My Estranged Lover (Middlemarch Shifters Book 5) (3 page)

Closer to the kitchen a cluster of framed paintings, bright and bold children’s artwork, should have jarred, but they added to the charm. She paused, a quick smile of pride relaxing the stiffness from her shoulders. James had inherited her artistic talent.

“You’re dawdling.”

With a sigh, Caroline entered the kitchen.

“Sit. Sit,” Dawn said.

Caroline rounded the kitchen table and pulled out a chair while watching Ricky and Dawn. Both had jet-black hair and green eyes. Both were slender. Both moved with an animal grace.

A frown pulled at her. God, she had to stop this self-pity. Some marriages didn’t work, no matter how hard the parties tried. She needed to grab for bravado and move on. That was what she’d decided, wasn’t it?

Dawn bustled around the modern kitchen, chattering to Ricky the entire time and giving him small tasks to help. Soon the peaty scent of one of the exotic teas her mother-in-law favored filled the kitchen. Dawn set two mugs on her black granite counter plus a plate of cookies. She settled Ricky at the small table she kept for the children.

A few minutes later, she poured tea into the china mugs. She handed one to Caroline plus the plate of cookies. Her gaze did that brief scan of Caroline’s voluptuous body again, a silent message that Caroline should stay far away from cookies.

“I’ll get the milk.”

“Thanks.” Caroline stared at her mother-in-law’s back for an instant then reached for a cookie. She bit into the crisp treat and closed her eyes to savor the chocolate hit. When she opened her eyes, she found Dawn frowning at her.

“Here is the milk.”

“Thanks.” Caroline tipped a generous portion into her mug to help disguise the strong flavor. She preferred coffee.

Dawn slid into a chair and cupped her mug in her hands. “Why do you need the suitcases?”

Caroline considered lying, then straightened her shoulders. She looked her mother-in-law in the eye. “Marsh and I are separating. I am moving back to Dunedin.”

Dawn had an impassive face unless she wanted to broadcast her emotions. Caroline caught surprise then a trace of satisfaction before the woman’s features blanked. She was pleased—happy—she and Marsh were splitting up. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Caroline didn’t believe her for a minute. “So, the suitcases?”

“I’ll get them for you. They’re in the spare bedroom.”

“Thank you.” Caroline took a sip of the hated tea to rinse the dryness from her mouth. Her stomach swooped and writhed and her entire body prickled with perspiration, but she slouched with relief. That hadn’t been as difficult as she thought.

“I suppose we can babysit while Marsh is working. It shouldn’t be too difficult. James and Ricky are good boys.”

Alarm, followed by determination, bolted Caroline from her slump. Her spine hit the chair. “There won’t be any need for babysitters. James and Ricky are going to Dunedin with me.”

“No.”

Caroline jumped to her feet, the chair scraping across the tiled floor of the kitchen with a nail-on-blackboard shriek. “We are leaving this afternoon. I want to get the boys settled and—”

Dawn stood too, temper and determination in the set of her jaw. “No, I won’t allow it.”

Fury swept Caroline, and for once, she stood her ground and spoke her mind. “James and Ricky are my sons. They will stay with me. This is not your business and you need to butt out of our marriage. I’ll take my suitcases now. Ricky, we’re going home.”

Chapter Two

Dawn Rutherford stared after the departing vehicle. Those boys couldn’t leave Middlemarch. Her grandsons bore feline genes. They’d shift to feline in their teens. City living and felines were a bad combination.

Marsh’s fault for marrying a human.

An unplanned pregnancy didn’t mean he had to marry the girl.

Stubborn lad. He’d always acted contrary, insisting on going to university and earning the money to go by shearing sheep during every holiday. If he’d stayed on the farm to help Charles, this wouldn’t be an issue. If he’d married one of the local girls as they’d wanted him to, but no, Marsh had gone his own way, which had been the polar opposite to their wishes.

Things would have been different if Angus hadn’t died. He’d been the eldest, a good son, a dutiful son.

