TOTSS
"So far Away"
by
Beckers
**Chapter 6**
She had always been an early riser. Even as a child Isabelle Reed recalled waking early and sitting up in bed, playing "mommy" with her rag doll, Miss Marion. The quiet early morning hours allowed the child a special kind of peace. She could get lost in the fantasy of an idyllic life. Then, an hour or two later her mother would enter her bedroom, her breath already foul with the unpleasant smell of her first drink of the morning. Isabelle would dress then either go to school or leave the house to play. Mother didn't really care where she went and Father had left them years earlier. William, her much older big brother, was also gone.
With a shake of her brunette head, dismissing not so fond memories, Isabelle tucked a light blue blouse into the waist of her darker blue skirt. Resolutely, Isabelle attempted to focus in on the day. The sun was just beginning to rise and the auction started at nine o'clock. It was going to be a beautiful day and crowded. The Wilke ranch was positioned in a perfect area. They were only a two hour carriage ride away from the large outdoor auditorium. The horses had been sent ahead last night.
Everything was on schedule.
"Don'tcha give me any sass boy or I'll cut you from head to toe, you understand?!"
Startled, Isabelle stood still. Her quarters, unlike the Wilke family accommodations, was positioned on the first floor of the ranch house, next to the laundry room. Lady Wilke promised Isabelle they would eventually move her to a nicer living space but for now she took what she got and really didn't mind. The housekeeping staff were very kind to her. She liked being in their company. Yet, her walls were paper thin and she could hear nearly everything said and done inside and out. Isabelle recognized a rather nasty argument, which included a very familiar Irish accent. Slowly she advanced and peaked from behind the bedroom window curtain.
"I've worked long and hard on this and if you double-cross me, my man, I'll …"
"No fears! I swear, Johnny!"
O'Finney had a portly man by the collar and was shaking him soundly, obviously enraged by something imparted. Isabelle narrowed her eyes and looked closely at the encounter. She had seen that man before but not on the Wilke ranch. She could hardly forget him. He was a scoundrel and she had shared a jail cell with him on Matavai. Ian Brewer had been arrested and sentenced for smuggling. How he managed to get out of prison she did not know but it looked as if he managed to get himself into trouble yet again.
Something very bad was afoot.
Groaning quietly in frustration, Isabelle knew what she must do but the outcome was not going to be pleasant. She would have to tell Lord Wilke a bit more about her background than she ever wanted revealed.
***
"I trusted you, Mr. O'Finney, treated you like … and you betrayed me!" Lord Wilke announced, his expression unyielding. He was a fair man but he was also a man of business. He had no time or sympathy for those who would do him wrong.
Isabelle stood behind her employer. Beside her were two large farm hands who held Brewer between them. Cornered, he had confessed all in hope of a lighter prison term.
"So, you are firing me, is that it?" The big Irishman asked, although it was obvious. He looked away from his accusers, almost chuckling. "And where am I to go?" he asked.
"I don't care. I just do not want you here. I knew I was losing money somewhere, the figures my bookkeepers were coming up with did not match up to my own personal ledgers, but I could not imagine where the discrepancy existed. Now I know. You have been doing little side businesses on your own, at my expense -- with my property."
Isabelle looked from one man to the other. She sensed something between them, perhaps a recollection from the past, that wasn't entirely explainable to those who were currently watching their confrontation. Not only had an employer-employee relationship been severed but also something more; a friendship perhaps and/or a deep trust. It had been hard for her to tell Lord Wilke what she knew of Brewer and she suspected he might dismiss her on the spot but her employer appeared unconcerned with her background, only with what she had revealed about O'Finney.
"I could have you arrested. I *should* have you arrested but I'm just going to give you notice, John. Leave at once." He lifted a hand and pointed a finger in caution, "But I warn you, if I hear of the same business going on with my associates who have employed you there will be no mercy. I'll tell them everything I know."
O'Finney looked at Isabelle Reed over Wilke's shoulder. "The little whore really got to you, didn't she?"
"Get out, John. Now. I don't want to ever see your face anywhere near my land again!" The disappointment in Lord Wilke's voice was thick.
With a defeated nod, the Irishman turned about. "I'll get my things."
"No." Wilke said, "We'll send them on. Leave right now."
