Wed By Necessity

“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

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?”

The couple standing beside the fireplace turned to stare. Humiliation surged. Louise’s glass halted halfway to her mouth. Disapproval wrinkled her skin, and her gaze seemed to scream what Caroline had always suspected—you’re a mistake, a complete failure as a daughter.

She turned away and hurried for the nearest exit, desperate for privacy.

Outside, the brisk, moisture-heavy wind tugged her hair and skirts. Jogging to the stables, she made for Rain’s stall and began readying her for a ride. All she wanted was to be on her horse, climbing high into the mountains, with nothing around save for the birds and trees.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

From the aisle behind her, the rolling accent lashed at her. She didn’t have the strength to deal with Duncan right now. Not looking at him, she fought threatening tears. “Going for a ride, what does it look like?”

His boots scraped along the cobblestones as he came nearer. “Postpone it. The sky is about to unleash its fury.”

“Can’t.” She settled the thick pad across Rain’s back.

His hard hand clamped on to her arm and spun her around. In the barn’s dim interior, his eyes blazed blue brilliance. “Going out right now is a foolhardy act.”

Caroline averted her face so he couldn’t see how upset she was. “Apparently I am a fool.”

He was silent a long beat. “What?”

Injecting steel into her voice, she said, “Release me at once, Mr. McKenna. This is my horse, my choice. Besides, you don’t know this area like I do. This is a passing rain shower, nothing more.”

His hand fell away. With a muttered exclamation of displeasure, he stalked off. So she was stunned to see him on Jet minutes later, his Stetson tugged low over his eyes.

“Why—”

“Seeing as how you’re determined to go despite my warning,” he bit out, “I’m obliged to accompany you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s no’ you I’m worried about. It’s the horses.”

Caroline pressed her lips into a tight line and, nudging her heels into Rain’s flank, guided her toward the woods. She didn’t want him around, but it didn’t look as if she had a choice in the matter.

The satchel flashed in her mind. Freedom from her parents’ displeasure, from her current lifestyle and her disappointment in herself, dangled like a rare, delicious fruit ripe for the picking. There was no reason to stick around any longer. Leaving Gatlinburg was the answer to her problems.

* * *

The deeper into the mountains they traveled, the more convinced Duncan became that their outing would end in disaster. Like a whistling locomotive, the wind barreled through the shallow valley, whipping the trees rooted into the steep inclines on either side into a frenzy. Both horses were on edge. If either of them had possessed nervous dispositions, he or Caroline would’ve already been tossed from the saddle. The strip of sky visible above them was a churning, purple-gray mass of impending doom.

Anger simmered beneath his thin veneer of control. Caroline rode ahead of him, as silent and stiff as a marble statue. Maureen had acted similarly whenever she was miffed, which had been often. When he proposed again, it would be to a sweet, easy-to-please lass of poor means. Money complicated matters.

“What’s put a bee in your bonnet?” he called. “Someone not act as you wished them to?”

The slope of her shoulders went rigid, but she didn’t answer him.

“Whatever’s upset you, ’tisna worth risking the horses. Let’s turn back.”

She angled her head so that he could see her profile. “I didn’t ask you to accompany me. Leave if you want. I’m not ready.”

A raindrop splattered on his sleeve. Shifting his Stetson up his forehead, he eyed the sky again. On a typical midsummer evening, they’d have several hours of daylight left. Not this night.

“It will be dark soon.” He tried to reason with her. “We don’t have lanterns.”

Frowning, she lifted her head to the heavens. Was she finally going to act sensibly?

“You don’t wish any harm to come to the horses, do you?” he tacked on.

With a low command, Caroline brought Rain to a halt. He did the same with Jet, smoothing his palm along the animal’s quivering muscles.

“I suppose we have no choice, do we?”

The resignation in her voice aroused questions. When she circled around, he glimpsed the depth of her melancholy. Something was troubling her. Something more than a mix-up with the hors d’oeuvres or a snag in her stockings.

Rain began to fall in discordant patterns. Tugging his brim lower, he said, “Stay close. We may have to find shelter if this gets out of hand.”

Not waiting for her response, he maneuvered Jet around on the tight path. Thunder roiled through the valley. The storm wasn’t on them yet. Seeking God’s assistance, he prayed they’d reach the Turners’ safe and sound. The clouds opened up, releasing sheets of moisture that drenched him in seconds. Riding behind him on the trail, Caroline was unprotected in her fancy evening gown.

Duncan didn’t have time to worry about her comfort. Squinting to see his way ahead, he searched for the rocky outcrop they’d passed fifteen minutes earlier. No point trying to continue in this onslaught. They’d wait out the storm until it was safe to ride again.

He glanced over his shoulder every few minutes. While her misery and worry were apparent, she remained in control of her horse, and he admitted she was an adept horsewoman. One point in her favor.

The thunder pealed again and, this time, the intensity of it shook the ground. Jet balked. Duncan tightened his grip on the reins. Lightning cracked like a whip, striking a tree close to the path. Caroline screamed.

Twisting in the saddle, Duncan found his chest seizing with horror as Rain reared, front hooves slashing the air, eyes rolling in their sockets and nostrils flaring. And suddenly Caroline was sliding off. Rain’s rear leg caught the lip of the path, the soft earth crumbling beneath her hoof. The large gray went down, taking Caroline with her.

“Caroline!”

Vaulting to the ground, he paused long enough to secure Jet to a tree limb before scrambling down the slight slope. The interwoven treetops above kept some of the rain at bay. Soaked to the skin and splattered with mud, she struggled to sit.

He crouched beside her, searching for visible injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Her wince communicated otherwise. “Please, see to my horse.”

Duncan twisted and saw Rain farther below them. She was on her feet, at least.

“Are you sure nothing’s broken?” He turned back. “What about your head? Did you strike it?”

Her hair hung like twisted wet cords and her eyes were large and anxious in her pale face. “I’m bruised, that’s all.”

Thunder rumbled through the valley again. Duncan hurried to check on her horse. A gash the size of his fist had opened up her side, likely from a broken-off tree limb. It was deep and raw and would be prone to infection. A fresh wave of anger washed over him. A fine, dependable animal was hurt because of Caroline’s selfishness.

She navigated the slippery terrain to join him, her hands skimming the horse’s good side. “Is she all right?”

“I’m afraid not,” he gritted. “Take a look for yourself.”

Her forehead crinkled in bewilderment. Coming around to where he stood, she saw the injury and gasped. “Oh, Rain.” Her arms went around the horse’s neck, and she buried her face in the gray coat.

Duncan hardened his heart. This was her fault. She’d disregarded his warning, and her horse had gotten injured because of it.