Tears pricked her eyes as she thought of her beloved son, cut down in a senseless car accident. Killed by a human and…no. That was enough of the past. She needed to focus on the future. Dawn trudged inside, the pain still as fresh as when it had happened.

She glanced at her watch and sighed. The shopping excursion didn’t hold the same appeal it had earlier. About to cancel, the crunch of car tires on the gravel parking area outside indicated Anita’s arrival. She hurried to the bedroom and scooped her handbag off the queen-size bed. Her friend might have a solution. Those boys needed to stay in Middlemarch.

Anita pounded on the front door. A widow in her mid-thirties, she was younger than Dawn but the two women got on well. The door opened before Dawn reached it and Anita stood there beaming.

“I’ve got my comfortable shoes, and I’m ready to hit the shops.” Anita wore her black hair pulled back in a braid, had highlighted her pink lips with a berry-colored lipstick while her sparkling green eyes appeared more dramatic with judicious use of eyeliner and mascara. She was a stunning beauty but spoke little of her marriage. Her husband had been much older and his adult children had created friction within the relationship. That was all Dawn knew. While Anita had an active social life, she didn’t intend to tie herself to a man again.

“I think I’ll stay at home after all.” She pulled a face. “My shopping mood has vacated the building.”

Anita grasped her forearm and tugged. “You have your handbag. We’re going. If you’ve had a crappy morning, you can unload during the drive to Dunedin. No, don’t argue.”

“All right.” Discussing it with Anita might help. She’d make a better listener than Charles. Her husband tended to bluster and shout, which achieved nothing. “Let me get my shoes, and I’ll be ready.”

“Good.” Anita grinned. “How does a foot massage and a pedicure sound to you? I have a voucher for a new spa place that has just opened, and I’ve made appointments for this afternoon. We’ll recover from our morning shopping with lunch and spa pampering. We’re meeting the others at the mall.”

Five minutes later, Anita sped along the road, heading for Dunedin.

“Tell me what has you so silent and brooding,” Anita said.

So Dawn told her everything.

“Oh dear. That is a pickle.”

Dawn snorted out a laugh, feeling better for sharing the problem. “What should we do?”

“Have you spoken to Marsh?”

“Not yet, but he’s made it clear in the past he won’t listen to our advice.” Dawn pressed a hand against her breastbone in an attempt to alleviate the stress of the situation. Easy to see her past mistakes now. “I—we—didn’t approve of the marriage and made our stance obvious. If we’d—”

“No point worrying about maybes or regrets,” Anita cut in as she overtook a tractor. “You need to take action now. Have you considered approaching the Feline council with the problem? They’re always saying they’re there for the community, and this can’t be the first time this has happened. Perhaps they’ll have a solution—something you haven’t considered.”

Dawn considered that and nodded. “I’ll ring Valerie now.”

She dialed the feline elder and spoke rapidly, outlining the problem.

“We have a meeting in an hour,” Valerie said. “I’ll get back to you.”

* * * * *

Marsh arrived home from shifting the stock to find Caroline packing. “What’s going on? I thought we were going for coffee.” He eyed the bags on top of the bed, the neat piles of clothes.

“Marsh, I can’t go on like this. Our marriage isn’t working, and I c-can’t take it any longer.”

Fear ripped through him, clamping around his ribs so hard he had to fight to breathe. Caroline couldn’t leave him. Surely there was something they could do, a compromise. Resolve forced him to speak. “Let’s get that coffee. You can tell me what you want to do.”

“We don’t have to go for coffee.”

“Ricky can play and we can sit outside and talk. It’s neutral ground and the public place will keep us both calm.” At least he hoped he could control his feline.

“I…all right,” she said finally.

A small victory. He balled his fingers and sharp nails sliced his palm. Damn feline was close to the surface. He sucked in a deep breath, struggling for calm.

“I’d better change.”

“Why? You look fine as you are.” She’d pulled her strawberry-blonde hair back in a ponytail and wisps had escaped to frame her face. The pale pink T-shirt she’d changed into after a quick shower hugged her curves while faded jeans completed her outfit.

