Return to Mariposa

Chapter 7

Ididn’t sleep well. I blamed it on jet lag, on the long nap I’d taken, on the stuffiness of the room, on the distraction of the soft night breeze after I opened the shutters. I blamed it on Bella and the unexpected hurt of her betrayal. She was the one who’d come up with Podge. Of course, she’d never known how much it would hurt, or how it would stick. But still.

I blamed it on worry about Granda. For all his rallying, I could see he was barely clinging to life. I blamed it on the charade, the lies I was spouting every time I opened my mouth, the lie I was living. And most of all, I blamed it on the fact that in the morning I was going to have to face the only man I had ever loved, Marcus Whitehead, and it was going to be devastating.

But even though I was living a lie, it was another thing to lie to myself. As I lay on the comfortable bed, looking out at the inky black sky, I went over each worry and dismissed or explained them away in a futile effort to soothe myself. And each time, I came back to the one thing that I couldn’t explain.

Ian’s unexpected kiss. Ian the Wretch, the nasty bane of my existence, had kissed me. And it had started out like the kind of kiss Ian would give—hard and insulting and totally devoid of emotion.

But it had changed. The feel of his hand, soothing me, running down my back, the softening of his mouth against mine, the taste of him, dark and foreign and bewitching. And the way I had kissed him back.

Was I out of my mind? I had to have been. Because that kiss had been different than anything I had ever felt before. He could have had me on the floor beneath him in seconds if he’d wanted, and I’d spent my twenty-eight years carefully avoiding most sexual encounters. And yet, if he’d pushed it, he could have had it. Had me.

That would have shaken the very pillars of heaven, I thought grimly, rolling over in the bed. Marcus would have returned to find Bella in his brother’s bed—who would have guessed? And no one would ever know that it was the exiled Kitty who’d let herself be ravished.

Except it wouldn’t be like that with Ian, I knew that instinctively. He’d have no interest in a pliant partner, which was exactly what I was. And Ian would know immediately that I wasn’t Bella, who would be voracious, demanding what she wanted, taking it.

Sex with Ian was the last thing I was interested in. If he hadn’t kissed me, if I couldn’t still feel his mouth, the hard warmth of his body, the strength in his hands, then I wouldn’t even be thinking about it. Him. Damn him.

It was dawn before I finally drifted off to sleep, and then I only managed a few short hours before I was wide awake again, this time concentrating on the one thing I should be worrying about.

Marcus was coming. And I needed to be ready to face him.

It was another perfect day, the sky bright blue, and I wanted to laugh. Rainy days were few and far between in my memories of Mariposa, but I’d always assumed that had been revisionist history. Two perfect days in a row hardly made up a halcyon existence, but I somehow knew I was only going to get bright, sunny weather as long as I was here. I just wished I could relax and enjoy it.

Today I managed the full Bella on my face and hair, so that I looked perfect, from my skillfully arched brows to my pedicured toes in the high-heeled sandals. I dressed in silk slacks and a loose silk top—just the look for a life of leisure. I knew I was going to get dirty in a matter of hours, I thought gloomily, but first impressions were paramount. I’d made a few false steps yesterday, tiny ones, and I couldn’t afford to falter in front of Marcus.

I headed straight for the kitchens and coffee, only to find a cheerful-looking woman at the stove. I stumbled my way toward the dining room in a caffeine-deprived haze, only to halt in the doorway as a momentary panic sliced through me.

Marcus. Golden, beautiful Marcus was there, and for a moment I was a podgy, awkward sixteen-year-old, desperately in love.

“God, Bella-Beast, it’s not as if you haven’t seen him in a decade,” Ian drawled from the sideboard where he was pouring himself a cup of coffee. There was no sign of Mary Alice and her faithful shadow, for which I had to be grateful.

“Bella!” Marcus said, his rich voice full of warmth as he rose from the table. “Just ignore Ian—he’s jealous.”

“I always do,” I managed, quite proud of myself, only to falter a moment later when I realized Marcus meant to kiss me. I didn’t have time to duck, to prepare myself, before he pulled me into his arms and kissed me smack on the lips as he gave me an enthusiastic hug.

I was then held at arm’s length as he surveyed me, and I might almost have thought there was surprise in his eyes as they swept over me. “Beautiful as ever,” he said.

“Would you expect anything less?” Ian drawled. “You want coffee, Bella?”

“Yes, please,” I managed, wishing Marcus would stop looking at me. I wasn’t unaware of the irony of this—all my life I’d wish he’d really look at me. “Black,” I added, pulling out of Marcus’s hold with a shaky little laugh. And then my inner demon made me add, “You’re as beautiful as ever yourself, Marcus.”

Ian made a disgusted sound as Marcus beamed. But it was nothing but the truth. He was a shade shorter than Ian’s lean length, but he was much wider, with broad shoulders and chest, blond hair swept back, beautiful blue eyes and a granite jaw. He was Prince Charming or a Greek God, take your pick, and I waited for my heart to quicken.

