Katriona's Keeper (The Alphabet Mail-Order Brides Book 11) Read online

  “It looks…pleasant,” she finally answered.

  Pleasant?

  “Is that all you got to say?” he asked, somewhat irked by her dismissive tone.

  She pursed her lips, pinning him with crackling eyes.

  “I assure you, if I meant to say it looked like a ramshackle garbage heap, I would say that. When I say it’s pleasant, that’s what I mean. It looks like a place that could be warm and inviting.” She turned away from him, her shoulders straight and her chin tipped into the sky. Lord, but she was easy to rile…then again, he’d gotten right snappy with her first.

  Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck, guilt making his skin warm.

  “I’m sorry, Katriona, I didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t trust your word. I was just…well, I was hopin’ you’d be more impressed than that.” Obviously, honesty was what was best with her—with everyone really, but he knew from how upset she’d gotten that she wasn’t used to people thinking she was less than honest.

  He appreciated that.

  The tension in her frame lessened enough for her to look at him from the corner of her eye.

  “Apology accepted,” she murmured, then drawled, “And I am impressed…I just don’t have anything to compare this with other than the large brick house I lived in most of my life. Compared to a house with enough room for twenty-five grown women, not including Madame Wigg, and a constant influx of foundlings, this place looks…quiet. Comfortable.”

  “Pleasant?”

  A begrudging smile made her lips quiver, and he found himself hungry for another full, face-brightening smile from her.

  You have your whole life to make her smile. And that thought turned him inside out.

  Chapter Four

  Katriona didn’t know what to think of the man she’d just married. Certainly, he was something to look at, had a baritone voice that made her quake on the inside, and a smile that scrambled her brains, but she didn’t know what to make of him. What he’d said, what he seemed like. He’d been upset by her supposedly flippant dismissal of what was to be their home, but he’d apologized quickly enough after realizing his mistake. But how often would there be such misunderstandings between them? Would she forever be seeking to correct his impressions of her? Was that what marriage was supposed to be like?

  He doesn’t even know the real you, yet. Just wait till he realizes what you mean to do with part of this property.

  Race pulled the surrey to a stop outside the small cabin and hopped down, his lithe, muscular frame eating up the distance as he walked around the surrey to help her down. But she didn’t need his help to get down.

  Get done what needs to be done.

  Without thinking, she placed her booted feet on the step and jumped down herself, immediately getting her skirts tangled up, which made her fall forward like a plank of wood. She didn’t have enough time to scream before she landed against a chest so hard it made her groan from the impact. Then two bands of iron circled her, holding her to the wall of man with strength she’d never known before. Her body tensed against his, feeling the pounding of his heart through her own chest—or was that her heart?

  The irons bands hoisted her up until her skirts were untangled, then Race looped one arm under her legs, lifting her up with a squeal of surprise from her throat.

  “Goodness! What are you doing?” she said, her voice sharp.

  There was a rumbling in his chest before he answered, “Carryin’ my wife over the threshold.” His hot breath skittered over her cheek, and tingles along her neck made her shiver.

  Heat blasted through her face, making her breath catch.

  He’d called her his wife. Her. She was married to this man…this man with strong arms, an impressively wide chest, lips that silently beckoned for her kisses, and eyes that turned her thoughts to plum pudding.

  Good Lord, she was in deep trouble, wasn’t she?

  With little effort, Race pressed the latch on the door and pushed it open, easily carrying her across the threshold in a single, long-legged stride. She thought he’d put her down as soon as they were inside, but he didn’t. Instead he stood there, in the center of a main living area. When she looked up to see what he was thinking, her gaze collided with his. He was staring down at her, his lips slightly parted. She could see him swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.

  “You can put me down now,” she murmured, not too sure she was actually ready to be separated from his hard, warm chest. But she couldn’t rightly get any wifely things done if he held her all day.

  Race grunted, his gaze falling to her lips, and she immediately wondered if he’d kiss her again. When he didn’t, she wiggled in his arms until she felt his grip loosen. He tipped her so her feet were pointed down and her chest was pressed against his. Her eyes were level with his throat, so she could see the corded muscles there tensing and relaxing. Lord, there wasn’t a muscle on the man that wasn’t taut.

  Madame Wigg never warned me about men like him… Then again, Madame Wigg hadn’t had much time to speak with each of the twenty-five older foundlings—she and her sisters—about what many called, “the birds and the bees.” Whatever that meant. She did know, from what her eldest “sister” Abigail had shared before she left to remarry, that she was supposed to be attracted to her husband. She was supposed to feel something other than friendship for him.

  Is that what’s going on here?

  She didn’t have time to ponder on like a philosopher because her husband was lowering her to the floor, their bodies rubbing against each other in a most…delicious way.

  Katriona nearly groaned but she bit it back just as her feet touched the floor. Sucking in a breath, she stepped back, letting her gaze take in the room.

