The Gentling (5 page)

❧

Four hours later, pale and quivering with nerves, Katy sat beside her father as he brought their pickup to a stop in the U-shaped drive in front of the Barnetts' colonial mansion. She was strung taut, fighting down the nausea that churned in her stomach. Katy stared at the stately pillars marching across the front veranda with wide, fearful eyes. In the fifteen years during which she had lived at Green Meadows, she had never once been inside the big house. She doubted that her father had seen more of it than the study before Trace had taken over. Now, here they were, the two of them, about to have dinner with the new owner and possibly his young stepmother.

Her breath caught in her throat. Oh, God! She had forgotten all about Saundra. The woman had always treated Katy and her mother as though they were beneath her contempt. Katy could just imagine what she thought of this sudden turn of events.

"Do you think Saundra will be here?" she asked as her father opened his door and climbed from the truck.

He held the door open and looked at her across the width of the seat. "I've no idea, Katy girl. But even if she is, I want you to remember that you are a Donovan, and that is something to be proud of."

Katy smiled. Tom Donovan bowed and scraped to no man ... or woman. Like all Irishmen, he was filled with a fierce, uncrushable pride, a trait Henry Barnett had found almost intolerable.

Katy was not without the Donovan pride herself. When her father assisted her from the cab of the pickup her eyes sparkled with determination. She was going to remain cool and calm, and get through this evening with her dignity intact if it killed her. After adjusting the full sleeves and scooped neck of her blue silk blouse and smoothing the imaginary wrinkles from the long blue and aqua patterned skirt, she slipped her hand through her father's arm and tilted her chin. "Shall we go?"

He beamed down at her, his eyes glowing with pride. "That's my Katy," he whispered softly.

Katy held her head high as they walked up the pebbled path. For nothing in the world would she let these people see that, inside, she was a quaking mass of nerves.

The sound of raised voices reached them when they stepped onto the veranda. Saundra's shrill tones carried clearly through the open window.

"I tell you, Trace, it simply is not done. Your father would not approve of this at all."

"When are you going to get it through your head that whether or not my father would have approved means less than nothing to me? This farm and this house belong to me now, and things will be done my way."

Katy cast her father a nervous glance, and he reached out a hand and rang the bell. The voices ceased. Within a few seconds, Mattie, the Barnetts' housekeeper, appeared at the door.

"Good evening, Mattie." Tom greeted the woman with a friendly smile. "I believe we're expected."

"Yes, of course." Mattie cast a worried glance over her shoulder as they stepped into the entrance hall. She took Katy's lacy white shawl and draped it over her arm. "If you'll just wait right here, I'll tell Mr. Trace you've arrived."

"That won't be necessary, Mattie."

Startled by the terse command, Katy's head swung around, her eyes opening wide at the sight of Trace, framed in the arched doorway to their left. Except at his father's funeral, she had never before seen him dressed so formally. The dark blue suit fit his long, lean frame to perfection. Against the crisp white of his shirt his tanned skin looked like polished bronze. Jane was right, Katy thought distractedly. The only word to describe him was devastating.

For just a second grim, harsh anger was visible in the lines of his face, but it faded quickly when his eyes lit on Katy.

She had taken extra pains with her appearance. Her makeup had been applied with care, and she had swept her hair into a shining knot on the top of her head. Soft tendrils were allowed to escape in front of her ears and across the nape of her neck for a softening effect.

The frank admiration in Trace's expression as his eyes ran over the more sophisticated hairdo brought a blush to her cheeks. It deepened as his inspection continued His intent gaze traveled slowly from the top of her head to the strappy white sandals on her feet. There was a dark, smoldering look in his deep-set eyes as they returned to her face that in no way matched the coolness of his voice.

"I'm glad you could make it," he said politely, and gestured to the room behind him. "Won't you come in?"