With a grumble and curse, O'Finney did as he was told but not before tossing a threatening look in Isabelle's direction. 'Beware, my pretty.' it said.
"Now, you." Wilke's turned to Brewer, "I want you gone too. Whatever arrangement you had with O'Finney is now null and void."
"But … but he owes me money. I owe others money that he owes me. I …"
"Then I suggest you take the next ship out of Sidney harbor and sail as quickly as you can away from those people you owe money -- because you will be getting none of mine. Do you understand?"
Brewer nodded slowly then, like O'Finney before him, counted his losses and walked away.
A moment of reflection passed then - as if nothing had just happened - Lord Wilke's voice lightened and he clapped his hands together, turning to look at his employees. "Now that the melodrama is over … You boys load up my family into the carriages and you, Miss Reed, come with me. I want you to sit in the coach with Lady Wilke. It's not often she gets the chance to talk with a real live heroine. And that you are, my dear."
Isabelle nodded and smiled, relieved by Lord Wilke's benevolence and forgiveness, but she continued to watch John O'Finney as he retreated across the field and out the far gate, away from the Wilke lands. He did not turn around but she felt his fury clear across the field. In a sense she felt sorry for him. Where *was* he going to go from here? He was now a desperate man and they often made the worst decisions. Still, if he hadn't deceived his employer in the first place, if he had told him of the crisis that drove him to steal, Lord Wilke might have helped him. Isabelle was certain of it.
****
"I'm not Lord Wilke's first wife, you know." Lady Wilke, with a wave of her delicately embroidered and perfumed handkerchief, gossiped with Isabelle as they rode together to the auction.
"No, I didn't know that." Isabelle answered, truthfully.
"Oh no, he married some simple village girl long before myself, completely against the wishes of his own father, but she died young and it wasn't until much later, when Henry's father forgave him, that we met and married. I was very young, younger than you, but not too immature to fall in love with this dashing older gentleman and produce an heir." She waved out of their carriage window at the children who were being drawn by a similar but smaller carriage.
If they waved back Isabelle could not tell. Lady Josephine Wilke was a lovely enough person who adored her husband and children but, unfortunately, she did suffer from a malady of her class. She felt her own words of wisdom far out-weighed that of anyone else in the world, particularly what she considered the lower echelon, and she made her opinions known in abundance. In reality, she was a rather pretentious woman with very little common sense. Still, she had been pleasant with Isabelle and was, indeed, quite attractive with a well coiffed hair style and all the most fashionable gowns. Lady Wilke was also an expert with manners, knowing where a napkin should be placed and just how warm the water in a guest's finger bowl should be. However, Isabelle doubted seriously she knew the first thing about horses.
Nevertheless, an outing was an outing and some of the most important families in the region would be at this event. The mistress of the house was required to attend and Lady Wilke would not shirk her duty.
"Miranda keeps telling me that once we get back to England she wants to go on a fox hunt." Lady Wilke quipped, "Can you imagine, an eight year old on a fox hunt? I hope your Dante knows what he's in for."
Isabelle laugh quietly, "He's a good animal and I'm sure he'll be able to take whatever Miranda cares to dish out." Unaware of the effect, Isabelle tossed a portion of her long, lustrous hair behind her left shoulder.
It was this completely typical and feminine gesture on the children's governess part that caused Lady Wilke to stare at the woman for a moment.
Isabelle did a double take when she realized the woman was watching her.
"You are a very beautiful lady, Miss Reed." she said with undeniable envy, "Your complexion is flawless and a man merely need to look into your stormy eyes and fall hopelessly in love."
A bit astonished, Isabelle half smiled and blushed a little. "Umh …thank you."
"You should get yourself a nice, wealthy man and settle down." Lady Wilke's expression grew somewhat somber, "Life and love is short and all too soon a woman's beauty fades and she must take what is offered without question -- even if her heart belongs elsewhere." Suddenly, Lady Wilke snapped herself out of her stupor, slightly embarrassed by what she had said. She brightened, "But then again, maybe that is what an independent woman of today wants. To be free. Times change. I know when I was younger, around your age, British society didn't …"
Isabelle was so astounded by the similarity to her husband change of attitude, witnessed earlier in the day, she nearly mentioned it out loud but then decided to keep silent. Replying honestly, Isabelle said: "Who knows. Maybe one day I *will* find some tall, dark and handsome prince. Meanwhile, I'm afraid I let the man of my dreams go without a fight."