  They were in a combination kitchen, dining room, and living room. There was a stove/oven near a large wash basin and set of cupboards, a couch and a leather chair were arranged in front of a large hearth with a wooden beam for a mantel that appeared to have been built right into the wall. A set of dining room chairs and a small round table between them sat beneath a large picture window facing rolling hills dotted with white puffs of sheep. There was a single rug in the living room, otherwise, the whole of the floor was wood planks. They’d get dusty in no time because they weren’t polished like the floors at Madame Wigg’s.

  Rustic, quaint…pleasant. She almost smiled to herself.

  The little cabin was as comfortable as it looked from the outside, but there weren’t many personal touches.

  “Have you lived here long?” she asked Race as she walked to the stove to check if it was hot. It wasn’t.

  “No. Actually, this house belongs to Moira MacAdams, Ray’s ma. She lived her by herself until recently,” he answered. She could hear his boot heels moving along behind her, more than likely watching her investigate the home.

  “And she’s letting us stay here?” Katriona inquired, turning to walk to the other side of the small living room where two doors sat open.

  “Yes, for as long as we need it. I am hopin’ to get our own cabin built before a year.” Katriona wondered at the sound of hesitation in his voice. What was he hesitant about?

  Before reaching the two doors, she spun to face him, her gaze taking in the pinched expression on his face.

  “You don’t sound like that’s something you want to do.”

  His face registered guilt, but he shrugged. “I just haven’t gotten around to it. There’s a lot of work to do around here, and with the operation growin’ every year, the amount of work grows, too.”

  “Why not just hire someone to build the cabin? Or…” An idea sprung to life in her mind. A wonderful, incredible idea!

  “Or?” he queried, raising a perfectly formed chocolate-colored eyebrow.

  She held her breath, realizing she just might be taking the biggest risk; asking her brand-new husband something so…extraordinary.

  “Or…we can teach a few dozen of the town’s children how to build it for us. Sort of like a hands-o
n training school for carpentry.” The last part of her response rushed from her mouth like a gale-force wind over a plateau.

  Both of his eyebrows were arched now, and his violet eyes were wide, staring at her as though she’d just admitted to being a man in women’s clothes.

  “You mean like make the worksite into a sort of school?” he asked, the incredulity in his voice stinging.

  She huffed, planting her hands on her hips.

  “What’s wrong with that? Most people learn their trades through watching and doing. We could find some young men—and women, no need to be exclusive—and teach them how to build a house first hand.”

  He was shaking his head before she’d even finished speaking.

  “No. It’s too dangerous, and besides that, who would do the teachin’? I don’t have time to do it, and I know you don’t know nothin’ about buildin’ a house.”

  She hissed, her face growing warm as she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something unladylike.

  “No, I don’t know anything about building a house, but I’m not the one who’d be teaching them.”

  He planted his own large hands on his trim hips and glared at her. “Oh? So who then?”

  She thought for a minute; she knew next to nothing about the people of the town, but she could assume there were builders and other tradesmen available.

  “Builders, carpenters, stonemasons—any man available to make some money,” she replied, her tone cool. She wouldn’t let her temper keep her from making a point. Cool heads prevailed—at least that’s what Madame Wigg and her sister Leanna had always said.

  “You mean to hire tradesmen to teach a group of children how to build the house rather than just buildin’ the house themselves?” Again, that incredulous tone was back, and it took everything she had in her to not stomp over to him and poke him in the chest.

  “Yes. Is that so ridiculous?” she snapped.

  His violet eyes darkened to indigo, and she felt the heat of his displeasure straight to her bones. So, this is what a marital fight was like? All fire and discontent. Well, if she was going to have her first marital fight, she was going to make it one to remember.

  “Mr. Tucker, I didn’t just come here to marry some stranger out of a catalog, I came here to fulfill my dream of building a school where the students learn more than reading and arithmetic. They’ll learn important life skills, skills they can use once they’ve decided on a career path. Skills that would put them above their peers in any given field. Why can’t those things be taught? Why can’t I be the one to facilitate that teaching, that skills learning?” She was breathing hard once she was done, but Race hadn’t batted an eyelash, flared a nostril, or twitched a muscle since she began speaking. Now, she wondered if she’d broken him.

  He stared at her, his eyes still dark, his expression unreadable. What was he thinking? Was he going to toss her out on her back end and call a judge for an annulment?

  A moment of silence passed…and then another, until the silence was so heavy it weighed upon her.

  Finally, he spoke. A single word that hollowed out her chest.

  “No.”

  Chapter Five

  “No,” he said, his voice flat, but his mind was rippling with troubled thoughts.

  Who had he married? To look at her, you wouldn’t think she was insane, but no sane person suggested creating a school to teach trades to children. Everyone knew men learned trades based on their family, and that men taught trades—there weren’t any trade schools run by women. A least not in Texas.

  Katriona bristled, her hands clenched at her sides, her eyes narrowed and snapping with blue electricity. Her lush lips were pursed and her cheeks were a pinkish-red that matched the color of her dress. She was lovely when she was livid…even if she was crazy.

  “You won’t even let me share my plans with you?” she demanded, taking a step closer to him. But he refused to back down. She was his wife, she needed to learn her place quick.

  “No. What you’re suggestin’ is ludicrous. No man would willingly teach youngsters a trade when they can be makin’ money just doin’ the trade.”

