as stunning, the color a washed-out, watery blue, and her blond hair was threaded liberally with silver. He didn’t need Caroline’s introduction to make the connection. Louise dismissed him with a single glance.
“Caroline, what are you doing?”
“Father asked me to give Mr. McKenna a tour of the property.”
“We have to plan our menus for next week.”
“Can we do that after lunch?”
Her mouth puckered and lines fanned out above her upper lip. “I suppose I can rearrange my schedule.” Squinting, she fussed with her daughter’s sleeves, plumping the fabric. “This color is all wrong for you.”
Pink rose in Caroline’s cheeks. “No one is going to see me in it, Mother.”
He caught the implication. No one that counted, himself included. As a hired employee, his opinion about such things didn’t matter. They viewed him as unimportant because they assumed he was poor and uneducated. Bitterness surged. He’d happily left this sort of narrow-minded attitude behind in Boston.
“I told you to stick to pastels.”
“We’re boring Mr. McKenna.” Caroline’s smile was brittle. “We’ll discuss this later.” Head held high, she started for the nearest stable entrance.
“Excuse us, Mrs. Turner,” Duncan said.
Her nose wrinkled in distaste and she disappeared into the house.
Duncan entered the long building. The air was sweet with the scent of hay. High windows had been opened to let the breeze circulate. Dust motes danced in the square of light spilling through the open entrance.
Speaking in brisk tones, Caroline showed him the tack and equipment rooms on his left. A sturdy ladder led to a hayloft that extended the length of the building. The cobblestones beneath their feet were worn to a shiny patina and swept clean. Box stalls flanked either side of the wide center aisle. Only about half of them were occupied. One by one, she introduced him to the ten horses they owned. When she got to the last one, affection lightened her voice.
“This pretty lady is Rain.” Pulling a carrot from her pocket, she fed it to the mare and ran her hand lovingly along its neck.
Duncan found himself captivated by the pure joy Caroline radiated and the way it softened her. He wouldn’t have pegged her for an animal lover. His conscience pricked him. The Turners weren’t the only ones capable of making judgments.
Joining her, he greeted Rain, taking in the healthy state of her dapple-gray coat and black mane. “She’s yours?”
“Yes. I was unhappy when we first moved here from Charleston. My father bought her in hopes of appeasing me.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
Old enough to have strong ties to her former home. As much as he preferred his current life, there were things—and people—he still missed.
“Did it work?”
Her rose-hued lips rolled together, pressing down. “Rain is my one bright spot.”
Before he could question the cryptic statement, she stepped back, businesslike once again. “As you can see, we have ample space to board our frequent visitors’ animals. Next week we have several guests joining us. You’ll have extra duties.”
“I can handle it.” He shrugged. “You have an impressive setup.”
She lifted her chin. “Ours are the largest, most well-equipped stables in Gatlinburg.”
Duncan refrained from telling her that the McKenna stables were triple this size.
An adolescent boy walked in the far entrance, thin arms straining with a pair of buckets. Duncan strode to help him.
“Thank you, sir, but I can manage.” His brown hair was cut short, and there was a gap between his front teeth. “Good morning, Miss Caroline.”
“Anthony, I’d like you to meet your new boss, Duncan McKenna.”
The lad snapped to attention, chest puffed out. “Glad to meet you, Mr. McKenna.”
“Likewise.” Duncan pointed to the buckets. “Sure you won’t be needing assistance?”
“No, sir.”
“I’ll return shortly to see to Rain,” she told Anthony. “You may turn the others out to the paddocks.”
“Yes, 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
