Loving Katherine Page 25

  He led her onto the porch and toward the door, Roan following. Behind him Roan heard Jethro’s low chuckle and cast him a look of inquiry.

  “Sure am glad you’re home, Mr Roan,” the dark man said, his grin wide as he led the horses away.

  Roan stepped onto the wide boards of the covered veranda and shook his head. Kate seemed to be in control here, and he’d be damned if he was going to break up her party. Cool as a cucumber she was, nodding and smiling at his father like she owned the place.

  “You comin’, Roan?” LeRoy held the screened door open for Katherine and looked back at his son.

  From within the house a woman’s voice called out. Then the slender form of his mother filled the doorway, and she spoke again. “Well, well! Valderone! I declare, I thought I heard your daddy sayin’ your name.”

  Roan took several quick steps and held out his hands. His mother hesitated only a moment, then reached out and clasped his fingers, her pale skin a contrast to his tanned flesh.

  “We’d about given up hearin’ from you again,” she said. Her eyes swept his tall form, hesitating for a moment on his leg before they rose once more to meet his gaze.

  “I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome.” It was a blunt statement.

  Her shoulders lifted in a delicate shrug. “You’re heir to River Bend, Valderone. You’ve made some poor choices, to my way of thinkin’, but that won’t keep you from bein’ your father’s son. This is your home.”

  Roan’s eyes darkened. “I didn’t get the feelin’ you were gonna welcome me with open arms, Mama. My last letter from you wasn’t too lovin’. Seemed like a good idea to make myself scarce around here.”

  Her shrug was deliberate. “Well, you’re here now. Might as well come on in and we’ll—”

  “Mama, I’ve brought my wife to meet you.”

  Letitia Devereaux’s gaze moved to where Katherine stood, then her eyes sought those of her son once more. “You’re married?”

  “This is my wife, Katherine.” He stepped back to her side, his arm sliding behind her, his palm warm against her back, and Katherine was suddenly grateful for the unspoken message it implied.

  She smiled and inclined her head. “Mrs. Devereaux. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Letitia’s brow furrowed. “You’re from up north?”

  “She’s a Yankee, Mama.” It was plain and simple. If they couldn’t accept Kate right off the bat, he’d head out before they stepped foot inside the house.

  Letitia’s smile was strained, but she buoyed it with a restrained wave of welcome, leading the way through the doorway into the room beyond. “Y’all come on in now. I’ll get Susanna to bring some tea.”

  “A Yankee bride, eh?” LeRoy shook his head. “Guess you can’t help what you are. Come along, Miss Katherine. Tell me how you met my son.”

  “She threatened me with a shotgun,” Roan said bluntly.

  Katherine had the grace to blush at his words. It was hard enough playing the part of a lady without Roan making things difficult. “I didn’t know who he was. He rode onto my place and I—”

  “She threatened to shoot me.” Roan’s accusation was mildly spoken as he lowered himself to sit on a chair before a wide fireplace.

  LeRoy waved a hand at him in dismissal. “Let her tell it. Why don’t you go on out and help your mama find some refreshments for your wife.”

  Letitia came through the doorway. “Susanna’s comin’ directly. Sit still.” She took her place in a matching chair and folded her hands in her lap.

  “Katherine was just tellin’ me how she met Roan, Mother.” LeRoy ushered Katherine to a long sofa and urged her to sit down.

  “Roan knew my father during the war. In fact, he saved my father’s life,” Katherine said. “Later on, when Roan was wounded, my father took him to a hospital in Philadelphia. They lost track of each other after that. A couple of months ago, Roan decided to look Charlie up, and found me instead. I was alone. Seemed like a good idea to go to the door with my shotgun.”

  “Is your father well?” Letitia asked politely.

  “He died early this year,” Roan put in quickly. “Kate’s been on her own a good while.”

  “Well, she’s got you now,” LeRoy said, his white hair glistening in the sunlight that entered the windows.

  Kate sent a grateful look in his direction, meeting his dark gaze and scanning the stern features. “He favors you, Mr. Devereaux. He has your nose and eyes. You wear the same look.”

