Return to Mariposa

Chapter 5

The gardens of Mariposa were magnificent. Granda had always had a slew of gardeners keeping them in perfect shape, full of bright flowers and cool koi ponds and waterfalls to delight the eye. As children we’d loved it, and even now the heady scent of Granda’s prize roses hung heavy on the air. Taking in a deep breath immediately transported me back to that time, seemingly so long ago, when I’d been shy and lonely and desperately in love. And Marcus had only had eyes for Bella.

I shook off the memory, looking around me. It wasn’t the gardens that I had missed, as gorgeous and colorful as they were. Mariposa was built on the top of a small mountain, and from its lofty perch, everything one could see belonged to the Whitehead family. To the east lay the olive groves, an endless expanse stretching all the way down to the sea. To the west lay the vineyards, the smell of the grapes strong after a day of baking in the hot sun.

In a few more months they would lay down the nets for the olive harvest—blankets stretched beneath the orderly trees to collect the fruit as it fell—but for now I could wander where I pleased.

The vineyards were another matter. When I was younger I would steal grapes, but they probably loaded them with pesticides nowadays. I could still walk along the rows, feeling the good Spanish dirt beneath my feet, the stillness and peace of growing things. Or I could see if I could find my favorite spot, Pinnacle Point, a narrow outcropping of land high above the olive groves, near an ancient elm tree. When I was young it had been my castle. I would sit there and pretend I was a gypsy, living on the land and sleeping beneath the stars. The one time I’d tried it, I’d ended up in my own bed, and I never had discovered who it was who’d carried me there. I’d always liked to pretend it was Marcus, but in truth I knew better. He was too caught up in Bella to notice I was anywhere around, much less missing for the night. It would have been Maldonado or one of the field workers, I supposed. Still, when I’d awoken, I’d been tucked in, and I dreamt a gentle hand had brushed my hair away from my face with surprising tenderness. It was no wonder I had always preferred dreams to reality.

The workers had all retired for the evening, back to their homes on the hillsides, and there was no sign of Ian the Wretch. I started down the hill, nibbling on my sandwich, and by the time I reached the edge of the olive groves, the sun was dipping low in the west. The soft breeze was welcome in the accumulated heat, and I paused, looking up, wondering if I had time to find my old sanctuary. I didn’t even hear him approach.

“What are you doing down here?” Ian snapped.

I dropped the rest of my sandwich, startled, then swore. “Damn it, Ian! You scared me! And I wanted that sandwich!”

It was already gone, wolfed down by the disreputable dog by Ian’s long legs. He looked as scruffy as his master—some kind of mix that looked vaguely familiar.

“Ollie!” I breathed, squatting down and rubbing his shaggy head. “I’ve missed you.”

I felt Ian’s stillness, and I glanced up as the dog happily licked my hand, my arm, and my face. “Ollie’s been dead nine years now, Bella. As much as you hate dogs, you still should remember that much.”

I had put my arms around the dog, letting him nuzzle me enthusiastically as I laughed, when his words finally penetrated. Hell and damnation. How could someone not love dogs?

I rubbed the dog’s head. Kneeling at Ian’s feet wasn’t a particularly good thing to be doing either, since it brought me eye-level with his belt and the flat stomach covered by a faded black T-shirt.

I rose, shrugging it off. “I finally found a dog I liked, and realized there was nothing to be scared of.”

“You were scared of dogs? I thought you just didn’t like them.”

Maybe I’d been a bit too sanguine about Ian earlier. Then again, he’d always done everything he could to bother Bella and me—I should have expected nothing less.

I shrugged, tossing my hair. That toss was beginning to hurt my neck. “Don’t be a pain in the ass,” I said, still scratching the blissfully grateful dog behind the ears. “A person can change, you know. And how long has it been since you saw me? Five years? Don’t you think I might have grown up a little?”

There was no expression on his face. That had always been the damnable thing about Wretched Ian—you could never tell what he was thinking. “I would have thought that was an outright impossibility. So you’ve changed your ways, have you? You now like dogs, you travel light, and you’ve developed an affection for Diet Coke. Will wonders never cease?”

“You’ve been talking to Maldonado,” I said, uneasy. “Then you must know that the cousins are here.”

“I know. He also warned me you were off traipsing around the land. Not the smartest thing to do when the sun is setting. Or were you trolling for a farmhand for a quick roll in the hay?”

“A farmhand? Don’t be ridiculous!” I said instinctively. Then scrambled to cover my words. “Not that farmhands aren’t as worthy as anyone else, but they aren’t really the stuff of romantic fantasies. I mean, most of them are middled-aged, with a paunch and dozens of children.”