"Ah." Lady Wilke smiled sympathetically and gently pursed her lips, "So you *have* been in love. And why did you let him go?"
"Sometimes love is just not enough, particularly if it's crazed and makes no sense."
"Did he break your heart?"
"No, I think …" Isabelle hesitated, " … I broke *his*." She then amended, "Maybe."
***
Everybody loved a good animal auction, whether they be rich or poor, and by the time the horses arrived to be paraded around the circle of potential buyers, the crowd was in a frenzy of pre bidding fever.
In the mid section of the bleachers, with the children on one side and Lady Wilke on the other, Isabelle visually scanned the horseflesh, catching sight of many of her own, including Captain. However, she could not find Dante. There were several hundred horses up for sale so she was not overly worried but she had hoped to give the gelding an encouraging call if she saw him.
They had a wonderful connection, she and Dante. It was sometimes eerie. Isabelle recalled David once telling her that Dante must be some reincarnated member of her family that had come back to watch over her. They had chuckled about it back then but often she did wonder if Dante wasn't some sort of guardian angel. *Some angel,* a more cynical portion of her mind scolded, *An angel that allows your livelihood to be destroyed? An angel that finally shows you true passion and happiness only to have it all come at the worst possible time in your life?* No, not an angel or even family but a very important beast nevertheless.
On the opposite end of the outside auditorium, positioned near the very top of the seating, Grief and Mauriri were also searching.
"This is impossible." Mauriri's eyes raked the crowd. He had never seen so many wealthy white people in one place. It made him uncomfortable. Give him island life anytime. "Do you see anything?"
Grief was scanning the crowd with his fold-out spyglass. "Nothing yet. The crowd's thick. Every time I spot a brunette that can compare to Isabelle she disappears into thin air." He folded the glass and heaved a sigh, "We may have to wait until the bidding start. Once Dante and the others are brought out Isabelle should …"
"David, look!" Mauriri's keen vision had spotted a woman that looked enough like Isabelle to be her sister. But she was seated in a rather elite area, between a wealthy woman and her children. Was it possible?
Grief lifted his glass again and pointed it to where the Polynesian directed, "You're right. That's her." He smiled and his tone was deceptively satisfied, "One thing I have to say about Isabelle, she always manages to land back on her feet again." She was gorgeous, dressed smartly, and seemed to fit in well with the society patrons about her, although Isabelle herself looked uncomfortable. He suspected it had to do with the loss of Dante and, dare he consider it, was she still thinking of him? Grief grimaced. He was behaving like a love-sick school boy. He passed the glass to Mauriri again, "I'm going to make my way over there. Keep an eye on her and signal if she moves."
"Announcing lot number two-six-nine-nine!" came the call from the auctioneer.
It was the moment the Wilke household were all waiting for: Dante and Captain.
Isabelle leaned forward, anticipating what was to follow, but her brow creased when she did not observe what was expected. Captain was there but instead of Dante another of her stable, a light colored mustang, stood beside the gelding. "Where's Dante?" she whispered and looked below to where Lord Wilke stood, preparing to bid. He appeared as confused as she, glancing down at his program.
"Lot number two-six-nine-nine. There has been a substitution." The announcer called, "A three year old gelding was sold pre auction and we now give you his twin gelding and a two year old mixed blood …"
Isabelle stood, nearly panicked, unable to believe what she was hearing. Dante had already been sold? Who could have bought him? Where was he now? "Excuse me." Miss Reed spoke over her shoulder to Lady Wilke and quickly made her way down to the announcer's box.
"Can I help you?" A young, powerfully built man blocked her entry into the box, guarding those inside it appeared.
"Yes, I need some information." Isabelle said, "Lot two-six-nine-nine. There was a gelding my employer was to bid on that was replaced. Who has that gelding been sold to?"
"I'm sorry but that is privileged information. When a horse is pre bought it usually means the owner wishes to remain anonymous."
"I can understand that." Isabelle curled her fingers into fists, her fingernails nearly biting into her flesh, the pain calming her. "But you see this horse was very special to me …"
"I'm sorry, Miss." the guard appeared genuinely sympathetic, touched by the pretty woman's sincerity and obvious sadness. "But if it will make you feel better, the animal will go to a good home. Horses sold during pre auction are usually bought at a higher price because the owner really likes what he sees. Your horse will be well taken care of."
