The Gentle Wind's Caress (14 page)

It annoyed her that her body reacted to his presence. She craved his smile like a drowning man needing air. She knew with every look and word that he was simply waiting for her to surrender to their attraction. Every fibre of her being wanted to. She physically ached to touch him, but what would it achieve? Once she started down that road there would be no turning back.

‘Ho there, Missus. We’re looking for Meadow Farm.’

Isabelle looked up at the stranger and the boy that walked through the gates. Each wore the haggard look of beggars. Their clothes hung loose, were torn and dirty. She frowned, glancing between the man and the boy. The man’s lanky frame and the way he strutted towards her, as though he owned the place were vaguely familiar. He had an air of confidence, as though he led a charmed life, when in fact, his appearance showed the opposite. Some instinct made her grip the rake and bring it against her chest in a gesture of protectiveness against the fragile organ that was her heart.

He stopped a few yards away and studied her while slowly lowering his canvas bag to the ground. ‘Looks like I find it then. I would know you anywhere, despite the fact you are now a woman grown.’

Isabelle lifted her chin forcing herself not to show her trembling. A mixture of rage and longing warred within her, frightening in its intensity.

Deep creases fanned from the corner of his eyes. His face was the colour of old leather, but his pale blue eyes were still as striking as she remembered.
Her eyes
.

‘No welcome, my Belle?’

He had been the first to shorten her name. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them away preferring the anger that quickly replaced her heart’s first leap of joy. ‘You deserve nothing from me. You relinquished that right eight years ago.’

He looked around the yard, his eyes searching. She noticed a tension had entered his body contradicting the lazy smile he wore.

‘Looking for someone?’ She sneered, wanting to brandish the rake over her father’s head.

He snapped his attention back to her and gave her the indolent smile that had made all the females in the household weak at the knees. ‘I called in at the rectory. Some woman told me that your grandfather had died.’

‘What else did she tell you?’

‘She didn’t know what happened to you all, but she said that a girl by the name of Gibson had been married not so long ago to a Len Farrell of Meadow Farm. She had to copy the record in the register. It’s a job she does every so often apparently.’ He shrugged and again searched the yard. ‘I was buying the boy something to eat and got talking to a fellow near the Piece Hall. He knew of Len Farrell and told me where the farm was.’ He looked back at her. ‘So here I am.’

‘Here you are.’ Isabelle echoed. Her anger disappeared, leaving her wrung out like a wet dishcloth.

‘Where are they?’

Her face hardened, resentment mingled with pain. ‘Who? Your family? The wife and children you abandoned?’

‘Belle-’

She gave a derisive snort.

He placed his hands out to her as in offering, but he had nothing to give her now. She wanted nothing from him. Not anymore. Once, a lifetime ago, she had been proud of Aaron Gibson, her tall, strong father. A man who was friends with every one. A man who was loved by all for his easy going charm and quick wit. Her knight. The one who dried her eyes when she fell from climbing a forbidden tree. The one whose arms held her tight when storms raged outside. Then he had gone. He walked away from her, from them all. She woke one day to hear her mother crying softly and Sally whispering that he would come back, he would come back.

She stared at her father and saw him properly for the first time for what he was. A weak man. Someone pathetic, past his prime and now looking for a family that didn’t exist. For a second she felt sorry for him before coldness numbed her heart. He no longer had the power to hurt her. She simply didn’t care.

Isabelle leant the rake against the house wall and, gathering up her skirts, stepped over the uneven grass and weed clumps. She walked around the side of the house and towards the sheds. After a moment’s hesitation, he joined her with the boy silently walking behind.

Concentrating on the boy for the first time, Isabelle noted he must only be about five years old. His legs and arms were as thin as sticks. As if sensing her appraisal the boy looked up. His pale blue eyes locked with hers. Her father’s eyes.
Her eyes
. Shocked, she stumbled. ‘Who is he?’

Her father ruffled the boy’s black hair. ‘Bertie. My son.’

