So Far Away
By
Beckers
**Chapter 4**
Isabelle Reed stood on the great ship, petite toes solid on the wooden planks underneath her dark boots. She leaned over the railing, staring thoughtfully into the murky water churning before the freighter, her mind deep in thought. She was leaving the only true home she ever had. She loved Matavai; its beauty and the freedom it afforded her. Isabelle also cherished her business and the challenges it presented. She wasn't certain what she would miss more, her horses or the people she had grown to care for. Most especially ... no. She would not dwell on him right now. Isabelle stood straight and closed her eyes, attempting to think of something less distracting. It wasn't working.
It had already taken more out of Miss Reed than she could ever imagine, watching him lay there this morning, so strikingly handsome and at peace, never knowing that she was silently dressing, pulling her bags from the room, abandoning him to his dreams. God, when she thought about the tenderness and delights they shared last night, of their profound joining, it was enough to make Isabelle shudder. It was easier leaving as she was, without a confrontation, because no matter what David Grief said or what he intended there was no way she could avoid an inevitable humiliation. Was she being a coward? Perhaps but how could she remain in a place that had witness her fail so miserably? And how could she face him again in the morning, after all that passed between them during the night, and tell David he had not changed her mind?
She loved Matavai and never dreamed of leaving yet she had to. It hated her. It disgraced her … and she had succumbed to its false promise of prosperity.
And David … It would be better for him to detest her, consider the woman a cold hearted witch, then for him to ever believe anything good could come from their affair. Isabelle, despite the gloom and depression permeating her soul, smiled at a memory. Before she left, she had kissed him on the cheek, careful not to wake the attractive Captain, then - just before the ship sailed - Isabelle had left that letter with the docking clerk. She could picture poor David reading it, his eyes igniting in both anger and betrayal, and Isabelle imagined him walking immediately to Lavinia's to get drunk. Over her? Probably not but one could fantasize.
"God, I've grown so decent." Isabelle whispered to the sea. There was a time in her life when she would have allowed a man, actually *anyone*, to help her out with as much money as they were willing to provide. As a matter of fact, with little dignity, she would laugh and kick her own pride in the face if it meant she could live the good life and walk, free from controversy, out into the sunshine. Isabelle had wanted nothing more than the power wealth presented, to wear pretty clothes and, perhaps, show off a diamond or two. Her greed knew no bounds.
However, that all changed when Marcel was murdered and she was shipped to Matavai. *He* came into her life. David Grief distorted everything, beating down her defenses and showing a former female gutter rat exactly what it was to have honor … and care ... and self restraint. He had practically forced respectability onto Isabelle and, for that, she was initially cynical then eventually obliged.
She closed her eyes once again in reflection. After their night together, when he had whispered those loving endearments into her ear, Isabelle knew what she had to do … and where the first place was Grief would look for her and … 'Why did I do it? Why did I leave him that damn letter?' She knew why. Despite everything, Isabelle could not leave Matavai with David thinking she did not care, believing that he and the time they spent together had meant nothing. That self-centered woman he met eighteen months ago wouldn't have cared but the new woman, the one he helped grow a heart, did not want to think about how he might suffer. Still, it probably would have been better if she *hadn't* written the letter, Isabelle reflected, but at least she told him what everyone already knew.
David Grief still loved Lavinia. When he made love to her last night, murmuring those words of worship and passion, he was actually seeing Lavinia's face and recalling the life they once shared. How else could he have made someone so undeserving feel so splendid? Only a man in love could do the things he did … and after all this time Captain Grief just could *not* be in love with Isabelle Reed. How could he, especially now, when she had so little to offer?
'I'm not that foolish.' Isabelle brooded. When it came down to a typical male perception, even from a man like David Grief, a woman like her was good for only one thing: An incredibly intense but gratifyingly brief fling. Isabelle herself had had enough of them to know when it was time to take her leave.
Yet, a man had never reached down so generously and expressively, so deeply inside of her, and touched emotions like David Grief had last night. What she had always suspected was true. He was an incredible lover and someone like Lavinia warranted such a man …"Captain Grief, you deserve happiness." Isabelle whispered, continuing to stare into the water. "And we never should have …" As wonderful as it was it never should have happened. He was supposed to be with Lavinia. They could live a very happy life together, bringing up beautiful children and planning an idyllic future … and if their passion was even a fraction of what she and David shared in a single night, they would both die immeasurably content. "Please be happy, David." Isabelle whispered again, miserable.