“Getting democratic, are we, Bella-Beast?”

I stiffened. I’d forgotten that little sobriquet. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Give people nasty names? Like calling your brother Lunkhead. And poor Podge! That was outright cruel.” I shouldn’t have brought it up, but that name, which had become a comfortable form of address used by everyone at Mariposa, still burned.

Again that inscrutable expression. “It helps me keep people sorted in my mind. And you know perfectly well you were the one who came up with the name Podge. You’re right, it was cruel. Too bad she never realized you were responsible.”

I couldn’t move, frozen there in the rich soil like an ancient vine. “I...” I began, but my voice felt raw. She couldn’t have! Ian was lying.

“You’re looking exhausted,” he said abruptly, and with anyone else, I might have thought there was a note of kindness in his voice. “You’re still jet-lagged. Go back to the house and take it easy. I’m certain Maldonado can forage some food for you.”

I wanted to refuse, but too many things were swirling around in my head, and I needed to sit somewhere quiet and pull myself together. At this rate I’d betray myself. I wanted to, desperately, at that moment. I wanted to weep and rail at Bella, my only ally, but I bit it back. Telling Ian the truth wouldn’t help anyone.

“Good idea,” I said with an approximation of the airy tones I’d perfected. I moved then, my muscles feeling stiff, then glanced back at him. “Are you coming to dinner? Mary Alice has decreed we have it at seven-thirty, but you could overrule her.”

“So could you. It doesn’t matter to me— I usually eat at my place.”

“Your place? You’re not living in the house?”

He shook his head. “I have an apartment over the old stables. I like my privacy.”

I relaxed, just marginally. “Then I won’t be seeing much of you during my stay.”

“Don’t count on it. When Marcus is here, I spend my evenings at the house, and I visit Granda at least once a day, plus I need to check in with Maldonado to make sure things are running smoothly. You never know when I’m going to turn up, Bella-Beast. You’ll need to watch your back.”

“Why? Are you going to stab me in it?”

His smile was thin. “You don’t know me very well, do you? If I ever decide to stab you, it will be in the heart, looking into your cold green eyes, sweetheart. So watch your step.”

His cool words shook me. “Are you threatening me?”

“Yes. It’s not the first time. Behave yourself, or I’ll make you very sorry you didn’t.”

Two could play this game. “You like to hurt women, Ian? Why am I not surprised?”

“The only woman I ever wanted to do violence to was you, Bella-Beast. You haven’t yet goaded me into it, but sooner or later you will, if you keep on trying.”

Bella would too. She would taunt and bait Ian, as she had when we were younger, determined to get his attention. His disdain for her had driven her crazy, and she had always done her best to make him fall at her feet as most other boys did. As far as I knew, he never had.

“Why don’t we agree to keep out of each other’s way?” I said in my sweetest voice. “You see me coming, you change direction. I’ll do the same, and we won’t have to annoy each other.”

“Go back to the house,” he said again. “I don’t want to babysit you tonight—I’ve got better things to do.”

I looked at him. He had showered, his sun-streaked hair dark with water, and he’d shaved. “Got a hot date?” I said, irritated.

He grinned. “I do. And I don’t want my little cousin interfering like she always did when we were younger. Go back to the house or I’ll carry you.”

I glared at him. I was so tempted to say “I’d like to see you try” but I was afraid he’d take me up on it. He was strong, and he could do it. And I didn’t want Ian’s arms around me. “Wretch,” I said pleasantly, turning my back on him and sauntering toward the big house. The big shaggy dog automatically followed, until Ian called him back, and I controlled my regret. I loved dogs. And cats, and birds, and turtles, and hamsters—I had a weakness for small creatures, furry or scaled, but my nomadic life hadn’t allowed me to own any.

“I already know about ‘Ian the Wretch’,” he called after me. “You’re going to have to come up with something a little fiercer. How about Ian the Terror?”

I looked back over my shoulder. “You wish.”

His laugh followed me back to the house.

The ground floor of Mariposa was filled with large rooms, and I headed straight for my favorite, the ladies’ salon, hoping to God Mary Alice hadn’t coopted it. Of course it had the same soaring ceilings and dark beams, the stucco walls, but these were painted with a soft warm color, almost a blend of terracotta and peach, and the furniture was overstuffed and slightly shabby. It had always been a neglected room—I had claimed it as my own when we were young, and while Mary Alice and Valerie had objected, Granda had overruled them. They’d never shown interest in the shabby little room before, and they could make do with the vast drawing rooms or the library.

