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.
Luke held out his hand and then let it slowly drop. ‘Tell me this, if not for my father –’
‘If not for your father,’ Claire found herself barely able to draw breath, ‘if not for your father, neither of us would be standing here today.’ She placed her shaking palm against her stomach. ‘Heavens, Luke, what have we done?’
He watched her collapse into one of the wicker chairs, her slim form heaving as tears consumed her. He waited some minutes, unable to decide as to the best course of action. The boundary between them that had been broken would never be crossed again, for he could not stand to see such pain on Claire’s face. Luke looked out towards the garden at the gravel road that led him to and away from this woman whom he had loved since his teenage years. He could not have her, perhaps now he did not want her. For like his own father, Claire burdened him with pain and he was angry for it.
‘My mother was still very much alive when my father decided to become your secret benefactor. I often wonder what he would have done if Rose had not died prematurely.’
Claire looked up from where she sobbed quietly, smoothed the folds of her skirt and wiped carefully at her eyes. ‘What?’ They both knew the words did not have to be repeated. The insinuation was clear.
‘It’s my penance to care for the woman who supplanted my mother.’
With shaking hands Claire removed the tortoiseshell comb from her hair and sat it on the wicker table. If her imaginings had remained just that, she could have gone on. She could have swallowed her pride and somehow set out along the new path Hamish had defined for her. However, she had gone against the natural order of things and in doing so realised that there could be another love beyond husband and wife, beyond right and wrong. Claire straightened her shoulders and walked indoors. The structure of her life was crumbling and she had not the materials