Return to Mariposa

Chapter 10

By the time Marcus reappeared, I was ready to climb the walls in my need for coffee, and all his flattering smiles didn’t do nearly as good as one hit of caffeine would. The halls at Mariposa were wide, and I knew perfectly well where I was going, but Marcus insisted on securely tucking my arm in his, and I didn’t want to get into a wrestling match. I gave in and let him drag me up to Granda’s suite, ignoring his cheerful banter.

My mood lightened when I saw my grandfather—his color was better, he was sitting up, and if the dishes in front of him weren’t empty, it was still clear he’d eaten something.

“It took you long enough,” he grumbled as a greeting, but that was typical. “Were you too canoodling in the halls?”

“Canoodling, Granda?” Marcus echoed with his hearty laugh.

“Marcus and I are simply friends, Granda,” I said firmly. “Nothing more.”

“You’re cousins.”

“Not technically.”

“Close enough,” Granda snapped. “Get the girl some coffee, Marcus. Don’t you have any manners? And get one yourself.”

Marcus jumped to attention, heading to the carafe and filling two delicate cups, when I was desperate for an Americano Grande. I took a sip of the weak stuff, wanting to moan in desperation. “Are you going to have any?” I said, draining the coffee.

“Naaah, I can’t stand that caffeine-free crap,” he said carelessly.

I almost choked. “Then why are you giving it to me?” I demanded. “I need caffeine, lots of it.”

“Ian says you should keep away from caffeine until you’ve had a full evaluation—it’s bad for concussions.”

At that moment, I would have done anything I could to give the interfering Ian his own head injury, but I merely gritted a smile. I could make my own coffee, or even chew on beans if I must. I needed my caffeine.

I did my best not to appear caffeine-deprived, taking the seat beside Granda. “How are you feeling today?”

He reached out his hand for me and I took it. It was a frail hand, liver-spotted, when they used to seem huge and strong to me. “The better for seeing you,” he said, and there was real love in his eyes, love that I hadn’t seen in so long. Love that wasn’t meant for me. And then he turned and glanced at Marcus, no longer looking quite so sentimental. “I’ve been wanting to talk to the two of you for some time, but with both of you gallivanting all over Europe and never coming home, I’ve had to wait, almost too long.”

“We’re here now,” Marcus said soothingly. I said nothing. I had a bad feeling about this, and I didn’t want to encourage him.

Marcus, however, seemed more than happy to listen, moving to Granda’s other side and dwarfing the pale thin hand with his own huge one. “We’re listening,” he continued in a voice that was positively unctuous, “and we’ll do whatever you want us to do.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Some of the tension left Granda’s frail body, and he squeezed my hand. “You two belong together, you always have. I could leave this life peacefully if I knew you two had gotten over your petty squabbles.”

Carefully, I withdrew my hand from his. “I have no argument with Marcus,” I said. “Any trouble we had is long in the past and forgotten.”

“Good.” Augustin Whitehead settled back against the snowy white pillows, a look of peace on his lined face. “We can have the ceremony as soon as I can arrange it.”

“What ceremony?” I demanded, suddenly chilled.

“Your wedding. You know that was always meant to be, you and Marcus, Kitty and Ian.”

“Kitty...” I choked, more horrified at that than my sudden assumed nuptials. “Ian hates Kitty and she hates him.” Was this a trap? “Besides, they haven’t even seen each other in the last twelve years.”

“That’s neither here nor there. Kitty left, and she couldn’t even return when I’m on my deathbed, and there’s no excuse of a crazy mother to stop her from coming. And Ian’s been working like a dog—he’ll be more than adequately recompensed, no matter what an ungrateful young woman has to do with it. It’s you two I’m worried about, and the solution is obvious.”

“I’m not getting married,” I said firmly.

Granda’s patrician face looked thunderous. “Then you can leave and never come back.”

I released his hand and pushed back from the bed, outraged before I remembered that this was Granda, full of bluster and threats that never came through. Except in my case.

