The Bridal Swap

More than once during her long journey to Tennessee, she’d faced Josh in her imagination. Rehearsing what she’d say. Envisioning what he might say. She hadn’t considered his family’s reaction. Standing here with Mr. and Mrs. O’Malley regarding her as if she were a creature from another planet, she regretted the omission. Not a word came to mind.

Josh’s level gaze was on her as he spoke. “Francesca changed her mind about the marriage. Kate thought it best to bring the news in person.”

“I’m sorry, son,” said Mr. O’Malley, as he placed a comforting hand on Josh’s shoulder.

His mother approached, questions lingering in her eyes. Her tremulous smile lessened Kate’s apprehension a notch. “Kate, I’m Mary. And that’s my Samuel. It’s a brave thing you did, coming here in your sister’s place. Thank you.”

Kate released the breath she’d been holding. She wasn’t going to be berated, after all. “I regret to have to deliver such dreadful news.”

Unlike Georgia Morgan’s cool, aloof beauty, Mary O’Malley’s appearance was one of sweet femininity, her wavy brown hair styled in a casual upsweep and a simple gold chain with a cross to complement her blue calico dress. And tall, lean Samuel O’Malley, with brown hair much like Josh’s, had a pleasant face.

“We appreciate your consideration of Josh’s feelings,” Samuel added.

The tips of Josh’s ears reddened. “I’m sure Kate would appreciate something to drink after her long trip.”

“Where are my manners?” Mary gasped. “Come on in! I’ve a fresh batch of crybabies already cooling on the table.”

Crybabies? What on earth?

Josh’s parents went inside first, and he gestured for her to go ahead of him. She felt the weight of his gaze on her back as they passed through the doorway.

Her first impression of the O’Malley home was that it could’ve fit inside the dining hall of her parents’ estate. Instead of silk damask wall panels, these walls were bare wooden planks. There were no ornate candelabras or wall sconces, only kerosene lamps placed in key areas about the room. Compared to her estate’s marble hallways, plush Oriental rugs and the finest furnishings money can buy, this home was indeed humble.

However, there was no denying it was an inviting space, cozy and cheerful and decorated with care. Blue-and-white gingham curtains hung at every window, and landscape scenes of mountains and meadows hung on the walls. A serpentine sofa with blue brocade cushions and walnut trim, along with two matching chairs, were situated around a charming stone fireplace.

“Not exactly what you’re used to, is it?” Josh stopped at her side.

“It’s lovely.”

He studied her, weighing her words and expression as if trying to gauge her sincerity.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.” Mary gestured to the sofa. “I’ll get the refreshments. Samuel, can you give me a hand?”

The couple passed through the dining area and rounded the corner into what she assumed was the kitchen. She couldn’t make out the words of their quiet conversation, but no doubt they were discussing her sister’s cowardice and lack of decency.

“Would you like to have a seat?”

Kate swallowed hard. Josh’s steady assessment set her nerves on edge.

“Yes, thank you.”

Moving to the nearest wingback chair, she sank gracefully onto the cushion and arranged her skirts with care. He didn’t join her. Instead he began to pace the length of the couch, hands in his pockets. Every now and then a muscle in his cheek twitched.

She could just imagine his thoughts. Wringing Fran’s neck, perhaps?

His parents returned at last with a tray of glasses filled with ginger water and a plate piled high with cookies, which they placed on the low coffee table in front of her. The sweet aroma of molasses teased her nose. Were these the crybabies, perhaps?

Mary handed her a glass. “Here you are.”

“Thank you.” The tart liquid washed the dust from her throat.

When they were settled in the sofa across from her, Mary said, “You’ve traveled a great distance, haven’t you, Kate? What are your plans now that you’re here?”

“I’m actually here to take photographs. And to visit my former governess, Charlotte Matthews.” Her gaze shot to Josh, who was still pacing. “Everything was arranged and she knew to expect me. She wasn’t at home, however.”

Absently, she rubbed the tender spot on her wrist where Tyler had held her.

“We thought you might know her whereabouts.” Josh had stopped pacing. Resting his weight against the sofa, his hands gripped the wooden trim. His gaze caught her movement and narrowed. Kate covered the spot with her hand.