With a regretful sigh, Miss Reed backed away from the railing and attempted to shake away disheartening thoughts. With a deep, cleansing breath she tugged and straightened her white blouse. It was near feeding time for the horses, she knew. To keep her mind off of Grief and a more than uncertain future Isabelle decided to go below and help.
Besides, visiting Dante always lifted her spirits.
****
They were making excellent time.
Behind the wheel of The Rattler, David Grief looked out to the sea, gauging the weather and wind, then he glanced over his shoulder to where the sun was setting. They would sail into the Australian harbor by late tomorrow afternoon.
Below, Mauriri was cooking dinner. Grief could smell the aroma of pepper salmon and he was glad his partner had decided to go with him. It was at times like this that Grief realized just how lost he was when his best friend wasn't around to give him direction -- and cook. The dinners he and Isabelle had prepared in the belly of the ship were never as savory …
The smile left his lips the moment he thought about her. Once they arrived at their destination how was he was going to approach her? None of the women of his past had ever been this much trouble, Grief thought, then amended the muse when he recalled a certain dark haired monster that nearly destroyed him. But that had been an unreal time in his life, when all reason left him. However, here and now he was sane … and mostly sober.
With the sensation of fresh air and a spray of sea salt through his hair, buffeting against his red shirt, and dampening his skin, Captain David Grief once again rehearsed what he intended to say to Isabelle when they had their reunion.
***
"Stay still a you stupid little broom-tell! I'm boss here and if you don't watch your step, my girl, when we get home I'm telling your master to send you off for glue! "
Walking slowly down the steps into the cargo hold, lifting her dark blue skirt so as not to fall, Isabelle heard a loud whinny and the stomping of aggravated hooves. Her smooth brow gently furrowed when she heard the snap of a riding crop. The horse protested once again and Isabelle quickly marched to where she heard cursing and the obvious fear of an animal being unnecessarily abused.
She stood and watched as a man, possibly a worker from a privately owned stable but commissioned by the freight ship, roughly grasping the bridle of a light colored mare. He was jerking her head about, as he none too gently washed her neck with a tepid bucket of water and a wire brush that had seen its best days three years ago. He was rough, too rough, and a mare was objecting to his treatment of her.
"Stop that!"
The surprised worker stood to his impressive full height and turned his well muscled shoulders about to look at the comely young woman as she walked quickly and impetuously forward. "What's that you say?" he asked, a tired and slightly amused sound in his accented voice.
"This is no way to treat a horse." She objected, vehemently snapping the reins from the man's outstretched hands, "How would you like it if somebody tried to give you a bath in such a manner?"
"If it be someone as pretty as you," he leered in a less than gentlemanly manner, revealing a surprisingly nice set of white teeth. "I might like it quite a bit, missy."
Isabelle, knowing his type, rolled her eyes. She was not impressed with the cad's Irish accent or his ruggedly handsome features. Vulgar and obnoxious, Isabelle decided, and a peasant. Gently, she rubbed the horse's nose. The mare reach forward, obviously appreciating the woman's soft touch, and gently nuzzled Isabelle's cheek. "See, she's like any female. Be gentle with her and she may not stomp you to death."
Indifferent, he held out a hand. "Now, hows about you handing those reigns back to me. You let me do my job and you go about your business, M'queen."
"What's your name?" she asked, holding back until he answered.
"John O'Finney. And yours?" he asked, abruptly and with an odd confidence.
Isabelle slapped the reins in his hands but did not answer his question. Instead, she asked another, "Who owns these horses?"
"Most are owned by the bank." he said, turning from her and going back to work, "They will all be up for auction in a couple days. They'll be staying at the Wilke Ranch until then. As a matter of fact, some are already the property of Lord Henry Wilke."
"Lord Wilke from England?" Isabelle asked, curious.
"The same. He has a Winter home in Australia." O'Finney paused, looking at Isabelle, forming a conclusion, "Why, you interested in buying?"
"No, not exactly. But there are a couple geldings here that mean a lot to me. I want to see that they get a good home."
"Geldings you say?" He looked Isabelle up and down, pleased with his own wit. "I would never have pictured you as a woman with an interest in geldings." he said, rather lewdly.
"Idiot." Isabelle murmured quietly under her breath. Then, with an haughty turn said, "You just be good to these animals, Mr. O'Finney, or I'll report you to whoever is your master." Isabelle about faced and walked to where she knew Dante had been stalled. She could feel the man's eyes on her back.
She couldn't help being repulsed … and flattered.
