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 nodded and smiled a little sadly as he looked out to sea. There was another awkward silence, and she wondered desperately what else they could talk about. ‘I guess I should have taken the opportunity to travel widely by now,’ she managed to say at last. ‘Most of my friends 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