Isabelle gently bit her lower lip, looking up at the guard, her eyes glistening although her expression was as firm as it could be. "I understand and," she gulped, "thank you."
Outside the arena, Isabelle moved off by herself into a small unoccupied area, away from the traffic of cheerful public sale patrons. She could paced, working off her anger and disappointment. She hadn't quite managed to get control of her emotions when she sensed rather than heard a presence. It couldn't be.
"Isabelle." he spoke gently, aware of her misery. He had been there and saw what happened.
This should have been the moment when she turned on him, strong and independent, asking all the right questions and getting answers she'd be certain to verbally reject. He had no right to be here. She had left a letter. That should have been enough. Why this torture?
Yet now, after such a regret, after facing threats on the ranch and the loss of too much in such a small period of time, Isabelle could only sob. She needed his tenderness and sympathy. "David!" Isabelle fell into his embrace, feeling Grief's strong, comforting arms wrapping around her, his hands touching her hair and softly caressing her back. His lips softly touched her forehead.
The couple stood together like this for sometime before Isabelle slowly straightened, gazing up into his compassionate expression, tears in her eyes. Softly, she spoke his name again, a hand lifting to - at first - touch his strong jaw. It then moved to the back of his head. This was crazy. She knew it. But, right now, she just did not care. With surprising strength, she pull him down to her - the act as much a hallowed request as permission - and claimed his lips with her own. All that mattered were his kisses, his presence, and her release from an indescribable ache.
"Come back with me, Isabelle. Come back." he whispered between fevered kisses.
"David, I can't!" Her words were a rejection but her actions differed, never loosening her hold on Grief until the man himself gently and reluctantly pulled her back. Yet, he still held her in a loose embrace.
"Why?" he finally asked, breathing deeply, controlling his emotions as much as possible while still feeling her soft skin beneath his hands, "Isabelle, there is nothing here for you."
"And twice that in Matavai." she replied, now looking up at him. Isabelle's eyes were still wet with tears but her manner had taken on a determined restraint. "Why did you come here, David? Why? I thought I made it clear …"
"I had to know for sure." he began but her manner, the way Isabelle was steeling herself for his reply, made him uncertain, "I needed to know you would be all right."
Clamping down firmly on self-control, she shook free from him. Yes of course, Isabelle thought. David Grief, the hero. David Grief, the savior of pretty women. Make certain they are well, be sure they can cope, but be careful of them, Captain Grief, because if they have their way they will pull you in and never let you go. "No need to worry about me, David. I am a survivor. I've been on my own for a long time." Isabelle gulped but her tone remained stern, "Go home to Matavai, David, and know you did me proud. You're not obligated to me any longer. The Rattler, and all the responsibility that goes with her, is yours."
His eyes widened at the last comment, "Do you think that is what this is all about? You think because of the Rattler I might feel a sense of duty to you and no more?"
"I know the way you think, David." Isabelle clarified, softly licking her lips, the sensation of his mouth on hers a lovely lingering memory. "My letter said everything. Put me aside, knowing what we had was beautiful, and go to the woman you love. I could never be Lavinia's replacement."
"Lavinia?"
"Jenny then!" Isabelle unintentionally barked. Why was he doing this to her? "God David, just leave me to my life! Go away!" She then ran from him, to where he didn't know, but was quickly swallowed by the crowd.
Grief balanced himself against the wall they had been standing near and took a deep inhale of breath. It was as he feared. Mauriri was wrong. She didn't want or need him. He had lost her.
"David," A worried Mauriri spotted Grief then called to him as he approached. "I just met someone and …" He clutched his friends shoulder, aware of an ill look on his face. "What is it?"
"I saw her. We talked. Isabelle doesn't want anything to do with me. She thinks …"
Startled, Mauriri looked into the crowd, "We need to find her."
"Mauriri, you don't understand. She …"
"No, David. *You* don't understand." The Polynesian took his friend by the shoulders and shook the misery from him, "I just talked with a man who disclosed some very disturbing information about Lord Wilke and his extended family. Isabelle's life is in grave danger!"
***
((Chapter 7 Coming Soon -- We're nearly done!))