It didn’t. I looked at him, surveying him as he’d surveyed me, and waited for the old attraction to sweep over me. How could it not, when a man looked like that, and he was staring at me as if I were a T-bone steak?

Whose idea had the break-up been? Who was I kidding—of course it had been Bella’s idea. No one ever said no to Bella, at least no man in his right mind.

But I was prepared now, grateful for an impartial providence that made me momentarily resistant to Marcus’s golden glory. It would probably wash over me once I had coffee, but for now, too much was crowding my mind with not enough caffeine.

The sideboard was piled high with food and I was famished. By the time I filled my plate with eggs and tostadas, jambon, and crispy churros, I was ready to start drooling, and I sat down where Ian had placed my coffee, only to find he was between me and Marcus. Just as well, I thought, though proximity to Ian wasn’t much safer.

Ian surveyed my plate with amusement. “Where’s the dry toast you usually favor?” he said. “Have to keep that girlish figure, don’t you?”

They’d all teased my appetite when we’d been teenagers, and I could feel a tell-tale flush starting. Defiantly I speared a sausage and took a healthy bite. “I decided I was too skinny,” I replied in a silken voice.

“And you used to be a firm believer that one can’t be too tanned, too skinny, or too rich. As a matter of fact, you’re looking a little less leathery today. I imagine you’ll be spending the day at the pool trying to turn yourself bronze.” It was the trace of a question, but I didn’t answer it.

“Remember you haven’t seen me in five years,” I said blithely. “A woman can change.”

“And that’s the first time I’ve heard you refer to yourself as a woman, not a girl,” Ian continued. “Has my Bella-Beast grown up?”

“Leave her alone, Ian,” Marcus said gallantly. “Let Bella do what she wants, okay?”

“Not okay,” he snapped, no longer teasing. “No one sees her for years, and then the moment the estate is on the line, she comes rushing back, the prodigal daughter.”

“Prodigal granddaughter,” I said flippantly. “And I came because Granda is dying, not because I care about the money.”

“Granda’s been dying for the last year—it might have been nice if you’d come to see him while he could still enjoy it. And the day you don’t care about money is the day I become one of your euro-trash lovers.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you!” I snapped back, infuriated, only to see the sudden heat in his eyes, a heat that effectively silenced me.

A moment later it was gone. “No, I don’t think I would. You’re not my type, Bella, and you never have been.”

Marcus cleared his throat. “Don’t be such a prick, Ian. We’re delighted to have Bella back, and it’s made Granda very happy. Can’t you be pleasant for once in your life?”

I could feel Ian’s now-wintry eyes brush over me, and I stared back, uncowed. Ian had never frightened me in the past, and I wasn’t going to let him get to me now. There was a lot of conflicting emotions assailing me at Mariposa, and I needed to sift through them if I was going to make it through the next few days.

“I need something to be pleasant about,” Ian said, rising from the table and taking his coffee with him as he strolled toward the windows looking out over the hillside. He was dressed as he’d been yesterday: worn jeans, a black T-shirt, boots. Even if he didn’t have Marcus’s magnificent physique, he filled the T-shirt out nicely, and it looked like he was ready for a day of hard work.

Marcus, on the other hand, was in white pants and a white linen shirt, a match for my pricy outfit. He’d probably be spotless by the end of the day whereas I’d be reduced to a ragamuffin.

I glanced at Marcus shyly. He hadn’t changed, not really. He was still perfect, from his dazzling white teeth to his swimmer’s build. I was the one who had changed.

It only made sense: what shy, sensitive teenage girl wouldn’t be dazzled by a golden god? But it had been twelve years, and I’d grown up. It was a good thing I was no longer besotted, but a small, contrary part of me missed that desperate, innocent passion.

“Granda’s waiting for us,” Ian said abruptly. “Are you going to finish that churro?”

Despite the undercurrent of tension in the room I’d managed to go through all the food I’d piled on my plate, and I scooped up my remaining churro as I rose. “I can take it with me.”

I was expecting a snort of disgust from both of them—after all, as a plump teenager they had teased me unmercifully about my appetite, but neither of them said a word, and it took me a moment to remember this was Bella they were seeing, Bella the glorious, not sad little Podge.

We headed upstairs in silence, the tension growing thicker as we reached the third floor. There was a nurse on duty this time, and she viewed us with disfavor.

“I’ll check if he’s ready to see you,” she said in her soft Andalusian accent, running a contemptuous eye over Marcus and me. Her disapproval didn’t seem to extend to Ian, and I could understand why. Marcus and I were butterflies, uselessly flittering. Ian was cut from a different cloth.

A moment later we were ushered into the sickroom, and I felt a small surge of relief. Granda was sitting up against a pile of pillows, freshly shaved, his thinning white hair combed over his pink skull, a trace more life in his sunken eyes. “What took you so long?” he demanded in a shadow of his cantankerous voice. “I’ve been waiting hours, and this scheming bully won’t let me have coffee. I had to endure Mary Alice reading Dickens to me, and I hate Dickens!”

