LITMIR.BIZ

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ma’am.”

      Duncan stopped beside a room she’d failed to show him. He touched the handle. “What’s in here?”

      “Personal storage.” She made a dismissive gesture and continued walking.

      He thought it odd to keep such items in a stable, but he chose not to question her.

      They exited into the sunshine. The humidity closed in around him. If Tennessee’s climate was anything like North Carolina’s, he was in for some sweltering summer days. He reached up and tightened the strip restraining his hair. He needed to cut it. His parents and brothers wouldn’t recognize him. After working in the great outdoors these many months, his skin had taken on a cinnamon hue, and he’d acquired more freckles on his forearms. He’d let his hair grow to his shoulders, and his beard was thick. He stroked it now, thinking it was probably time to shave it off.

      Caroline caught the gesture and frowned.

      He mentally shrugged. Or not.

      She showed him the various sheds, smokehouses and other buildings. To his surprise, she was knowledgeable about the farm’s workings. At the barn, which was half the size of the stables, she introduced him to another employee.

      The gentleman had stooped shoulders, flyaway black hair and skin like leather. His Native American heritage was obvious, and Duncan wondered if he were Cherokee. His brown-black gaze, when it lit on Caroline, brightened like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.

      “Wendell takes care of the livestock,” she told him matter-of-factly. “But his primary task is making sure the landscaping is up to Mother’s exacting standards.”

      “Miss Caroline is the true gardener around here,” Wendell said with obvious pride.

      Bending to pat the orange cat sniffing at her skirts, she frowned. “Don’t let my mother hear you say that.”

      Duncan watched the exchange with interest. He couldn’t imagine pristine Caroline Turner getting her hands dirty.

      “We have to continue on, Wendell.”

      After he shook hands with Wendell, Caroline led Duncan outside. To their right, chickens pecked at the ground inside their pen. She checked the watch pin attached to her bodice, and her features grew pensive.

      “You’ll have to explore the rest of the grounds on your own.” Without another word, she headed in the direction of the house.

      “You’re abandoning me midtour then?”

      She turned and shaded her eyes with her hand. “I have an important matter to tend to.”

      “A shopping excursion that can’t wait?” Plunging his hands in his pockets, he strolled to her side. “Or a gossip session with your friends? Is it your habit to abandon your duties, Caroline?”

      That pulse at the base of her throat leapt again. Her fascinating eyes, however, remained frost-edged. “I don’t know how you conduct yourselves over in Scotland, but around here, the hired help is expected to treat their employers with utmost respect. My father has high expectations, Mr. Turner. Fail him and you’ll be cut loose.”

      Duncan wasn’t sure why he was intent on baiting this woman. The only reason he could think of was that she was a handy target for the anger he’d thought he’d released long before now. He wanted to tell her that money and prestige didn’t make her better than him. He was tempted to tell her that her family’s wealth was a drop in the bucket compared to the McKennas’. He did neither. He’d rather have her honest dislike than fake regard.

      Duncan liked what he’d seen so far of this part of the country. While he didn’t plan on settling here, he didn’t intend to ruin what time he did have.

      “I didnae step off the boat yesterday.”

      “You could’ve fooled me.”

      With that parting shot, she left him standing there, making him wonder what it was that made her so unhappy.

      * * *

      The isolation of this part of their property unsettled Caroline. The forest had closed in after she’d passed the stable manager’s cabin—Mr. McKenna’s home for the foreseeable future—and the terrain had become steeper. At the gurgling, rock-strewn stream, she slid to the ground and, keeping hold of the reins, inspected her surroundings. She couldn’t see any signs of other human life. Lofty trees marched in uneven succession in all directions. The forest was mostly a study in contrasts of brown earth littered with decomposing leaves, darker brown trunks and vivid green foliage—from leafy bowers twitching in the breeze to ferns growing in profusion on the forest floor to lichen patches on trunks and moss ringing the trees.

      A testament to God’s artistic perfection, the Smoky Mountains were wild and beautiful but not without hidden dangers. Somewhere nearby, someone lurked, possibly watching her.

      Her hands clammy, she removed the black pouch from her pocket. She picked up her skirts and, picking her way across the rocks, laid it on the remains of a tree stump. Like every time before, she questioned if what she was doing was right. Should she confront her father? They’d never had a close relationship. Questioning his integrity would wound his pride and drive him farther away. But how long could this continue? Her funds weren’t unlimited.

      The blackmailer had working knowledge of the Turner factories in Charleston. He knew that despite her father’s semi-retirement, he still had control of operations. He also knew Caroline had access to her inheritance. In January, she’d received the first note threatening to expose her father’s unsavory business practices. If valid, the claims in the documents had the potential to crumble the Turner empire. Over the years, her father had cultivated a reputation of providing the very best in skin care.

      Their products—ranging from soaps and emollient creams to perfumes and bath oils—had become synonymous with opulence and self-indulgence. Only the wealthy could afford them. The exorbitant prices were justified by their exotic, hard-to-obtain ingredients. Caroline’s blackmailer maintained that, while Albert had initially adhered to such practices, he’d recently taken to forgoing the expense of locating and transporting said ingredients and substituting them with common chemicals. Until Caroline could find a way to substantiate these claims, she would meet his demands.

      She was halfway across the stream when a rustling sound to her right made her stumble. Her boot sank into the cold water. Sucking in a sharp breath, she completed a jerky revolution, searching the woods below and rocky outcrops above. Had he decided to expose his identity? Would he do her physical harm?

      But the source of her fright turned out to be a bandit-faced raccoon scouting for a meal. Caroline rushed to the other bank and clumsily mounted Rain, ready to be gone from there. Half an hour later, once again in the safety of her home, she was too distracted to give her mother’s disparaging comments about her muddy boots and bedraggled hem much thought. Caroline absentmindedly changed into a lavender outfit that would please Louise’s sense of style.

      On a whim, she eased the bulging satchel from beneath her bed and ran her fingers along the supple, caramel-hued leather, stirring the dust on its surface and causing her to sneeze. Inside, there were a couple of outfits, grooming accessories and a wad of money. While the satchel had never been used, it wasn’t new. She’d purchased it three years ago as a sort of promise to herself that, if her life became intolerable, she’d leave this town for good and never look back.

      So far, she hadn’t worked up the courage to use it. Or maybe she hadn’t reached her breaking point yet.

      Movement in the hallway startled her. Shoving it back under the bedframe, she intercepted their housekeeper in the hallway. Shy and skittish as a mouse, the young woman was dependable and hardworking. Louise fretted at times that she didn’t pay attention to details, however.

      “I’m going to freshen up your room, Miss Caroline.” She indicated the mound of clean bedding in her arms.

      “All right, Sylvia.”

      See?

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