Katherine opened her eyes slowly to the prickling heat already pouring through the window. The coach was entirely motionless, and the hay was cool to the touch, the morning sun not having warmed – the hay?
She sat up. She was no longer in the coach, which would explain why the rocking sensation had disappeared. Instead, she had been lying in a pile of sweet smelling hay that appeared to be piled up in a barn.
A snore made her turn round, and she smiled secretively as she espied Thomas Bryant, shirt sleeves rolled up and collar undone, lying on hay at the other end of the barn. His nose was turned up into the air, and he was snuffling happily.
How had she gotten here? The last thing she could remember was resting her head on the side of the coach as it had rocked its way through Texas, and then . . . nothing. Here.
Beside her lay her reticle and her pelisse. Katherine picked them up, and the sunlight pouring through the cracks in the barn made something sparkle.
Her wedding ring. It was astonishing, really, how quickly one became accustomed to a piece of jewelry. It had felt tight and heavy on her hand when Thomas had placed it on in the church, but now it was as though it were a part of her. She had hardly noticed it from that moment to this.
A memory burst through her mind and raised itself to her attention. Darkness, and a feeling of weighing nothing. It was night time, and she was being carried.
They must have reached the end of the road after she had fallen asleep, she thought. But who had carried her . . . Thomas.
It was strange. Unaccustomed as she was to having a male companion, she had not even thought to consider him in her strange nightly journey from one place to the next.
Katherine shut her eyes, desperately trying to concentrate. What else had happened? She had not properly awoken, as far as she could recall. She could recall the feel of his shirt against her cheek, the strength of his arms around her, and a whisper – he had whispered.
“My wife and I would greatly appreciate shelter. Would you permit us to sleep in your barn?”
Those had been his words, she was virtually sure of it. She had moved through the air, it had seemed, for some time. Finally, she had been lowered to the softest down, and something akin to a kiss had been pressed into her cheek.
And then nothing.
Katherine opened her eyes, and she blushed to look at Thomas lying asleep on his back. He had carried her rather than wake her up, which surely would have been the preferred method of moving her. She was not so insensible of her curves as to imagine she was weightless.
And that kiss – if it were a kiss and not her imaginings. She had been completely helpless, and he had pressed nothing further than a chaste moment of his lips on her cheek.
She swallowed. This was not the way to think – before she knew it, she would start to feel sorry for the man, and his last words to her were echoing and ringing in her ears.
“Am I to be shamed by every man in Texas? Was there no one that you did not give yourself to? Could you not have warned me that you had been in your . . . your profession for such a long time?”
“Good morning, and I hope it has been a good evening for you too.”
Katherine blinked. Those were not the words that he had spoken last night, and they rang out truer and louder than her own rememberings – and were spoken by a woman!
She spun around to see what must be the farmer’s wife standing in the open barn door, a smile on her face and a tray in her arms.
“I hope you have slept well, both – oh, and you must be Mrs Bryant! We had not the pleasure of speaking yesterday, as you were mighty exhausted, but I see now that you are well rested, and I praise God for it.”
Katherine rose to her feet and opened her mouth in confusion to mutter, “I thank you, and good morning to you.”
“Oh, no need for thanks.” The woman was moving into the middle of the barn, and she laughed to see Thomas sprawled out on his back. “They never cease to sleep like babies, do they, these menfolk? See if you can raise him while I pour out the milk.”
Milk? Katherine sniffed and breathed in warm, freshly baked bread, and what could have been bacon, and something creamy, which had to be milk. Almost entirely distracted by the food that was so tantalizingly close – especially after not having eaten the day before – she forgot her directive, but after another snort from the man in the barn, she recalled.
Stepping over to him in a few heartbeats, Katherine knelt beside him. He was completely at peace, and for a moment she was loath to wake him from what was clearly a safe and happy place. The real world, sadly, was not as inviting.
She placed a hand on his arm. “Thomas?” She breathed his name with a hint of longing, and started. Where was the anger from yesterday? “Thomas,” she said more firmly. “Thomas, wake up.”
He groaned and turned away from her. This, unfortunately, did not work as he may have hoped, as he merely forced his face headfirst into the hay.
