The Secret Love-Child. Miranda Lee

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СКАЧАТЬ are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were going to stay in your father’s old fishing cabin up on Lake Macquarie for the whole weekend.’ And do some proper grieving, Isabel had hoped. The poor darling had to have been through hell this past fortnight since his parents’ tragic deaths. Yet he’d been so brave about it all. And so strong.

      ‘The cabin wasn’t there any more,’ he said. ‘It had been torn down a few years before.’

      ‘Oh, what a shame,’ she murmured. But it explained why he was looking so disconsolate. ‘So where did you stay last night? In a motel? Or a tent?’ she added, hoping to jolly him up with a dab of humour.

      ‘No.’ He didn’t crack even the smallest of smiles. ‘Dad had built a brand-new weekender on the same site. I stayed there.’

      ‘But…’ Isabel frowned. ‘How did you get in? You didn’t break in, did you?’

      ‘No. There was a girl staying there for the weekend and she let me in.’

      Isabel was taken aback. ‘And she let you sleep the night?’

      Luke sighed. ‘It’s a long story, Isabel. I think we’d better go inside and sit down while I tell it to you.’

      She tried not to panic. ‘Luke, you’re worrying me.’

      When he took her arm and propelled her over to the front gate, she pulled out of his grip and lanced him with alarmed eyes. ‘You’re not going ahead with the wedding, are you?’

      Isabel waited in an agony of anxiety for him to speak.

      ‘No,’ he finally answered, his expression grim. ‘No, I’m not.’

      CHAPTER THREE

      ISABEL stared at him, aghast. ‘Oh, no. No, Luke, don’t do this to me!’ Bursting into tears, she buried her stricken face in her hands.

      ‘I’m so sorry, Isabel,’ Luke said softly as he tried to take her into his arms.

      ‘But why?’ she wailed, gripping the lapels of his suit jacket and shaking them.

      His eyes held apology. ‘I’ve fallen in love.’

      ‘Fallen in love!’ she gasped. ‘In less than a day?’

      ‘No one is more surprised than me, I can tell you. But it’s true. I came back straight away to tell you, and to call our wedding off.’

      ‘But love’s no guarantee of happiness, Luke,’ she argued in desperation. ‘I thought we agreed on that. It traps and tricks you. It really is blind. This girl you’ve supposedly fallen in love with—how do you know she’ll be good for you? How do you know she won’t make you miserable? You can’t possibly know her real character, not this quickly. She could be playing a part for you, pretending to be something she’s not. She might be a really bad person. A gold-digger, perhaps. A…a criminal even!’

      ‘She’s not any of those things,’ he returned, looking shocked by her arguments. ‘She’s a good person. I just know it.’

      Isabel shook her head. One day! One miserable day! How could he know anything for sure? ‘I would never have believed you could be so naïve,’ she pronounced angrily. ‘A man like you!’

      ‘I’m not naïve,’ he denied. ‘Which is why I’m not rushing into anything. But I can’t marry you, Isabel, feeling as I do about Celia. Surely you can see that.’

      Isabel was not in the mood to see anything of the kind. She wanted to cry some more. And to scream. She’d been so close to having her dream come true. So darned close!

      ‘Maybe I do and maybe I don’t,’ she grumbled, letting his lapels go. ‘I’d still marry you. I haven’t much time for the highly overrated state of being in love.’

      And she’d thought he felt the same way.

      ‘Maybe that’s because you’ve never really been in love,’ Luke said.

      Isabel’s laugh was tinged with bitterness. ‘I’m an expert in the subject. But that’s all right. You’ll live and learn, Luke Freeman, and when you do, give me a call. Meanwhile, let’s go inside, as you said. I need a drink. Not tea or coffee. Something much stronger. Dad still has some of the malt whisky I gave him for his birthday. That should do the trick.’

      Isabel let herself into the house, Luke following.

      ‘But you don’t drink Scotch,’ he pointed out with a frown in his voice.

      ‘Aah, but I do,’ she threw over her shoulder at him as she strode into her parents’ lounge room, heading straight for the drinks cabinet in the corner. ‘When the occasion calls for it,’ she added, pouring herself half a glassful. ‘Which is now. Today. This very second.’

      She knocked back half of it, steadfastly refusing to shudder like some simpering female fool while it burnt a red-hot path down her throat. ‘Ahh,’ she said with a lip-smacking sigh of satisfaction once it reached its destination. ‘That hits the spot. You want one?’ she asked Luke, but he shook his head.

      Swirling the amber liquid in her glass, she walked over and settled in one of her mother’s large comfy armchairs, her feet curled up under her. Hooking her hair behind her ear with her left hand, she lifted the whisky to her lips and took another deep swallow. She glanced over at Luke, who was still standing near the doorway, looking startled by her behaviour.

      Isabel supposed she wasn’t living up to the image he obviously had of her. Up till today it had been easy to play the role of the super-serene, super-sensible fiancée who was never fazed or upset by anything he did. Because he’d never done anything to really upset her.

      Clearly, he didn’t know what to make of her as her real self, instead of Lady Isabel, the unflappable.

      But did he honestly think he could roll up and tell her their wedding was off at this late stage with no trouble at all? Did he imagine she wouldn’t be hurt by his obviously being unfaithful to her last night?

      The realisation that she had been mentally unfaithful to him today tempered her inner fury somewhat, and brought some sympathy and understanding for Luke’s actions. Marriages made with the head and not the heart might have worked in the past, she appreciated. But in this modern day and age, with all the abounding sexual temptations, such a union was a disaster waiting to happen.

      Still, she would be surprised if it was true love compelling Luke to do this. More likely that good deceiver lust!

      ‘I suppose she’s beautiful, this Celia,’ she said drily.

      ‘I think so.’ Luke finally sat down as well.

      ‘What does she do?’

      ‘She’s a physiotherapist.’

      A physiotherapist. Not only beautiful but clever and educated as well.

      Isabel hadn’t embraced tertiary studies after leaving high school. Her exam results hadn’t been good enough. Oh, she wasn’t dumb, just not focused on her school work. She’d been far too interested in boys at the time, much to her СКАЧАТЬ