"So far Away"
by
Beckers
**Chapter 6**
She had always been an early riser. Even as a child Isabelle Reed recalled waking early and sitting up in bed, playing "mommy" with her rag doll, Miss Marion. The quiet early morning hours allowed the child a special kind of peace. She could get lost in the fantasy of an idyllic life. Then, an hour or two later her mother would enter her bedroom, her breath already foul with the unpleasant smell of her first drink of the morning. Isabelle would dress then either go to school or leave the house to play. Mother didn't really care where she went and Father had left them years earlier. William, her much older big brother, was also gone.
With a shake of her brunette head, dismissing not so fond memories, Isabelle tucked a light blue blouse into the waist of her darker blue skirt. Resolutely, Isabelle attempted to focus in on the day. The sun was just beginning to rise and the auction started at nine o'clock. It was going to be a beautiful day and crowded. The Wilke ranch was positioned in a perfect area. They were only a two hour carriage ride away from the large outdoor auditorium. The horses had been sent ahead last night.
Everything was on schedule.
"Don'tcha give me any sass boy or I'll cut you from head to toe, you understand?!"
Startled, Isabelle stood still. Her quarters, unlike the Wilke family accommodations, was positioned on the first floor of the ranch house, next to the laundry room. Lady Wilke promised Isabelle they would eventually move her to a nicer living space but for now she took what she got and really didn't mind. The housekeeping staff were very kind to her. She liked being in their company. Yet, her walls were paper thin and she could hear nearly everything said and done inside and out. Isabelle recognized a rather nasty argument, which included a very familiar Irish accent. Slowly she advanced and peaked from behind the bedroom window curtain.
"I've worked long and hard on this and if you double-cross me, my man, I'll …"
"No fears! I swear, Johnny!"
O'Finney had a portly man by the collar and was shaking him soundly, obviously enraged by something imparted. Isabelle narrowed her eyes and looked closely at the encounter. She had seen that man before but not on the Wilke ranch. She could hardly forget him. He was a scoundrel and she had shared a jail cell with him on Matavai. Ian Brewer had been arrested and sentenced for smuggling. How he managed to get out of prison she did not know but it looked as if he managed to get himself into trouble yet again.
Something very bad was afoot.
Groaning quietly in frustration, Isabelle knew what she must do but the outcome was not going to be pleasant. She would have to tell Lord Wilke a bit more about her background than she ever wanted revealed.
***
"I trusted you, Mr. O'Finney, treated you like … and you betrayed me!" Lord Wilke announced, his expression unyielding. He was a fair man but he was also a man of business. He had no time or sympathy for those who would do him wrong.
Isabelle stood behind her employer. Beside her were two large farm hands who held Brewer between them. Cornered, he had confessed all in hope of a lighter prison term.
"So, you are firing me, is that it?" The big Irishman asked, although it was obvious. He looked away from his accusers, almost chuckling. "And where am I to go?" he asked.
"I don't care. I just do not want you here. I knew I was losing money somewhere, the figures my bookkeepers were coming up with did not match up to my own personal ledgers, but I could not imagine where the discrepancy existed. Now I know. You have been doing little side businesses on your own, at my expense -- with my property."
Isabelle looked from one man to the other. She sensed something between them, perhaps a recollection from the past, that wasn't entirely explainable to those who were currently watching their confrontation. Not only had an employer-employee relationship been severed but also something more; a friendship perhaps and/or a deep trust. It had been hard for her to tell Lord Wilke what she knew of Brewer and she suspected he might dismiss her on the spot but her employer appeared unconcerned with her background, only with what she had revealed about O'Finney.
"I could have you arrested. I *should* have you arrested but I'm just going to give you notice, John. Leave at once." He lifted a hand and pointed a finger in caution, "But I warn you, if I hear of the same business going on with my associates who have employed you there will be no mercy. I'll tell them everything I know."
O'Finney looked at Isabelle Reed over Wilke's shoulder. "The little whore really got to you, didn't she?"
"Get out, John. Now. I don't want to ever see your face anywhere near my land again!" The disappointment in Lord Wilke's voice was thick.
With a defeated nod, the Irishman turned about. "I'll get my things."
"No." Wilke said, "We'll send them on. Leave right now."
