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Authors: Carol A. Spradling

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Gray’s eyes
scanned the length of the fabric, and his jaw tightened.  “Wear whatever you
want.  I have no use for it.”  He walked to the stairs, his footsteps thumped
against the wooden steps, quieting as he reached the second floor.

Kat stared
after him.  If he had not been in Crest Ridge, as Laura had thought, where had
he been, and what had caused his injuries, not to mention the change in his
demeanor.  She righted the overturned chair and picked up his hat and coat. 
Above her head, a door latch click closed.  She held the brown leather to her
chest and glanced upward.

“Good night,
Grayson,” she whispered.

 

 

 

Chapter 11

 

Gray led Polly
through the barn, her wide-eyed fear no longer visible.  Skittish when he
started her training earlier today, the chestnut mare had tried to prance away
from the buggy she pulled behind her.  Three hours seemed to be enough time for
the horse to re-familiarize herself with the carriage and gear.  Gray continued
to talk softly to the filly and soothe any delayed anxiety.  He ran his finger
over a silver line on her back.  He should have sold her while she still
fetched a substantial price.  

Two years ago,
an overzealous stallion had taken an interest in Polly.  Gray patted the mare’s
head and stroked the long lines of her neck.  Big Red had not been gentle with
her.  She still carried the scars from his bite marks on her back.  Gray looked
toward the open barn door.  Crowning Glory’s head poked out over a split gate. 
At least the foal had not taken after her sire.

He led Polly
away from the barn and toward the back of the house.  Once there, he tied her
to a post.  She whinnied and stretched her neck toward him.  He didn’t need to
be hit on the head to know what she wanted.  Holding an apple to her lips, she
nibbled the treat enthusiastically.  Gray wiped her slobbers on his pant leg
and glanced up to the window hidden behind the tree.  Humble pie would be his
dessert. 

He had acted
horribly last night with Kat.  Instead of offering her a piece of fruit in way
of apology, he planned a buggy ride and a picnic, if she would accept.  Leaving
Polly to her treat, he climbed the stairs to the back porch and entered the
kitchen.

Inside the
house, Laura slammed a cabinet door closed.  She flipped a dish towel over her
shoulder and shoved a chair under the table.  Gray eyed the distance to the
stairs and hoped to bypass the storm swirling through the kitchen.  His foot
touched the bottom step.

“Grayson Roark
MacGregor.” 

Her words
stopped him and a brief thought to dash up the remaining seventeen risers
crossed his mind.  She had not only included all three of his names in her
address, but had used his formal surname.  He hadn’t heard it spoken aloud
since his family left Scotland.  He slowly turned and looked behind him. 

Laura stood
opposite of him with her hands on her hips.  She tapped her fingers on the
front of her apron.  Wisps of hair surrounded her reddened face, emphasizing
the inflamed anger shooting from her eyes. 

Gray stepped
down to the main floor.  His weight pounded the wood with his mutual
annoyance.  A dirty dish left on the kitchen table could not have caused such a
stir from this irate woman.  He moved closer and tried to diffuse her fury. 
“MacGregor?” he asked.

“When you act
like you’ve left your senses in the highlands, you need to be reminded of the
reason we no longer hear the pipes at sunset.”

“I doubt I’m
responsible for the entire MacGregor clan’s misfortune.”

She narrowed
her eyes as though she sighted a rifle barrel.  Her chest rose and her
shoulders pulled back.  “That may be,” she said, squeezing the trigger.  “But
at least I still have manners.  When did you lose yours?”

Gray dropped
his shoulders and snorted.  He shook his head and turned to climb the stairs. 
After his fight with Reece yesterday, he was in no frame of mind to battle with
his mother.

“How could you
force that nice girl to stay in her room?” Laura shouted from behind him. 
Apparently she had been saving up her frustration.  She seemed to be primed and
loaded for a full brawl.

Gray paused
and glanced at his mother from over his shoulder.  “Stay in her room?  I did no
such thing.”

“Daria’s
clothes are doing no one any good in your wardrobe.”  She drizzled a light
stream of vanilla into a bowl.  “Why shouldn’t Kat be permitted to wear them? 
It’s a piece of cloth sewn into a few frocks.  There’s nothing sacred about
it.”  She stirred the content in the bowl.  Her ire rose with the frenzied pace
of her spoon.  “Kat arrived here in rags.  Have you forgotten?  What did you
expect her to do?  Walk around the house wrapped in a blanket?”

