The Gentling Read online

  "His word, that's what."

  "And you think I can put my trust in that?"

  "I know you can. He's a good man, Katy. Believe that."

  Shaking fingers raked the silky mass of blue-black hair away from her face, then returned to massage her throbbing temples. "Oh, Dad," she sighed wearily. "How can you be so certain? I keep remembering how wild he used to be. The crazy, impossible things he used to do."

  "Aw, Katy, Katy," her father admonished with soft severity. "In those days he was hurtin' badly. The lad was lashin' out at the world in the only way he knew how. Can't you understand that?"

  Katy stared at him, transfixed. Less than a week ago Trace had said something very similar about her father. Perhaps the two men were even more alike than she had thought. Was Trace really like her father? Was he one of those strong, rugged men whose masculinity is merely enhanced by his deep capacity for tenderness?

  Katy had heard it said that every little girl wanted to marry a man just like her daddy when she grew up. In her own case she knew that was true. She could imagine no finer man in the whole world than Tom Donovan. If Trace was really like him . . . Katy deliberately thrust the thought aside. It was silly, wishful thinking. She had to be practical and level-headed about this.

  "Oh, Dad, I just don't know what to do." She sighed in weary confusion.

  "Katy, listen to me. Even in his wildest, most hell-raising period, Trace was absolutely trustworthy. When he gave his word, he stood by it, even if it meant taking a thrashing from old Henry."

  One corner of her mouth lifted in a rueful smile. "It sounds as though you think I ought to accept Trace's proposal."

  "I'll tell you truly, my girl, if I had the privilege of hand picking a husband for you, I'd choose Trace. He's a good man, Katy. None better. And he loves you deeply. He'll make a fine husband and father, and he'll take good care of you."

  "But I don't need a husband to take care of me," she argued.

  Tom looked at her sadly, and patted the cushion beside him. "Come here, lass," he ordered, and Katy obeyed. He picked up her hand and squeezed it gently, his tired old eyes warm on her trusting face. "Look at me, darlin'. I'm an old man. I won't be around much longer. I want to know that you have someone, that you won't be alone when I—"

  Katy pressed her fingers against his mouth, shutting off the dreadful words. "No! Dad, don't say that!" she cried, but Tom merely shook his head and removed her hand.

  "Don't look so stricken, darlin'. Truth to tell, without your mother, I don't much care. You're the only thing that's kept me going this past year." Raising a large, calloused hand, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, then trailed his knuckles along the elegant line of her jaw.

  "Lookin' at you is like seein' my darlin' Kathleen as she was twenty years ago," he murmured softly. "And you're like her in other ways too. Some women could have shrugged off that attack and gone on with their lives. Some it would even have hardened. But not you, Katy. You're soft and gentle and very vulnerable. You need the love and protection of a good man. I want that for you, Katy, more than anything in this world," he whispered fiercely. "Love, the kind your mother and I had, is life's greatest reward. If you've got that, nothin' else matters."

  "But, Dad, I don't love Trace," she protested.

  "How do you know that, darlin'? For years you've kept your emotions locked up tight inside you. You haven't let yourself feel anything for any man. Let go, Katy," he urged. "You'll be surprised how good it feels." He gave her hand another squeeze and smiled coaxingly. "And I'll admit, I'd rest easier knowing Trace would be takin' care of you after I've gone."

  Tears pushed against her lower lids, then slowly trickled over, leaving wet tracks on the satin-smooth cheeks. As she stared at the lined, weathered face, Katy was forced to accept what her mind had refused to see for the past few years. Her father was looking extremely old and tired.

  "Oh, Dad." Her voice wavered as she forced out the words. "I suppose, if it means that much to you, and you're sure he can be trusted, I'll marry him. I haven't much choice anyway. If I don't you'll have to give up your job."

  Tom reached up and framed her face with his large, work-roughened hands. His brows were drawn together in a concerned frown as he stared into her tear-drenched eyes. "Don't be doin' it for me, Katy darlin'. Do it for yourself. I've known him, man and boy, and I'm tellin' you, you'll hot find a better man, or a better husband, than Trace Barnett."