I managed a brittle smile. “You don’t want me to go, old man, and I’m not leaving you. You can’t bully me into doing what you want, so why bother?”

Granda gave a rusty chuckle. “You always did stand up to me, Bella. It would make things so much easier if you simply married Marcus. You could always divorce him after I’m dead.”

“You’re too wicked to die,” I said, and for once, I was enjoying my Bella masquerade. As a teenager, I’d never dared contradict Granda the way Bella did, and it gave me a blissful sense of freedom.

Marcus had come around my side of the bed, taking my hand in his much larger one. I tried to pull it away, but he squeezed it painfully, in warning. “I’ll talk with her, Granda. I’ll woo her properly, so she can’t resist me.”

“You do that, Marcus.” He sank back against the pillows, clearly exhausted, but he managed to peer at me suspiciously. “Unless you’d rather have Ian?”

I laughed, trying to cover my start of surprise. “I’d rather marry a rattlesnake.”

“And I don’t think you’d get Ian to agree with you on that one, Granda,” Marcus said jovially. “We’ll let you get some rest.”

Granda waved a weak hand of dismissal, and a moment later we were out in the hall, the door closed firmly behind us.

“We need to talk,” Marcus began, still holding my hand in his tight grip.

This time I yanked it free. “We do not. I hate to tell you this, Marcus, but I’m not marrying you!”

“Why not? It would solve everything, and you know you’ve always loved me.”

Podge had always loved him. Maybe Bella had too. But I’d come back to Mariposa to lay my troubled past to rest, and my passionate crush had died long ago, without a stray spark remaining. He was a very handsome, very charming man. I’d take Ian before him, any day.

I’d take Ian.The thought was so absurd I should laugh. But for some reason, I didn’t find it funny. I’d take Ian.

“Just hear me out,” Marcus said, crowding in on me. I was a good five feet seven but Marcus was over six feet and a whole lot of muscle looming over me, and I didn’t like it.

“I don’t...”

“I’m not saying we have to get married, though I can’t see what harm it would cause. As soon as Granda dies, we can get an annulment. No harm, no foul.”

“No!”

“Well, consider this. We could agree to get married, act all lovey-dovey, and start planning a giant wedding here at Mariposa, and Granda will die a happy man knowing his precious Bella is tied to this place.” There was something about his tone of voice that surprised me when he said “this place.”

“I thought you loved Mariposa,” I protested.

Marcus shrugged. “I’m not like my brother. I don’t like to work all the time. I’ve put everything into this place for the last ten years and I’m sick of it. As soon as Granda dies, I’m out of here.”

“Leaving the place to Ian to run by himself?”

He shook his head. “He’s leaving this place to the three of us. Ian couldn’t buy us out if we want to sell, and that’s exactly what I’m planning. And I can’t see you spending any more time here than you have to.”

I kept my expression blank as my stomach churned in disgust. Granda loved this place with a fierce passion—it would destroy him to know that Marcus planned to split it up.

Then again, the fourth grandchild wasn’t one of the heirs—it wasn’t up to me to save it. But I wasn’t about to help Marcus gut the place.

I pushed away, starting down the hallway. “I don’t want to talk about this....”

“Come on, Bella,” he said, catching my arm, and a moment later, I was hauled against his big body, his mouth on mine.

For a moment I froze. I had ached for this, with all the lovesick longing in an adolescent girl’s heart. But I was a grownup now, and his big hands were kneading my ass, his tongue was slobbering in my mouth, and his groin was pushed against mine.

“This looks cozy,” came Ian’s drawling voice. “Is the engagement back on?”

Marcus’s grip slackened, and I ripped myself away, surreptitiously rubbing my hand across my mouth. “No!” I said, at the same time came Marcus’s “yes.”

“You make a lovely couple,” Ian said in that snarky voice, but there was an odd expression in his dark eyes. If I didn’t know better, I would have called it anger.

“We’re not a couple and we’re not going to be,” I said, but no one seemed to be listening to my protests.

“Do I get to be best man?” Ian asked his brother, ignoring me.