***
((I know this chapter is a bit short but I needed it as a set up for what is to follow. I'll try to get Chapter 5 out ASAP. Thank you everyone for your kind comments and hanging in here with me - Stay tuned *WEG* - Beckers))
By
Beckers
**Chapter 4**
Isabelle Reed stood on the great ship, petite toes solid on the wooden planks underneath her dark boots. She leaned over the railing, staring thoughtfully into the murky water churning before the freighter, her mind deep in thought. She was leaving the only true home she ever had. She loved Matavai; its beauty and the freedom it afforded her. Isabelle also cherished her business and the challenges it presented. She wasn't certain what she would miss more, her horses or the people she had grown to care for. Most especially ... no. She would not dwell on him right now. Isabelle stood straight and closed her eyes, attempting to think of something less distracting. It wasn't working.
It had already taken more out of Miss Reed than she could ever imagine, watching him lay there this morning, so strikingly handsome and at peace, never knowing that she was silently dressing, pulling her bags from the room, abandoning him to his dreams. God, when she thought about the tenderness and delights they shared last night, of their profound joining, it was enough to make Isabelle shudder. It was easier leaving as she was, without a confrontation, because no matter what David Grief said or what he intended there was no way she could avoid an inevitable humiliation. Was she being a coward? Perhaps but how could she remain in a place that had witness her fail so miserably? And how could she face him again in the morning, after all that passed between them during the night, and tell David he had not changed her mind?
She loved Matavai and never dreamed of leaving yet she had to. It hated her. It disgraced her … and she had succumbed to its false promise of prosperity.
And David … It would be better for him to detest her, consider the woman a cold hearted witch, then for him to ever believe anything good could come from their affair. Isabelle, despite the gloom and depression permeating her soul, smiled at a memory. Before she left, she had kissed him on the cheek, careful not to wake the attractive Captain, then - just before the ship sailed - Isabelle had left that letter with the docking clerk. She could picture poor David reading it, his eyes igniting in both anger and betrayal, and Isabelle imagined him walking immediately to Lavinia's to get drunk. Over her? Probably not but one could fantasize.
"God, I've grown so decent." Isabelle whispered to the sea. There was a time in her life when she would have allowed a man, actually *anyone*, to help her out with as much money as they were willing to provide. As a matter of fact, with little dignity, she would laugh and kick her own pride in the face if it meant she could live the good life and walk, free from controversy, out into the sunshine. Isabelle had wanted nothing more than the power wealth presented, to wear pretty clothes and, perhaps, show off a diamond or two. Her greed knew no bounds.
However, that all changed when Marcel was murdered and she was shipped to Matavai. *He* came into her life. David Grief distorted everything, beating down her defenses and showing a former female gutter rat exactly what it was to have honor … and care ... and self restraint. He had practically forced respectability onto Isabelle and, for that, she was initially cynical then eventually obliged.
She closed her eyes once again in reflection. After their night together, when he had whispered those loving endearments into her ear, Isabelle knew what she had to do … and where the first place was Grief would look for her and … 'Why did I do it? Why did I leave him that damn letter?' She knew why. Despite everything, Isabelle could not leave Matavai with David thinking she did not care, believing that he and the time they spent together had meant nothing. That self-centered woman he met eighteen months ago wouldn't have cared but the new woman, the one he helped grow a heart, did not want to think about how he might suffer. Still, it probably would have been better if she *hadn't* written the letter, Isabelle reflected, but at least she told him what everyone already knew.
David Grief still loved Lavinia. When he made love to her last night, murmuring those words of worship and passion, he was actually seeing Lavinia's face and recalling the life they once shared. How else could he have made someone so undeserving feel so splendid? Only a man in love could do the things he did … and after all this time Captain Grief just could *not* be in love with Isabelle Reed. How could he, especially now, when she had so little to offer?
'I'm not that foolish.' Isabelle brooded. When it came down to a typical male perception, even from a man like David Grief, a woman like her was good for only one thing: An incredibly intense but gratifyingly brief fling. Isabelle herself had had enough of them to know when it was time to take her leave.
Yet, a man had never reached down so generously and expressively, so deeply inside of her, and touched emotions like David Grief had last night. What she had always suspected was true. He was an incredible lover and someone like Lavinia warranted such a man …"Captain Grief, you deserve happiness." Isabelle whispered, continuing to stare into the water. "And we never should have …" As wonderful as it was it never should have happened. He was supposed to be with Lavinia. They could live a very happy life together, bringing up beautiful children and planning an idyllic future … and if their passion was even a fraction of what she and David shared in a single night, they would both die immeasurably content. "Please be happy, David." Isabelle whispered again, miserable.
