Kit spun around as the library door crashed open. Cain stood on the other side. He looked rough, elegant, and thoroughly untamed.
She wore only a thin nightdress. It covered her from neck to toe, but after what had passed between them in her bedroom earlier, she felt too exposed.
'Insomnia?' he drawled.
Her bare feet and unbound hair made her feel like a hoyden, especially after spending the evening with Veronica Gamble. She wished she'd at least put on her slippers before she'd come downstairs 'I-I didn't eat much at dinner. I was hungry, and I wanted to see if there was any cherry pie left.'
'I wouldn't mind a piece myself. We'll look together.' Even though he spoke casually, she sensed something calculating in his expression, and she wished she could keep him from following her to the kitchen. She should have stayed in her room, but she'd barely eaten anything for dinner, and she'd hoped a late-night snack would fill her stomach enough so she could sleep.
Patsy, the cook, had left the pie under a towel on the table. Kit cut a small piece she no longer wanted for herself, then handed Cain the pie plate. He grabbed a fork and carried everything over to the kitchen door. As she sat at the table, he opened it to let in the night air, then leaned against the doorframe to eat.
After only a few bites, he set aside the pie. 'Why are you wasting your time with Parsell, Kit? He's a stiff.'
'I knew you'd say something unpleasant about him.' She jabbed her fork at the crust. 'You were barely civil all evening.'
'While you, of course, were a model of courtesy to Mrs. Gamble.'
Kit didn't want to talk about Veronica Gamble. The woman confused her. Kit disliked her, yet she was also drawn to her. Veronica had traveled everywhere, read everything, and met fascinating people. Kit could have talked to her for hours.
She felt the same kind of confusion when she was with Cain.
She toyed with one of the cherries. 'I've known Mr. Parsell since I was a child. He's a fine man.'
'Too fine for you. And I mean that as a compliment, so pull in your claws.'
'Must be one of those Yankee compliments.'
He moved away from the door, and the walls of the kitchen seemed as if they were closing in on her. 'Do you really think that man would ever let you ride a horse in britches? Or trounce through the woods in your skirts? Do you think he'll let you curl up on the sofa with Sophronia's head in your lap, or show Samuel how to shoot marbles, or flirt with every man you see?'
'Once I marry Brandon, I won't flirt with anyone.'
'Flirting's in your nature, Kit. Sometimes I don't even think you know you're doing it. I've been told that Southern women acquire the knack in the womb, and you don't seem to be any exception.'
'Thank you.'
'That wasn't a compliment. You need to look elsewhere for a husband.'
'Strange. I don't remember asking your opinion.'
'No, but your future bridegroom will have to ask for my permission-that is, if you want to see the money in your trust.'
Kit's heart skipped a beat. The stubborn set of Cain's jaw frightened her. 'That's only a formality. You'll give your permission to whomever I choose.'
'Will I?'
The pie clotted in Kit's stomach. 'Don't toy with me about this. When Mr. Parsell asks permission to marry me, you'll grant it.'
'I can't fulfill my responsibility as your guardian if I believe you're making a mistake.'
She shot to her feet. 'Were you fulfilling your responsibility this evening in my room when you… when you touched me?'
A sizzle of electricity coursed between them.
He looked down, then slowly shook his head. 'No. No, I wasn't.'
The memory of his hands on her breasts was too recent, and she wished she hadn't brought it up. She turned away. 'Where Brandon's concerned, I know my mind.'
'He doesn't care about you. He doesn't even like you very much.'
'You're wrong.'
'He desires you, but he doesn't approve of you. Ready cash is hard to come by in the South. What he wants is your trust fund.'
'That's not true.' She knew Cain was right, but she denied it. She had to make certain he wouldn't stand in the way of her marriage.
'Marrying that stiff-necked bastard would be the biggest mistake of your life,' he said finally, 'and I'm not going to be part of it.'
'Don't say that!'
But as she stared at that implacable face, she felt Risen Glory slipping away from her. The panic that had been nibbling at her all evening clamped down hard. Her plan… her dreams. Everything was slipping away. She couldn't let him do this. 'You have to let him marry me. You don't have any choice.'
'I sure as hell do.'
She heard her voice coming from far away, almost as if it didn't belong to her. 'I didn't want to tell you this, but…' She licked her dry lips. 'The relationship between Mr. Parsell and myself has progressed… too far. There must be a wedding.'
Everything went stilt between them. She watched as he took in her meaning. The planes of his face grew hard and unrelenting. 'You've given him your virginity.'
Kit managed a slow, unsteady nod.
Cain heard a noise roaring inside his head. A great internal how! of outrage It echoed in his brain, clawed at his skin. At that moment he hated her. Hated her for not being what he'd believed-wild and pure. Pure for him.
The nearly forgotten echo of his mother's scathing laughter rattled in his head as he fled the stifling confines of the kitchen and stormed outside.
12
Magnus drove the buggy home from church with Sophronia at his side and Samuel, Lucy, and Patsy in the back. When they'd first left church, he'd tried to make conversation with Sophronia, but she'd been brusque, and he'd soon given up. Kit's return had upset her, although he didn't understand why. There was something strange about that relationship.
Magnus looked over at her. She sat at his side like a beautiful statue. He was tired of all the mysteries surrounding her. Tired of his love for her, a love that was bringing him more misery than happiness. He thought of Deborah Williams, the daughter of one of the men working on the cotton mill. Deborah had made it clear that she wanted Magnus's attention.
Damn it! He was ready to settle down. The war was behind him, and he had a good job. Risen Glory's small, neat overseer's house situated at the edge of the orchard pleased him. His days of hard drinking and easy women were over. He wanted a wife and children. Deborah Watson was pretty. Sweet-natured, too, unlike the vinegar- tongued Sophronia. She'd make a good wife for him. But instead of cheering him up, the idea made him feel even more unhappy.
Sophronia didn't smile at him often, but when she did, it was like a rainbow unfolding. She read newspapers and books, and she understood things in a way that Deborah never could. Most of all, he'd never heard Deborah sing when she was going about her work the way Sophronia did.
He noticed a crimson-and-black buggy coming toward them. It was too new to belong to any of the locals. Probably a Northerner's. A carpetbagger, most likely.
Sophronia straightened, and he looked more closely at the vehicle. As it drew nearer, he recognized the driver as James Spence, the owner of the new phosphate mine. Magnus hadn't had any contact with the man, but from what he'd heard, he was a good businessman. He paid an honest day's wage and didn't cheat his customers. Still,
