Free Head in the Clouds by Karen Witemeyer

inheritance equal to that of a British nobleman, she would have traded it all to have him back.
    Was that what Isabella was going through? If Gideon had been trailing sheep the last two years, he surely would have left his wife and child back in England. Out of necessity he would have been absent from them for most of that time, becoming a near stranger to the child. Isabella lost her mother—not the only parent who loved her, surely, but the only one she truly knew. And on top of that she’d been pulled from everything familiar, from friends and grandparents and the house she thought of as home. No wonder the child was detached.
    “Miss Proctor, I need your help.” The muscles in Gideon’s jaw clenched, and his dark eyes pleaded with her. “She’s slipping away from me, and I worry that the melancholia won’t let go. I tried to give her time to grieve, but this can’t be healthy for her. She withdraws more and more. I don’t want you just teaching her reading and arithmetic. I want you to teach her joy.”
    Moved by his genuine love for the child and by the pain of one so young, Adelaide arose from her chair and went to him. He quickly gained his feet but seemed to have difficulty looking at her. She knew she had no right to offer him comfort, yet her heart demanded that she try. Putting her hand on his arm, she drew his attention and peered up into eyes that brimmed with desperation.
    “I don’t know if I am capable of the task,” she said, “but I will give everything I have to the effort. If the Lord wills it, we will find a way.”
    He held her gaze for several seconds, then nodded. “Thank you.”
    Gideon stepped back and cleared his throat. When he looked at her again, all evidence of vulnerability had vanished. He motioned for her to walk with him to the door.
    “I purchased a selection of schoolbooks several weeks ago. I wasn’t sure what you would require, so if an area is lacking, let me know and I will order whatever materials you need.” He occasionally glanced her way, but for the most part kept his head angled toward the floor as they made their way across the room. “You’ll find the books stored on the third floor, along with various other supplies. Set up the schoolroom however you see fit.”
    They slowed as they reached the doorway. He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on the balls of his feet. “Explore the house. Get to know Isabella. Ride that horse of yours all over the countryside. This is to be your home now. I want you to be comfortable.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Westcott.”
    “Keep me informed of—”
    A high-pitched scream rent the air. The tormented sound tore away all pretense of formality, leaving nothing but raw emotion visible on Gideon Westcott’s face.
    “Bella.”
    He sprinted out of the room toward the sound. Adelaide followed close at his heels.

Chapter 7
    It took only a minute to reach the kitchen, but Gideon felt as if he’d aged ten years by the time he burst into the room. The screaming continued, piercing his ears as well as his heart. He expected to find Bella crumpled in pain, wounded in some way, but she stood hale and hearty before him, not a wrinkle on her dress or scuff on her shoe. He rushed up to her and fell to his knees. He scrutinized her from head to toe, yet he saw no visible injury. Panic mingled with helplessness and caused him to grip her arms tighter than he intended.
    “Bella. What is it? What’s wrong?”
    All at once the screaming stopped, but the anguish didn’t. Isabella’s pain-filled eyes stared past him as if he weren’t there. Chills speared through him.
    “Bella.” He shook her gently. “Bella!”
    “Señor.” Miss Proctor’s voice. “ Quitarse su camisa . Take off your shirt.”
    What was she talking about? And why was she addressing him in Spanish? But then she moved into his line of sight, and he realized she wasn’t talking to him at all.
    His foreman, Miguel, stood directly across from Bella, his features