With a grumble and curse, O'Finney did as he was told but not before tossing a threatening look in Isabelle's direction. 'Beware, my pretty.' it said.
"Now, you." Wilke's turned to Brewer, "I want you gone too. Whatever arrangement you had with O'Finney is now null and void."
"But … but he owes me money. I owe others money that he owes me. I …"
"Then I suggest you take the next ship out of Sidney harbor and sail as quickly as you can away from those people you owe money -- because you will be getting none of mine. Do you understand?"
Brewer nodded slowly then, like O'Finney before him, counted his losses and walked away.
A moment of reflection passed then - as if nothing had just happened - Lord Wilke's voice lightened and he clapped his hands together, turning to look at his employees. "Now that the melodrama is over … You boys load up my family into the carriages and you, Miss Reed, come with me. I want you to sit in the coach with Lady Wilke. It's not often she gets the chance to talk with a real live heroine. And that you are, my dear."
Isabelle nodded and smiled, relieved by Lord Wilke's benevolence and forgiveness, but she continued to watch John O'Finney as he retreated across the field and out the far gate, away from the Wilke lands. He did not turn around but she felt his fury clear across the field. In a sense she felt sorry for him. Where *was* he going to go from here? He was now a desperate man and they often made the worst decisions. Still, if he hadn't deceived his employer in the first place, if he had told him of the crisis that drove him to steal, Lord Wilke might have helped him. Isabelle was certain of it.
****
"I'm not Lord Wilke's first wife, you know." Lady Wilke, with a wave of her delicately embroidered and perfumed handkerchief, gossiped with Isabelle as they rode together to the auction.
"No, I didn't know that." Isabelle answered, truthfully.
"Oh no, he married some simple village girl long before myself, completely against the wishes of his own father, but she died young and it wasn't until much later, when Henry's father forgave him, that we met and married. I was very young, younger than you, but not too immature to fall in love with this dashing older gentleman and produce an heir." She waved out of their carriage window at the children who were being drawn by a similar but smaller carriage.
If they waved back Isabelle could not tell. Lady Josephine Wilke was a lovely enough person who adored her husband and children but, unfortunately, she did suffer from a malady of her class. She felt her own words of wisdom far out-weighed that of anyone else in the world, particularly what she considered the lower echelon, and she made her opinions known in abundance. In reality, she was a rather pretentious woman with very little common sense. Still, she had been pleasant with Isabelle and was, indeed, quite attractive with a well coiffed hair style and all the most fashionable gowns. Lady Wilke was also an expert with manners, knowing where a napkin should be placed and just how warm the water in a guest's finger bowl should be. However, Isabelle doubted seriously she knew the first thing about horses.
Nevertheless, an outing was an outing and some of the most important families in the region would be at this event. The mistress of the house was required to attend and Lady Wilke would not shirk her duty.
"Miranda keeps telling me that once we get back to England she wants to go on a fox hunt." Lady Wilke quipped, "Can you imagine, an eight year old on a fox hunt? I hope your Dante knows what he's in for."
Isabelle laugh quietly, "He's a good animal and I'm sure he'll be able to take whatever Miranda cares to dish out." Unaware of the effect, Isabelle tossed a portion of her long, lustrous hair behind her left shoulder.
It was this completely typical and feminine gesture on the children's governess part that caused Lady Wilke to stare at the woman for a moment.
Isabelle did a double take when she realized the woman was watching her.
"You are a very beautiful lady, Miss Reed." she said with undeniable envy, "Your complexion is flawless and a man merely need to look into your stormy eyes and fall hopelessly in love."
A bit astonished, Isabelle half smiled and blushed a little. "Umh …thank you."
"You should get yourself a nice, wealthy man and settle down." Lady Wilke's expression grew somewhat somber, "Life and love is short and all too soon a woman's beauty fades and she must take what is offered without question -- even if her heart belongs elsewhere." Suddenly, Lady Wilke snapped herself out of her stupor, slightly embarrassed by what she had said. She brightened, "But then again, maybe that is what an independent woman of today wants. To be free. Times change. I know when I was younger, around your age, British society didn't …"
Isabelle was so astounded by the similarity to her husband change of attitude, witnessed earlier in the day, she nearly mentioned it out loud but then decided to keep silent. Replying honestly, Isabelle said: "Who knows. Maybe one day I *will* find some tall, dark and handsome prince. Meanwhile, I'm afraid I let the man of my dreams go without a fight."
