The Borrowed Bride by Susan Wiggs Read Free Book Online Page B

her.
    “Is the bird okay?”
    “Yeah.” He couldn’t stop staring at her.
    She took a sip of her coffee, regarding him over the rim of her mug. “Are you okay?”
    His grip on the edge of the tile counter tightened. He had to anchor himself somewhere, to something, or he would explode. “Yeah. Only—”
    “Only what?”
    “I always thought you were the one who left five years ago, Isabel.”
    “And now what do you think?” She seemed to have no trouble switching into his train of thought. He could almost believe the past was on her mind, too.
    “Physically, you left, you walked out. But I didn’t give you many options. Stay in hell with me or save yourself. Not much choice there.”
    She started to move away. “We were young—”
    “ Were young,” he echoed harshly, grasping her wrist. “We’re different now, and you know it.”
    She was breathing hard with some inner struggle. Dan made himself let go of her hand. “Sorry.” He carried her cup to the table for her.
    Both of them were edgy and emotional this morning. Dan’s nerve endings felt raw with desperation. All he knew for certain was that he could not stand the thought of her getting married to someone else. He had no idea what alternative he could offer her, but he had to make her see that what they had shared was not over. It would never be over.
    “Did the eagle eat the tuna fish?” she asked, shifting gears again.
    “Some. It didn’t seem to be to her taste.” Dan forced himself to release his need for her at the moment. There was an intensity to his feelings that she would probably find frightening. He had to back off, get a grip. “I tried canned salmon this morning. She picked at that. I was thinking we could try to get her some fresh fish today. It’d probably be better for her.”
    “We should,” Isabel said quickly.
    He grinned. “Any excuse to go fishing.”
    She grinned back. “Any excuse.”
     
    Dan felt as if a time bomb were ticking somewhere at the back of his mind. If he mentioned it to Isabel, it might go off. If he didn’t mention it, it might go off anyway.
    Armed with rods, a creel and a picnic lunch, they plodded in hip boots down to the lake. Isabel looked vibrant, as beautiful and understated as a doe in a forest grove—and as fragile.
    All right, he thought. Say it.
    He stopped walking and touched her shoulder. “I meant to ask you earlier. If you need to make a call, I can radio someone in town—”
    “It’s okay.” Color stained her cheekbones. “Anthony said I should take all the time I need.”
    “Anthony is a first-class fool,” Dan said, “and I thank God for that.”
    She started walking again, so he couldn’t see her reaction to his words. “He’s always been very understanding. And I’ve always been moody. So it’s a perfect match.”
    “Yeah, right.”
    At the lakeshore, they waded in, flailing their arms to keep from falling as the mud sucked at their boots. After they tired of standing, they slogged ashore and took off their boots. Dan rolled out a thick fiber mat so they could recline. Isabel baited her own hook, arguing volubly about the merits of canned corn versus salmon eggs. She looked gorgeous, fitting the scene like an emerald in a perfect setting. Before Dan’s eyes, she seemed to relax, the inner tightness he sensed in her uncoiling.
    Mother Earth doing her sacred duty, he decided whimsically. As he lay back on the mat and let the warmth of the sun bathe him, he imagined he could feel the slow, steady heartbeat of the earth beneath him, a subtle, comforting rhythm that he had ignored for too long. He had been deaf to it until his grandfather, filledwith a dying man’s reflective wisdom, had awakened him to it once again.
    Perhaps that was what Isabel was feeling now, that sense of homecoming.
    She glanced at him. “What are you thinking?”
    He sent her a lazy smile. “That it’s a perfect fishing day.” He touched her slim thigh with one finger and traced it gently,