Ghost Gum Valley (46 page)

What the hell is happening? I've practised every trick in the art of seduction. Bedded voluptuous, sensual women. Why
her
for God's sake? Why do I feel I'm beginning to melt when she looks at me? Those speaking eyes of hers. What's wrong with me? It's almost enough to make a bloke believe in witchcraft.

Marmaduke was jolted by such an appalling thought that he jerked the stallion to a sudden halt.

God forbid! Am I falling in love?

The wind carried the distant cry of a female voice calling his name. Marmaduke turned in the direction of the house.

And there she was. Isabel. Running awkwardly towards him down the pebbled avenue. One hand clutched the tail end of a shawl flying behind her, the other hand waved a piece of paper. Marmaduke hid a smile at the sight of her, like a runaway schoolgirl, her ragged hair blowing around her angry face. He felt a glow of satisfaction to
have broken through her cool good manners. As she drew closer it was obvious she had dressed in such haste the buttons of her bodice were wrongly fastened and her petticoat was at half mast, the folds of her skirt whipped by the wind so they outlined the long slender lines of her legs. She looked as sweet and wanton as some English milkmaid.

But I'm not moving an inch, girl. You will come to me!

She was breathless when she finally drew level with him. When she stabbed a finger in the air at him he saw she was trembling. He was on the point of an apology until she opened her mouth.

‘Is this the way an Australian husband treats his bride? You just ride off to Sydney Town without a word and leave me to be humiliated, having to hear it from a servant. What's wrong with you? Why are you leaving me here?'

‘Good morning,' Marmaduke said calmly, smothering the smile he knew would antagonise her. ‘I see Bridget gave you my message. The fact is I only received Edwin's missive by courier at dawn. No time to brief you. I'll write you from Sydney when I know the full story. Edwin wouldn't waste my time so close to the handover of Mingaletta if it wasn't urgent. It has something to do with your Cousin Martha. Something of value.' He added casually, ‘I didn't want to worry you. You know how often couriers and mail coaches get bailed up by bushrangers.'

Marmaduke could see her anger beginning to deflate.

‘That's all you know about Martha?' she asked quietly. She lowered her eyes but not quickly enough to disguise her concern.

‘I swear on a stack of bibles.'

‘Well you might at least have had the courtesy to say goodbye.'

‘You were smiling so sweetly in your sleep that I didn't have the heart to kiss you awake.'

At the intimate inflection in his voice Isabel seemed caught off guard. She clutched her shawl around her, wincing as the wind stung her eyes.

‘Martha came to me in a dream last night. Wearing her bridal gown. Smiling. She looked younger, in perfect health. Just as I remembered seeing her for the first when I was a child.'

‘Perhaps she's sent you a wedding gift.'

She shook her head. ‘I think she came to say goodbye.'

He reached out to stroke her cheek but she pulled away and regained her composure.

‘I bid you a safe journey.'

He dismounted. ‘I'll take you back to the house. You're cold. Here, take my cloak.'

‘We
could
share it,' Isabel suggested.

He swirled his cloak like a matador's cape and drew it around her as her arm slipped around his waist. She looked up into his face with
that
expression he could never read. Was it concern for him or mere female curiosity? He was determined not to melt.

‘I was wondering...but no, I haven't the right to ask.'

‘You have every right,' he said quickly. ‘You are my wife. Ask me what you will and I'll always tell you the truth.'

‘Well, after you've met with Edwin in Sydney, will you...will you visit your new sweet lady?' Embarrassed, she added quickly, ‘I wouldn't try to stop you, of course.'

You're the only girl who could. If only my answer mattered enough to make you care.

Marmaduke gently lifted her chin with one finger and made her meet his eyes.

‘The truth is, I
must
,' he said.

Isabel fingered the lapel of his jacket, intent on brushing away non-existent dust.

‘I have no right to ask you because of our contract. But will you step through the mirror with her, as you did with me?'

Marmaduke felt a catch in his throat. ‘No. Only with you. What I have done with other women in the past was a mutual exchange of pleasure. I regret nothing. No love involved. No one was hurt. But you and I, we have found...something else. It isn't love, of course. Both of us are immune to that mirage, thank God. But it seems to me something has grown outside the bounds of our contract.'

‘Oh? So what happens to our contract?' she asked anxiously.

‘What say we tear it up?' he suggested. ‘Then begin again, very slowly. One step at a time. One simple kiss at a time.'

He whispered the last words in her hair, feeling absurdly desperate to kiss her mouth but knew he must wait for her answer.

‘There's no such thing as a simple kiss – they all lead to drowning.'

Oh God. Will she never be free of the spectre of that bloody beloved cousin?

He waited. At least she didn't pull away from him.

‘I don't know what to do, Marmaduke. I mean,
like that.
You know everything, I know nothing. All those weird illustrations that claim to be acts of love – they make me feel so awkward. Don't you understand? I can't compete with all your worldly sweet ladies. I promise you, I would disappoint you.'

‘Hush, sweetheart.
I'm
the one who should be afraid. You're not like any female I've ever taken to bed. Let's forget about the
Kama Sutra
. We don't need it. If you wish we could explore things together, gently. You don't have to
like
me, Isabel. But if you could bring yourself to trust me just enough to say the words, ‘I want you, Marmaduke', that's all I'd need. To take you with me on a journey to Paradise.'

‘Does Paradise exist on Earth? You seem so sure of yourself.'

‘I am. That isn't just male vanity. Believe me, making love is the one and only gift I possess. That moment when we “cheated death”, that was just the beginning. There's so much more I'd like to share with you.'