For a moment I was afraid that this had been spruced up like everything else at Mariposa, but when I opened the door I breathed a sigh of relief. It was the same. Spotless, of course—Maldonado would accept nothing less, but the pale, overstuffed furniture was the same, the cabbage roses on the slipcovers slightly more faded. The bookshelves were filled with books written by women, something Granda had always deemed beneath his attention, and there were brand-new glossy fashion magazines on the table in front of the old sofa with the high sides, typical of Maldonado’s attention to detail. There was even a small silver tray with a decanter of sherry and a set of glasses waiting.

The room looked out over the lawns, with one wall made up of French doors. I pushed them open, letting the stuffiness out and the deliciously cool night air in. I’d left my e-reader up in my room, but for the moment, all I wanted to do was stretch out on the sofa and look out over the landscape, lit by the reflection of the setting sun.

Granda would be able to see the sunset from his room, since it faced west, and I wondered if someone had bothered to open the shutters for him. I hoped so. A good granddaughter would go and make certain, but I was too tired and confused to do anything but lie there, watching the sky darken. Besides, I didn’t think I could handle much more of Mary Alice right then.

I had a lot to think about. About the possibility that Bella had come up with that hateful nickname. Ian had probably lied about that...but then, why would he lie to Bella, who presumably would know the truth? It made no sense. It had to be the truth.

It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. Bella had always had a sharp tongue, though her regret when she let it get away from her was profound. If she had come up with it, she would have been sorry. It would have been Ian who’d taken it and run with it.

Except that I couldn’t remember Ian using that name all that much. When we were alone, he’d called me Kitty. In front of the others, he’d called me nothing at all.

And I was starting to wonder who the hell I was. I poured myself a small glass of Mariposa’s stunning fino, taking a tentative sip and then humming with pleasure. I didn’t drink much, but I knew enough to savor the best.

Was I Kitty, impoverished graduate student and exile, here to play a game of charades with people I loved? Was I Kitty, Bella’s grown-up cousin, was I Podge, with baby fat and spots, a late bloomer? Was I Bella, the glamorous and charming, or the Bella-Beast that Ian despised? Who the hell was I?

I sank lower into the comfortable sofa. A broad expanse of lawn stretched out in front of me, the gardens and swimming pool off to the left behind a thick row of cedars. They used to have dances on that lawn, the people spilling out from the drawing rooms that led out into the night air. I would dream of dancing with Marcus. I would wear a flowing white dress, my feet would be barefoot in the grass, and for a moment I wondered if that was one more thing I could knock off my personal, Mariposa-ruled bucket list. If I was going to be stuck here, I might as well revel in it. I could live out my fantasies with Marcus, no harm, no foul, and when I returned to real life, it would be something to remember, to treasure.

I closed my eyes, trying to picture it, trying to imagine the feel of Marcus’s powerful arms around me, as the music played. His hands were warm, hard, as he pulled me too close, and I smiled as I rested my head against his chest. I looked down at our intertwined hands, the strength in his wrist, the scar showing white beneath the tan, and I broke the fantasy with a cry of horror. Why the hell had Ian hijacked my romantic daydream, damn him?

The scar.

I hadn’t thought of that day in years. In fact, not since my mother had dragged me away from Mariposa on that bright summer day, never to return. It was time to revisit that tumultuous afternoon from the perspective of my hoped-for maturity. Hoped-for, because Mariposa was making me feel like an adolescent again, roiling with hormones and emotions I had shut off years ago.

Bella had been bored. We’d spent the last few days lying by the pool, soaking up sun to turn our skin a golden tan. Bella had worn a thong bikini so scandalous I was both embarrassed and in awe. I wore a black one-piece and a voluminous cover-up when I wasn’t in the pool, and while sunbathing had always felt like the most boring thing in the world, Bella had made everything interesting.

She rolled over on her back, not bothering to adjust her slipping bikini top, lifted her expensive sunglasses and eyed me. “I’m bored, Podge.”

I didn’t bother coming up with suggestions—I knew they’d be shot down. Besides, she had a spark in her bright green eyes that always signaled trouble. I sat up, pulled my caftan over my head, and crossed my legs. “What do you have in mind?”

“I think we should go explore the caves.”

I took in a quick, shocked breath. “There’s a reason we’re not supposed to go anywhere near them. They’re dangerous.”

“Bullshit,” seventeen-year-old Bella had said with the easy familiarity with cursing that I envied. “Life is dangerous. Those caves have been here since Roman times and I haven’t heard of anyone dying.”

“That’s because no one’s allowed in. They’re blocked off.”

“I bet we can find our way in.”

“Why?” I countered. Silly question. I knew the answer before she said it.

“Because we can.”

