A Changing Land(94)

‘Did you know?’ Luke finally asked when the reality of the letter sunk in. ‘Did you know I’d been robbed of my grandmother’s inheritance?’

‘Inheritance?’ Claire let the newspaper drop to her lap. She was just beginning to feel a little better. ‘What inheritance?’

‘Did you know?’ Luke demanded, his fingers scrunching the envelope.

‘No, no … I had absolutely no idea.’ Claire touched her temples.

‘You’re sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure, Luke. What are you talking about?’ Yet she didn’t want to know, not really. There was already too much in her life. In the space of a week she’d discovered she may be pregnant, wished her baby dead, silently admitted to her girlish infatuation regarding Luke, fallen ill and been berated by her adulterous husband. Now there was another element for her brain to contend with, a loneliness that appeared to have crept up on her like a snake and she could have wept with the realisation that her life was a mirage. Claire took the letter with shaking fingers, managed to read the brief contents though the words shifted and weaved into almost unmanageable forms. ‘Your grandmother must have good reason for this, Luke.’

‘My grandmother? I think you are mistaken, Claire. It is my father who has had the final say in this matter. Have you not read that properly?’

‘Of course I’ve read it. I just don’t believe that your father would –’

‘You don’t believe it? It’s there in black and white!’

Claire read the letter again. ‘Luke, I know you’re upset, but you have Wangallon. You are a part of Wangallon, it’s your home. You can’t honestly have wanted to leave here.’ How could she placate him? A wrong had been done, but surely it was not Hamish’s doing. ‘Luke, where are you going?’ His riding boots struck the wooden floorboards sharply as he strode away from her. ‘Luke, please?’ Claire went to follow him.

‘This is the person you married, Claire.’ He turned, took a step towards her. ‘Do you really want to know what he is like? Do you?’

She backed away from his temper.

‘He has stolen, cheated and murdered for his own gain!’ He flung his hands outwards in exasperation, ‘and you worry about respectability, about what people think. You would need at least another generation to dilute what has come before and even then, the name Gordon will always be tainted.’

Ready tears came to Claire’s eyes. She willed them back. ‘Everything your father has done, he has done purely for the wellbeing of his family.’ In reality she wasn’t sure anymore.

‘He has done for himself,’ Luke said sharply. ‘How is colluding with my own grandmother going to help me?’

‘How would it help him?’ Claire countered softly.

‘Look around you, Claire. After Hamish passes, someone is needed to safeguard the property until Angus comes of age.’

Claire couldn’t respond immediately. For as long as she had known Hamish, Wangallon came first, before everything.

Luke snorted. ‘He cares for his own ambition.’

‘That’s not true.’ Claire walked steadily towards him, took his rough, sun-dried hands in hers. ‘It’s not his fault that your mother and brothers died,’ she soothed. ‘As for your inheritance, there must be some good reason why –’ She stopped mid-sentence as his hand stroked her cheek. He was very close to her. No man had come closer except her husband. His hand moved to the nape of her neck. His fingers plied the soft skin. Claire, vitally aware of the need to break free, found herself looking into violet eyes of her husband’s making. It was there, that steely resolve. The unflinching look of a man who knew what he wanted. Claire’s breath caught in her chest. It was not land, money or power that he wanted; at least, not at this moment. Hamish had taught her how to decipher the difference.

‘You are his redemption, Claire. You have chosen to see only goodness in the world.’ Instinctively his arm encircled her waist. ‘Perhaps it is because you were so young when you first came to Wangallon. Or perhaps you feel obliged to him.’ He was oblivious to the sharp escape of her breath as he bent his head and kissed her.

This is wrong her mind screamed. You forget yourself, stop. Yet she couldn’t, not when her arms were pinned so tightly. Eventually she rested her hands against the firmness of his chest and extricated herself from his embrace. Her lungs could barely gather in enough air to speak and she was aware of tears falling to moisten her cheeks, of her lips numbed by pressure and of something far more dangerous, a wanting. She backed away from him.