With a regretful sigh, Miss Reed backed away from the railing and attempted to shake away disheartening thoughts. With a deep, cleansing breath she tugged and straightened her white blouse. It was near feeding time for the horses, she knew. To keep her mind off of Grief and a more than uncertain future Isabelle decided to go below and help.
Besides, visiting Dante always lifted her spirits.
****
They were making excellent time.
Behind the wheel of The Rattler, David Grief looked out to the sea, gauging the weather and wind, then he glanced over his shoulder to where the sun was setting. They would sail into the Australian harbor by late tomorrow afternoon.
Below, Mauriri was cooking dinner. Grief could smell the aroma of pepper salmon and he was glad his partner had decided to go with him. It was at times like this that Grief realized just how lost he was when his best friend wasn't around to give him direction -- and cook. The dinners he and Isabelle had prepared in the belly of the ship were never as savory …
The smile left his lips the moment he thought about her. Once they arrived at their destination how was he was going to approach her? None of the women of his past had ever been this much trouble, Grief thought, then amended the muse when he recalled a certain dark haired monster that nearly destroyed him. But that had been an unreal time in his life, when all reason left him. However, here and now he was sane … and mostly sober.
With the sensation of fresh air and a spray of sea salt through his hair, buffeting against his red shirt, and dampening his skin, Captain David Grief once again rehearsed what he intended to say to Isabelle when they had their reunion.
***
"Stay still a you stupid little broom-tell! I'm boss here and if you don't watch your step, my girl, when we get home I'm telling your master to send you off for glue! "
Walking slowly down the steps into the cargo hold, lifting her dark blue skirt so as not to fall, Isabelle heard a loud whinny and the stomping of aggravated hooves. Her smooth brow gently furrowed when she heard the snap of a riding crop. The horse protested once again and Isabelle quickly marched to where she heard cursing and the obvious fear of an animal being unnecessarily abused.
She stood and watched as a man, possibly a worker from a privately owned stable but commissioned by the freight ship, roughly grasping the bridle of a light colored mare. He was jerking her head about, as he none too gently washed her neck with a tepid bucket of water and a wire brush that had seen its best days three years ago. He was rough, too rough, and a mare was objecting to his treatment of her.
"Stop that!"
The surprised worker stood to his impressive full height and turned his well muscled shoulders about to look at the comely young woman as she walked quickly and impetuously forward. "What's that you say?" he asked, a tired and slightly amused sound in his accented voice.
"This is no way to treat a horse." She objected, vehemently snapping the reins from the man's outstretched hands, "How would you like it if somebody tried to give you a bath in such a manner?"
"If it be someone as pretty as you," he leered in a less than gentlemanly manner, revealing a surprisingly nice set of white teeth. "I might like it quite a bit, missy."
Isabelle, knowing his type, rolled her eyes. She was not impressed with the cad's Irish accent or his ruggedly handsome features. Vulgar and obnoxious, Isabelle decided, and a peasant. Gently, she rubbed the horse's nose. The mare reach forward, obviously appreciating the woman's soft touch, and gently nuzzled Isabelle's cheek. "See, she's like any female. Be gentle with her and she may not stomp you to death."
Indifferent, he held out a hand. "Now, hows about you handing those reigns back to me. You let me do my job and you go about your business, M'queen."
"What's your name?" she asked, holding back until he answered.
"John O'Finney. And yours?" he asked, abruptly and with an odd confidence.
Isabelle slapped the reins in his hands but did not answer his question. Instead, she asked another, "Who owns these horses?"
"Most are owned by the bank." he said, turning from her and going back to work, "They will all be up for auction in a couple days. They'll be staying at the Wilke Ranch until then. As a matter of fact, some are already the property of Lord Henry Wilke."
"Lord Wilke from England?" Isabelle asked, curious.
"The same. He has a Winter home in Australia." O'Finney paused, looking at Isabelle, forming a conclusion, "Why, you interested in buying?"
"No, not exactly. But there are a couple geldings here that mean a lot to me. I want to see that they get a good home."
"Geldings you say?" He looked Isabelle up and down, pleased with his own wit. "I would never have pictured you as a woman with an interest in geldings." he said, rather lewdly.
"Idiot." Isabelle murmured quietly under her breath. Then, with an haughty turn said, "You just be good to these animals, Mr. O'Finney, or I'll report you to whoever is your master." Isabelle about faced and walked to where she knew Dante had been stalled. She could feel the man's eyes on her back.
She couldn't help being repulsed … and flattered.
***
((I know this chapter is a bit short but I needed it as a set up for what is to follow. I'll try to get Chapter 5 out ASAP. Thank you everyone for your kind comments and hanging in here with me - Stay tuned *WEG* - Beckers))