"Ah." Lady Wilke smiled sympathetically and gently pursed her lips, "So you *have* been in love. And why did you let him go?"
"Sometimes love is just not enough, particularly if it's crazed and makes no sense."
"Did he break your heart?"
"No, I think …" Isabelle hesitated, " … I broke *his*." She then amended, "Maybe."
***
Everybody loved a good animal auction, whether they be rich or poor, and by the time the horses arrived to be paraded around the circle of potential buyers, the crowd was in a frenzy of pre bidding fever.
In the mid section of the bleachers, with the children on one side and Lady Wilke on the other, Isabelle visually scanned the horseflesh, catching sight of many of her own, including Captain. However, she could not find Dante. There were several hundred horses up for sale so she was not overly worried but she had hoped to give the gelding an encouraging call if she saw him.
They had a wonderful connection, she and Dante. It was sometimes eerie. Isabelle recalled David once telling her that Dante must be some reincarnated member of her family that had come back to watch over her. They had chuckled about it back then but often she did wonder if Dante wasn't some sort of guardian angel. *Some angel,* a more cynical portion of her mind scolded, *An angel that allows your livelihood to be destroyed? An angel that finally shows you true passion and happiness only to have it all come at the worst possible time in your life?* No, not an angel or even family but a very important beast nevertheless.
On the opposite end of the outside auditorium, positioned near the very top of the seating, Grief and Mauriri were also searching.
"This is impossible." Mauriri's eyes raked the crowd. He had never seen so many wealthy white people in one place. It made him uncomfortable. Give him island life anytime. "Do you see anything?"
Grief was scanning the crowd with his fold-out spyglass. "Nothing yet. The crowd's thick. Every time I spot a brunette that can compare to Isabelle she disappears into thin air." He folded the glass and heaved a sigh, "We may have to wait until the bidding start. Once Dante and the others are brought out Isabelle should …"
"David, look!" Mauriri's keen vision had spotted a woman that looked enough like Isabelle to be her sister. But she was seated in a rather elite area, between a wealthy woman and her children. Was it possible?
Grief lifted his glass again and pointed it to where the Polynesian directed, "You're right. That's her." He smiled and his tone was deceptively satisfied, "One thing I have to say about Isabelle, she always manages to land back on her feet again." She was gorgeous, dressed smartly, and seemed to fit in well with the society patrons about her, although Isabelle herself looked uncomfortable. He suspected it had to do with the loss of Dante and, dare he consider it, was she still thinking of him? Grief grimaced. He was behaving like a love-sick school boy. He passed the glass to Mauriri again, "I'm going to make my way over there. Keep an eye on her and signal if she moves."
"Announcing lot number two-six-nine-nine!" came the call from the auctioneer.
It was the moment the Wilke household were all waiting for: Dante and Captain.
Isabelle leaned forward, anticipating what was to follow, but her brow creased when she did not observe what was expected. Captain was there but instead of Dante another of her stable, a light colored mustang, stood beside the gelding. "Where's Dante?" she whispered and looked below to where Lord Wilke stood, preparing to bid. He appeared as confused as she, glancing down at his program.
"Lot number two-six-nine-nine. There has been a substitution." The announcer called, "A three year old gelding was sold pre auction and we now give you his twin gelding and a two year old mixed blood …"
Isabelle stood, nearly panicked, unable to believe what she was hearing. Dante had already been sold? Who could have bought him? Where was he now? "Excuse me." Miss Reed spoke over her shoulder to Lady Wilke and quickly made her way down to the announcer's box.
"Can I help you?" A young, powerfully built man blocked her entry into the box, guarding those inside it appeared.
"Yes, I need some information." Isabelle said, "Lot two-six-nine-nine. There was a gelding my employer was to bid on that was replaced. Who has that gelding been sold to?"
"I'm sorry but that is privileged information. When a horse is pre bought it usually means the owner wishes to remain anonymous."
"I can understand that." Isabelle curled her fingers into fists, her fingernails nearly biting into her flesh, the pain calming her. "But you see this horse was very special to me …"
"I'm sorry, Miss." the guard appeared genuinely sympathetic, touched by the pretty woman's sincerity and obvious sadness. "But if it will make you feel better, the animal will go to a good home. Horses sold during pre auction are usually bought at a higher price because the owner really likes what he sees. Your horse will be well taken care of."
