Isaiah Marsh, Theo’s father. The trio noticed the hush encompassing the crowd at the same time. Her father’s features pinched into prune-like proportions. A feminine exclamation drew Caroline’s attention to the shadowed seating area. Her mother moved as if weights were attached to her legs.
As Duncan halted their progress and silently slid to the ground, Caroline braced herself for an ugly scene. He reached for her, his hooded gaze wary, his demeanor somber. He’d lost the leather strip he used to hold back his hair. The auburn waves skimmed his bearded jaw, as shiny as a new copper penny.
She registered the sureness of his hands around her waist and took an odd comfort from his nearness. Her boots met the ground, and her knees threatened to buckle. She gasped at the stabbing pain in her right side and the soreness up and down her body.
He didn’t immediately release her. “You okay?”
Biting hard on her lower lip, she nodded.
When he put a wide gap between them, resignation firming his mouth, she felt ridiculously bereft.
Her father met them in the yard, his harsh visual assessment of their state of dress making her feel like an errant child. The sheriff joined them, while Louise remained on the landing, using the banister to support her weight. That she wasn’t launching into an earsplitting tirade gave Caroline pause.
“You owe me an explanation, Mr. McKenna.”
Caroline stepped in front of Duncan. “It’s my fault, Father. I—”
“Hush, Caroline.” Albert’s gray eyes were cool. “If I’d required your input, I would’ve asked for it.”
She flinched. Some of the men in the group shifted their stances, elbowing each other and whispering. Humiliation made her throat close up.
A gentle, work-roughened hand encircled her upper arm and eased her back a few steps. Duncan. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.
“The lass and I are guilty of nothing more than poor judgment. We took the horses out for a ride last evening and got caught in the thunderstorm. Her mount suffered an injury. It was my decision to take shelter and wait for morning light to return home. You have my word of honor that your daughter’s virtue remains unblemished.”
Caroline wished disappearing was an option. Her gaze on the flower beds, she berated herself once more for not listening to Duncan. First her horse had been injured, and now they were being made a spectacle of. Gossip this juicy wouldn’t die down for months. What else would become of one bad decision?
“That may be.” The hint of disbelief in her father’s voice shocked her. “However, you can agree how this looks. I won’t have my daughter’s reputation forever tainted because of your actions.”
Was Duncan about to lose his job? In any other circumstance, she’d be relieved to be rid of him. But he clearly needed the income. Who knew? Maybe his family members were destitute, and he sent money home to support them.
She forced her lips to move. “It wasn’t his decision to go. Duncan tried to persuade me to wait. He went along for the sole purpose of keeping the horses safe.”
Albert’s brows lifted. “I would hope he was interested in keeping my daughter safe, as well.”
“Of course Miss Turner’s well-being is a priority.” Duncan’s voice rang with sincerity. “That was one reason I didnae risk traveling through the night. She got bucked off her horse once. Wasnae wise to continue.”
She recalled his very real concern that morning. Despite his annoyance, he’d been gentle as he’d helped her onto Jet’s broad back.
Sheriff Shane Timmons spoke up. “Are you all right, Caroline?”
The compassion in his azure gaze made her eyes smart. Her own father hadn’t bothered to ask. Unable to speak past the knot in her throat, she nodded.
“She needs to be examined by a doctor,” Duncan asserted.
Albert summoned Anthony and sent him to fetch Doc Owens. “Oh, and Anthony? Bring Reverend Monroe, as well. Tell him it’s a matter of great urgency.”
The gap in his teeth appeared. “Yes, sir.”
The hush surrounding them was deafening. His intentions sunk in, and Caroline weaved on her feet. Surely he wouldn’t force them to marry?
“If you are indeed a man of honor, Mr. McKenna, you will put to rest the speculation and give my daughter your name.”
Caroline gaped at the man beside her. “You aren’t going to agree to this, are you? I’m not about to marry a stable manager!”
Snickers spilled through the spectators. Duncan winced, just like he’d done on Independence Day when she’d declined his invitation to dance. Caroline wished the words unsaid.
Heaving in a breath that made his wide chest expand, he curled his hands into fists. “This may come as a shock to you, lady, but I’m no’ keen on marrying a self-absorbed, shallow socialite with nothing in her head but fashion and parties. Looks like that’s what I’m getting, though. You can thank your stubbornness for this debacle.”
His words stung. Shallow. Wasn’t that similar to what Theo had said? That people thought she was an empty shell with nothing of substance inside?
Twisting away, a vein ticking at his temple, he addressed her father. “I’ll wed her.”
The edges of her vision grew fuzzy. This couldn’t be happening.
She wanted to stomp her feet and scream at the top of her lungs and make them all go away.
If she married Duncan McKenna, she wouldn’t be able to leave Gatlinburg, after all. She’d be stuck here in her old, miserable life, only now she’d be known as the girl whose husband had been guilted into marrying her.