  Chapter 6

  "You're going to what!" Jane squeaked.

  "I said I'm going to marry Trace," Katy repeated huskily, keeping her head down, her eyes firmly fixed on the small cup she was washing. She could feel Jane's shocked stare boring into her, but couldn't make herself meet her friend's eyes.

  "I know what you said. What I want to know is why? Less than a week ago you were still avoiding him like the plague, and now you calmly tell me you're going to marry him. Good grief! I'd heard that Trace was a fast worker, but this is ridiculous!" Jane dried another cup with swift, agitated movements and shoved it into the cabinet above the counter. "Oh, I know he put on a good show when he picked you up last Friday, but it was obvious that you were still running scared."

  Katy glanced up and smiled wanly. "Trace is rather hard to resist when he wants something badly."

  "That I can well imagine!" Jane retorted. "Don't get me wrong. Frank and I were delighted that he was interested in you. It's high time you came out of your shell. But we thought he'd have sense enough to court you slowly and carefully, the way you deserve to be courted. We were even betting that it would be the end of summer before he broke through that wall of reserve. And then probably several months more before things started getting serious between you two. Now this! I tell you, Katy, it looks to me as though you've been bulldozed into something against your will, and I don't like it! Not one bit!"

  Katy's hand was trembling as she placed the last dish in the drain rack, and Jane pounced on the betraying reaction like a cat on a mouse.

  "Ah-ha! Look at that!" she cried triumphantly, as Katy plunged her hand back into the sudsy water. "Your nerves are as tight as a fiddle string. Don't tell me that's a normal reaction for a radiantly happy bride-to-be, because I'm not buying it."

  Jane hung her dish towel on the rack at the end of the counter, then turned to face Katy with her hands planted firmly on her hips. "Now, I want to know what's going on. You're my friend, Katy, and I don't want to see you hurt. And I can tell you, I'm picking up some very peculiar vibrations."

  Sighing, Katy dried her hands on a paper towel and turned to meet her friend's demanding stare. She should have known she couldn't fool Jane. Why had she even bothered to try? Jane was very sensitive. She had an instinct about people, especially those to whom she was close. There was nothing else to do but tell her the truth, and that meant starting at the beginning, three years ago. It seemed incredible that the secret she had kept locked inside her for so long was about to be told again, for the second time in the space of just a few days. But, somehow, strangely, it didn't seem to matter anymore.

  "All right, Jane. I'll tell you." Katy walked across the room, sank down onto the couch, and motioned for the other woman to join her. "It's rather a long story, so you'd better have a seat."

  "Sounds ominous," Jane said, as she curled herself into the opposite comer of the couch. The bristling aggression slowly drained from her as her gaze probed Katy's pale face. Leaning back against the armrest, Jane watched worriedly as Katy struggled to get the words out.

  At last she began, slowly and hesitantly, her voice barely more than a whisper, her throat aching. Katy kept her head lowered, her eyes trained on her hands as she began to recite the horrifying story. Several times she had to pause to gather her composure, but she told it all. Forcing the words out in a flat, dull monotone, she described the attack, her father's timely arrival, Henry Barnett's threat, even her own withdrawal into emotional numbness. Then, with the worst behind, her voice grew stronger as she told of Trace's relentl
ess pursuit, her father's desperate action, and, finally, of the incredible proposal.

  The air was heavy with emotion when the strained narrative ended, her words vibrating in the deathly silence. The tension was suffocating. Katy's chest was so tight it hurt to breathe. Finally, gathering her courage, she looked up and found that Jane was staring at her with anguished brown eyes, her cheeks wet with unchecked tears.

  "Oh, Katy," she choked out, and in the next instant moved across the empty cushion to clasp the younger girl in her arms. "Katy, dearest, why didn't you tell me before? I knew something was wrong, but I never dreamed . . . Oh, God! Katy!"

  "I—I just couldn't."

  "Mmmm, it took someone as determined as Trace to pry it out of you. And thank God he did!" she declared fervently. "I take back all the things I said about him. My opinion of that man has just gone up like a rocket."