“You know Charlotte? She’s a dear lady.” Mary frowned. “She’s been facing some hard times lately. Tyler isn’t coping well with the death of his wife. And now his sister, Carrie, is expecting and has been terribly ill. Charlotte left last week to be with her until the baby comes. I’m afraid she won’t be back for quite some time.”

Kate lowered her gaze to her lap. This wasn’t welcome news. Charlotte must’ve been too preoccupied to send her a letter explaining the situation.

“Miss Morgan needs a place to stay,” Josh spoke into the silence. “Do you know of anywhere?”

“You can stay here, of course.” Mary beamed. “With four males stomping around this house, I get lonesome for female company.”

“Mary, I’m not sure …” Samuel shot a meaningful glance at Josh.

Her smile faltered. “Oh, yes, I didn’t think—”

“She can sleep in my cabin,” Josh announced bitterly. “I won’t be needing it after all.”

“Are you sure?” Mary peered up at him, her eyes full of concern.

“Positive. It won’t take all that long to move my things back into my old bedroom.”

“Wait.” Kate hastily replaced her drink and came around the sofa to face him. “The last thing I want to do is push you out of your home.”

“A home I built for my future wife.” The pain of betrayal flashed hot in his eyes. “But she’s not here, is she?” Turning his back, he strode for the door. “You’re welcome to it.”

His boot had connected with the bottom step when he heard the door open and close and Kate call his name. What now? Couldn’t she see he wasn’t in the mood for company?

With great reluctance he pivoted back, squinting in the afternoon sunshine. She edged forward, her face shadowed by the hat’s brim. Loosening the ribbons of her reticule, she withdrew a long parchment envelope and held it out to him.

“I have a letter for you. From Francesca.”

He stared at the letter, not sure he wanted to read it. “What does it say?”

Her lips parted, and dark lashes swept down to hide her eyes. Pink washed her cheeks. “I don’t know. She didn’t share the contents with me and, to be honest, I’m glad she didn’t.”

Tucking the letter in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, Josh nodded in silent farewell and left her standing on the porch. If he didn’t get alone soon, he was going to come undone. What he wanted to do was hunt down the man who’d stolen his future and plant a facer on him. Then he’d confront Francesca and force her to confess her perfidy to his face.

But that wasn’t an option. Not today, anyway.

With effort, he ruthlessly tamped down the emotions clawing at his insides.

Ignoring the letter burning the lining of his suit, he gathered his clothes and books from his home, not stopping to linger and mourn his loss. To his relief, his mom was showing Kate the kitchen when he went inside the main house, so he was able to put his things away, change clothes and duck back outside without being seen.

During the entire trip to town and back to retrieve her luggage, the letter and what it might say dominated his thoughts. Why hadn’t Francesca had the decency to face him herself? Why put it off on her little sister?

Finally, when the wondering became too great, he pulled the envelope from his pocket and sank onto the top step of his porch.

Heart thumping against his rib cage so hard it hurt, he unfolded the paper and, holding it to his nose, inhaled her flowery scent. He felt achy all over.

Dearest Josh,

I am not sure what to write, for I know nothing I say will change your low opinion of me. Katerina was adamant that I give you some explanation, and I admit she was right. You must know that I care for you, but you and I together for a lifetime never would have worked. Percy can provide the type of life I need to be happy.

Sincerely,

Francesca Morgan

Stunned, Josh flipped the paper over and found the other side blank.

There was no apology. She’d basically admitted to wedding this man for material gain.

Francesca’s nonchalant attitude, her utter lack of remorse, stung. Anger boiled up once again, threatening to overwhelm him.

Once again, he was facing a lonely future.

In the shade of the back porch, Kate leaned against the wooden railing and stared out at the idyllic scene. Gently rolling fields of green, knee-high stalks waving in the breeze, gave way to rounded mountain peaks rising in all directions in a patchwork display of burnished reds, golds and greens. God’s magnificent handiwork for all to see and savor.

She was eager to explore, to seek out potential images for her book.

But first she had to find Josh, as Mary requested. Supper awaited.

Above the lowing of cattle, she heard the insistent pounding of an ax.