He awoke with a snort. “Aarrgghh, what – Katherine?”
It softened her heart, despite herself, that his first concern was her, though it was still strange to be addressed as Katherine, the more formal version of her name. “I am here,” she said quietly, and then hurriedly, “as is the woman of the house, so do not embarrass her by our conversation of yesterday. See? She has brought us something for breakfast.”
He understood her hint immediately; it would not do to argue before a stranger, especially as they were to play the happy couple.
“Well, what a wonderful way to awaken: my wife beside me, and my breakfast before me.” Thomas rose gingerly, and without catching her eye, walked towards the farmer’s wife. “Mrs Ashley, thank you for your kind hospitality.”
It is a rare gift, thought Katherine, to be able to awaken and immediately saunter over to a woman with all the little pleasing compliments that gained you courtesy. But Thomas Bryant had it. Where had he perfected such skills?
“Come now, Mrs Bryant.” The woman was gesturing to her, and she moved forward to take in the veritable feast that was before them. “I will be plain with you and explain that this was not intended for you, but you are surely welcome to it now that Dr Gerald has gone without enjoying it.”
“Dr Gerald – my good lady, do not say that someone in the household is unwell?”
Katherine stared at him. How did such polished words come from his mouth? Where were his manners when he had spoken to her yesterday?
Mrs Ashley simpered. “Oh, fear not, good sir; ‘tis only a precaution, and Dr Gerald is such a close friend of the family that he thinks naught of visiting us at such an early hour. I just wish that he had been able to eat something – but that is no matter, for it can now bless you. Bring it to the house when you are done.”
She bustled away without waiting for Katherine’s thanks.
“Do you not think it strange that she asked no questions?”
Thomas shrugged, fingers reaching out for the food. “I explained a little last night. There’s no need for more details, I suppose.”
Katherine stared at him, conscious of the hay that she was sure had become entwined in her hair. “Exactly how did you explain it . . . a little?”
Thomas was already eating. Two large slices of bread were held in his left hand as he chewed. “What are the chances that such a good breakfast would present itself?”
Katherine snorted. “You cannot continue to think that occurrences such as this are chance? It is merely an event, nothing more.”
“Chance, is it, that we have absolutely no funds remaining, and had not eaten anything yesterday?” Thomas shot back. “Chance that my favorite meal of bread, butter, and bacon has been presented to me?”
Katherine dropped next to him and reached out an elegant hand for a slice of bread and butter. “It is a farm, Thomas. I think it would have been stranger had we not been offered food.”
He inhaled his mouthful in order to speak again. “Yes, but this was the food for another – Dr Gerald, did not she say? It was not intended for us in the first place.”
The warm bread and butter melted in her mouth, and Katherine groaned with relief. It was divine to eat again, and she ignored her husband, keeping her mouth otherwise occupied, preventing her from replying to him. Could this be chance? Was it God’s provision? But she balked at the thought, lovely as it would have been. God hadn’t provided until now. What made her think that He would act now?
When she was finished, she caught sight of the fourth piece of bread and bacon before it disappeared into Thomas’ gullet.
“You will feel unwell, you know,” she observed stiffly. “Eating so fast on an empty stomach.”
“Mmmm?” His mouth was full, keeping him from speaking, but his confused expression was enough.
Katherine shook her head slowly. “You have clearly never gone hungry for too long. Feed your stomach sufficient for your needs, not your wants; it will thank you for it in five hours. Trust me. Stuffing yourself is not the opposite of starving.”
Hastily swallowing, Thomas stared at her. “You have starved before?”
She colored. This was not the time to start revealing personal secrets – and besides, she was evidently nevertheless angry at him.
“Am I to be shamed by every man in Texas?”
His words rang in her ears again, and she stood abruptly. “I have to wash,” she said brusquely, and walked out of the barn.
Thomas spotted her near the river, her feet dangling in the cool waters, and she was tilted backwards, eyes closed, reveling in the warmth of the sun.
His heart twisted. She had known hunger. It was impossible to pin her down, this Katherine Morrison. Katherine Bryant. The mental correction took a moment. Every time that he thought she was on the cusp of revealing something of herself, something of her past, a cloud covered her face and she ran from him – emotionally and physically, at times.