  Katy pulled back and looked at her friend. Her eyes were wide with surprise. "Just a few minutes ago you were ranting about this sudden engagement. Now you sound as though you approve."

  "Now that I know the whole story, I do. Whole-heartedly!" She smiled and reached up to brush a stray curl away from Katy's face. "Katy, love, if you haven't gotten over the trauma of it in three years, you're not ever going to. Not by yourself, anyway. You need someone gentle and patient to teach you about love, the way it should be. Someone who cares for you deeply. From what you've just told me, I'd say that Trace is that man."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

  The deep, masculine voice came as a complete surprise to the two women, and both jumped in alarm. Katy whirled around, her eyes widening.

  "Trace! What are you doing here?"

  "We were going to shop for an engagement ring today. Remember?"

  "I thought we were going to do that this evening. After 1 finish work."

  "The stores will be closed by then, love. Or had you forgotten?"

  She hadn't. In fact, she had been counting on it. Buying an engagement ring made it seem so official, so final. She had been hoping to delay the purchase for a day or two, to give herself a chance to get used to the idea. From the sardonic amusement in Trace's expression, she was fairly sure he had known exactly what she was up to.

  A warm blush started at the base of her throat and surged upward. "Trace, I don't think I'd . . ."

  He stepped forward and took hold of her hand, drawing her to her feet in one smooth motion. When she was standing he dropped his arm across her shoulders and smiled down at her. "I doubt very much if your boss would begrudge you an hour or so to shop for your engagement ring." His persuasive gaze switched to the petite woman on the couch. "Would you, Mrs. Cawley?"

  "Of course not. And, please, do call me Jane," she replied instantly. "You couldn't have chosen a better time, as a matter of fact. We just put all the little angels down for their afternoon nap. It will be another hour or so before the organized chaos starts again."

  "Good. That should give us plenty of time. Thanks, Jane." Trace turned Katy toward the door and urged her forward.

  During the ride to the jewelers, Katy sat rigid and silent. Every cell in her body was quivering with tension. This was the first time she had been alone with Trace since accepting his proposal, and the enormity of her decision had suddenly begun to overwhelm her. The rest of her life. She had committed herself to this man for the rest of her life!

  She slanted him a wary glance from beneath her lashes. Today he was dressed in an impeccable light gray suit, teamed with a dazzling white shirt and a gray and wine striped tie. Evidently he thought the occasion warranted a certain degree of formality. Ruefully, Katy glanced down at her own simple black and white, geometric-patterned sundress with its short, white jacket. She felt positively dowdy by comparison.

  As if he were a magnet, her eyes were drawn to him again and again. He looked exceptionally handsome, Katy had to admit. But not even the sophisticated elegance of his attire could conceal the leashed power in that long, lean body or the sheer virility that radiated from him. Just being near Trace made her uneasy. He was so ... so rawly male,

  A shiver rippled through her like an icy wave. What if her father were wrong? What if Trace couldn't be trusted? The dreaded fear began to unfurl itself deep inside her, and Katy felt suddenly cold and clammy. Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths and forced down the panic that threatened to consume her. No! No, she wouldn't think like that. Her father was a good judge of character, wasn't he. And so far, Trace's behavior had been exemplary.

  The night before, when she had told him she would marry him, his eyes had flared hotly with some dark, intense emotion, but it had been only a fleeting reaction that had faded before she'd had a chance to become frightened. Surprisingly, he had only smiled that slow, heart-stopping smile and said softly, "Thank you, Katy. I promise you won't regret it." Other than giving her one, brief kiss on the cheek, he had made no attempt to touch her.

  Determined to live up to her end of the bargain, Katy clamped down on her rising panic. Her resolve wavered slightly when, a short while later, Trace slipped the stunning marquise-cut diamond solitaire on her finger. The unaccustomed weight of the ring and the blatantly possessive look in Trace's eyes brought back some of her doubts. Katy's heart began to beat with a slow thud. Things were moving too fast. For a hysterical moment she actually considered running for the nearest exit.