  “Managed to get my temper, too,” LeRoy said gruffly. “Always goin’ off half-cocked and makin’ rash decisions.”

  Katherine smiled at the pronouncement. “Maybe he’s grown up a little in the past few years then. I haven’t seen much trace of bad temper, anyway.”

  “He couldn’t have considered too long and hard about marryin’ you, Miss Katherine,” the older man said.

  Roan nodded agreeably. “Probably the smartest move I ever made, to tell the truth.”

  Katherine blushed and concentrated on the floor, certain that all eyes in the room were focused on her. “He liked my horses.”

  “So did Evan Gardner, but you didn’t marry him,” Roan offered. “Not that I’m complainin’, mind you.”

  “Well, you’re welcome here,” LeRoy said from his end of the sofa, his eyes taking on a glow of welcome as he watched Katherine. He leaned closer and spoke in an undertone. “Who’s this Gardner fella?”

  Katherine cast Roan a look that should have quelled his mischief. “Just a man from the town near my farm.”

  “Kate decided she didn’t like him near as well as she did me,” Roan said mildly. “And I figured she’d be welcome at River Bend as soon as you caught a glimpse of her string of yearlings.”

  LeRoy glared at his son. “I do admire a nice-lookin’ filly, and I don’t mind sayin’ so. But Miss Katherine’s got a welcome of her own here. Isn’t that right, Mother?”

  Letitia’s smile was delicate, her eyes cool as she surveyed her son’s wife. Then her gaze went toward the wide archway and she welcomed the dark-skinned woman who carried a tray into their midst.

  “Bring it here, Susanna. We’ll let Katherine pour the tea.” Her slender hand waved at the table sitting before the long sofa.

  “Sure hope you got somethin’ stronger than hot tea for Roan and me,” LeRoy said abruptly.

  Susanna nodded quickly. “Brought you in a tall glass of buttermilk.”

  His sigh was deep and his head shook sadly as LeRoy looked at his son. “Not much to offer. Not like the old days, is it?”

  Roan shrugged. “I’ve got nothing against buttermilk, Pa.” Rising, he walked to where Katherine sat and took the seat next to her. “I’ll give you a hand with this, Kate “ He lifted the napkin covering a plate and sighed deeply. “Looks like Susanna still bakes good bread, Mama. And there’s jam tarts, too. I expect we’ll manage to tide over till dinnertime.”

  The bedroom door had barely closed behind them. Katherine giggled, smothering her laughter with her hand, and sat on the edge of the bed. The feather tick gave way beneath her weight and she closed her eyes in pure enjoyment, flopping back to lose herself in the cushioning expanse. Another giggle escaped her and she gazed at Roan, her eyes crinkling with laughter.

  “What’s so blamed funny?” Busily stripping off the dusty shirt he wore, he paused to glare in her direction.

  “Valderone? Valderone?” She giggled again, raising her hands to capture the sound of laughter.

  His grin was sheepish. “My mama was fond of French names when we were born. My brother’s named Gaeton and my sister is Yvonne. Guess she thought my daddy’s ancestors needed to be remembered some way or another.”

  “Where are they? Your brother and sister?” Katherine’s face was suddenly sober. Sitting up, she rose from the bed and presented her back to Roan. His fingers moved to the buttons holding her dress closed and undid them quickly.

  “Jethro told me Yvonne left here with a Yankee colonel. He’d made
this his headquarters and took a shine to her. Guess that’s why it’s still in good shape. Jethro said most of the other places between here and the river are pretty bad off.”

  “She married a Yankee?” Katherine’s tone was unbelieving. “No wonder your mother wasn’t too happy about me. She’s already got one Northerner in the family.”

  Roan turned Katherine to face him and his hands slid down her back, warm through the layers of fabric she wore. “Mama’s gonna have to get used to the idea, I reckon. I’m assumin’ Yvonne married the colonel. Jethro didn’t say “

  “What about your brother?” Katherine slid the unbuttoned dress down the length of her body and leaned against Roan’s solid form. Her head turned to rest against his shoulder and she closed her eyes, suddenly weary.