There was never any question that I would accompany her. Not from slavish devotion, which I knew Bella counted on, but because if she went on her own, she might get hurt. At least if I went with her, I could go for help if she ran into trouble.

I never considered telling Granda, or Maldonado, or any of the adults who watched over us. Ratting on your buddies was strictly forbidden in our loose code of honor, and I knew Marcus and Ian would view me with deep contempt if I did so. All I could do was try to keep Bella from accidentally killing herself in her quest for adventure.

I’d dressed in shorts and a loose T-shirt, meeting her down by the edge of the vineyards. The lands of Mariposa were so vast they encompassed olive groves, vineyards, Roman ruins, Moorish ruins, a stretch of rocky coast, and the dark caves once used to hold smuggled goods, English soldiers, cheese and hams for curing, and occasionally gypsies. Anyone and anything had hidden in its confines, until Granda had irritably declared it off-limits the previous summer, making a place that had never held much interest suddenly irresistible.

Bella was wearing jeans and a halter top, with her hair pulled back and covered with a scarf, and she looked conspiratorial when she met up with me. “Marcus and Ian have gone riding, Mary Alice is sucking up to Granda, and God knows where Valerie is. We don’t have to worry about any of them.”

“Marcus wouldn’t tell,” I said, defending my hero.

“Of course he wouldn’t. But Ian the Wretch would try to stop me, and you know Marcus listens to him, not to mention that Mary Alice is a tattletale. And I’m not about to let anyone stop me.”

Indeed, when Bella had decided something it was almost impossible to change her mind. She was fiercely single-minded when it came to getting what she wanted, and damn the torpedoes. “Then what are we waiting for?” The sooner this was over, the sooner I could go back to my room and finish the thick, juicy romance I had hidden between my mattresses. I’d been mocked once too often by everyone for my choice of reading material.

The caves had never been easy to get to, which had always been part of their appeal. You had to get past the acres of vineyards, through two open fields and into the woods, moving down at an increasingly steep angle toward the sea. If you weren’t looking, you could miss them—the narrow path steered clear of the entrance, and if you happened to glance that way, you might think it was simply a pile of huge boulders left by an errant glacier. I’d never been inside, and I somehow had envisioned something along the lines of the cave houses of Granada, but it was a far cry from that rustic charm. There were brambles in the underbrush as we forged our way to the opening, scratching my legs and arms, and I wished I’d had the brains to wear jeans the way Bella had. She paused in front of the entrance, her eyes shining, and turned to me.

“Who’s going first?”

I had been regretting this for the last half hour as we’d slogged toward our destination, and I now looked at the narrow passageway with deep distrust. I wasn’t troubled by phobias, either fear of the dark or enclosed places, but the vista didn’t look promising. “I thought it was boarded up.”

“Marcus and I were out this way a couple of days ago, and he helped me move the boards.”

Of course he did. Marcus would do anything for Bella. “Maybe we should head back to the house,” I said nervously. “I’m not sure I’m up for this.”

Bella didn’t bother to hide her disgust. “Coward. I’d thought better of you, Podge.”

The words stung. I’d always hated to be thought a coward, and Bella knew it. I sighed. “I’ll go first. Did you bring a flashlight?”

“A torch? I forgot to. Here. This is almost as good.” She pulled out her pilfered pack of cigarettes and handed me the lighter. It was Granda’s, from the time he used to smoke, solid gold, dated and engraved, and I took it in awe.

“Granda gave you this?” I breathed.

“Of course not, silly. He wasn’t using it any longer, and I doubt he even missed it. And you’re not to tell anyone...”

“Who do you think I am, Mary Alice?” I demanded with dignity. “I don’t tattle.”

She gave me her blazing smile of approval. “Of course not, Podge. I’m sorry I even said anything. You go in and I’ll follow. Unless you’d rather me lead the way.”

I would have, but I said nothing, mentally girding my loins. I could do this, prove myself worthy. Squaring my shoulders, I stepped into the shadowy confines of the cave, ignoring the sudden squeeze of fear.

It was cold after the heat of the summer afternoon, cold and damp. I held the lighter up, clicking it, and looked around me. It was a small room, with a dark passageway leading off it, but it was big enough to stand up in. “I’m okay,” I called back.

The cave darkened as Bella blocked out the light in the doorway. She slipped in beside me, looking around in disgust. “I was expecting something a little more exciting,” she said.

“Like what? Pirate treasure? Prehistoric wall paintings? It’s just a boring old cave,” I said, hoping she’d seen enough.

She hadn’t, of course. “Let’s go this way,” she said, pushing past me and heading into the darkness.

“Wait!” I called after her, rushing to keep up, the meager flame from the light vanishing.