Following the sound, she strolled across the yard toward the barn, casting a glance inside the shady interior as she passed by the open doors. Dust motes hung suspended in the dim light, the smell of hay and animals reminding her of the stables back home.

Rounding the corner, she came to an abrupt stop.

A flash of sunlight on glistening skin, sculpted muscles straining, stretching, Josh handled the ax with ease, slicing through the wood like butter. He’d exchanged his neat suit for a pair of dark denim trousers and sturdy brown work boots. His sleeveless undershirt gave her a clear view of molded shoulders, thick biceps and corded forearms.

She gulped. Oh, dear.

Glancing away, she saw the high stacks of kindling by the barn wall. Surely they didn’t need more. Then it struck her. He wasn’t doing this out of necessity. He was venting.

Compassion for his plight brought moisture to her eyes. She blinked hard. She couldn’t let him see her tears. He’d assume she was feeling pity for him, and she had a feeling he wouldn’t like that.

When she moved into his line of vision, he wedged the ax into the stump, turned his back and, retrieving his white shirt, shrugged into it. Still working the buttons, he faced her, brows raised in question.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she ventured. “Your mother sent me to tell you the meal is ready.”

“Just a minute.”

She stood by quietly, fingers toying with the lace peeking out of her sleeves as he quickly stacked the wood before joining her. He was a rumpled mess, his short hair mussed and shirt untucked, the sweat-dampened material sticking to his frame. It only added to his appeal.

“Have my parents kept you entertained this afternoon?”

“Your parents have been welcoming and friendly.”

Strangers who were more attentive than her own parents.

Walking beside him, she sensed the coiled tension in him. Had he read the letter? She wondered what it had said, feared Fran’s words had inflicted further pain. Her sister wasn’t known for her tact.

He stopped at the pump to clean his hands and douse his face. When he’d wiped off the excess moisture and tucked the cloth into his back pocket, he startled her by taking hold of her hand.

“What are you—”

Carefully, he slid her sleeve back, revealing the purple marks marring her pale skin. His eyes darkened. “Matthews did this?”

The scent of pine clung to him. Kate couldn’t think with him standing so near, his strong, warm hands cradling hers with such tenderness. Back home in Francesca’s room, gazing at his portrait and committing his face to memory, she couldn’t have guessed the impact of his physical presence.

She dragged in a breath. “I’m fine, really.”

“Steer clear of him, Kate. He’s unpredictable.”

It was his first use of her name. She had to admit it sounded good on his lips.

“Kate?” he prompted impatiently.

“You don’t have to worry. I won’t go near the man.”

“Hey, Josh!”

Two men were headed in their direction. Josh’s brothers?

Releasing her, he crossed his arms and waited. Their attention didn’t waver from her as they approached. Feeling like a specimen underneath a microscope, she fought the urge to squirm.

“Kate Morgan, these are my brothers, Nathan and Caleb.”

Nathan shot a startled glance at Josh, but he quickly masked his confusion. His eyes were kind as he welcomed her. “It’s nice to meet you.” Two years younger than Josh, he was twenty-two.

Twenty-year-old Caleb scowled and said nothing. Josh had mentioned in his letters that his youngest brother didn’t like to be around people, something to do with a scar he’d gotten from a recent accident. She didn’t see evidence of one, but she noticed he kept his face turned to one side.

“Where’s Francesca?” Nathan asked.

Josh stiffened, his voice flat. “She isn’t coming, after all.”

“Did something happen?” Nathan asked quietly.

“Yes.” Josh’s voice held an edge. “She decided to marry someone else.” At Caleb’s intake of breath, Josh held up a staying hand. “Kate is her sister. She’s staying with us for the time being.”

He didn’t seem pleased with the turn of events. And why should he be? Her sister should’ve been standing here meeting his family, not her.

Mary pushed open the door. “Supper’s ready.”

She didn’t miss the flash of relief on Josh’s face. No doubt he was growing weary of explaining her presence to everyone.

* * *

Sitting at the far end of the table, Josh listened to the ebb and flow of conversation without contributing to it. This was the last place he wanted to be, surrounded by people pretending nothing was wrong. Pretending he hadn’t just been cast off.