  “He left. Got on his horse and rode west, from what Jethro said.” Roan’s hands swept the length of Katherine’s back and pressed her close. His head bent and he nuzzled his nose against her hair. “He was in a Yankee prison, Kate. I guess when he came home, he just couldn’t face all the ruin hereabouts. Maybe he thought River Bend could make it without him. I don’t know—”

  Katherine leaned back and looked at Roan, her eyes wide. “He just abandoned your mother and father. Just walked way?”

  Roan’s expression was grim. “Appears so.”

  “Are we staying?” Katherine stepped from the folds of her dress and bent to pick it up. Watching Roan, she approached the washstand and picked up the pitcher to pour water in the flowered bowl.

  “Don’t know, Kate. Maybe for a while, till spring anyway. I told you I’d take you back to the farm.”

  She dampened the cloth and rubbed soap over it. Lifting the warmth to her face, she washed, relishing the clean scent and the luxury of warm water. “Think I could have a real bath before we go to bed?” she asked, lashes drooping as she drew the cloth over her throat and around the back of her neck.

  “Reckon you could.” He watched her with hungry eyes. “You sure make a production out of gettin’ clean, lady.”

  Katherine slanted a look in his direction. “Warm water is a luxury, Roan. I appreciate it. I’d just appreciate it more if I could climb in a whole tub full of it.”

  “If you let me help, I’ll scout up a tub after dinner and see what I can do about hot water.”

  Her eyes widened at his words. “Dinner! What on earth will I wear to dinner? I just took off my only decent dress.”

  Roan measured her with narrowed eyes. “Think you might be close to Yvonne’s size. Maybe she left something you could wear. I’ll find out, soon as I get washed up.”

  “I could wear my pants,” Katherine offered sweetly.

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure River Bend is ready for my wife in a pair of britches just yet. You’ve got them thinkin’ you’re a lady, Kate. Let’s not burst the bubble, yet.”

  A somber Letitia provided a dress of her own. Garbed in a summery print that almost fit, once the hem had been taken up with wide stitches, Katherine found her way to the dining room. The meal was scant, with only a stewed chicken and more vegetables than meat to offer, but she paid little attention. Watching Roan act the gentleman took her mind from the scarcity of food. Fresh bread and churned butter filled the gap, and she relished the treat, after days of stale biscuits eaten from a saddlebag.

  “More stew, Katherine?” Letitia asked.

  She shook her head quickly. “No, thank you. It was wonderful.”

  Susanna stood in the doorway. “We got sweet potato pie, missus.”

  Letitia nodded. “That will be fine. I believe we’re finished now, Susanna.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nodding agreeably, she came to the table and began clearing the dinner plates.

  Letitia stood and went to the sideboard, removing smaller plates and bringing them to the long table. Returning to the burnished mahogany buffet, she opened a drawer and found forks. “We find ourselves short of help these days,” she said to Katherine. “Most of the people from the house left us after the war.”

  “I’m not used to being waited on,” Katherine told her quickly. “I can help out if you’ll let me.”

  “Kate’s a good cook, Mama. She bakes pret’ near as good as Susanna.”

  Letitia’s head swung from one to the other. “No…no, I couldn’t let you do that, Katherine. You’re a guest here.”

  “If we’re staying awhile, we’ll both pitch in, Mama.” Roan’s voice was firm and he looked to Katherine for agreement.

  “I want to do what I can to help,” she echoed. “I’m used to—”

  “What Kate means is she’s used to runnin’ the whole show. From trainin’ horses to raisin’ the food, she’s about as capable as any woman you’d ever want to meet up with.”

  LeRoy Devereaux lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “You train horses, ma’am?”

  A blush suffused her cheeks and Katherine nodded.

  “Those are really your animals? I thought Roan was funnin’ me, tellin’ me they belonged to you.”

  “They’re mine, all right. I raised them and I’ve been training them. After my pa died, I was all there was.”

  “Maybe you’d like to go out to the stable after dinner and take a look at my animals,” LeRoy said, his eyes alight with interest.

  “Watch your back, Kate. He’ll have you talked out of that black mare before you know it,” Roan warned her quickly.

  She shook her head. “I doubt it. I’ll be needing to get on her back before long. If we do any hard riding, I won’t want to be riding my mare much longer.”