He traced the curve of her lower lip with his finger. ‘You want the truth, Isabel? You have done what no other woman has ever done to me.' Gently he took her hand and slipped it inside his shirt. ‘
You
have touched my heart.'

Isabel's mouth opened in surprise. He felt his heart beating wildly in the hope she would seek his mouth. Instead, she took a step back and said the words in a rush. ‘Perhaps when you return you could show me what it's like to be kissed in four places.'

Marmaduke almost laughed with relief.
Thank God for the
Kama Sutra!

He bowed politely. ‘My pleasure. The sooner I am gone, the sooner I will be on my way home to you.' He leapt into the saddle and hoisted her up behind him to ride pillion back to the house.

Marmaduke did not kiss her goodbye. They both knew it would not end at one kiss.

‘Travel safely,' she called from the porch. ‘If you're bailed up, don't play the hero. Give them whatever they ask.'

Marmaduke suddenly backed the stallion to the front steps. With a swift tug he tore his wedding ring from his finger, kissed it and thrust it into Isabel's hand.

‘This is the only thing of value I possess. Keep it safe for me.'

This time he galloped away and did not look back. He kept the image of those luminous green eyes before him, sure now that Isabel would remain watching him until he disappeared from sight.

This time I've got you hooked, girl.

The cabbage tree palms seemed to have doubled their height in the months since he had last visited the Bentleigh home at Woolloomooloo. Today everything in the landscape looked bolder, brighter and newborn.

Edwin greeted him warmly, clearly pleased to see him but appearing preoccupied.

‘Forgive me, my friend, but the world has been tilted on its axis in recent weeks – both your world and mine. First, allow me to clarify my urgent message. I have received a letter from London from the de Rolland family's lawyers informing us of the death of Isabel's cousin Martha, the deceased wife of our old adversary Silas de Rolland.'

‘Isabel loved her. It seems Martha genuinely treated her like a daughter, unlike her husband.'

Edwin handed him a package. ‘You will see why I did not dare risk this falling into the hands of bushrangers. Martha de Rolland willed to Isabel a valuable piece of her own family's jewellery that she had evidently managed to hold in trust with Godfrey de Rolland, even when the family fortunes were at their lowest ebb. Or else her husband Silas would no doubt have sold it.'

Marmaduke held the diamond tiara in his hands and marvelled at its delicate beauty.

‘This is the genuine article, all right. Cleverly designed by a master craftsman. No hint of ostentation. And, yes, this centrepiece can be detached to wear as a brooch.'

Marmaduke replaced it in the velvet case. ‘You were right to keep it here. I'll have it secured in Josiah Mendoza's safe ready for Isabel
to wear to the Governor's Ball.' His voice took on an edge. ‘But this pretty inheritance comes with an implicit warning. Now the Will is read Silas will be free to sail down here and try to lay claim to Isabel.'

Edwin looked uncomfortable. ‘He may well already be on the high seas. Our London lawyers report he planned to sail from England shortly after the Will was read. He had long ago spent his wife's dowry. She had precious little to leave beyond this bequest to Isabel.'

Edwin added quickly, ‘But do not concern yourself unduly, my friend. You are legally Isabel's lord and master and I gather your bride is content to remain with you?'

‘Happy enough for now. But I've discovered the full extent of Silas de Rolland's manipulation.' He selected his words with care. ‘He's even worse than we knew. He abused Isabel's affections as a child. He'll stop at nothing. Keep me informed of his movements.'

‘Consider it done.' Edwin gave a discreet cough. ‘Now we must face the complex matter of the Gamble financial affairs. Your father's fortunes have taken a sharp turn. Good news and bad. This year has proved extraordinary in terms of finance and speculation. It is difficult to predict how it will all end. But land prices in the heart of Sydney have soared through the roof. Would you believe Wentworth sold one of his George Street properties for forty-five pounds per foot?'

‘If that's the bad news. What's the good news?'

‘That depends on how seriously your father values the wise counsel of his financial advisors. He certainly wouldn't listen to my advice. I am suspect as your friend. But I hear on good authority your esteemed father's title as a leading entrepreneur is shaky due to risky business ventures.'

Marmaduke knew his friend. Edwin hated to discuss others' finances when his own accounts trembled on the brink of the red. His mother owned this house but Edwin owned nothing outright apart from his horse. Although in great demand as a barrister, he was always short of money because he chose to represent so many prisoners who never paid his modest fees – due to poverty or being sentenced to swing on the scaffold for Green The Finisher.

Marmaduke took the warning seriously. ‘Let's not beat about the bush, mate. Are you telling me Garnet is heading for bankruptcy?'

‘When he bailed out Godfrey de Rolland from the threat of debtors' prison that alone didn't threaten to bankrupt him, but lately he's begun buying and selling properties wildly as if on a whim. Forgive me if I am totally blunt. Having been party to the intimate details of John Macarthur's tragic decline and the reduction of his merino wool empire, I must ask you if your father is in full command of his mental faculties.'

Marmaduke hesitated. ‘I don't actually know, mate. Garnet plays his cards so close to his chest I reckon God doesn't know what he's up to. He chides me for being a wastrel on one hand, yet is appalled at the idea of me engaging in trade which, as you know I am – with good old Mendoza as well as fingers in other pies. Now I'm responsible for supporting a wife I'm even more determined to be financially independent. But Garnet insists we live with him in that mausoleum of a house until the deeds are handed over. I reckon he'll keep stalling, so I won't wait any longer. I've come here to find an architect and a pattern for an Indian-style Colonial bungalow to rebuild on Mother's land.'

Edwin looked faintly surprised. ‘Marriage seems to have changed your plans.'