The Wedding Countdown. Barbara HannayЧитать онлайн книгу.
have been overseas—to Asia, Europe, the States.’
‘There’s certainly a lot that can be learned from travelling,’ Isaac replied, looking suddenly very serious, ‘but then again, travel isn’t always about distances covered—or sights seen.’ His voice grew unexpectedly husky. He shoved his large hands deep into his trouser pockets and leant against the rail next to her. Tessa’s gasp sounded as frantic as she felt. His voice, when he spoke again, was hardly more than a whisper. ‘The important journeys can be going on inside us even when we appear to be standing still.’
He was looking at her as if his penetrating dark gaze could see right inside her heart. But Tessa knew he would never in a million light-years be able to trace all the miserable emotional journeys she had made in the past nine years—all of them going round and round in circles. Every one of them beginning and ending with her feelings for him.
I would have gone anywhere with you, Isaac, she wanted to cry.
Then, aghast at the insistence of her repeatedly disloyal thoughts, she moved away from the heat of his gaze, her mind boiling. To cover her consternation, she made a desperate stab at flippancy.
‘You’re getting very deep for so early in a conversation. Has your afternoon with Dad left you in a philosophical mood?’
Isaac’s laugh sounded forced.
‘Perhaps.’ He took in a deep breath and stretched. His broad shoulders and chest expanded so that the loose cotton shirt lifted to reveal a tempting glimpse of smooth tanned flesh. Then he released his breath in a slumping sigh, and when Tessa lifted her gaze once more to his face, she wished she hadn’t.
Isaac was looking at her as if she’d fulfilled his worst expectations.
‘Of course,’ he said, his lips twisted in a mirthless smile, ‘I mustn’t forget that when I’m with Queen Tess, deep is dangerous. We must stay comfortably shallow, mustn’t we?’
Dismayed, she watched his face darken and his lips thin with bitterness until he looked as angry with her as he had on that horrible morning when he left. His sudden hostility baffled her now just as much as it had then.
On this very deck on a sultry November morning, over a breakfast neither of them had touched, he’d accused her of being shallow—of having all her middle-class values too firmly in place.
‘Of course you’re too fine a lady for a tramp who’s crawled out of the gutter,’ he’d stormed.
She shuddered as she remembered the accusations he’d hurled at her. In the midst of it all he’d called her a snob, and for the last time he’d labelled her Queen of Castle Hill. But it was the first time he’d made the name sound like an insult instead of a term of endearment.
She closed her eyes to stem the tide of burning tears that threatened. Now was certainly not the time to give in to the indulgence of hurtful indignation. ‘I don’t know about being shallow, but shouldn’t we be aiming for less stress in our lives?’ she asked lightly to cover her discomfort at the memories.
‘Of course.’ His shoulders moved in a scant shrug.
‘You know the way it goes? Don’t worry, be happy.’
‘So you’ve been relaxed and happy?’
‘As if you cared!’ she snapped. ‘You just walked off into the blue without giving me a second thought.’
Isaac’s eyes narrowed. His mouth thinned into another unhappy smile, and he shook his head.
‘You can’t deny it!’ she cried, her eyes bright with anger. Then before her courage drained away, she spoke the question uppermost in her mind. ‘Why have you come back, Isaac?’
But she didn’t get the answer she so desperately needed. The sudden loud, aggressive barking of a dog interrupted them. It was coming from somewhere on the footpath.
‘That sounds like Devil.’ Isaac strode quickly to the far end of the deck and, driven by curiosity, Tessa followed. By leaning over the deck’s railing, they could look down, past the side of the house, to the front footpath.
Isaac’s dog was straining at his leash, snarling and barking madly and trying desperately to leap over the edge of the utility. It seemed he wanted to attack someone on the footpath.
‘Devil, stop that! Down, boy!’ he called.
Devil! What an appropriate name for a hateful man’s dog, Tessa thought. Then she looked more closely at the cowering victim on the footpath.
‘Oh, good heavens. It’s Paul. Your dog’s after my fiancé,’ she cried.
Paul Hammond stood on the footpath, trying manfully to ignore the dog’s fury. At Isaac’s instruction, Devil stopped barking, but he still growled, his lip curled and his teeth bared.
‘Don’t touch Devil, he’s a one man dog,’ barked Isaac in a fierce imitation of the snarling animal.
‘I’ve no intention of touching him,’ Paul called. ‘I simply spoke to him.’
‘He’s trained to be a good watchdog,’ Isaac muttered, glaring at Paul with something close to malice.
Tessa felt compelled to defend her fiancé. ‘Come on up, Paul,’ she said. She turned to Isaac. ‘I hope your dog won’t attack all our visitors. Poor Paul—what an awful introduction for him.’
‘Poor Paul,’ repeated Isaac softly, ‘should know better than to approach strange dogs.’
Paul’s footsteps could be heard at the bottom of the stone steps leading from the side garden onto the deck.
‘I do hope you’ll be civilised and pleasant,’ muttered Tessa swiftly. ‘You remember Paul Hammond, of course. He lives in the split-level house on the corner, and he was a few years ahead of us at school.’
‘Oh, yes. I remember him,’ replied Isaac with a sickly smile. ‘He played the tuba in the school band, didn’t he? Is he still tubby?’
‘No. He certainly is not!’ retorted Tessa as her fiancé, looking only slightly flushed, reached the top of the steps and waved a greeting to them.
‘Darling,’ cried Tessa, running towards him. ‘I’m sorry about the rude reception. Just as well that brute was chained up.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about it.’ Paul smiled bravely before kissing Tessa neatly on the cheek. ‘For some reason the mutt just didn’t fancy me. He started growling when I was still metres away.’
Tessa suppressed any disloyal thoughts about animals and their reputed ability to judge character. ‘He’s obviously very badly trained,’ she retorted, glaring at Isaac and slipping her arm through Paul’s.
Paul looked pleased and patted her hand. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he began gallantly, but Tessa hurried on.
‘Let me introduce you to Isaac. You remember my foster brother.’
‘Isaac Masters? Good heavens! Is that who your visitor is? I couldn’t see from the footpath without my glasses.’
‘Been a long time,’ said Isaac, nodding curtly and stretching his hand in greeting.
‘He’s turned up unexpectedly,’ said Tessa, wishing that there were not so many factors she had to ignore all of a sudden. Paul’s hand looked so very pale and slight as Isaac’s tanned fingers grasped it in a strong grip, and his answering smile looked more like a grimace. But what bothered her especially was that Isaac seemed so relaxed and in control, when she felt as if her entire body was being pushed through a paper shredder.
She hated Isaac for looking so cool and unconcerned—for not caring that the girl he once promised to love forever was about to be married to someone else.
‘How are you, Paul?’ Isaac asked politely.
‘Never better, Zac,’ responded Paul rather loudly. He shot