The Wedding Countdown. Barbara Hannay
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Paul’s eyes were a reflective, gentle grey. Isaac’s were black fire smouldering beneath brooding, dark brows. Just now, his eyes were shaded, but she caught the glint of heated ebony.
Her impulse came in a heartbeat. She rushed forward, hurtling across the deck, a small missile flying into his startled arms.
‘Isaac!’
After the countless hours she had idled away imagining their meeting and Isaac’s response, it was weird that now they were actually together again, her reaction was totally spontaneous, hopelessly unplanned.
And she gave herself no time to think of an aftermath. She simply buried herself into Isaac’s chest and waited for his strong arms to close around her and to hold her tightly to him as they had so often before in happier times.
She felt the violent tremor that shuddered through his lean body as she pressed against it. But no arms descended to enclose her as she waited there. And when she cautiously looked into his face, she caught a momentary flash of agony swiftly replaced by a shield of cold indifference.
He stiffened, as if repelled by her advance, and the tiny, impoverished spark of faith she’d never quite extinguished through all the long years since he’d left was snuffed in an instant.
‘Tessa, for heaven’s sake.’ Rosalind’s choked disapproval clanged in the air behind her.
She drew back, her hands falling lifeless to her sides. ‘Sorry,’ she said softly. ‘How…how are you, Isaac?’
‘I’m fighting fit,’ he replied, his eyes skittering ever so briefly over her hair, blond as ripe corn, her flushed face, simple blouse and slacks, then darting away to blink at the brick red bougainvillea, which hung from the trellis. ‘And how are you, Tessa?’
‘F-fine.’
‘Let me congratulate you.’ His eyes returned to her with lazy amusement, and he took her left hand, paying studious attention to her engagement ring. It was embarrassingly huge. An enormous emerald surrounded by brilliant diamonds. Tessa had always thought it too large and ostentatious for her fine bones, and because of her deep blue eyes, she hardly ever wore green, but Paul had been immensely proud of his selection.
As Isaac’s dark gaze rested on the ring, her pale hand trembled visibly within the heat of his sun-tanned grasp.
‘A fitting rock for the Queen of Castle Hill,’ he said coldly.
Tessa snatched her hand away as if he’d burnt her. Reality with all its glaring, hateful commonsense showed her clearly what she had always known in her heart of hearts. Of course Isaac hadn’t come back for her.
She had heard people throw away clichéd lines about moments of truth, but she had never realised what pain these moments represented.
If Isaac were oh so eager to see her again, he would never have stayed away so long in the first place. The accusations he’d flung at her the day he left were true. He despised her and everything she stood for. The very fact that he could come back now to watch coolly and dispassionately while she bound her heart and body to another man forever until parted by death meant that he felt no emotional ties whatsoever.
She knew it was ridiculous, but even as she stood there, angry at his easy rejection of her and still flushed with shame over her impetuous greeting, she was unable to drag her eyes away. They travelled restlessly, hungrily over his every feature while his gaze remained politely, icily remote.
At closer quarters, she sensed something about Isaac that was both as old and familiar as her memories of him and yet new and strange. It was as if he embodied a living contradiction. His dark, brooding eyes were shadowed by a weary sadness that suggested he’d been weighed down by too many harsh experiences. But beneath the stormy exterior there was something else, something sharp and expectant at his centre, something alert and waiting in his glittering gaze that made her think of the childish excitement of Christmas morning or the very first day of the long summer holidays.
She was startled when her father’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘Tessa, darling, isn’t this a wonderful surprise?’
She forced her lips to curve into a smile as she acknowledged her father’s presence nearby in a comfortable squatter’s chair. She crossed to him and bent to kiss his cheek. Like her fiancé, Paul Hammond, John Morrow was a kind and gentle man, if a little subservient to his wife. Tessa eyed her father fondly, remembering that it was Paul’s likeness to him that had helped her decide to accept his proposal of marriage. A lifetime with someone like Dad would be very pleasant.
She wanted to concur with her father’s pleasure in Isaac’s return, but the words wouldn’t form. Her mouth opened and then shut again. How could she possibly pretend to be pleased to see Isaac again? The wonderful surprise Dr. Morrow referred to had reverted to nightmare in the blink of a cold, indifferent eye.
But her father didn’t seem to notice her hesitancy. ‘Isaac’s done so well!’ He beamed at her. ‘He’s worked for a degree in mining engineering. He’s slogged away for years out in the Pilbara. And now he manages a huge—’
‘John,’ interrupted Rosalind. ‘Come and I’ll make you a cup of tea. There’s something I need to discuss with you.’
Tessa felt her mother’s eyes linger on her a shade too long. She could imagine the detailed discussion of her dizzy spell. Poor Dad.
But sympathy for her father swiftly evaporated as the Morrows walked into the house, leaving Tessa and Isaac alone on the deck.
CHAPTER TWO
TESSA spun away from Isaac. How on earth could she face him alone? If only she could run after her parents like a frightened child! Her shaking hands gripped the deck’s railing, and she forced her eyes to focus on the vista of rooftops and sea stretching below while she struggled to calm her rising panic. She took deep breaths, trying to think sensibly. Surely she’d faced the worst? Nothing could hurt her more than the monumental indifference of his cold greeting.
She flinched. How could she possibly have been so uncontrolled as to hurl herself at him like some immature groupie at a rock concert? Her ridiculous excitement at seeing Isaac had clearly embarrassed him. Of course he had stopped caring about her years ago.
‘The view is as beautiful as ever.’
His voice brought her swivelling to face him. He was standing some distance away, but to her surprise, his eyes seemed to be exploring every inch of her face, as if they were taking in each fine detail, so that she could have been forgiven for thinking that the view he referred to was of herself. Self-consciously, she brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, and his eyes followed her hand—her left hand with its large emerald. And once more his face grew grim and hard.
A ridiculous urge to slip the ring from her finger seized Tessa, but of course that would be unthinkable for all sorts of reasons. But, with a momentary flash of guilt, she couldn’t resist pushing her hand into the pocket of her slacks, hoping the gesture didn’t look as contrived as it felt.
‘I guess you’ve seen a great many places on your travels since you—you left,’ she offered with a tight smile. ‘How does this view compare with the rest of the world?’
Something resembling a smile flickered briefly at the corners of Isaac’s mouth, revealing a glint of white teeth against his tan. His eyes, smouldering with secret amusement, travelled over her again, very slowly this time, then deliberately held her gaze. ‘Oh, this view most surely holds its own,’ he said softly.
Tessa felt a betraying heat flush her cheeks. Her throat tightened painfully, and goose bumps prickled her arms. Their sudden advent had nothing to do with the brisk sea breeze, which lifted and teased her hair. His gaze unleashed a rush of heady memories. Dangerous memories. This was unbearable! Think of Paul, she urged herself. Focus on the wedding.
‘I—I still haven’t travelled very far,’ she said hoarsely, inching away from him.
Isaac