  As though sensing her thoughts, Trace placed his hand under her chin and tipped her face up. She knew her fears were visible in her eyes, but instead of becoming angry or impatient, he sent her a smile of such tender compassion that her heart gave a queer little jerk.

  "It's too late for second thoughts, darling. If our jeweler friend hasn't already spread the word, I'm sure the newspaper staff has. You see, I called this morning to have a formal announcement placed in the paper. Besides that, there are several other very good reasons for rushing," he informed her, smiling indulgently into her wary eyes. "Not the least of which, I'll admit, is the fact that I am very anxious to make you my wife. But there's something else, too, something you said the other day that made me realize it would be best if I made my intentions clear."

  "Something I said?"

  "Yes. Katy, I'm well aware of my reputation in this town, especially where women are concerned. I don't want anyone to have any doubts about my feelings for you, or what your position is in my life. For that reason I want this engagement made public as soon as possible."

  No matter how hard she tried, Katy could not suppress the warm glow Trace's words had brought. It stayed with her all the way back to the nursery school. It also perplexed her. Why should it please her so much that he obviously cared for her and wanted the whole world to know? It was a difficult question, one that made Katy feel uneasy and somewhat guilty.

  Now that she had committed herself and had begun to accept the situation, she realized that their arrangement was actually very one-sided. Trace was being extremely patient and understanding and receiving little in return. In all honesty, she had entered into the bargain with her eyes wide open and really had no cause for complaint. She had given her word and accepted him on his terms, and she might as well make the best of it. It would be pointless not to.

  With that decision firmly in mind, she made no protest when Trace accepted Jane's invitation to dinner that night.

  ❧

  They arrived at the Cawleys' front door promptly at eight, to the sound of heavy, discordant rock music issuing from the house at a volume that threatened to shatter the walls. Darting Trace an uncertain glance, Katy reached out to ring the doorbell. The melodious chimes didn't make a dent in the orchestrated bombardment.

  Amusement crinkled Trace's eyes. "I think a firmer approach is called for." He practically shouted the words in her ear while reaching around her to pound on the door with the side of his balled fist.

  A moment later it was opened, and Frank grimaced apologetically as he motioned them in. Miming for them to follow, he marched into the room wher
e Jason and John lay sprawled on the floor in front of the stereo and turned the volume down.

  "Hey! What did you do that for!" they squawked in unison, turning identical, outraged faces toward their father.

  "I don't think our guests would care to go deaf before dinner," Frank replied with a complete lack of concern. "If you two think you can manage a vertical position for five minutes I'd like you to meet Katy's fiance. Trace, these two juvenile delinquents are our sons, Jason and John. Boys, meet Trace Barnett."

  "Trace Barnett!" they squeaked together. "You mean the guy who owns Green Meadows Farm?"

  '"Fraid so," Trace admitted laconically.

  They stared at him for a moment, goggle-eyed, then Jason gave Katy a broad wink and nudged his brother in the ribs. "Boy, I'll say one thing for you, Katy"—he snickered—"when you do something, you do it up brown."

  Katy was spared the necessity of answering that because Jane walked into the room, followed closely by Martha.

  The Cawleys' eldest was dressed in purple jeans and a pink T-shirt. The lurid message scrawled across her breasts made Katy do a quick double take, then hurriedly turn away, her cheeks a bright pink. She was profoundly glad when the girl sailed right on past them.

  "Sorry. Can't stop to chat now," she called over her shoulder, taking the stairs two at a time. "My date will be here any minute."

  Jane's mouth twitched. "Revolting, isn't it."

  "Absolutely," Katy agreed, rolling her eyes.

  Jane laughed, then switched her attention to the man at Katy's side. "Don't panic, Trace. I guarantee it won't be like this all evening."

  "That's right." Frank added his assurances. "Tweedledum and Tweedledee here are going to the movies, and Martha is going out with her latest heartthrob."

  "Heartthrob! Yuck! That word went out with the biplane," John groaned. He clutched his stomach and staggered toward the door. "I think I'm gonna be sick!"

  "Yeah, me too," Jason agreed as he trailed after him. "And the only cure for it is a giant box of popcorn and a root beer."