The food in his stomach had fortified him for the physical aspect of the walk ahead of him, but his emotions were torn, skewered by the way that she looked at him. There was no trust there, no liking at all.
What had he expected? He had known that he had, to all intents and purposes, forced her into this marriage – coerced her by dangling the one remaining member of family she had ever mentioned before her as the carrot to draw her closer to him. Closer than every person on this earth now was.
He had not expected to . . . well . . . feel guilty for doing so.
But there was no point dwelling on this now. There would be plenty of time for soul searching later that night. He had found it impossible to sleep last night, knowing that she was a few yards from him, sleeping innocently in the hay – if there was innocence left in her.
Thomas blanched at his own thoughts, hating himself. Did he genuinely think that anyone was unredeemable? When you considered all that he had done, who was the real sinner here: the woman who had been forced to lie with men for money due to complete poverty, or the man who lived in relative comfort away from the ones that he loved because he had stolen from them?
He had to apologize. His words yesterday . . . he had to make amends.
“Katherine,” was the word that he spoke, despite such a confusing medley of thoughts exploding in his brain. “We must be going.”
She was not happy about leaving the cooling stream; he could tell in the way that she languidly dragged her ankles out of the water, but she was standing beside him in less than two minutes.
Her fingers reached for the luggage that was by his feet, but he was too fast for her. “My wife does not carry heavy bags.”
Katherine had snatched at it, but he was stronger than she. “She does if it is her own possessions.”
Thomas smiled, hoping that a joke would break the tension between them. “Ah, but what is mine is yours!”
It did not work.
“Of course, I am now your possession too, I had quite forgot,” she snapped, falling into step beside him. “How could it have slipped my mind? It is impossibly difficult to keep up, what with the numerous men in my life. How did you put it? Was there no one that you did not give yourself to?”
Thomas stopped dead in his tracks beside an old oak tree, the last of the farm’s shade for a good few miles. “I should not have spoken in such a way. I apologize.”
She had kept walking for a few steps, and he could not see her expression – but he could hear her words. “Do not feel under duress to apologize because you fear the awkwardness between us; I promise you, I can ignore it if you can.”
“That is not why I am sorry.” Thomas dropped the two cases he was holding and moved round to see Katherine. She was resolutely not crying. “I was wrong. What I said was not right, and I had no right to speak to you in that way.”
“No,” she said harshly. “You did not.”
Thomas stared at her and saw, with regret, the pain that he had caused etched across her features. Her beauty was no less striking, but the bitterness in her expression drew more attention than the loveliness of her countenance.
“I have no right to speak to you like that, to chide you,” said Thomas slowly, “for I am in no way innocent.” Was he going to tell her – was he to reveal to her just what a man he was?
She blinked and stared at him. “I cannot imagine what sort of charmed life you have led,” she said meekly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I envy it, perhaps. You cannot have fallen so far as myself.”
“Fallen?” Thomas took her left hand in his right. “Katherine, there is no measurement of lostness. You had nothing, and no one to turn to. Some of us err without such excuses.”
Her eyes widened as he spoke, and she breathed, “You cannot mean to say . . . surely someone like you could never have committed a crime.”
Thomas swallowed. All of a sudden, the idea of looking at Katherine as he admitted his faults was not something he felt he could bear. He stepped away from her, picked up the cases, and murmured, “Walk with me.”
They strode on in the heat for ten minutes before he spoke again. “I never wanted for much when I was growing up. We had Sweet Grove, and we had each other. What more could have been required?”
He stopped speaking, and for another minute they continued, until Katherine gently nudged, “Go on.”
Thomas swallowed. The Texan landscape did not seem to be changing as they walked, though he knew they were going in the right direction. Its rolling green hills, yellow in places where the sun had loved it too much, seemed to go on forever. “It may seem strange to you, but I found that . . . well, to tell the truth, I was bored. I had grown up in safety and security, and I wanted danger and adventure. Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself . . . I started to steal.”
There was no audible response from Katherine, and he dared not look to his right to look at her, so he continued. “It was trivial things at first. It always is. A button my sister needed for sewing. A favorite knitting needle of my little sister – I have two, by the way. I am not sure whether I mentioned.”