I saw her quite clearly as I felt the earth give way beneath me. She was saying something, a warning, a scream, but I couldn’t hear the words as the soft ground crumbled under my feet, and I was falling, falling into a darkness so thick and impenetrable it felt like death. I landed hard, the breath knocked out of me, and I lay there, gasping and choking, certain I was dying. I clawed out, my fingers struggling for something to hold onto, but there was only hard stone all around me.

My breath came back in a painful whoosh, and I could finally hear Bella’s voice from far overhead, screeching at me. “Jesus Christ, Podge, why couldn’t you watch where you were going? That ground could barely support my weight. You should have stayed toward the middle.”

I tried to say something, but only came out with a muffled sob, which surprised me. I never cried in front of anyone at Mariposa—that was kept for the sanctity of the small room I’d been given. Originally Bella and I had shared, just as the cousins and Marcus and Ian had, but as her wardrobe increased, her need for space had increased as well, and she’d been moved out of the nursery into one of the grown-up bedrooms with its own ensuite, something I deeply envied. I hated leaving my room in the middle of the night in my pajamas—it always happened that Marcus or Ian would be wandering around and see me.

Bella’s voice softened. “Are you all right, Podge?”

I managed to swallow my next sob. “I don’t think so. Everything hurts.”

“Can you move? Try to sit up.”

I tried, I really did, but it hurt too much to pull myself into a sitting position. “Everything works,” I said in a pained voice. “I just don’t want to move.”

“Light the lighter so I can see how far down you are.”

I’d put it in my pocket as I’d hurried after her. I reached for it, and it tumbled out of my hands. Thank God I didn’t lunge for it—I would have disappeared into the darkness as well. I could hear it, skittering down against the rock walls, and endless fall that finally ended in a watery plunk. “It’s gone,” I said miserably.

“Jesus Christ, Podge, Granda is going to kill you!” she snapped from overhead. “He loved that damned thing.”

I was feeling too wretched to point out that she was the one who had taken it in the first place. I put my face down against the stone, feeling the grit beneath my forehead, the sting of abraded skin. “Sorry,” I managed to mutter with less grace than I could have wished.

Bella’s sigh from overhead was long-suffering. “Well, it can’t be helped, I suppose. I’ll cover for you—don’t I always? But in the meantime, we’re going to have to figure how to get you out of there without everyone finding out. Try to stand, Podge. I can’t see a damned thing and I don’t know how far down you are. Maybe you could climb up with the help of a rope or something.”

I sincerely doubted I could even manage to stand up at this point, but lying there crying wouldn’t do me any good. Gritting my teeth, I pulled myself to a sitting position, ignoring the screaming pain in my side. I’d fallen on something, maybe a rock, and I had probably broken ribs that were about to puncture my heart and lungs and kill me, and then Marcus would realize what he’d lost and...

I stopped my maunderings with disgust, reaching around me gingerly. I seemed to be on some sort of ledge, with unforgiving stone behind me and a steep drop in front of me. Great. I braced myself against the wall and tried to stand up, then collapsed back down with an unwelcome cry of pain.

“What’s wrong?” Bella’s concern was clearly mixed with annoyance.

“I don’t think I can stand up. I think I’ve broken something.” I felt my right leg gingerly, sucking in my breath at the pain.

“People run marathons on broken legs, Podge. It’s all a matter of adrenaline and nerve. You can stand if you really want to—I know you can. You can do anything.”

That had always been Bella’s belief, and it usually made me feel powerful and almost as wonderful as she was. Right then it annoyed me. I sniffed. “Not quite anything.”

“Stand up, Bella!” she snapped, harsher now. “Or I’ll leave you there.”

She wouldn’t, of course. But her words were enough to galvanize me. Using the wall as a brace, I rose, slowly, painfully, reaching above me to see how high it extended. Too high. And then my leg gave way and I collapsed, one leg slipping over the edge to pull me downward.

I managed to stop myself, just in time. “It’s too high,” I said grimly. “You’re going to have to go for help.”

There was silence from the darkness above me, and for a brief, terrified moment I was afraid she had left. And then her voice came back, a blessed relief. “I’ll go find Marcus. He can bring a ladder and we’ll get you out in a trice. No one need know anything about it—we’ll just say you fell on the rocks by the beach.”

“We aren’t supposed to go to the beach alone either,” I pointed out weakly. There was a dangerous riptide on the rocky coast, making it unsuitable for swimming, and Granda had declared it off limits from the very beginning.

“Trust me,” Bella said.

