than you are.'
8
Not long after Cain had stalked out of the sitting room, Kit heard a familiar voice. 'Lucy, did you let that dog in the house again?'
'He slipped past me, Miz Sophronia.'
'Well, he won't slip past me!'
Kit smiled as she heard the approach of brisk, efficient footsteps. She hugged Merlin and whispered, 'I won't let her get you.'
Sophronia swept into the room, then drew to a sudden halt. 'Oh, I'm sorry. Lucy didn't say we had a visitor.'
Kit looked up and gave her a mischievous grin.
'Kit!' Sophronia's hand flew to her mouth. 'Lord! Is it really you?'
With a laugh, Kit sprang to her feet and raced toward her. 'It's me, all right.'
The women hugged each other while Merlin circled them, barking at their skirts.
'It's so good to see you. Oh, Sophronia, you're even more beautiful than I remember.'
'Me! Look at you. You look like you just stepped out of
'It's all Elsbeth's doing.' Kit laughed again and grabbed Sophronia's hand. They sank down on the settee, where they tried to catch up on three years of separation.
Kit knew it was her fault their correspondence had been so infrequent. Sophronia didn't like to write letters, and the few she'd sent were so full of praise for what Cain was doing at Risen Glory that Kit's replies had been scathing. Finally Sophronia had stopped writing.
Kit remembered her earlier agitation over all the improvements Sophronia had made to the house. Now that seemed petty, and she praised her for everything she'd done.
Sophronia drank in Kit's words. She knew the old house was shining under her care, and she was proud of her accomplishments. At the same time, she began to feel the familiar combination of love and resentment that always plagued her where Kit was concerned.
For so long, Sophronia had been the only one watching out for Kit. Now Kit was a woman with friendships and experiences Sophronia couldn't share. She was also beautiful, poised, and at home in a world Sophronia would never enter.
The old hurts began to throb.
'Don't think because you're home now you can start stickin' your nose in my business and tellin' me how to run this house.'
Kit merely chuckled. 'I wouldn't think of it. All I care about is the land. The fields. I can't wait to see everything.'
Sophronia's resentment faded and worry took its place. Putting the major and Kit under the same roof was going to lead to trouble.
Rosemary Weston's old bedroom had been redecorated in blush pink and soft moss green. It reminded Kit of the inside of a ripe watermelon, close to the bottom where the pink meat joined the pale iridescence of the rind. She was glad the cool, pretty room would be hers, even though it was second-best to the bedroom Cain occupied. The fact that both shared a common sitting room made her uneasy, but at least it would allow her to keep a closer watch on him.
How could she have let him kiss her like that? The question she'd been trying to avoid asking felt like a fist in her stomach. True, she'd pushed him away, but not before he'd thoroughly kissed her. If it had been Brandon Parsell, she could have understood, but how could she have done such a thing with Baron Cain?
She remembered Mrs. Templeton's lecture on Eve's Shame. Surely only an unnatural woman would abandon herself like that with her most bitter enemy. Maybe there was something wrong with her.
Nonsense. She'd merely been exhausted from the trip, and Miss Dolly's chatter was enough to drive anyone into doing something irrational.
Determined not to think of it again, she stripped off her dress and stood in chemise and petticoat to freshen up at the washstand. Bathing was her favorite luxury. She could hardly believe she'd once hated it so. What a silly child she'd been. Silly about everything except her hatred for Cain.
She cursed softly under her breath, a habit even Elsbeth hadn't been able to stop. Before Cain had stormed out of the sitting room, he'd ordered her to meet him in the library after dinner. She wasn't looking forward to the interview. At the same time, he needed to understand he was no longer dealing with an immature eighteen-year- old.
Lucy had unpacked her trunks, and for a moment Kit considered throwing on one of her oldest dresses and dashing outside to reacquaint herself with her home. But she had to be downstairs soon, ready to do battle again. Morning would be time enough.
She chose a frock with sprigs of gay blue forget-me-nots scattered over a white background. The skirt was drawn up in soft folds to reveal an underskirt in the same blue as the flowers. Cain had provided a generous clothing allowance, damn his soul, and Kit had a beautiful wardrobe. Much of the thanks went to Elisabeth, who said Kit's taste was too erratic and hadn't trusted her to shop alone. The truth was, unless Elisabeth rode herd, Kit generally grew bored and settled for whatever the shopkeepers placed before her.
Impatiently she pulled out her hairpins. That morning, she'd dressed her hair in the Spanish style, parted in the center and pulled into a simple coil at the nape of her neck. With a few tendrils escaping here and there and her small jet earbobs, the sophisticated style had been perfect for her first encounter with Cain. But she couldn't tolerate the confinement any longer. Now she brushed her hair out until it crackled, then caught it back from her face with the silver filigreed combs Elsbeth had given her. It tumbled in a riot of curls that spilled over her shoulders. After dabbing jasmine scent at her wrists, she was ready to fetch Miss Dolly.
As she knocked at her door, she wondered how her fragile companion would handle sitting at dinner with a Yankee war hero. She knocked a second time, and when there was no response, pushed open the door.
Miss Dolly sat huddled in a rocking chair in the corner of the darkened room. Tears streaked her wrinkled cheeks, and she held the tattered fragment of what had once been a baby-blue handkerchief.
Kit dashed to her side. 'Miss Dolly! What's wrong?'
The older woman didn't seem to hear. Kit knelt before her. 'Miss Dolly?'
'Hello, darlin',' she said vaguely. 'I didn't hear you come in.'
'You've been crying.' Kit clasped the woman's bird-frail hands. 'Tell me what's wrong.'
'Nothing, really. Silly memories. Making rag babies with my sisters when we were children. Playin' under the grape arbor. Reminiscence is part of old age.'
'You're not old, Miss Dolly. Why, just look at you in your pretty white dress. You look as fresh as a spring day.'
'I do try to keep myself pretty,' Miss Dolly acknowledged, straightening a little in her chair and making a dab at her wet cheeks. 'It's just that sometimes, on days like today, I find myself thinkin' about things that happened a long time ago, and it makes me sad.'
'What kind of things?'
Miss Dolly patted Kit's hand. 'Now, now, darlin'. You don't want to hear my ramblin's.'
'You don't ramble,' Kit assured her, even though only a few hours earlier, that very habit had been driving her to distraction.
'You've got a good heart, Katharine Louise. I knew it the moment I set eyes on you. I was so glad when you asked me to accompany you back to South Carolina.' Her ribbons dipped as she shook her head. 'I didn't like it in the North. Everybody had such loud voices. I don't like Yankees, Katharine. I don't like them at all.'
'You're upset about meeting Major Cain, aren't you?' Kit rubbed the back of Miss Dolly's hand. 'I shouldn't have brought you here. I was only thinking of myself, not of how it would affect you.'
'Now, now. Don't you be blamin' your sweet self for a silly old woman's foolishness.'
'I won't let you stay if it's going to make you unhappy.'