Suppertime in the O’Malley household was typically loud and lively, and tonight was no exception. His father and brothers made sure of that. One glance at Kate Morgan’s mystified expression suggested family dinners at the Morgan estate were a much more sedate affair.

Her regal bearing and expensive clothing set her apart from everyone else at the table. She’d removed her hat, gloves and jacket. Beneath her brocade vest of matching material, she wore a filmy cream-colored blouse with lace at her neck. The color of her eyes matched the peridot earrings dangling from her ears, the vivid green gems flashing with every turn of her head.

Watching her, Josh realized he’d been a fool to think Francesca could ever be satisfied with his way of life. The Morgans lived a life of luxury. Nothing was out of their reach.

He lived simply. He worked hard to carve out a life for himself, yet he had no complaints. He loved these mountains, this land. And he wanted someone to share his life with.

God, I don’t understand Your ways. Nothing is turning out the way I thought, and it’s hard. So hard.

“Time for dessert.” His mother placed a warm pecan pie in the middle of the table.

Standing, Josh brought his empty plate to the counter. “I’ll pass tonight.”

“But it’s your favorite,” Mary protested, carrying dishes into the kitchen.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Save me a piece for tomorrow?”

Kate approached, her plate still half full. “You are a marvelous cook, Mary. However, I’m afraid I couldn’t finish it all.” She smothered a yawn.

“Oh, my. You’ve had a long day, haven’t you, dear?” Mary said. “Joshua, will you walk Kate out to the cabin?”

His and Kate’s gazes clashed. Then her lashes swept downward, her expression neutral.

What could he say? No, I don’t want to spend even a second alone with her? This woman reminds me of Francesca’s treachery and my glaring failure.

He swept out his arm. “After you.”

Chapter Three

With her hat in one hand and her skirts in the other, Kate swept past him onto the narrow porch, her shoulder brushing against his chest and a stray chocolate curl caressing her cheek. The creamy skin of her nape glowed alabaster in the moonlight. Her fresh, citrusy scent, carried on the gentle breeze, filled his nostrils and stirred his blood.

Closing the door behind him, Josh inhaled the cool, pine-scented air in an effort to displace her scent. Kate was a lovely woman, and he was a man craving comfort. Disgusted with himself for even noticing, he gave her a wide berth and started across the lawn.

“Mr. O’Malley?”

She hadn’t moved an inch. From the soft golden glow spilling through the windows, he saw her hesitation and retraced his steps.

“It’s Josh. What’s wrong? Did you forget something inside?”

“No. I, um—It’s pitch-black out there.” Her voice faltered. “Back home, gas streetlamps line the streets and give off quite a bit of light.”

He held the kerosene lamp aloft. “This will light our way.”

An owl hooted. Kate’s gaze darted to the dense woods. “What about wild beasts? I’ve read a few books about this area. There were accounts of black bears attacking people.”

He suppressed a smile. “While it’s true there are bears in these parts, they normally stay in higher elevations. Bear attacks are rare and most likely the result of someone coming too close to a momma bear and her cubs.”

He approached and held out his arm, but she didn’t immediately take it.

“So you’ve never seen a bear anywhere near here?”

“I didn’t say that. But mostly they keep to themselves.”

Her slender hand curled around his biceps, the warmth of her light touch seeping through his shirt. “I’m safe out here then?”

He guided her across the yard. “I can pretty much guarantee a bear isn’t going to break into the cabin while you sleep. You should watch out for snakes, though, especially rattlers and copperheads.”

Her nails dug into his skin. “Snakes?”

“And spiders,” he added, disregarding the twinge of his conscience. He was only telling her the truth. “Black widows and brown recluses are the ones to watch out for. Nasty bites. You could lose a limb.”

“Oh, dear.” She shuddered. “My books didn’t mention any of that.”

“Just be careful around tall grass. And don’t reach into dark corners and crevices where crawling insects like to hide.” He pulled away from her. “Here we are.”

Opening the door for her, his gaze fell on the burst of color in the corner of the room. More wildflowers. He’d borrowed his mother’s only crystal vase and placed the arrangement on the dining table as a small token for his wife-to-be.

He frowned. This night was supposed to have played out much differently. He’d imagined Francesca’s reaction to the home he’d built for her, had hoped she’d be pleased.

