Wed By Necessity. Karen Kirst

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