Chapter Six (#uc2a5bf7e-f825-58ca-b2ee-36a6e762e345)
“Why, God?” he groaned. “Of all the women in the world, why her?”
He couldn’t fathom how the Father who claimed to love him and want good things for him would shackle him to a woman like Caroline Turner. A woman who, on the inside where it counted, could be Maureen Craig’s twin. He’d left Boston to escape just these sorts of people, and now he was rejoining their ranks.
The bread and jam he’d choked down earlier soured on his stomach.
In a few hours’ time, he’d enter into a marriage he didn’t want.
His arms full of supplies, he was about to enter Rain’s stall when the man Albert had introduced as Shane Timmons strode into the stable. The light shining through the high windows glanced off the pistol at his hip.
“How can I help you, Sheriff?”
His probing gaze cataloged the scene. “Looks like you’re the one who could use a hand.” He came close and, spying Rain’s flank wound, whistled low. “That’s a doozy.”
“Aye, it is.” Going in, he arranged the honey jar and bandages in the corner and tried not to relive those horrible moments when he’d watched Caroline slide from the saddle and plunge to the ground. Running his hand along Rain’s side, he said, “It could’ve been worse.” For both the animal and her owner.
Shane removed his hat and, pushing his light brown hair out of his eyes, gestured to the horse. “How about I apply honey to the bandage while you clean the wound?”
Duncan didn’t exactly feel like company, but he wasn’t about to refuse the sheriff. Now that Gatlinburg was to be his permanent home, making allies would prove important.
“I’d appreciate it.”
While he filled a container with clean water, Shane applied a generous amount of honey to the square bandage that would cover the wound. Rain was a docile patient. In a matter of minutes, they had her patched up, the bandage protecting the gash from flies and dirt getting in.
Shane surveyed their work. “Should heal nicely. Caroline will be relieved.”
Duncan twisted the lid to the honey jar. He didn’t ask how well the sheriff knew her. It didn’t matter.
“I realize you haven’t had time to get to know many people yet,” he continued. “I want you to know I’m here if you need anything.”
“How about a way to turn back the clock?” he muttered, carrying the remaining bandages and honey jar to the tack room.
Shane closed the stall door and followed him. “You don’t have ties here. You could refuse to marry her. Leave town.”
Duncan pivoted. “Is she that bad then?”
Humor graced his mouth. “This isn’t about Caroline or my opinion of what you should do. I’m trying to put myself in your shoes. I wanted you to know the whole of Gatlinburg isn’t against you.”
“I’d be lyin’ if I said I hadn’t thought of running. I’ve done nothing wrong in the sight of God, and neither has she.”
“I believe you.”
“But it’s my duty to honor the McKenna name. I won’t sully it by acting the coward and sowing seeds of doubt in the locals’ minds.”
And there was the matter of his intended bride to consider. As furious as he was with her, the thought of leaving her to bear the brunt of his rejection troubled him. It would serve her right, he reminded himself, recalling her adamant objection to marrying a common working man. In that moment, he’d been the object of every single man’s pity within hearing distance.
The sheriff held out his hand. “I suppose this means you’ll be adding to our population. Welcome to Gatlinburg, Mr. McKenna.”
“Call me Duncan.” They shook hands.
“I’ll be praying for you and Caroline.”
He blinked at the reference to them as a team. A couple. From this day forward, he’d be irrevocably linked to her.
“We’ll need all the prayers we can get.” Did his face bear the same grave acceptance as his tone?
After the sheriff departed, Duncan returned to his humble cabin, one that didn’t even belong to him. One bright spot in this mess? The thought of watching Caroline adjust to life as a stable manager’s wife.
* * *
“I can’t do this.”
Caroline’s reflection in the mirror was nothing like how she’d imagined a bride should look. With no time to procure a proper wedding dress, Louise had chosen a ball gown from Caroline’s wardrobe that she hadn’t yet worn. Besides the ostentatious design, the color was wrong for her. But she hadn’t had the gumption to argue with her mother, not when she’d caused Louise’s dreams for her to shatter.
Crafted of fine, golden yellow silk and overlaid with white netting, the bodice was snug, the curved neckline lower than she preferred and the skirt boasted poofs of fabric that reminded her of popped corn. She ran her palms over her waist. The style certainly didn’t hide the span of her hips.
Her best friend, Jane Leighton, adjusted one of the yellow paste jewels Betty had woven into her upswept hair. “You’re going to get through this,” she encouraged, her moss green eyes solemn. “Don’t think about what next week or next month might bring. Take things one day at a time.”
“He hates me.”
Jane met her gaze in the mirror. One of a set of identical twin sisters Caroline had known since she was fifteen years old, Jane was practical and calm and wise. She was one of a very small handful of people Caroline trusted.