Gray slammed
his hand against the wall, halting her tirade.  He had heard enough.  If she
planned to accuse him of misconduct, she could at least call him on something
valid.  “That is exactly the reason I told Kat to wear whatever she wants.  Do
you really think I would withhold clothing from her?”

Laura’s head
pulled back and she blinked, seeming to consider his words.  The arched brow
over narrowed eyes was never a good sign.  His mother could come to a correct
conclusion faster than a Justice of the Peace presiding over a shotgun
wedding.  She stepped forward and raised her chin in challenge.  This was the
same expression she used whenever she believed what he said but questioned the
manner in which he delivered his tale.  His teen years were a constant
etiquette lesson.

“Oh, did you
now,” she said.  Her voice dripped with condescension.  She pointed her finger
toward his face and circled the digit in three clockwise loops.  “And did your
lip snarl the way it is now when you said it?  That toothy sneer of yours says
you don’t mean a word of anything you say.  All you managed to do was scare
that poor girl half to death.” 

Gray pressed
his lips together and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Since you are so good
at arranging things, Mother, please ask Kat to put on one of those wasted
dresses and meet me downstairs.  Do you think you could have her presentable in
fifteen minutes?”

Laura’s
shoulders slumped and she hung her head.  “I laid a dress out for her this
morning.  After she refused to put it on, I spent another hour trying to
convince her that you were daft and wouldn’t mind if she wore the garment. 
She’ll have none of it.”  She heaped a spoonful of sugar into the bowl and
stirred it into the mixture.  “Leave her be, I have a meal to ready.”

She had listed
all of his faults concerning the situation and when he offered a suggestion to
correct the matter, she brushed his efforts to the side.  Gray may not want to
fight with her, but he would not accept her comments in silence.  He took the
dish from her hand and looked her in the eyes.  “Either you put her in a dress,
or I will do it.”

The
challenging look returned to Laura’s face, but her tone softened.  “What do you
have in mind?  I know you’re not sending her back to Reece.”

He had made
his point.  There was no need to make her worry as well.  He dipped his finger
into the bowl and then stuck it in his mouth.  He sucked the sweetness off and
cocked a half smile.  “How can she stay here if I am daft and scary?”

Laura
reclaimed the wooden bowl and handed him the spoon.  Cake icing clung to the
utensil.  “Aye, you’re both of those things, but you’re not mean.”  She patted
her hand on his cheek and smiled up at him.  “Since I’m certain you won’t do
something foolish, what are your plans with the girl?”

“Kat has spent
a great deal of time in my room.  I thought she might like to go for a buggy
ride and see the grounds.”

“Oh.”  Laura
smiled.  “Maybe, she would.  The meadow near the spring has sweet clover.  That
would be a good place for Stonewall to graze.”

“Not
Stonewall.  Polly.”  Gray tried to re-dip his spoon into the white glaze. 

“Polly?” 
Laura pulled the bowl away.

Gray knew what
his mother was thinking and there was only one way to ward off another
conversation.  He shrugged.  “I thought she could use the exercise.”

“She could.” 
Laura glanced over to the pile of chicken resting on the counter.  Breaded and
fried, it cooled on a serving platter.  “Maybe I should pack a picnic for you
and Kat while you wait for Polly to eat her fill.”

Gray handed
her the spoon and headed for the door.  “Toss in a piece of cake, too.”

She nodded. 
“Grayson,” she said, stopping him at the threshold.  “What happened to your
lip?”

Holding the
door open, he touched his finger to his mouth. “Cut myself.”

She eyed him
carefully from over her icing.  “I’ve never known you to be inept with a
razor.” 

“There you
have it, Mrs. MacGregor.”  He over emphasized the ‘r’ sound, dragging out his
burr.  “You can add clumsy to your son’s list of faults.”

A spark lit
her eyes and she headed up the stairs.  “Be more careful next time, hmm?”