There was a pause, and then, “No,” was croaked by his companion.
Thomas smiled bitterly. “My little sister, Abigail – she would be around sixteen years, I think – could never have guessed. She is too pure of heart, is Abigail; it would not have crossed her mind that one of her big brothers could do such a thing.”
They came to a stile, and only after they had stepped over it did she speak. “But eventually, the small things were not enough.”
Thomas blew out his cheeks. “You are unnervingly perceptive.”
For the first time since he had started the topic, he looked at her. She was glowing, the warmth of the day and the heat of their exertion giving her cheeks a glow. She did not meet his eye.
“Yes, soon the last jar of jam and the silver bell from my brother’s christening were not enough.” Thomas sighed. “I think Jonathan started to suspect something was wrong. Not with me, you understand. My sisters had thought for a few weeks they were getting forgetful. Losing things. Misplacing items they would find again.”
“So Jonathan . . . your brother, the man who wrote the letter. He knew it was you?”
Pain tugged at Thomas’ heartstrings as her innocent question led to the very point he had hoped to avoid.
“No,” he said finally. “He did not. He knew it was Aaron.”
Katherine finally twisted around to look at him. “Knew it was Aaron? How could he – you were the one stealing. And who is Aaron?”
He swallowed. “There were five of us, you know. Five of us against the world. Jonathan was the eldest, and then Aaron. Then myself and Mariana, twins. And finally, Abigail.”
Comprehension dawned, but it was still marred with confusion. “I do not understand; you were stealing from your family, and your brother Jonathan knew it was Aaron? How could that be?”
Thomas laughed drily. “What you must understand, Katherine, is that I do not come from a perfect family. Aaron had inherited our father’s gambling habit, and the family instantly assumed Aaron was stealing to feed his addiction.”
Katherine stared. “That is awful. What happened when you told them the truth?”
It hurt to say it aloud, and for a moment Thomas did not think he could.
“It must have been hard for your parents,” she was saying. “And your twin sister too, most especially, when you revealed to them you were the thief.”
His silence seemed to be enough to make her suspicious, and she stopped dead in her tracks. “Thomas, what did they say when you told them?”
She knew the answer before he opened his mouth. “I did not tell them,” he sighed heavily, guilt stirring in his stomach resembling an uncomfortable burning rock lodged there. “I allowed them to confront Aaron, and I said nothing.”
She blinked at him, just once. “Nothing?”
“I am a different man now!” Thomas said hastily. “I bitterly regret what happened that night, and I want to go and make amends – have wanted to for almost a year, but I did not know whether I would be welcome. When I received Jonathan’s letter – ”
“Do you mean to tell me that we are not only walking back to Sweet Grove where you were a thief,” spluttered Katherine interrupting him, “but where no one knows the truth of your deception?”
“I have changed,” he said desperately, hoping to see understanding but seeing naught but confusion and what could be described as disappointment. “I am not that man, and I want to make amends, especially to Mariana, and to Aaron – to them all. I want to show them I have finally achieved respectability – a married man, with apologies and a desire to become part of the family again.”
For a moment she said nothing, and then Katherine laughed. It was not entirely joyful. “And I suppose I am the wife come to increase your respectability.”
Thomas said nothing, and the laughter died away.
“I see,” she said quietly.
“I do not think you do,” he said in a low voice. “I . . . I do not seem able to put into words exactly how desperately I wish I could turn back time and right the wrongs immediately – or not commit the wrongs in the first place! If I could do that, I would. In a heartbeat.”
And then Katherine did something he could never have predicted. She smiled. Wanly, to be sure, and with little warmth in it, but there was some there. It was not a sarcastic smile, but one of genuine understanding.
“It appears we are not that different after all,” she breathed. Without saying another word, she began striding again in the direction they had been heading.
Thomas froze for a moment, and then rushed to catch her.
“Are we going to walk the rest of the way to Sweet Grove?” she asked, before he could say a word.
Thomas swallowed. “Yes. I am afraid that, without funds, we will have to walk home.”
“Home?” Her eyebrow arched in surprise. “I did not realize Sweet Grove was to be our home.”
Thomas spoke with a wry smile, and his heart leapt. “I cannot think where else I would want to go.”