I heard her move away, the sounds of her departure growing fainter and fainter, and I leaned back against the wall to wait. It would take her a while to get back to the house, longer still to track down Marcus and pry him away from Ian. I could expect, at the very least, an hour stuck down here in this dark, dank hole.

I hadn’t thought I minded dark, enclosed places, but I’d never experienced such a deep, unforgiving darkness as it was on that hard, narrow ledge. It was like a physical thing, closing down around me, suffocating me, and I felt my breathing quicken, short, shallow pants that were easy to recognize. My fragile mother suffered from panic attacks, and I had nursed her through them any number of times. I was not going to let myself give in to the same wretched problem.

I slowed my breathing. My face was wet and cold, and I pushed my hair away from it, realized with surprise that it was tears, not sweat. I needed to stop, or I’d be all blotchy and miserable when Marcus rescued me. This whole thing was embarrassing enough—I could at least manage to look like a damsel in distress when Marcus came.

He might even have to carry me. The thought filled me with mixed emotions. On the one hand, being scooped up in Marcus’s strong arms had been at the base of every daydream I had ever had. On the other, he would notice the very solid weight, still encumbered by baby fat, and probably struggle beneath the burden.

That made me start crying again, which was ridiculous, and I wiped the tears away with the hem of my T-shirt.

I had lost track of time. How long had Bella been gone—an hour? Two? Or maybe only ten minutes? It might take her time to find Marcus, particularly if he and Ian had decided to go for a long ride. Knowing Bella, that wouldn’t stop her—she’d simply filch one of the cars. She’d been doing so since she was twelve, and I had complete faith in her.

I don’t know if I slept. It seemed to me I might have. It took me a while to realize I was starving—this doomed adventure had started in lieu of lunch, and adding to my misery was the growling of my stomach.

I tried to lie back down on the ledge, but lying on rubble-strewn stone was even worse than sitting up. I leaned my head back against the wall, cried a little, and slept.

When I awoke, I was freezing. I don’t know whether the temperature had dropped or it had simply taken that long for the cold to seep in, but the moment I realized it, I started shivering, and once it began I couldn’t stop. I tried to clamp down on my quivering muscles, wrapping my arms around my body and hugging tightly, but it did no good. My teeth were chattering, my fingers and toes icy, and I knew beyond a doubt that Bella had been gone too long.

She must have fallen on her way to get help. That, or gotten lost. Even if she couldn’t find Marcus and Ian, she would eventually turn to Mary Alice for help, and she would manage everything with her usual ruthless efficiency. If Granda found out he would be furious, but he never stayed angry at Bella for long, and she would protect me from his wrath. If she hadn’t returned, then something had happened to her as well.

For a moment panic swept over me, as I contemplated my imminent demise. And then I calmed down. Granda and everyone who worked at Mariposa, a small army, would move heaven and earth to find Bella, and once they did, they would find me. Unless she’d fallen and hit her head on a rock and was either dead, in a coma, or with a full-flown case of amnesia, in which case I would most definitely die, and considering how cold and how hungry I was, it might be in the next five minutes.

At first, I didn’t even hear the noise. The distant scrape of wood against the rock, the merest sense that the stygian darkness was lessening. And then I heard his voice. His voice.

“Kitty! Where are you?” Ian’s voice was furious.

At that point, I didn’t have Bella’s facility with cursing, but I uttered a profound “fuck” when I recognized him. As if things weren’t bad enough.

“I’m here,” I called back. “Be careful or you’ll fall...”

“I’m not fool enough to come in here without a torch,” he snapped, sounding closer. “How long have you been down here?” The light was growing nearer, a blessed pool of battery-powered electricity.

“I don’t know,” I snapped, irritated. “I’ve lost track of time. Where’s Marcus?”

His laugh was harsh. “I should have known that would be your first thought. He’s back at the house. Apparently he and Bella got distracted on the way to rescue you, and they dispatched me. Sorry for the disappointment.”

I fought back the crushing betrayal. “I don’t care who rescues me, just get me out of here.”

The light came down over me, and I blinked up, blinded. “Shit,” he swore under his breath. “You look like holy hell. Move back against the wall if you can. I’ve brought a ladder.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, glad the tears and all trace of them were long past as I made myself as narrow as I could. The last thing I wanted was Wretched Ian’s pity.

The light was taken away as he worked with the ladder, and I almost cried out at its loss. And then he slid the ladder down till it settled against the narrow ledge, and I heard him curse again.

“What’s wrong?” I demanded, unable to keep the fear out of my voice. If I didn’t get out of this place soon I was going to turn into a blubbering, frozen baby.

“The ladder’s too short. I should be able to pull you up the rest of the way, but you’ve got to be very careful not to knock it or you and the ladder will go over, and I don’t know how far down it is.”