He stepped
onto the porch.  In truth, he hadn’t thought about the distant future.  His
main concern was allowing Kat time to heal without the threat of Reece forcing
her from Oak Willow.  The picnic would provide Kat an opportunity to enjoy
fresh air and a change of scenery.  It would also give Gray justification for
his cuts and bruises.

 

 

 

Chapter 12

 

The buggy
rolled back and forth in a gentle swaying motion, lolling Kat into a soothing
rhythm.  She rested her head against the bon socket and peered through the side
curtain.  The grounds on the south of Oak Willow were breathtaking.  Having
seen the peaks and valleys from the balcony of Gray’s bedroom, the colors and
textures of the foliage were even more vivid at closer view. 

After her last
conversation with Gray, she thought she would be destined to spend the
remainder of her recovery in his room.  Not that his quarters weren’t
comfortable, but she knew the exact number of steps it took to cross the room
in any direction.  Laura had insisted it was his idea that she joined him for
an outing. 

She stretched
her legs and looked down at the additional hem added to her dress.  Laura had
pointed out the alterations she had made to Daria’s dresses and had used this
information as proof to Gray’s change of heart.  Still unconvinced, Kat had
reluctantly tried on the frock.  The length had been extended by two inches and
the bodice seams had been opened.  Kat ran her finger over the bumpy nubs of
the old stitches.  From the width of the new seams, Daria must have been a tiny
woman. 

The right
wheel caught an unearthed rock and the carriage lurched forward, jarring Kat
from her thoughts.  She repositioned herself on the seat and glanced over at
Gray.  Bent slightly at the waist, he rested his elbows on his knees and leaned
forward.  His shoulders moved in unison with the vehicle, and his hands gripped
tightly around the reins.  Concentrating on the road, he stared straight
ahead.  Kat pushed herself into the corner of the seat and shifted her full
attention from the scenery to Gray. 

His blond hair
caught the sunlight.  Soft shades of straw and honey were pulled back in a
queue and secured with a leather thong.  His profile stood prominent against
the blue sky.  Similar to a marble relief, his facial features never seemed to
relax.  Short hairs curled next to his ear, and Kat dropped her gaze to his
jaw.  Although clenched, the tight muscle didn’t flex as it had when Reece
Mullins’ name was brought into conversation.  Kat followed the bone line
forward and moved her gaze to his mouth.  Closed and pulled tight, she wondered
if he ever smiled.  She thought back over the past week.  She couldn’t remember
a time when those full lips spread wide across his face, revealing the
straight, white teeth she had only seen when his lip curled in anger.  Surely,
he hadn’t lived his entire life like this.  She rubbed her fingers over her
skirt.  The raised trim reminded her of a topic close to his heart. 

“Did you and
Daria grow up together in Scotland?” she asked, hoping the topic wasn’t still
sensitive.

Gray flinched
as though rousing from sleep.

“Daria.  Was
she your childhood sweetheart?” Kat clarified.

He nodded,
seeming to understand the direction of her question and then shook his head. 
“We meet when we were fifteen.”

He looked back
at the road and flipped the reins against the horse’s back.  Apparently, it
would take some coaxing for Gray to keep up his end of the conversation.

Kat tapped her
fingertips together in thought.  “Her name doesn’t sound Scottish.” 

Gray shot her
a sideways glance, and his mouth drew to one side.  “She wasn’t,” he answered. 
“Daria was born here in Virginia, but her mother was Russian and her father,
English.”

“How did the
two of you meet?” Kat asked.  Now that he had answered with more than a one
sentence answer, she planned to hold him to an in-depth conversation.

“My father
bought this property.  It borders the Mullins' lands, as you know.”  Kat
squirmed at the reminder but didn’t interrupt.  “There was a rumor about a
potassium nitrate mine in the area.  Old Man Mullins was convinced it was
located on his property.  He hired Daria’s father to locate it.  On one of his
workdays, he brought Daria with him.  She had no interest in minerals and
became bored.  The wooded area served as a nice diversion for her.” 

“And did you
happen to be in there as well?”

His features
softened and his eyes stared as though he looked through time.  “Yes.  I was
exploring the grounds.”  He sighed.  Clearly, he was back in the thicket, seeing
Daria for the first time.

“And she was
beautiful,” Kat whispered, intruding softly into his memory.   

“She was.” 
Gray nodded.  “She had black hair that hung to her waist and dark brown eyes.”