Marcus was looking pleased with himself, as if his kiss had sealed the deal. “Hell, no. I can’t have a best man who hates my bride.”

“Oh, I don’t hate her,” came Ian’s sinuous voice. “In fact, ever since she’s returned to Mariposa, I find her quite fascinating.”

I was going to throw up. What the hell did he mean by that? Did he suspect something?

I needed to get away from them, Without a word, I stalked away, turned the corner, then broke into a run, wanting to get as far from the brothers as I could. This had become a mess of monumental proportions, with Ian distrusting me, Marcus idiotically convinced he was God’s gift to women, and my inability to escape. Bella was going to come back to a real mess. It would serve her right.

Funny, we never talked about what would happen when she returned. They were used to my face now, and it passed muster given the lapse of five years and my supposed nip and tuck. What were they going to think when the original showed back up?

That would be her problem. All I needed was to get the hell out of there, and that’s exactly what I would do. I had to see the doctor down in Santa Maria de Fe. Surely I could slip away then.

It was a cooler day, a respite from the blazing heat we’d had so far, and while I would have loved to wear one of the new sundresses, I decided I’d better keep it relatively formal if I was going to end the day in Paris. Bella had made me buy a silk tea dress that was the very definition of a “frock”, and I grabbed the large leather satchel that was supposed to hold the iPad that had been part of my gear. I shoved my passport, reservations, credit cards, and wads of extra cash Bella had insisted I carry before heading downstairs for my ride to the village. Maybe I’d be in luck and Maldonado would drive me.

Luck seemed to have abandoned me since I arrived back at Mariposa. Ian was waiting for me, in jeans and a chambray shirt, his hair wet from a shower, his expression cynical as he took me in.

“We’re going to the clinic, not have lunch with the queen,” he grumbled.

“I like to dress well,” said the woman who lived in jeans and sweats.

“The people around here will think you’re putting on airs.”

I didn’t show my sudden pang. I summoned my inner Bella. “I don’t care what they think. I’m not going back upstairs to change because I intimidate you.”

It was a mistake. His gaze narrowed, and he moved closer, and I swear I could feel his body heat through my silk dress. “Intimidate is hardly the word,” he said softly.

How could Ian the Wretch feel so seductive? I straightened my back, glaring at him. “Then what is the word? Annoyed? Contemptuous? Suspicious?” Jesus, why had I thrown that word in there? I quickly followed up, “Angry? Jealous?” I was digging myself in deeper.

“Jealous, Bella-Beast? Who would I be jealous of?”

“Your brother,” I said flatly. “He’s always been taller, better-looking, more charming...”

“More charming? Does that mean you think I have even the slightest amount of charm myself?” There was laughter behind those dark eyes, and I wanted to punch him.

“He has a better smile....”

“With all those big white teeth, the better to eat you, my dear,” he crooned. “And he’s six two, I’m six three. Granted, I’m not built like a mountain,” he added.

I slid my eyes down his lean form with suitable disdain. “You’re not,” I agreed, trying and failing to sound contemptuous. When I’d been a teenager, I’d been awash with daydreams about broad shoulders and curly blond hair. For some reason, I preferred a leaner frame nowadays.

“But then, you don’t seem to be falling at Marcus’s feet no matter how hard he tries. Could it be that you’re ready to give his little brother a chance?” he purred.

“Over my dead body,” I snapped.

All of a sudden his humor vanished, and his dark eyes were flat with warning. “If I were you, I wouldn’t toss that option around too carelessly. Accidents can happen—just look at yesterday.”

“Is that a threat?” It came out an undignified squeak.

“Let’s just say it’s a heads up. I’d rather you came to your senses than end up as Marcus’s leftovers.”

“Marcus loves me!” I shot back, defensive. It wasn’t as if I wanted Marcus to love me, but old habit made me defend him. I couldn’t believe Marcus had an evil bone in his body, and he truly loved Bella. He always had.

That it shifted so easily to my pale copy wasn’t encouraging, but in the end it wouldn’t matter. I’d be gone.