“I’m sure he’s merely frustrated with the situation he finds himself in.”
Caroline twisted on the low, circular seat. “No, he truly hates me, Jane.”
“Then I suggest you find ways to change his mind.”
“I don’t think anything I could do or say will make him forgive me.”
“There were two of you on that mountain ridge. You didn’t force him to accompany you.” She swept a swath of her thick red hair behind her shoulder, the band on her fourth finger catching Caroline’s gaze. Jane was married to the love of her life. Tom Leighton adored and respected his wife. Sadly, that was not to be the case in her own marriage.
“I haven’t said ‘I do’ yet, and I already know my marriage is going to be a disaster.”
“You can’t think like that, Caroline. Focus on being friends first. The rest will come later.”
Exactly what the rest was comprised of worried her. Once Louise had unleashed the brunt of her disappointment, she’d attempted to broach the subject of wifely duties. Horrified, Caroline had cut her off. Theirs wasn’t the caring mother-daughter relationship that would make such a delicate conversation easy.
She comforted herself with the fact that Duncan’s intense dislike would prevent him from pursuing that aspect of their relationship. She recalled the way his casual touch made her feel—jumpy and awkward and strangely empty—and prayed she was right.
Louise breezed inside the bedroom. “It’s time, Caroline.” She appeared to have acquired dozens more wrinkles about her mouth in the hours since that morning.
Jane gave her hand a final squeeze. “You’re going to be fine. You’re God’s beloved child. He’s allowing this for a reason.”
Caroline worried over that tidbit the entire trek down the stairs, through the main floor and out into the sweltering July afternoon. The heavy air closed around her like a wool glove. The heat, combined with nerves, caused her palms to grow damp. While she considered herself a follower of Jesus Christ, she’d never felt like a beloved child of God. She’d never felt like anyone’s beloved.
The yard was blessedly empty of most of the morning’s onlookers. As she made her way into the shade of a multitude of oak and maple trees, her gaze swept those in attendance. Their out-of-town guests, including Isaiah and Theo, congregated on her left. Theo’s expression was inscrutable, his light eyes intent on her. The group on her right was comprised of her friends and their husbands. Tom was there waiting for Jane to rejoin him. Shane stood with his arm around Allison, his wife, who shot her a reassuring smile. Caroline’s gaze fell to Allison’s unmistakable pregnancy, and she stumbled. Panic clawed its way to the surface.
“Miss Caroline.” Wendell stood shyly off to the side, wearing his finest clothes, his wispy black hair slicked off his face. He held out a bouquet of white and yellow blossoms plucked from the gardens. “For you.”
Her fingers closing around the stems, she brought the flowers to her nose, hoping the rush of emotion would pass.
“How thoughtful of you, Wendell,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
He dipped his head. The affection in his brown-black eyes made her want to weep. Since the day they’d arrived in Tennessee, the older man had taken a shine to her. He’d been kind. He’d invited her to help him with the flowers, and she’d accepted, mostly because she’d known Louise wouldn’t approve. But then she’d started to enjoy his company and the work, and an unlikely friendship had flourished. He’d become like a benevolent grandfather.
Unable to linger, she took a single step and encountered the reverend standing with a striking, somewhat forbidding stranger. Caroline halted. She scanned the manicured lawns. Where was Duncan?
She peered at the stranger a second time. His expression had gone grimmer than before, his familiar cobalt gaze searing her like a branding iron. She hadn’t recognized him at first. His auburn hair had been cut military short on the sides and back, the top locks left slightly longer to spill over his forehead. The beard was gone. The planes and angles of his face were uncovered for her inspection. His jaw was square and firm, his chin unyielding, his full, sculpted mouth softening the noble beauty of his features. His tan was uneven, but a few days in the sun would fix that.
Caroline’s lungs squeezed every last drop of air out. In his crisp black suit and snowy white shirt, her husband-to-be was elegant and refined, his bearing that of a king assured of his subjects’ loyalty. His new appearance couldn’t hide the untamed part of him that fascinated her, however, and she knew then and there she was in big trouble.
* * *
“Please join hands.”
Duncan automatically obeyed the reverend’s directive, reaching for Caroline’s and enclosing them in his. Her skin was smooth and cool, the opposite of his work-worn hands. He thought his heart might fail him. As the words rolled from the older man’s lips, Duncan stared at the woman who was about to pledge to love, honor and obey him. She didn’t love him. Didn’t respect him. As for heeding his wishes? He doubted she’d do that without a fight.
She didn’t look like any bride he’d ever seen. Brides were supposed to wear flowing white gowns and appear serenely happy as they met their groom at the altar. Caroline may as well have been attending a costume ball or an opera. And she didn’t look serene in the slightest. Gone was the haughty disdain. She looked as if a single tap of his finger would shatter her into a thousand pieces. Not an auspicious start to any union.