“It sounds as
though she was as smitten with you as you were with her.”

“I like to
think so.  It didn’t matter.  The moment I saw her, I knew I would marry her.” 

Kat pulled her
shawl around her shoulders, enwrapping herself deeper in Gray and Daria’s
story.  She wondered if he would ever feel that way again.  After seeing him
strong and stoic, it was nice to see Gray’s vulnerable side.  “So the woods
became your special place?” she asked, already certain of the answer.

He shook
himself and the softness left his cheeks, disappearing into yesterday.  “Yes,”
he answered.  “Daria started accompanying her father more frequently.  Whenever
I saw their buckboard pass in front of our house, I would stop whatever I was
doing and head for the trees.  The cows were never happy about our meetings.” 

He chuckled
and Kat widened her eyes.  This snigger was the closest he had come to a full
laugh in the past week.  Perhaps he wouldn’t mind more probing.

“How did your
families feel about the two of you?”

“Our families
weren’t the problem.  Reece believed Daria made those trips to see him.  On one
day in particular, he followed her into the woods.”

“Did he find
the two of you together?”

Gray nodded. 
“Daria had never shown any interest in Reece, but he couldn’t accept her
rejection.  I don’t know which bothered him more, that he lost Daria or that he
lost her to me.  He swore he would have her.”

The horse
whinnied and stomped her foot.  Apparently, she had stopped walking several
minutes ago and was ready for her passengers to disembark.  Gray and Kat
scouted the area. 

A grassy embankment
rolled away from the road and sloped toward a pool of water.  A stream wound
away from the basin and snaked its way between a narrow bank of trees and
shrubs. 

Gray levered
himself from the carriage and held his hand for Kat.  She inched closer to the
opening, and his gaze locked on the hem of her dress.  Kat accepted his hand,
breaking his stare and stepped to the ground.  He lifted the basket with one
hand and clasped her elbow with the other.  They walked toward a shady spot
under a massive, oak tree.  She was grateful for the slow pace he set.

“Thank you for
the use of the clothes,” she said, and tried to match her footing to his. 
Wincing, she touched her hand to his arm to slow him down.  “Your mother made
several alterations.  Daria must have been a tiny woman.”

Gray continued
to walk, but at a much more leisurely pace.  The hard expression had returned
to his face.  “She was,” he said.  “And too small to fight what happened to
her.”  

Kat barely
heard his last comment.  He spoke the words as though to himself.  Choosing to
leave his thought untainted, she took the blanket from under his arm and
flipped it in the air.  The opposite side of the wool fluttered in the breeze
and floated to the lush grass.  She knelt, sitting with her foot resting
comfortably to her side, and unpacked the basket.

Gray sat down
on the other side of the picnic bin.  “You’ve told me a few things about your
time with Reece.  There is one thing that doesn’t support your explanation.” 
He stared at her point blank.  “Why were you wearing your bridal slip the night
you left Reece’s house?” he asked.

Biscuits fell
from her hand and she blinked.  Her view didn’t change.  Gray waited for an
answer.  It was hard to deny wearing the garment when he had removed the ripped
dress and helped her into bed.  Her body shook as she lifted two plates from
inside the bin.  She clutched the pewter tighter to keep from dropping the
dishes.  Instinct told her to change the subject.  It would be easy to do.  She
was surrounded by a beautiful setting that Gray was clearly proud of.  Why else
would he bring her to see the springs?  She sat a plate in front of him.  He
had shared personal information with her.  It was only fair to return the favor
in kind.  She took a deep breath and left the rest of the meal unpacked.

“Like I
mentioned before, I came to Virginia to become Reece Mullins’ wife.  After I
arrived, he asked that we get acquainted before we married.  I suppose I was a
disappointment to him.” 

Not daring to
look up at Gray, she pulled at the frog closure at her waist.  To see
disapproving judgment on his face would be worse than anything she had suffered
at Reece’s hands.  She swallowed and pressed on.  There was no reason to stop
telling him the events that led to this moment.  With any luck, he would feel
some compassion and help her secure employment once she was well. 

“Although
Reece postponed the wedding, he tried to,” she paused, and squeezed her eyes
shut.  “He wanted the benefits of a marriage without the obligation.  When I insisted
he fetch the minister, he. . . ”

Gray’s hand
covered hers.  “He forced himself on you?” he asked.