Sudden anger rose in her chest. ‘Your son?’

‘Yes, and your half-brother.’

She closed her eyes momentarily and then walked on.
I can’t deal with this.

The sound of splitting wood came from the first shed. Her step faltered. She didn’t want Hughie to be hurt, but she was powerless to stop him from meeting their father now. Besides, she knew that if she turned their father away without Hughie meeting him first, he would never forgive her. Hughie’s soft heart still worshipped the man that left them for adventures unknown.

‘Hughie.’ Her voice croaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Hughie, love.’

‘Yes?’ His voice carried out to her from within the shed.

‘Can you come out here for a minute?’

He stepped out and glanced from her to the strangers. He dipped his head. ‘Good day.’

Isabelle took Hughie’s hand. She turned to stand beside him and together they looked at the man and small boy. ‘Hughie, do you remember this man?’

He scratched his cheek. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘This is the man you’ve often wondered about. Aaron Gibson.’

‘Gibson?’

She squeezed his hand. ‘Our father.’

Hughie jerked as if struck. His eyes grew wide.

Isabelle gripped his arm, pulling him closer. ‘It’s all right, dearest.’

Their father stepped forward. ‘You look well, son. All grown up.’

Hughie dragged his eyes away from him to stare at the boy.

Aaron thrust the boy in front of him. ‘This is your brother, Bertie.’

‘Shall we go inside?’ Isabelle waved her hand in the direction of the house, hating the frozen look on Hughie’s face. How could their father do this to them? Returning after eight years as if nothing had happened. He was meant to look after them, that was his role within a family. Yet, being the selfish man he was, he’d turned his back on them so easily. Walked away from a loving wife and adoring children. Simply walked away.

Aaron cleared his throat. For once his nonchalant expression slipped and his Adam’s apple bobbed. ‘Where are your mother and Sally?’

Isabelle stared at him. Years of buried bitterness rose. Her lip curled back in hostility. ‘Dead. Both dead.’

***

Ethan rode up the beech lined drive, his mind on one issue only. Isabelle. The last two weeks of visiting her, helping her, gave him enormous satisfaction. Additionally, it confirmed his stance on the feelings they both shared. Oh, he knew she tried to hide her emotions, but he wasn’t fooled. She wanted him just as much as he desired her. His gut tightened at the thought of holding her, kissing her, loving her. As love her, he did. He made no apologies for it.

He rounded the corner and Bracken Hall loomed before him. In front of the sweep of steps leading to the double doors, a groom attended to a visitor’s horse as the man dismounted. Only one man wore such an odd hat. His sister sent many sketches of that man and his hat.

Ethan clicked his heels into Copper’s sides to quicken his pace. Closer they got, the wider his smile became. ‘Hamish MacGregor you old dog!’

The man in question spun around and grinned. ‘Ethan! You are a sight for sore eyes.’

Ethan dismounted in one fluid movement before throwing the reins to the groom and grabbing Hamish’s upper arms. ‘This is marvellous. Rachel’s letter told us you had left Australia and returned to Scotland.’

‘Indeed I did. Arrived back four months ago.’

‘Four months ago?’ He pretended to be shocked. ‘And this is the first visit we’ve had? Mama will not forgive you for leaving it so long.’

Hamish laughed. ‘Sorry, old friend, but business before pleasure and all that.’

Ethan leaned back to look at him better. ‘You look well. Despite the hat!’

‘I am. Very.’ Hamish took off his battered, wide-brimmed hat and twirled it on one finger, leaving his red hair askew. ‘Your sister, begged me to leave it behind when I left, but I simply could not. It’s been on my head every day for the last six years.’

‘Aye, it looks it, too.’ Ethan chuckled. ‘How is Rachel? Lord, I miss her, as does Mama.’

‘She was in the best of health when I left.’

‘John is looking after her for me then?’

Hamish laughed. ‘My brother adores his wife. Never fear about her welfare in that regard.’