Isabelle gently bit her lower lip, looking up at the guard, her eyes glistening although her expression was as firm as it could be. "I understand and," she gulped, "thank you."
Outside the arena, Isabelle moved off by herself into a small unoccupied area, away from the traffic of cheerful public sale patrons. She could paced, working off her anger and disappointment. She hadn't quite managed to get control of her emotions when she sensed rather than heard a presence. It couldn't be.
"Isabelle." he spoke gently, aware of her misery. He had been there and saw what happened.
This should have been the moment when she turned on him, strong and independent, asking all the right questions and getting answers she'd be certain to verbally reject. He had no right to be here. She had left a letter. That should have been enough. Why this torture?
Yet now, after such a regret, after facing threats on the ranch and the loss of too much in such a small period of time, Isabelle could only sob. She needed his tenderness and sympathy. "David!" Isabelle fell into his embrace, feeling Grief's strong, comforting arms wrapping around her, his hands touching her hair and softly caressing her back. His lips softly touched her forehead.
The couple stood together like this for sometime before Isabelle slowly straightened, gazing up into his compassionate expression, tears in her eyes. Softly, she spoke his name again, a hand lifting to - at first - touch his strong jaw. It then moved to the back of his head. This was crazy. She knew it. But, right now, she just did not care. With surprising strength, she pull him down to her - the act as much a hallowed request as permission - and claimed his lips with her own. All that mattered were his kisses, his presence, and her release from an indescribable ache.
"Come back with me, Isabelle. Come back." he whispered between fevered kisses.
"David, I can't!" Her words were a rejection but her actions differed, never loosening her hold on Grief until the man himself gently and reluctantly pulled her back. Yet, he still held her in a loose embrace.
"Why?" he finally asked, breathing deeply, controlling his emotions as much as possible while still feeling her soft skin beneath his hands, "Isabelle, there is nothing here for you."
"And twice that in Matavai." she replied, now looking up at him. Isabelle's eyes were still wet with tears but her manner had taken on a determined restraint. "Why did you come here, David? Why? I thought I made it clear …"
"I had to know for sure." he began but her manner, the way Isabelle was steeling herself for his reply, made him uncertain, "I needed to know you would be all right."
Clamping down firmly on self-control, she shook free from him. Yes of course, Isabelle thought. David Grief, the hero. David Grief, the savior of pretty women. Make certain they are well, be sure they can cope, but be careful of them, Captain Grief, because if they have their way they will pull you in and never let you go. "No need to worry about me, David. I am a survivor. I've been on my own for a long time." Isabelle gulped but her tone remained stern, "Go home to Matavai, David, and know you did me proud. You're not obligated to me any longer. The Rattler, and all the responsibility that goes with her, is yours."
His eyes widened at the last comment, "Do you think that is what this is all about? You think because of the Rattler I might feel a sense of duty to you and no more?"
"I know the way you think, David." Isabelle clarified, softly licking her lips, the sensation of his mouth on hers a lovely lingering memory. "My letter said everything. Put me aside, knowing what we had was beautiful, and go to the woman you love. I could never be Lavinia's replacement."
"Lavinia?"
"Jenny then!" Isabelle unintentionally barked. Why was he doing this to her? "God David, just leave me to my life! Go away!" She then ran from him, to where he didn't know, but was quickly swallowed by the crowd.
Grief balanced himself against the wall they had been standing near and took a deep inhale of breath. It was as he feared. Mauriri was wrong. She didn't want or need him. He had lost her.
"David," A worried Mauriri spotted Grief then called to him as he approached. "I just met someone and …" He clutched his friends shoulder, aware of an ill look on his face. "What is it?"
"I saw her. We talked. Isabelle doesn't want anything to do with me. She thinks …"
Startled, Mauriri looked into the crowd, "We need to find her."
"Mauriri, you don't understand. She …"
"No, David. *You* don't understand." The Polynesian took his friend by the shoulders and shook the misery from him, "I just talked with a man who disclosed some very disturbing information about Lord Wilke and his extended family. Isabelle's life is in grave danger!"
***
((Chapter 7 Coming Soon -- We're nearly done!))