Katy's pulse was fluttering nervously as she stepped toward the door. When Trace's large hand settled against the small of her back, her heart began to pound as though it were trying to get out of her body. She quickened her step to try to elude his touch, but the hand remained firmly in place.

The room they entered was large and well-proportioned, furnished with a harmonious collection of different period pieces. The overall effect was elegant, but definitely inviting. Katy was immediately conscious of the atmosphere of wealth and good taste all around her, but before her eyes could take in any specific details, Trace was directing her attention to the blonde woman ensconced on the sofa.

"Of course you know my stepmother, Saundra."

Katy shot him a quick glance. Had his voice held just a hint of sardonic amusement? She couldn't tell from his impassive face.

"Hello, Mrs. Barnett," she said politely, refocusing her attention on the woman.

Saundra Barnett flicked her a cool, disinterested glance and nodded curtly. "Miss Donovan." Her mouth curled slightly as her pale blue eyes slid over Katy's simple skirt and blouse. She looked pointedly down at her own elegant red chiffon dress and sent Katy a scornful smile.

Beside her, Katy felt Trace stiffen.

"Stop it, Saundra." The command was issued in a snarl, the low, steely voice holding a definite warning, and his stepmother widened her eyes in feigned innocence.

"Why, darling, I didn't say a word."

As Katy feared, the small, malicious act set the tone for the entire evening. Saundra was never overtly rude. She didn't dare risk another reprimand from Trace. She contented herself with snide little innuendos and cutting double-edged remarks. Her words were not blatantly insulting. They were designed to belittle, to embarrass, to make Katy and her father feel out of place and uncomfortable. If she had been gracious and polite, she might have accomplished her purpose. Katy's shyness and extreme nervousness might have worked against her to make her appear awkward and fumbling. But Saundra had misjudged her opponent, and in doing so, had made a bad tactical error. There was nothing guaranteed to stiffen Katy's spine more than ridicule. Her father's fierce pride, combined with her mother's quiet dignity, was a formidable weapon against Saundra's petty viciousness. Katy met every thrust with a cool composure that seemed to infuriate the older woman.

During the meal Saundra switched her attention from Katy to Trace, talking to him in a warm, sensuous tone, and touching him whenever possible, sliding her pale blue eyes over him like a hungry cat that has just spotted its next meal.

At first Katy was surprised. Then she recalled the rumors that had circulated when Trace left the farm four years ago. One of them was that Trace had been far too friendly with his young stepmother, that he had, in fact, been in love with her. It was said that when the situation had come to his father's attention they had quarreled, and Henry had ordered him to leave. Katy had not believed it at the time, but now she wondered. Saundra's attitude was definitely possessive.

After dinner, coffee was served in the living room and Katy began to glance at her watch, wondering how long it would be before they could leave without seeming impolite. They had just settled down with their coffee when Mattie appeared in the doorway.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Trace," she said hesitantly. "But Nate Pearson is here. He wants to talk with Mr. Donovan. He says it's urgent."

Before she had finished speaking, Tom was on his feet and heading toward the door. "That will be about Starbright," he explained quickly to Trace. "She's ready to foal at any moment. She's been behaving strangely, and I told Nate to stay with her and call me if anything developed."

"I see," Trace replied, following Tom into the hall.

Nate Pearson was waiting just inside the door. The three men huddled together in serious conversation for a moment, the low murmur of their voices drifting into the room, their words indistinguishable. Then suddenly Tom jerked open the front door and strode out, with Nate on his heels. Trace closed it behind them and returned to the living room.

"I'm sorry, Katy, but there's an emergency down at the stables, and your father felt he should be there. Since it's likely he'll be busy for several hours, possibly even all night, I told him I'd see you home."

Katy stood up, alarmed. "Thank you, but please don't trouble yourself on my account. I'm quite capable of getting home by myself."

"Nevertheless, I'll drive you."

"Oh, no! Really, that's not necessary," she protested quickly. The last thing Katy wanted was to be cooped up in a car with Trace. "I can walk. It's not that far."

