own.” He turned his head to glare out the window. “It’s becoming quite clear she did not hold me in the same regard as I did her.”
What could she say? That Fran was interested only in social standing and wealth? Why she’d ever accepted Josh O’Malley’s proposal was beyond Kate. Perhaps to make Percy jealous, so he’d come crawling back to her? If that was the case, the ploy had worked.
The man across from her looked lost. Adrift in a vast ocean with no rescue in sight. Fran had done this to him, but Kate had delivered the news. Did he despise her for listening to his letters? Did he consider her the enemy—guilty by association?
The carriage soon slowed and turned onto a rutted lane. The vegetation was thick on either side, and tree branches scraped along the sides of their rig, slapping against the half-open glass. Pine needles littered the bench seats and carpeted floor. Mr. Crandall, her fastidious footman, would be none too pleased.
Anticipation curled through her at the prospect of seeing her former governess again. For a time, kindhearted Charlotte Matthews had been the one bright spot in her otherwise lonely existence. They’d reconnected through correspondence, and the older lady had made it plain that Kate was welcome to visit anytime.
They rolled to a stop before a squat, haphazard dwelling nearly engulfed with ivy. Only the window and the door had not succumbed to the ivy’s onslaught. She frowned. Would there be room for her here?
The door swung open, and Mr. Crandall stood ready to assist her. Joshua O’Malley descended the steps after her, his expression an inscrutable mask.
Hands clasped at her waist, she turned to thank him, but he was already headed for his horse. It appeared he’d had all of her company he could stand. With a mental shrug, she approached the cabin and knocked twice.
A chair scraped against the floor and the vibrations of heavy footsteps could be felt on the porch. That didn’t sound like a lady. Instead, a disheveled, dark-haired man about her age appeared in the doorway. “What do ya want?”
“Hello, I’m looking for Charlotte Matthews—”
She wasn’t prepared for the hand that shot out and gripped her wrist in a painful hold. The stranger yanked her forward, and her free hand flew up to stop her fall, only to encounter an unyielding wall of muscle. Gasping in fright, she stared into his shocked brown eyes.
“Lily?” he ground out.
“N-no, it’s Kate.”
He tugged her against his long length. “I can’t believe you’ve come back to me.” His stale breath, reeking of whiskey and tobacco, washed over her.
She recoiled. “You’re mistaken! I don’t know you.”
His dark brows lowered, and anger flashed in his eyes. “Don’t play me for a fool, Lily.”
His fingers dug into her flesh, and she flinched. “Please,” she whimpered, “let me go.”
Somewhere behind her, she heard the click of a gun hammer. “I’d advise you to get your hands off the lady.”
She couldn’t see Mr. O’Malley, but his voice rang with deadly promise.
Uncertainty flickered in the glazed eyes. “My wife is my business.”
“The booze has scrambled your senses, Matthews.” He came closer. “Kate Morgan just arrived today. Look at her fancy clothes. She’s from New York City. A Yankee.”
This man was Tyler Matthews? Charlotte’s son was a dangerous drunk?
“I don’t understand.” His grip loosened, but he didn’t release her. His bloodshot gaze roamed her features. “You aren’t Lily?”
Her mouth suddenly dry, she croaked out a response.
“No.”
His hands dropped abruptly to his sides. Immediately, Mr. O’Malley took her elbow and eased her to his side so as not to draw the other man’s attention. Her knees felt like gelatin. Unsteady, she held on to his arm as if it were a lifeline.
He appeared calm, but Kate sensed the tension humming through his body. His jaw was set in rigid lines. “Why don’t you go back inside and sleep it off?”
Head bent, Matthews rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh, haven’t been sleepin’ too good lately.”
“Then maybe you should lay off the drink.”
Mr. O’Malley obviously knew this man and his history. What had happened to his wife? And why had he mistaken Kate for her?
“Yeah.” Turning, he went inside without another word.
Her rescuer angled his face down toward hers. “Are you all right?”
His low, easy drawl flowed over her like decadent, sugary caramel.
Kate gulped. She avoided all sweets, in particular caramel. One taste was never enough.
Suddenly conscious of her viselike grip on his arm, she let go and took a quick step back.
“I’m fine,” she said, tugging her snug-fitting jacket down. Her arms smarted from where Matthews had held her prisoner, but she wouldn’t mention that to him. “Thank you for intervening.”
Mr. Crandall rushed forward. “I second that sentiment, Mr. O’Malley. Are you quite certain you’re unharmed, Miss Morgan?”
“Yes.”
The brim of his black hat shading his eyes, Mr. O’Malley slid his weapon back in its holster and nodded to the carriage. “Let’s go before he has a change of heart.”
“Go where?” It suddenly dawned on Kate that she had no place to stay.
“My house.”
Chapter Two
This was not the day he’d had planned.
He should’ve been acquainting his intended with her new home. Instead, he was saddled with her sister. Troubled and pale after her ordeal, Kate stared out the carriage window, seemingly a million miles away.
“Where do you suppose Charlotte is?” Her gaze settled on him, seeking answers.
He hitched a shoulder. “I don’t know.”
“I thought everyone knew everyone else’s business in small towns.”
“That’s true to a point. However, I personally don’t keep track of everyone’s comings and goings.” He shifted on the swaying seat. When a worried crease appeared between her brows, he added, “We’ll ask my mother. She’s friendly with Mrs. Matthews, so there’s a good chance she’ll have an idea where she’s gone, if anywhere. For all we know, she could’ve been visiting a friend or picking up necessities.”
Her expression brightened, then dimmed an instant later. “Even if she is nearby, I can’t possibly stay there. Not with her son.”