Instead, a stranger stood beside him.

Moving forward, her skirts whispering in the silence, Kate’s gaze assessed the airy, open space that made up the seating area and kitchen.

“You built this yourself?”

He nodded. “With help from my father and brothers.”

“You did a great job.” The admiration shining in her eyes was a soothing balm to his battered soul.

“Thanks.”

In the kitchen, she trailed her fingers along the gleaming walnut tabletop. Her gaze shot to his, a small wrinkle between her brows.

“This is similar to the one at your parents’, only smaller.”

It was one of his most recent pieces, carved with his own hands. For some reason he couldn’t identify, he was reluctant to tell her about his furniture business. Not even Francesca knew.

Slipping his hands into his pockets, he asked casually, “Do you like it?”

She stepped back to study it. “It’s sturdy, solid. Simple lines. But here—” she traced a fingertip along the carved edge “—this is truly magnificent. The detail of the leaves and flowers is amazing. Was it done by a local craftsman?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

“Does he live nearby?”

Closer than you think. “Yes. Very near.”

“You should tell him his furniture would sell extremely well back East.” Her praise brought a rush of pleasure, especially considering her family’s estate was most likely furnished with the finest money could buy.

“I’ll do that.”

She smothered another yawn. Time to go. He wasn’t sure why he’d lingered anyway.

“Good night, Kate.” He paused. “Lock the door. You’ll feel safer.”

Kate stared at the closed door a full minute before crossing the room to slide the wooden bar in place. His woodsy scent lingered in the silent room. He’d been stiff, watchful, his blue eyes revealing his misery. Oh, Fran. How could you?

Her heart ached for the pain he was enduring.

Turning, she relaxed against the rough wood and stared at the home intended for her sister. Prestige and money were everything to Fran. If she were here, she would scorn this rough-hewn dwelling, no larger than her private bathroom. She would not appreciate its charm, the love and care poured into it. Everywhere she looked, Kate saw little touches meant to cheer.

The bouquet on the table. The floral-print high-backed chair beneath the curtained window. A rainbow-striped rug in front of the stone fireplace. A painting of a waterfall on the wall behind the sofa.

Josh obviously loved her sister. What would it feel like, she wondered, to be loved like that? Sadness pressed in on her. She couldn’t recall hearing the words I love you a single time.

Her parents weren’t given to displays of affection.

That was for the lower classes, her mother had said when Kate questioned her.

She recalled walking through the park with her nanny, envious of the children holding hands with their mothers, the little boys balanced on their father’s shoulders looking happy as could be. The longing for love and affection had only grown with time.

God loves you, a small, still voice told Kate. Her eyes smarted with unshed tears. Help me remember, Father, that You love me even when I’m unlovable.

The stillness reminded her that she was alone. For the first time in her life, there were no ladies’ maids waiting behind the scenes to help her undress or fetch her a soothing cup of tea. The realization was both heady and daunting. What would it be like to be an independent woman?

Exhausted from days of travel, not to mention emotionally drained, Kate decided to deal with unpacking later. Instead, she began the tedious process of undressing. First the skirt, then the underskirt. Bustle. Corset cover. Petticoat.

The ivory satin corset presented a problem. Without assistance, it was next to impossible to undo the tight stays. Huffing and grunting, arms twisting every which way, she was at last able to free herself from the rigid contraption. She resisted the unladylike urge to toss it across the room.

Tucking the despised article beneath her arm, she went to investigate the bedroom. Covering the wide bed was a handmade quilt similar to the one on the sofa, this one in pale blues and pinks done in the pattern of interlocking rings. She thought of the thick, luxurious silk coverlet on her own bed. Beautiful, yes, and expensive, but not unique. Before she left, she would ask Mary if she’d be willing to sell her one of hers.

Locating her satchel, she changed into her night rail. Next to the bed was a waist-high table where the oil lamp stood. Extinguishing the flame, the room was plunged into inky darkness.

Kate froze. The blackness closed in on her. Images from her childhood flashed through her mind. Her nanny’s contorted, angry face. The dark closet. Musty-smelling coats, piles of boxes and broken, discarded toys distorted by the shadows. Her lungs struggled to draw in air.