“Too far,” I said. I wasn’t going to be able to stand up, I knew it, any more than I could climb that ladder. But there wasn’t really a choice. I shifted onto my knees, gingerly. They hurt like hell, but the main problem was my right leg, which wasn’t going to support my weight. That’s all right—I had a left leg and two arms that would get me up there, not to mention sheer panic.

I pulled myself up and tried to put weight on my leg. The pain was so intense I almost fainted, and I started to sink down again, then managed to stop myself with sheer force of will. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, I had to get up there. I stumbled toward the ladder, and heard Ian curse overhead.

“Are you able to get up the ladder?” he asked in a quieter voice.

“I have to,” I said grimly.

“Hold on a moment.”

That was the last thing I wanted to do. Standing up had been hard, staying there was just about impossible. I put my hands on the ladder, then resolutely set my left foot and all my weight onto the first rung, leaving my right leg dangling. So far so good, but there was no way I could hop my way up this rickety ladder, especially considering the narrow angle at its base. I put my right foot on the next rung, planning to use it as a tiny bit of leverage, when the pain slashed through again, and I cried out before I could stop myself, starting to fall back, the ladder coming with me.

Something caught it, stopped its descent into darkness, with me clinging to it like a desperate monkey. “Damn it, Kitty, I told you to hold on,” he snapped, sounding no more than slightly harassed. “I’ve got a rope I’m going to toss down to you. I need you to tie it around your waist. That way I can pull you up if the ladder doesn’t work.”

“Pull me up?” I squeaked. I should have been too far past vanity, but I was fifteen and fragile, and I could just imagine the mockery I’d get from all of them. “I can manage.”

“Take the fucking rope.”

That was the first time that word had been directed at me in anger, and it shocked me enough that I caught the rope as he dropped it. He’d tied a loop, and I put it up around me, pulling it tight.

“That’s right,” he said in a calmer voice, soothing me. “Now start up the ladder again. Carefully.”

“You don’t...need to tell...me that,” I gasped, grabbing hold once more, gritting my teeth. I could handle pain. It would only last a few seconds, as I made my way up the ladder, and then I could scream and cry all I wanted, and it didn’t matter if Ian mocked me. I’d be safe.

I was past tears—I must have cried them all out earlier in my imprisonment. I gritted my teeth, fighting against the dizziness, and climbed the first rung. Then the second. I even managed the third, when my leg gave way completely, the ladder bucked out from under me and I was hanging by a rope, swinging over whatever lay beyond the edge of the ledge as I heard the wooden ladder splinter below me as it followed Granda’s lighter.

I didn’t call out. I heard Ian above me, cursing with great inventiveness, and the rope bit into my middle, cutting off my breath, as I felt myself being hauled upward. I was going to die, and I knew it. Ian didn’t have Marcus’s splendid muscles, he was only seventeen, not strong enough to haul me up that distance.

“Don’t...drop...me,” I managed to cry out despite the constriction of the rope, which had now slipped up to my armpits and was choking me even more effectively.

“I’m not fucking going to,” he ground out, and I could only hope he was using something for leverage or I wasn’t going to be around for much longer. I bounced against the stone wall, slammed my head against the rock, and cried out, feeling the dizziness come over me once again.

“Don’t pass out, Kitty,” he snarled. “I need your help. I can’t handle a dead weight.”

I forced myself back. I couldn’t climb up the rock, but I could use my hands, my fingers, searching for any kind of handhold, something that could propel me up, taking at least a bit of the strain off Ian. If only he hadn’t come alone. Embarrassing as it was, he and Marcus and Bella could have hauled me up with ease, instead of Ian trying desperately to drag me out of the valley of death.

Another yank, and my knees slammed against the rock. I could hear him cursing, a litany of words so foul I didn’t know some of them. If I survived, I was going to find out what they meant and use them myself.

And then, wonder of wonders, I felt the edge of the drop, and while some of it crumbled against my desperately grabbing fingers, Ian must have seen me, for he pulled once more, one ferocious yank, and I was lying on the floor of the cave like a landed fish, and Ian had collapsed beside me, muttering “shit shit shit” underneath his breath.

I don’t know how long we lay there. I was unable to move, not even to loosen the rope that was biting into my armpits and chest. All I could do was thank God I was still alive. And wish it were Marcus who had rescued me.

Ian sat up first, no longer gasping for breath, and reached for the rope. I tried to slap his hands away, more than capable of untying it myself, but I couldn’t even lift my arms. All I could do was lie there and let him deal with it.

Something was wet against my chest, wet and warm, and I recognized the smell of blood. “I’m bleeding,” I choked out in horror.

