Was he sorry that he had sent for her? She swallowed.
He hesitated a moment. “I had thought she would come.”
Something in Samuel’s voice made Caitlin say, “She is to join the Little Sisters of Saint Teresa, and wanted to prepare herself through prayer and devotions. I’ll tell you all about it later.”
There was a distinct pause. His expression hardened. He stood there like a stuck image, his face set. Sudden, irrational fear gripped her. This blankness, this cessation of eagerness, disturbed her. He seemed strangely alien.
Caitlin looked away from him, seeking the indistinguishable line where sea met sky. She licked dry lips. What was it? Anything was possible, and it was always dangerous to jump to conclusions.
Apprehension went through her. Had she been wrong? Could her father have been right? If Samuel had truly cared, would he have waited ten years to write? Did he simply need a wife?
Caitlin’s own attraction was like a pulse, a living thing existing deep inside her, separate and undeniable. She shook her head in bewilderment. Surely he could feel it? Or was that wishful thinking? Had she miscalculated the depth of his feeling? Had she made her attraction, her desire, his? The questions sent a small chill down her spine.
True, she had none of her sister’s fair beauty: golden hair, blue eyes, and small, delicate mouth. But she had added strengths, an enviable mastery of language and art, a more profound knowledge of medicine and science than even Samuel’s father, and she was fiercely protective of her lover. In truth, she suspected that she was the only one who understood Samuel.
Her eyes flicked to his face. He looked so…remote. She ruthlessly squashed her doubts. Come the night, she would be married to Samuel, in a place more appropriate to direct speech, with full honesty. Now wasn’t the moment for frank discussion.
He looked singularly uncomfortable. She could feel his discomfiture; it was like rubbing up against a rusty scow. What should she do?
She resisted the urge to touch him. Instead, she clasped her hands tightly together. It was going to be difficult curbing her own far more dynamic, often impulsive nature. She took a deep breath, let it out in a rush.
“What are you waiting for? Aren’t you going to kiss me, Samuel? Is there something wrong?”
He looked at her with surprise, as if he had forgotten she was there. His hand closed upon her shoulder. Caitlin seemed to feel the whole man vibrate behind it, like a steel spring. She watched him with an expectant, eager expression, curious as to how his kiss would feel.
Then, just as suddenly as he had frowned, his face cleared. The serious look left his mouth, to be replaced by a lazy smile. He was once more her Samuel, the Samuel she loved.
Very gently, he took her in his arms and kissed her. It was the merest brush of his lips over the trembling warmth of her mouth. Before she could encircle his neck with her slim arms, he had pulled away.
He traced the delicate line of her cheek with the knuckles of one hand, and sighed. “I’d best sort out your baggage, and get you to the hotel. You’ll have time for a rest. I’ve arranged for Kate Flaherty to help you dress. The marriage ceremony is at seven. The river steamer leaves at first light.”
Caitlin did not demur, but stood and watched Samuel disappear down the companionway amidships, to see about her luggage. She felt a little dazed, for some intuition warned her that something had gone amiss.
Was this the welcome of a man passionately in love? If he did not return her love, the bonds would be those of duty and obligation. That was not what she wanted, to be trapped by her impulsive, sensual nature into a lifetime of guilt and bitterness. Then she shook the doubt away.
It was not the greeting or the embrace she had expected, but the immense tenderness of it was very sweet, more suited to a public place than passion. Of course, this was perfectly logical.
What she hadn’t expected was the change in Samuel.
This man was not the same person she had loved so passionately ten years earlier. This man was taller than she remembered, his face harder, stronger, his skin burned brown by the wind and sun.
Ten years of pioneer life had changed Samuel almost beyond recognition. He was not the slim, cocksure youngster willing to be tormented by the nearness of a silly young girl. No longer would he be easily led into mischief, or easily provoked to anger.
This man was a stranger. He would go where he wanted, and do what he wanted at the time and place of his choosing. He was in control of himself, and he would not be manipulated.
When she thought of Samuel, a curious fluttering warmth uncurled in her stomach, leaving her heart pounding and her knees weak. Caitlin supressed a shiver, appalled at the wildness of the emotion that flooded her.
What had she done? What had she done?
She was here, and that was that, with an ocean between her and home, with a man she had not seen for ten years. In a panic, she wondered wildly what she would do if he sent her away. She would survive, of course, but, she asked herself, to what purpose?
She was trying to calm her frantic thoughts when she felt his hand touch her arm. Ever so gently, he stroked the in? side of her bare elbow. Suddenly, as if by magic, her legs stopped trembling and her breath fluttering.
She smiled faintly, with relief. She knew she had no need to fear. She was there. The bridegroom was there. Pride was there, as well. The wedding was prepared. There was no need to feel concern. She’d take her chances.
Now on to getting married. The sooner the better.
In the church, only trivial things caught her attention. The scrubbed wooden floor, the plain glass on the windows, and the single red flame that burned before the altar.
Fiercely she concentrated on the lamp’s mystic glow as she repeated everything that was said to her in a low, almost inaudible voice. She felt Samuel move beside her and wrenched her eyes from the behavior of the solitary sanctuary lamp to look down as he slipped the gold wedding ring over her knuckles.
Caitlin’s eyes opened, flared. Samuel made a small, hoarse sound, as if his voice were clotted with emotion. With a shock of surprise, she realized that he was taking her arm. The service was over and she hadn’t heard a word, nor did she remember making the necessary responses.
Married…Married… It was done. Her confidence came up with a surge. It had been easy enough, after all, becoming Mrs. Samuel Jardine, by name at least. As for the rest—the triumph that flooded her at the thought of her audacious success shut out any thought of what was to follow.
Astonishing. It was done. The terrible finality struck Samuel Jardine. He had married the wrong woman!
Samuel took a long draft, half draining the glass he clenched in his hand. He grimaced. Straight whiskey never did appeal to him, but it might help unravel his knotted stomaeh.
Hell and damnation! What had he done to himself? Walked into it with his eyes open, as well. How could he have been such a fool? Such a goddamned honorable fool? But he had been unable to resist the appeal in Caitlin’s wide eyes and trembling lips. In that brief moment when he could have, should have, spoken the truth, she reminded him of the child of yesteryear whose generosity and wisdom had changed his life,