“I should go on a diet.” She lifted her chin, pained blue eyes challenging him.

“I think you look gorgeous,” he said without hesitation and reached for her hand. His feline found comfort in the physical contact and a soft purr played through Marsh’s mind.

“Let me change my jeans.”

“I’ll organize Ricky while you do that,” Marsh said.

She nodded and scuttled from the room like a spooked sheep.

Marsh exhaled, knowing he had a difficult task ahead. Their marriage had drifted for months, the last year. Somehow, he had to fix this mess because, if there was one fact he knew, it was he wanted Caroline as his wife.

Ricky was playing in his bedroom, the
broom-broom
noises making Marsh smile. Marsh stopped at the doorway, opened his mouth to speak and paused.

“What are you doing, son?”

Ricky turned, a guilty expression on his face. “Painting.”

“I don’t think Mum will approve of you painting on the wall.” Caroline walked up behind and craned to peer over his shoulder. Instead of moving, he stayed put so she’d have to squeeze next to him.

“Are those James’s paints?”

“Ricky?” Marsh prompted.

“Yes,” Ricky whispered, his gaze skittering away.

“James didn’t say you could borrow his paints,” Caroline said.

“No,” Ricky whispered again, still not looking at either of them.

Marsh tried not to laugh because not only had Ricky painted what he thought was roads on the wall with a square-looking truck, but he’d spilled a fair amount of paint on his clothes.

“Lucky for us your mother got water colors,” Caroline muttered.

“I’ll get something to clean off the wall,” Marsh said. “You deal with Ricky.”

It was over an hour later when they set off for Storm in a Teacup since Ricky had managed to get paint over his duvet cover as well.

A coach load of people exited the café as they entered. Every table bore dirty dishes and people waited at the counter for service. Emily Mitchell, the owner, looked up with a smile.

“On your own?” Marsh asked.

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you grab us a table outside and settle Ricky? I’ll clear the tables for Emily and order our coffee,” Marsh said. “A latte for you?”

“With trim milk please.” Caroline led their son around to the garden entrance.

Marsh heard a gleeful shout from Ricky and an answering one from another child. Good. Someone to play with would keep their son occupied while they talked.

Marsh cleared tables and rounded the counter to stack them in the kitchen. The place looked like a bombsite. Caroline arrived a few minutes later with a tray of plates and cups from outside.

“Ricky is playing with Susan Longford’s boy. Susan said she’d watch them,” Caroline said. “I’ll stack the dishwasher.”

They worked as a team, helping Emily Mitchell with the backload of dishes and stocking up her food cabinet. Marsh found himself wishing their marriage worked as smoothly. Tomasine Mitchell and Isabella Mitchell, Emily’s sisters-in-law, arrived and took over. They’d been working for almost two hours.

“Thank you so much,” Emily said, beaming at them. Her brown eyes held sincere thanks, her cheeks flushed from rushing. “My helper called in sick and I’ve had two coach loads this morning, neither of whom booked. I presume you came in for coffee. What can I get you?”

“Two lattes with trim milk please,” Marsh said.

“Anything to eat?”

Marsh thought of his empty wallet with frustration, a hint of anger. “No, thanks.”

The bell over the café door tinkled. Marsh had always thought the sound welcoming, just like the owner. His nostrils flared as he identified another feline male, and he shifted his body position, moving closer to Caroline in a patent statement of ownership.

“Saber,” Emily said with delight. “You’re too late to help with the rush. Marsh and Caroline probably wish they hadn’t come for coffee when they did because they’ve spent the last two hours helping me.”

“Kitten,” Saber replied and gave his mate a quick kiss.

Marsh nodded at the oldest of the Mitchell brothers. He’d gone to school with Leo, the middle brother, so he didn’t know Saber well, although he’d know he was a Mitchell at first glance since the brothers were similar in appearance. Feline-green eyes, black hair and brutal on the rugby field.