  LeRoy looked puzzled. “That chestnut got a problem?” Katherine shook her head quickly. “No, not really. She’s due to drop a foal early in the spring.”

  “You got a mare breeding?” LeRoy leaned forward over the table. “Where’s the stud?”

  “You won’t believe this story,” Roan put in.

  “Well, eat your pie before you start talkin’ horse talk,” Letitia said politely. “I declare, this is not fit conversation for the dinner table, LeRoy.”

  “Eat up, Katherine.” The older man nodded at the pie being served and picked up his own fork. “We’ll go to the stable as soon as dinner’s over.”

  “You didn’t get to show off your horses, Kate. Are you mad at me?” Roan stretched out on the bed, arms behind his head, sheet pulled haphazardly to cover his long body. He watched, his eyes half-hidden beneath hooded lids, as Katherine languished in the tub of water he’d provided for her.

  She looked at him over her shoulder and pursed her lips. “You left me with your mother.”

  His grin struggled to be apologetic. “Pa wanted to talk, Kate. To tell the truth, he didn’t know which he wanted more—to take you out to the barn, or spend some time hashin’ over some bad memories with me.”

  Katherine nodded, reaching for a towel from the chair nearby. “He said he’d rather look my yearlings over in the daylight.” She stood and stepped from the cooling water, wrapping the length of towel around her. Her hair was slipping from the pins she’d used to anchor it with and she lifted both hands to twist it atop her head. “Your mother holds grudges, doesn’t she?”

  He nodded, his eyes intent on the towel that clung precariously to her breasts, its length barely covering the tops of her thighs. “Mama always was one to nurse a sore spot. I knew she wouldn’t be gettin’ out the fatted calf for me, Kate.”

  She glanced at him. “Do you suppose there is such a thing around here? I have a notion that meat on the hoof is pretty scarce these days.”

  “Pa said they’ve got a good sow left and she produced a big litter this year. There’s pork salted away from fall butchering and the smokehouse is in pretty good shape. They had three good-sized pigs that they kept. The rest they traded off for supplies in town.” He sat up in bed and shoved his pillows against the tall headboard, scooting up to lean against them.

  “I heard chickens after supper. I think Susanna was out feeding them,” Katherine said, leaning to dry her legs wi
th a second towel. The hair she’d piled and pinned with haste fell forward, unable to resist the power of gravity as she bent to pat her feet. “Drat…I swear I’ll cut it off one of these days,” she mumbled, her forearm rising to brush it from her face.

  “Not on your life,” came the lazy reply from the man who watched. “I like your hair.”

  She muttered a hasty word beneath her breath, then turned to glare in his direction, the dark strands falling over her shoulders in tangled disarray. “You aren’t the one who has to keep it brushed and combed and out of the way.”

  He grinned and waved invitingly. “Come on over here and I’ll brush it all you like.”

  She shook her head. “I want to hear what your father had to say. If I climb up on that bed, you’ll—”

  “I’ll tell you while I do your hair,” he coaxed. He watched as she pulled her long nightgown from a drawer, his frown deepening as she lifted it over her head and allowed it to fall in place down the length of her body. She stepped aside and picked up the towel she’d disposed of in the doing, then placed it to dry over the wooden rack behind the washstand.

  “You gonna wear that thing?” His tone was aggrieved.

  She cast him a scornful glance. “I’m in your mother’s house,” she said.

  His eyes were genuinely puzzled. “What does that matter?”

  “It matters.” Picking her way across the floor, stepping over his boots and pants with exaggerated precision, she paused to snatch her brush from the dresser. “I’m not picking up your things, Devereaux,” she warned him.

  “Hell, if you take that damn tent off, I’ll do the wash, honey. Yours and mine both,” he offered.

  She stood before him, brush in hand, smelling of soap and warm woman, and his breath caught as he inhaled the scent of her.

  Her eyes narrowed, her gaze directed to the flush rimming his cheekbones, rising to the gleam of desire lighting his eyes. Then in a languid survey that seemed to penetrate the covering sheet, she focused on the masculine arousal he made no attempt to hide. Her smile was faint, curling the corners of her mouth. “Got a problem, mister?”