Lessons In Loving by Peter McAra

Kate?’
    â€˜Yes!’ It was as if she’d been bitten by a sneaky bug. A bug that made city girls suddenly realise they loved the country—its endless horizons, its bracing air, its limitless space. She sensed a sting of sadness as she reminded herself that she would never actually live in this beautiful place.
    â€˜Well, then. Here’s the bridle. Put it on the horse.’ Recalling Tom’s demonstration, she eased the bridle into place. As she fiddled with the buckles, Esmeralda looked on, a wise mother watching her toddler child put on its shoes for the first time.
    â€˜Good. Now the saddle. Make sure the girth is tight.’
    Soon Kate stood, mission accomplished.
    â€˜Not bad.’ Tom’s smile told her she’d done a competent job. ‘Now you can enjoy a ride whenever you wish.’
    Back in her cottage, Kate rubbed her tender bottom and relaxed. Yes, she’d ride Esmeralda again. And yes, she’d taken another step into the real life of Kenilworth. But she absolutely must block the infantile dreams that popped into her mind whenever Tom and she spent time together away from the classroom. A few moments of that naughty fantasy would cost her long nights of pain.
    ***
    Over the following days, Kate slipped into the habit of persuading herself she was comfortable with her new life. Each morning, as she stepped out of her cottage into the cool stillness, she took deep breaths and let her thoughts drift free. Yes, she’d love to make a life here. A happy, fulfilling life. And no, it would never happen, of course. But lately, some germ had infected her brain, telling her she was allowed to pretend.
    One night, she actually dreamed that Tom had joined her in her bed. He’d walked in round midnight, bare-chested, smiling. Then he’d flung back the sheets and— Stop! She absolutely must control those wicked instincts.
    There were times when she had to struggle to concentrate on the afternoon’s lesson. The day before, as she worked with Tom in the study, she’d found herself watching his muscles flex under his too-tight shirt as he sat at his desk.
    â€˜Now, Tom. Pronouns.’ She clicked into schoolma’am. ‘I want you to fill in the blank word in this sentence. You and I are in Sydney. We decide to visit the park. Your friend Bill drives by in his carriage. You wave, and you say, “Hello, Bill, could you kindly take Kate and … blank … to the park?”’
    She watched as he considered the hidden implications of the question. Watched his muscled arms flex, the slow rise and fall of his chest.
    â€˜Kate and me ,’ he said. Kate’s eyes, her mind, stayed locked on the shirt stretched across his wide shoulders, lost in the moment. ‘Kate and me,’ he repeated, a little louder. ‘You know, personal pronoun stuff. Subject and object.’ He coughed. Loudly.
    â€˜Oh. Yes. Perfect.’ Blushing, Kate heaved her consciousness back to reality—away from a bedroom incident her imagination had chosen to roll out like a play. ‘Very good. Not everyone would give the correct answer. Now shall we take a look at third person pronouns?’
    Tom’s language improved hugely. One afternoon, after he’d read a Shakespeare sonnet aloud, she complimented him on the quality of his diction.
    â€˜I can but hope Laetitia will agree with you,’ he said, dragging Kate back to reality. ‘I’m a man who likes to rise to a challenge, don’t forget.’
    ***
    â€˜Hullo, Kate.’ Edna stopped at the study door as Kate worked on her afternoon lesson. It was Tuesday—Edna’s cleaning day. ‘Thought I’d better tell youse, love,’ Edna continued. ‘It’s the Pioneers’ Ball a couple of Saturdays from now. At Croydon Creek. The twenty-seventh of the month, I think. Tom always likes to go.’

CHAPTER 6
    A ball? With Tom as her partner? Dancing close with him?