Joshâs letters had revealed a charming, thoughtful man who dearly loved his family and home.
âThanks to your detailed descriptions, I feel as though Iâve been here before,â Kate said without thinking.
He stopped. His expression hardening as he faced her, his blue eyes cooled to arctic ice. âYou read my letters?â
âI ⦠we â¦â she sputtered. âWell, y-yes, my sister read them aloud.â Mortified at her slip, Kate lowered her gaze to the ground.
âThose were my private thoughts, intended for Francesca and no one else.â
âI am truly sorry,â she murmured, âfor everything. Perhaps it would be best if I left.â
âForget it.â
Her gaze flew up and locked with his. âBut Iâve hurt you. I deeply regretââ
âYouâve done nothing to injure me. After all, I met you all of twenty minutes ago. Itâs becoming quite clear your sister did not hold me in the same regard as I did her.â
Gatlinburg, Tennessee September 1880
Josh OâMalleyâs life was about to change. Standing on the boardwalk in front of Clawsonâs Mercantile, a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand, he watched intently as the carriage rolled to a stop. The team of midnight-black horses snuffed and tossed their heads, their massive chests quivering with exertion. The driver, dripping sweat and wearing an inch-thick coating of dust, remained seated while a second, well-dressed man climbed down with haste and swept open the door as if royalty waited inside.
Time stood still. The sounds of the townâsnatches of conversations, the bell above the mercantileâs entrance, wagons lumbering pastâall faded as he waited for a glimpse of his fiancée, Francesca Morgan. Six long months had passed since heâd last seen her.
Anticipation swelled within him like the Little Pigeon River after a heavy downpour. His fingers tightened on the stems. Would she like it here? Not for the first time, doubts flickered in his mind. How would this oil heiress from New York City adjust to his small town, tucked deep in the Smoky Mountains?
He shoved such thoughts aside. Together they would deal with any hurdles.
Then she was there, in the doorway, placing her gloved hand in the manâs and floating down the steps in a cloud of seafoam green. All he could see was the top of her fancy hat. This was the first day of their lives together.
âHello, Francesca.â
Her head whipped up, and he found himself staring into a strangerâs face.
âPardon me, Miss.â Josh retreated a step. He glanced around her to find the carriage interior empty. Confused, he looked at her once more. âExcuse me, I was under the impression this was the Morgan carriage.â
The young ladyâs eyes flared wide as if she recognized him. But that was impossible.
With a slight incline of her head, she dismissed the man at her side. âThank you, Mr. Crandall.â Her eyes held a mix of compassion and apprehension.
âMr. Joshua OâMalley?â
His gut clenched. She couldnât know his name unless ⦠âYes, thatâs me.â
âMy name is Katerina Morgan. Iâm Francescaâs younger sister.â
Sister? Surely not. This lady and his fiancée looked nothing alike.
Francesca was tall, lithe and graceful, her peaches-and-cream complexion the perfect foil for her corn-silk hair and baby-blue eyes. The young lady standing before him was altogether different. Petite and fine-boned, yet in possession of captivating curves, the top of her head barely grazed his chin.
Katerina was a delicate lady ⦠like a doll come to life. Her face was a perfect oval, with rounded cheekbones and dainty chin. Her almond-shaped eyes shone the same hue as her pale green dress, and her pouty, pink lips couldâve been sculpted by an artist. Her hair was the color of decadent chocolate and arranged in elaborate twists and curls.
âWhere is Francesca? Has something happened?â
âPleaseâis there somewhere we can speak in private?â
Curious townsfolk had stopped to watch their exchange. Gatlinburg was a small town, and most knew his fiancée was arriving today.
âOver here.â
They would be out of sight behind the mercantile. Taking gentle hold of her arm, he helped her across the grass and caught a whiff of her perfume, a subtle scent with notes of citrus. Like her elegant outfit, it was most likely the latest fashion from Paris. And worth more money than heâd see in a lifetime.
âWhat lush beauty.â Her steps faltered. âWhy, I doubt Iâve ever seen its equal. You are fortunate, Mr. OâMalley, to wake up to this day after day.â
He followed her uplifted gaze to the rounded mountain peaks on all sides, the clear blue sky a perfect backdrop against the autumn foliage visible even at the higher elevations. He understood her reaction. Most newcomers agreed this part of East Tennessee was a tiny slice of paradise.