The Wedding Countdown. Barbara HannayЧитать онлайн книгу.

      CHAPTER THREE

      THREE days to go…

      In the early hours, Tessa eventually fell into a deep, troubled sleep and didn’t wake until footsteps in the corridor outside her room stirred her. She woke up slowly and then—slam—she remembered the previous night. And Isaac. She groaned and pulled the pillow over her head.

      She didn’t want to face the day.

      But, she consoled herself, it was already Wednesday, and there were only three days left till her wedding day. Closing her eyes, she was suddenly grateful for all her mother’s big plans. With so many details to attend to she shouldn’t need to see much of Isaac. Tomorrow the preschool would close for the end of semester holiday, and in the evening a rehearsal of the ceremony had been arranged for the wedding party. Friday would no doubt be spent frantically supervising last-minute preparations. And Saturday was her wedding day.

      Tessa hugged the pillow tightly to her chest. She only had to survive for a little longer. Then she would be married to Paul and she could put Isaac out of her mind. Forever.

      There was a tap on her door. It opened gently, and her father stepped into the room. ‘I’m off to do some hospital rounds before surgery starts. Just brought you a cuppa.’

      ‘Oh, Dad, how lovely. Thank you.’

      John Morrow placed the cup and saucer carefully on her bedside table. ‘How are you feeling this morning, possum?’

      ‘Fine,’ she lied.

      ‘You needed a good night’s sleep.’ Her father leant down and kissed Tessa’s cheek. Then he straightened and looked at her thoughtfully. His eyes, the clear blue that she’d inherited, were narrowed slightly behind his spectacles.

      Tessa returned his gaze but could think of nothing to say. Her father loved Isaac, too. He was delighted to have him back—but for him there were no complications.

      As if he guessed the direction of her thoughts, Dr. Morrow spoke. ‘Isaac’s been up for hours, roaming with that dog of his on the hill, I think. I’ve told your mother to let him know he’s welcome to go sailing if he wants to. There’s a good south-easterly forecast for today, and Antares needs a run.’

      Tessa nodded. ‘He’d like that, I’m sure.’ She was relieved when her father left after giving her hair a quick ruffle. She reminded herself once more of her task for the next three days—to simply survive and to get herself safely married to Paul Hammond.

      But there was nothing simple about survival, she realised as, after showering and dressing for work, she discovered Isaac, dressed in a skimpy athletics singlet and shorts, tucking into a huge bowl of tropical fruit and muesli at the breakfast table. Her appetite dwindled at the sight of him sitting there as if he belonged, just as he had through all her teenage years.

      It was dangerously like the morning she’d first realised she was in love with him.

      It had happened at breakfast one morning when she’d looked up sleepily from her cereal and toast. He’d grinned at her, and then unexpectedly his dark eyes had flared with black heat as they slid to the pale skin of her shoulder and the tops of her ripening breasts, inadvertently exposed when her thin cotton nightdress slipped sideways.

      And in a heartbeat, she’d responded to that look, her senses leaping to an entirely new level of awareness. With a sudden clarity of vision, she had understood the secret messages his eyes signalled. And just as suddenly, Tessa realised that this young person she lived with was a magnificent specimen of masculinity. How was it that until then she had never really appreciated the breadth of his shoulders, the sculpted muscles, the strength in his brown hands and the sweet, secretive depths of his eyes?

      It was if she’d entered another level of existence. And it was shortly after that morning that Rosalind insisted she must no longer stumble out to breakfast in her nightdress.

      ‘I’d forgotten the taste of a perfect tropical pawpaw,’ Isaac commented as she edged shakily into a seat at the far side of the table.

      ‘They’ve been superb lately,’ Tessa muttered, her stomach quaking all over again at his early morning appearance. There was no doubt about it, her impression last night had been quite correct. He was a downright male miracle.

      ‘What time do you usually leave for work?’ he asked.

      ‘Oh, er, eight o’clock,’ she stammered.

      ‘Then you’d better eat up. It’s almost that now.’

      ‘I don’t think I can face breakfast this morning. I’ll just have a coffee,’ she said, reaching for the pot.

      ‘Tess, you know that’s very foolish. No wonder people are worried you’ll keel over at the drop of a hat. Here, at least have half my toast.’ He took a slice of wholemeal toast, spread it with marmalade, cut half for himself and held the other half out to her. And he smiled a warm smile that mesmerised her with bewildering ease. ‘That’s better,’ he said as she bit into the crust, her eyes still held by his. Then, flipping a set of car keys onto the table, he told her, ‘I’m to be your chauffeur, so let me know when you’re ready.’

      The absurd spell was broken. ‘My chauffeur?’ She shook her head. ‘But that’s ridiculous. I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. It’s totally unnecessary!’

      ‘I’m afraid it is quite necessary. Rosalind’s busy, John’s already left, and you’re not to drive because of your, er, condition. I’m afraid I’m your only hope.’

      ‘My condition? What nonsense.’

      ‘I guess it must be a pain in the neck to be ordered not to drive, but that’s your father’s strict instruction. I’ve heard it from both him and from Rosalind.’ He was smiling as he looked at her, his eyes alight and teasing, but the next minute, Tessa wondered if it were bravado. Quite suddenly Isaac frowned, and his relaxed manner evaporated while his eyes darkened and his face grew taut. ‘Tess,’ he began, and then paused, his throat working as he clenched and unclenched his fists. ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’

      ‘For heaven’s sake, Isaac!’ Tessa’s cheeks flared. ‘What on earth makes you ask that?’

      ‘It’s just that everyone’s treating you like you’re so damned delicate.’

      ‘Of course I’m not pregnant. That’s impossi—’ She bit her tongue so hard it hurt. There was no way she wanted Isaac to know the intimate secrets of her demure relationship with Paul. Of course, there was nothing wrong with their love life. Surely it was possible for a successful marriage to grow from a relationship that started with limited physical desire. All that came later…when necessary. But she wouldn’t expect Isaac to understand such things. He was an animal when it came to passion. She could never imagine behaving with Paul as she had with Isaac.

      And that was just as well! What she needed was a calm, sedate life. She’d had enough turmoil to last her the rest of her days.

      But it wasn’t going to get any better just