She shook her
head and looked down.  His fingers folded around hers and he gently rubbed his
thumb across her knuckles. 

“He implied
that he would summon the minister, so I began to prepare for the ceremony. 
Although I didn’t have a wedding dress, I had saved my best dress for the
occasion.  It wasn’t fancy, but it had pearl buttons.  I thought it was
special.”  She looked past Gray’s shoulder.  Leaves swayed gently in the
breeze.  “He returned sooner than I expected, so I put on the nearest thing I
could find.”

“Your
nightdress.”

Kat nodded,
grateful he still held to her hand.

“He burst into
my room, reeking of alcohol.  I didn’t expect. . . I never thought. . . I had
never. . . ”

Gray lifted
his free hand and rubbed his temple. “You don’t have to continue.” 

Kat swallowed,
afraid she had shared too much.  Although Gray had asked to hear the details of
her first few days in the Colonies, she could only wonder what he thought of
her now.  Did he think she had encouraged Reece’s actions?  She stared at the
blanket.  Was she inadvertently responsible?  She opened her hand, allowing him
the opportunity to pull away.  Closing her eyes, she waited for his warmth to
leave her fingers.  It was too much to hope that he would still be seated
across from her when she dared herself to look.  His touch lightened and his
hand slid closer.  He tightened his grip, and Kat caught her breath.  Smiling,
she squeezed his hand and raised her gaze to him.

He sat across
from her.  No teeth were showing, but the corners of his mouth stretched his
lips into a wide curve.  He jostled her hand.  “You are fortunate to have
escaped.”

“I’m fortunate
that you suffered from insomnia that night and were standing on your back
porch.”  She covered his hand with both of hers and held his gaze.  “Thank you
for taking me into your home.”

He drew her
hand to his lips and kissed it lightly.  “You’re most welcome.”

Her cheeks
flushed hot, and she bit the edge of her lip.  This morning when they left the
house, she had hoped to extract a full smile from him.  The task had seemed
daunting, at best.  But he had kissed her hand.  She hadn’t expected that.  She
wasn’t even sure that he cared anything for her other than the common concern
one would have for an abused kitten.  Maybe that’s all this gesture was. 

He leaned
forward and reached for the picnic basket.  At this distance, she could see a
small line puckered at his temple.  Buried in his hairline, she had not noticed
it before.  He dropped a piece of chicken on her plate and dove back into the
container.

“How did you
get that scar?” she asked.

He held a
crusty loaf in mid-air and looked as though he considered a diversion to her
question.

She tilted her
head to the side.  “Uh-uh.  We have both been completely honest all morning. 
Don’t tell me the rules have changed with our meal.”  

He nodded his
head and lowered a block of cheese next to the bread.

“You’re
right.  There’s no point in holding anything back now.”  He pulled his knife
from its sheath and hacked a slice of cheese from the wedge.  “Your fiancé shot
me.”  The milky chunk balanced on the side of his blade.  He pushed it forward
and seemed to wait for her to accept the serving. 

She popped the
sample in her mouth and considered what he said.  There was definitely more to
the story than his simple explanation.

“Reece tried
to kill you?”

“Oh, yes, and
very nearly succeeded.  If it hadn’t been for his pistol holding a short fill,
he might have been successful.  As it was, I lost the use of my sight for six
months.”

“But why would
he do that?”  Kat knew very well how obsessed Reece could be.  Apparently this
was not a new trait.  She stopped chewing.  Daria.  She lowered her hands to her
lap and looked at Gray.  “Reece shot you because of Daria?  But she was your
wife.”

Thunder
rumbled in the distance, drawing Gray’s attention upward.  He lifted his chin
and glanced at the sky.  Relief seemed to wash over his face.

“We should
go,” he said.  He shoved a chicken leg in his mouth and began tossing the
remainder of their picnic in the basket.  Lighting flashed across the tree
line. 

Kat glanced at
the distance to the buggy.  The storm had come up fast.  She would never cover
the area without getting drenched.  Gray must have realized her concern.  He
flipped the chicken leg in the air and looped his arm behind her back, swinging
her up in his arms.

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