The nurse, seemingly used to being called names, simply held out a glass with a straw, and he sucked at it for a moment, giving us a chance to react.

Marcus reached the bedside first, all handsome deference and charm. “Granda, you know you’re glad to see us. Sorry it took me so long to get here, but the flights were horrendous. But look, Bella is here!” he added enthusiastically, pushing me forward.

“I know she’s here,” Granda snapped. “She came in yesterday, along with the other girls, probably wanting to know if I kicked the bucket yet.”

WWBD, I reminded myself. “Nothing could kill you, Granda,” I said cheerfully, wishing it were true. “The devil’s not ready for you yet.”

“Hmph,” he said, sounding pleased, and I knew I’d hit the right note. “It’s good to see the three of you together again. Mind you, Ian’s worth more than you two wastrels, but you’re family, and that’s what counts. Even Mary Alice and Valerie belong here, much as I wish they hadn’t come. I just have one question to ask.” He fixed his faded gaze on me, staring through my Bella-tinted green contacts. “Where’s Kitty?”

The name was like a bomb dropping in the room—dead silence from the three of us, as if he’d said something unmentionable. Oddly enough, Marcus was the first to recover.

“Granda, you know you sent Podge away. You didn’t want her to come back.”

It was all I could do to keep silent. Granda hadn’t sent me away—my mother had dragged me, and I’d had no choice. He was the one who’d cut off all communication, effectively exiling me from the family, but he hadn’t been the one who’d banished me in the first place.

Granda didn’t correct him. “I told you to bring her too,” he snapped. “Where is she?” And once again his eyes moved over me.

“She told you long ago she didn’t want to have anything to do with you,” Ian said. “I don’t think that’s going to change.”

It was another shock to my system, another lie, but not one I could refute. Ian was enough of a snake to have made it up on his own, in order to secure more of his inheritance, and I finally said something. “Are you sure? Podge never struck me as one who held grudges.”

Ian’s smile was nothing short of cruel. “Am I sure? You’re the one who told us she never wanted to hear from Granda again. Changing your story at this late date?”

I couldn’t let this pass. “She was hurt,” I said. “She’s probably changed her mind.”

“Not according to you. According to you, Podge said Granda could go to hell and take all of us with him.”

Granda wheezed with laughter. “She always did have more spunk than the rest of you gave her credit for. I don’t blame her if she doesn’t want to see me. But just so you know, that doesn’t mean she’s out of the running for a piece of the pie.”

“Don’t be ridiculous—you haven’t seen her in fourteen years,” Marcus said irritably.

“Twelve,” Granda corrected, clearly not as feeble as he appeared. “And here or not, she’s family, just as much as the rest of you vultures.”

Shit, I could feel a tightening in my throat, tears starting in the back of my eyes. How many times had I wanted to hear those words? Only to find out they were waiting for me if I’d come back as myself.

“I’ll tell you what, Granda,” Marcus said grandly. “I’ll get in touch with her myself, see if she’s changed her mind. “And none of us are worried about the estate—there’s more than enough for all of us. It’s you we care about.”

“Bullshit,” Granda said. It would have been a perfect exit line, but he began to cough then, his frail body shaking from the force, and a moment later we found ourselves bundled into the hallway by the officious nurse.

“That was pleasant,” Ian announced when the door closed behind us. “Maybe we’d better keep it to one at a time—we don’t want him too agitated.” I could feel his curious gaze on me. “You all right, Bella? You looked a bit shocked back then.”

“I was thinking about Podge,” I said foolishly. I should have dropped the subject. “I think she might have liked to return.”

“Don’t be silly, darling,” Marcus said heartily. “You told us she had no interest in any of us, that she’d moved on with her life, don’t you remember?”

“Besides, we treated her like shit,” Ian said, watching me.

“That’s not fair,” Marcus protested. “I was nice to her. She had this huge crush on me, and I tried to be kind.”

“When Bella would let you,” Ian reminded him.

I needed to get away from them. The sense of betrayal ran deep, and I had a lot to sort out. I didn’t need to listen to them hash out my past. “I’m going to my room,” I said abruptly, pulling away from them. “I don’t think I can face running into the cousins right now.”

“Bella, are those tears in your eyes?” came Ian’s teasing drawl.

Damn. I would have to be very careful with Ian—he was far too observant. “You may view your grandfather’s upcoming death with equanimity, but I find it upsetting,” I said stiffly.

“Bella, your heart is harder than a stone,” Ian said. “The only thing that would make you cry would be a torn fingernail.”

Instinctively I glanced down at my long, slender hands, so different from Bella’s short ones, and I immediately put them behind my back. “Go to hell,” I said, turning my back on them and starting down the stairs. I needed time on my own, time to think, time to make sense of things. That wouldn’t happen with Marcus flirting and Ian jibing at me, and I moved quickly, the high heels as unsteady beneath my feet as my masquerade felt on my skin. I needed someplace to hide, to think, to make sense of all this, and when I reached the second floor landing, I slipped off the heels and ran.