“Not unless you’ve got your period,” he said, and I could feel my face heat. “That’s my blood pouring all over you. I gashed my arm against the rock while I was hauling your ass out of there.”

Guilt and concern assailed me. “Are you all right? Do you need a bandage?”

“Since neither of us has one, it hardly matters. I’m not going to bleed to death, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said with his usual lack of charm. “I’ll get you back to the house, though I can’t promise Granda won’t find out. Bella and Marcus were supposed to distract him, but there’s never any guarantee that will work, and Mary Alice is always snooping around. So, what the bloody hell did you think you were doing, coming out here? You know it’s off-limits.”

“Bella...that is, we thought it would be fun.”

But he’d caught my slip. “Bella’s idea, was it? I should have known. You know, Podge, you’re the biggest idiot I have ever seen in my entire life. You think Marcus is a god and you watch him with those sad eyes of yours, hoping he’ll notice, and he never will. Marcus isn’t the noticing kind of person—you have to hit him over the head to get him to pay attention. And you think Bella is your friend. She’s not. She’s a snake in the grass.”

“Go to hell,” I said. For some reason the fact that he called me Podge was almost worse than his warning. “You’re just jealous.”

“Of whom? Marcus? He’s a kind-hearted lunkhead, and you’re smart enough to know better, but you’re too blinded by his pretty face.”

“Of Bella,” I snapped. “You’re in love with her, and she only has eyes for Marcus, and you’re not half the man he is.”

It was the one thing I never should have said. Bella had confided in me, last summer. How Ian had tried to kiss her, and she’d rebuffed him. That it wasn’t the first time it happened, and it explained all his hostility.

I couldn’t see his face in the darkness. He was still fiddling with the rope, but for a moment his hands stilled. “When I fall in love with someone, Kitty, you’ll be the first to know.” I could feel him rise, towering over me as he pulled the rope free, and I didn’t have to see him to know he was winding the rope up in neat, mechanical movements. “Give me your hands.”

I had managed to sit up, coughing a bit, and I glared up at his shadowy figure, secure in the fact that it was too dark to see expressions. “I can take it from here. Why don’t you head back to the house and I’ll follow on my own.”

“Don’t bother giving me dirty looks,” he said. “I’m not leaving you until you’re safe inside the house. I don’t trust you not to wander over another cliff.”

“The cave floor gave way beneath me!” I protested, incensed. “It was hardly my fault.”

“You’re right about that,” he said grimly. He reached down, caught my arms, and hauled me up to stand in front of him. Or he tried. My leg immediately gave way, and he caught me, pulling me against him.

I had never felt a boy’s body against mine, a boy’s arms around me, and I almost cried. I’d wanted it to be Marcus, I wanted my first kiss to be from Marcus.

Not that Ian had any intention of kissing me. Instead, he simply picked me up into his arms, holding me high as he carried me out of the cave.

And into darkness. Night had fallen—I had been trapped in that cave for hours, and it was little wonder I was still shaking from the cold.

The moon was high, and we could see each other more clearly. He set me down on the ground, more carefully than I would have expected from bad-tempered Ian, and I could see his arm beneath the rolled-up shirt sleeve was dark with blood.

“You should bandage th...that cut,” I said through my shivers. The night was cool, the heat from the blistering sun had vanished.

“When we get back to the house. In the meantime, you’re going to freeze to death and probably go into shock, which will make things even more of a clusterfuck than they already are.”

“I don’t like your l...language,” I said primly.

“And I don’t give a fuck.” He was stripping off his loose cotton shirt, and for a moment I thought he was going to bandage his arm after all. Instead, to my shock, he wrapped it around me.

It still held his body heat. It smelled like him, and I wanted to close my eyes and pretend it was Marcus’s, but that was stupid. I tried to shrug it off. “You need it more than I do,” I protested.

“I haven’t been freezing my ass off in a cave for six hours.”

“Six?” I echoed. “What took you so long?”

“That’s not the right question.”

Ian wasn’t as broad as his brother. He had a narrow body, wiry, with slightly bony shoulders. But he was stronger than he looked, and he scooped me up effortlessly before I could protest. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Being held by a shirtless boy was...confusing. His skin was warm, smooth, a furnace against my chilled flesh, and the muscles beneath it moved easily as he carried me up the steep embankment. I kept expecting him to make some snide comment about how much I weighed, to call me Podge again, but he said nothing, moving through the woods at a steady pace. I closed my eyes and was silent too, letting my head rest against his warm shoulder, simply because I was too wrung out to keep it upright any longer. Everything hurt. Everything but where Ian’s warm skin touched mine.