“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