Ethan chuckled. ‘I don’t. Besides, my sister can take care of herself. Perhaps I should concern myself over John?’

Hamish shook his head and grinned. ‘I’ve seen John tackle a wild bull and kill a deadly snake in one clean shot, but Rachel…. Well, let us just say that he’s putty in her hands.’

Ethan turned for the house. ‘Come in. Come in. We’ve much to talk about. I want to learn all about Australia and my sister’s new home. How long are you staying?’

‘Not long. I have to be on my way to Liverpool and then London. I’ve much to do in my time back home.’

They entered the drawing room and found it empty. Ethan went to the drinks cabinet and poured them both a brandy. ‘When do you return to Australia?’

Hamish sat at one end of a cream and green striped sofa. ‘Hopefully in twelve months. It could be more though. Depends, on Mother.’

‘How is she?’ Ethan handed him his drink.

‘Not well. She has missed both John and I these last few years since father died. The estate has fallen into disrepair. It is too much for her. I am trying to persuade her to move to Carlisle and be with my sister Joan, but she refuses.’

Ethan swirled his drink in his glass. ‘Difficult situation for you.’

‘Enough of me.’ Hamish sipped his drink. ‘What about you? Where is your delightful mother?’

Ethan looked through the doorway. ‘I believe she is out calling.’

‘And your wife.’

‘I neither know nor care.’ He swallowed the rest of his drink and returned to the cabinet for more. ‘I might as well tell you that soon my marriage will be no longer.’

Hamish spluttered and choked on his mouthful of brandy. ‘No more?’ he cried hoarsely.

‘I am to divorce Clarice.’

‘Good Lord. It’s as bad as that?’

Ethan nodded and sighed. ‘I have fallen in love with another, and I wish to be with her.’ He rubbed his eyes, suddenly tired. ‘It’s all such a mess really. Totally unexpected.’

‘Rachel has worried constantly ever since we left England. She knew you had made the wrong decision in marrying Clarice.’

‘I should have listened to her, but Father’s voice was stronger. My responsibility to the estate was more important than any of my needs at the time. After Father’s death, I focused only on the estate. The rest of my life remained dormant. Then I met Isabelle.’

Hamish crossed his legs and tapped the side of his glass softly. ‘Divorce is so untidy. There are always gossip and court hearings. Wrangling over money and property and the reasons why, etcetera.’

‘I have no choice. I have spent the last seven years living a half-life. I could be an old man before Clarice dies. I want children. I want to be happy. Naturally, I’d make certain that Clarice had everything she wanted.’

‘There is no hope between you and Clarice?’

‘Not at all.’ Ethan shuddered. ‘I don’t love or desire her. I never did. She feels the same as I do. Father wanted our union and I wanted the estate to prosper with Clarice’s dowry.’ He flopped down on his mother’s wing-backed chair. ‘For seven years the estate has been my life, my love.’

‘Is she worth it? This Isabelle?’

A tide of adoration enveloped Ethan like a soft warm embrace. ‘She is worth everything to me.’

Hamish raised his eyebrows. ‘I’ve never seen that expression on your face before, dear friend. She must be a Madonna?’ He grinned.

‘She is. She’s beautiful and clever and warm.’

‘Where does this wonderful woman reside?’ Hamish laughed. ‘She sounds so delightful I might marry her myself!’

Jumping to his feet, Ethan paced the room. The walls seemed to be closing in on him. He paused to stare unseeing out the window, and then turned. ‘She is married to a tenant of mine.’

Hamish jolted in surprise and twisted on his seat to gape at him. ‘Are you mad? A married woman? A working class married woman?’

Ethan lifted his chin, defiant and ready to argue. ‘Her status is of no importance to me.’

‘Good God man!’ Hamish leaped to his feet. ‘You are willing to sacrifice your family’s reputation and everything a divorce entails for such a woman?’

‘You don’t understand-’

‘I understand you have lost your mind!’