"I wouldn't hear of it."

"Oh, for God's sake, Trace!" Saundra spat out irritably. "Let the girl walk! It won't hurt her. After all, she's only ..."

"That's enough, Saundra!" Trace snapped. He glared at her, his hazel eyes narrowed into glittering slits of green ice. "Miss Donovan is my guest, and I'm going to see her home. I'm not going to tell you again that from now on things are going to be done my way. If you don't like that, then I suggest you pack your bags and leave." Saundra blanched. "Trace! You don't mean that!" "I mean it." The flat statement left no room for doubt. Turning his back on the shocked woman, he looked at Katy. "I'll get your wrap."

Five seconds after he had left the room, Saundra turned on her like a spitting cat. Her face was contorted into a livid mask of rage. "Stay away from him, do you hear me! He's mine! I should have married Trace in the first place, not his father. And now I'm going to. And I'm not going to let a stupid little farm girl stand in my way. So if you know what's good for you, you'll remember your place." Her pale eyes raked over Katy contemptuously. "You're just the daughter of a hired hand, and don't you forget it."

Katy looked back at her in sick disgust. Would Trace really marry his father's widow? Saundra was only five or six years older than he, and she was still very attractive. But she was hard and grasping, not a nice person at all. But then, Katy thought, what do I know? Maybe that didn't matter to men. Maybe they didn't see beyond the blond hair and the carefully made-up face. In any case, it was none of her business.

She tilted her chin proudly. "You're behaving very foolishly, Mrs. Barnett. I have no intention of becoming involved with Trace or any other man." "And you expect me to believe that?" "I really don't care what you believe." "Why you little—" The sound of Trace's footsteps crossing the hall abruptly halted the angry tirade, and Saundra clamped her mouth shut, shooting Katy one last, furious glare.

"Here we are." Trace draped the lacy shawl over Katy's shoulders and placed a hand beneath her elbow.

"Shall we go?" He ignored his stepmother completely, but Katy could feel the woman's eyes boring into her back as she allowed him to lead her from the room.

Outside on the veranda Trace paused. "If you'll wait here, I'll get my car and bring it around."

"No, please. I would really much rather walk."

"Very well. If that's what you want." Trace smiled pleasantly and extended his arm. "Shall we go?"

It was then Katy realized that he intended to walk with hef. "Oh, but I meant . . ."

"I know what you meant, Katy," he said softly. "But I also meant it when I said I would see you home. Now, what's it going to be? Do we drive or do we walk?"

Katy looked at him uncertainly in the dim light filtering through the windows, her teeth worrying the soft inner tissue of her bottom lip. She saw the rock-hard determination in his expression and knew she was not going to be able to dissuade him.

She sighed deeply, her shoulders sagging in defeat. "We walk."

Ignoring his arm, she descended the veranda steps and started around the corner of the house to follow the path that led to the stables. Trace fell in step beside her. Katy walked quickly, her chaotic thoughts tumbling over themselves in a jumble of confusion. Her mind groped in frantic desperation for an avenue of escape, but she could not concentrate. Awareness of the tall, vigorous man at her side flooded her senses and her brain simply refused to function.

As they neared the stables, they could hear the mare's nervous whicker. A rectangle of light spilled from one of the stalls at the far end of the row. Katy heard her father's voice, crooning encouragement to the frightened animal, his tone low and soothing, the words unintelligible.

Green Acres Farm rarely called in the local veterinarian. They didn't need him. Not when they had Tom Donovan. But perhaps Trace didn't know that.

Katy looked up at him. "If you feel you should be there, Mr. Barnett, please don't worry about me. I assure you I can find my way home alone with no problem."

He grasped her upper arm and began to lead her past the row of stalls. "Give it up, Katy. It won't work. I'll check the progress at the stables later, but right now I intend to walk you home. So no more arguing."