  She cocked her head. “How do you know?”

  He snorted. “I’m a man. I know what other men think.”

  Her narrowed eyes flew wide and some of the color left her cheeks. She looked almost…lost.

  But not for long.

  She stomped over to him, pushed her face up right to his and met his gaze without flinching.

  “I’m going to prove you wrong, and when I do, mark my words, Horace, you’re going to wish you’d thought of it first.”

  Her breath on his face, her chest pressed into his, her warmth flowing over him, into him…it was difficult to focus on what she was saying, but he managed well enough to respond, “We’ll see.”

  She grunted, turned, and strode toward the first of two bedrooms. She walked through the bedroom door, turned back to face him, glowered at him, then slammed the door shut.

  The sound of the slamming door echoed through their small cabin, and he winced.

  “Lord, what I have I just walked into?” he asked the empty room. Removing his hat, he hung it from the peg by the door and caught sight of himself in the wall mirror next to it. He looked tired yet expectant, as though he were just waiting for the other shoe to drop right onto his head.

  Sighing, he turned away from his reflection and inspected the room as Katriona had; everything was clean, tidy, and seemed welcoming enough. He’d hoped that her first impression of the dwelling would incite gratefulness and wifely urges, instead he’d incited an argument, one that sent his new wife into their bedroom where she shut him out.

  As if his frustrations summoned company, there was a knock at the door. Not at all surprised by the company, and somewhat happy to have something to distract him, he opened the door to find Moira MacAdams standing there, her weathered face beaming at him.

  “Race, me boy, glad tae see ye settlin’ in—where’s that new wife o’ yers. I brought some supper for ye both,” she announced, pushing past him, a large basket cradled in her arms. She carried the basket to the table and set it down before turning to look about the room searchingly.

  “Where is yer wife, Race?” she asked, pinning him with a questioning glance.

  He cleared his throat. How to explain his current circumstances to one of the most interfering women in the state… “Well, I…she…”

  “She’s right here,” Katriona called, walking out of the bedroom with her head held high. She’d removed her bonnet which allowed him to see the whole of her face. It was heart-shaped, and her hair was a mix of gold and soft browns, cut to just below her ears. Short hair on women had never appealed to him before—it seemed unfeminine to cut off something God intended as a crown for them. But…on Katriona, it added to the overall picture of sassy sprite.

  Moira grinned, raising her arms to embrace Katriona. Surprisingly, Katriona walked right into the older woman’s arms, squeezing her tightly. When they broke apart, Katriona was smiling down at the shorter woman, a twinkling in her blue eyes.

  “I am Katriona,” she admitted. “What have you brought?” She glanced over Moira’s shoulder to the basket.

  Moira spun back to the basket with an “ah” then pulled the linen cloth from the top to reveal a covered dish, two jars, a small loaf of bread—which smelled divine—and a cloth full of freshly made butter.

  “I’ve brought o bit of supper fer the newlyweds. I dinnae want ye tae worry about makin’ this here ravenin’ bear dinner when ye should be gettin’ tae know one ‘nother. I also plan tae bring whatever ye need for the week, until ye can get a proper coop built for some chickens, and wagon for supply trips intae town.”

  “Oh, you don’t need to do that,” Katriona began, only to be cut off with a determined, “I know I dinnae need tae, I want tae. Ye two need the help tae get started on the wonderful journey that is marriage.”

  Katriona had the grace to look guilty, her blu
sh deepening and her hands curling into each other before her. Not more than a minute before, she’d been shut up in their bedroom, probably fuming, determined to end their wedding night apart and angry.

  He didn’t know if he should be appreciative of Moira’s arrival or not. If Katriona wanted to pout about something as silly as building a trade school for children, he’d let her pout. He wasn’t in the mood to placate her, especially since—even if he wanted to let her do something so foolhardy—they didn’t have the funds. Certainly, he made enough to support them, and had saved more than enough to build them a home of their own, but there wasn’t enough in the budget for something that could take thousands of dollars in the first year.

  Katriona clasped her hands before her and peered longingly into the open basket.

  “It looks like you brought the whole larder with you.”

  Moira chuckled and began pulling the items out. “Tis only a bit o’ roast beef, some tatties, a loaf o’ me special soda bread, and some freshly churned sheep butter.”

  Race’s mouth watered at the thought of devouring such a delicious meal, but that would mean sitting down with Katriona. Would she be willing to share a meal with him without starting their argument again?

  * * *

  You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar… Katriona chanted the adage over and over in her head, conjuring images of Leanna and Madame Wigg. Both women, one time or another, had reminded her that her temper would never win her what she was arguing about, that she needed to remain level-headed and articulate to gain victory.

  And she would be victorious…if she just kept the fire banked and her tongue tied.

  She hadn’t been in the bedroom more than one minute before she’d regretted getting angry at Race. He didn’t know her, he couldn’t understand her drive and passion for building her school. She had to win him over with a sound explanation…but how to even face him again after humiliating herself?

  Thankfully, that woman arrived bearing the gift of delicious-smelling foods.