“So he does,” Ian agreed, an odd expression in his eyes. “You’re not in love with anyone else?”

“Of course not!” I said a little too quickly.

“So, give the old boy a break and marry him. You’d always planned to, and he’d be your boy toy for the rest of your life.”

“He’s three years older than I am,” I shot back.

“Two, but who’s counting? I love my brother, but he’ll always be someone’s boy toy. Why not yours?”

Damn, I had to stop forgetting Bella was a year older than I was. “Because I don’t want him,” I said flatly, firmly. “Did you know he’s planning to break up Mariposa? To force a sale?”

“I know. And why would you care? I would think that was what you wanted as well.”

Of course Bella would want it. She’d take her money and never look back once Granda had gone.

I said nothing, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Instead, I glanced up at the clock set in the wall above the recess that held the ovens. “Hadn’t we better get going?”

“Your chariot awaits.”

The chariot was, in fact, a Mercedes sedan with the Mariposa crest emblazoned on the side panel. Fastening the seatbelt around me, I sighed at the comfort.

“Why didn’t you pick me up at the airport in this?” I asked Ian as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“The Bella I knew didn’t deserve it. You, on the other hand...”

All my muscles froze in sudden panic. “What do you mean by that?”

He glanced at me as he pulled out of the courtyard and his smile was completely innocent. “Just that you’ve changed, Bella-Beast.”

I should let it go, but I couldn’t. “For better or worse?”

“Oh, definitely for the better. I could almost like this version of Bella if I didn’t know you were a cheat and a liar.”

Did he know? It seemed impossible, and yet those words were so pointedly hostile that I wanted to...

Wanted to what? Why would I care what Ian thought of me? He’d always been a pain in the butt, a dark shadow on our sunny, summer days.

Except, I remember, he was the one who first taught me to drive, in a car very much like this one. Bella and Marcus had abandoned me, and I had been sitting in the living room, feeling sorry for myself, when he’d strolled in, the usual scowl on his face.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” he’d said back then. “If you smile, I’ll teach you to drive the Mercedes.”

“Really?” I’d breathed. We’d all been eyeing the new town car lustfully, but only Ian had been allowed to drive it. In fact, up to that time, I’d only driven the old farm truck, and that was exactly twice. I was moving up in the world.

“I figure you deserve some reward for having to put up with Bella and Marcus. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and get moving.”

I’d smiled at him, with all the joy at being offered such a treat could communicate, and yet for a moment Ian had frozen, staring at me in...surprise? Shock?

“What’s wrong?” I said uneasily.

The look was gone from his dark eyes. “Nothing,” he said flatly. “Come along.”

It had been a surprising afternoon—Ian had checked his usual cynicism and unbent enough to be almost...nice. And despite my trepidation, he’d been incredibly patient with me as he let me careen around the hilly roads, and if his sneakered foot kept pressing the imaginary passenger side brake, he never said an uncharitable word.

We’d been laughing when we walked back into the house late that afternoon, only to face Bella’s accusatory glare, and I remembered my instinctive guilt. Bella despised Ian, and I had just collaborated with the enemy.

And yet all her anger had seemed directed at Ian. “Taking pity on poor Podge, are you, Ian? It won’t work.”

There were undercurrents that I hadn’t understood, but I had no intention of letting them go by. “What won’t work?” I demanded, my cheerful mood vanishing.

Bella turned all her attention to me, and her sunny smile wreathed her face. “You’ll never learn to drive a Mercedes, Podge. They’re too sensitive a piece of machinery. And it’s not as if you’re ever going to get a chance to again. You’d be better off sticking to the farm truck.”

It had been small and mean of her, but then she laughed and the darkness vanished. “Actually, Mercedes are too stodgy for you. If you’re really good, I’ll let you drive my Alfa.”

No one drove her Alfa, and I sincerely doubted I would get that honor, but I knew that was Bella’s way of apologizing, and I’d smiled back at her, ignoring her temporary spite.

And now, here I was with Ian once more, though he was the one driving. He probably didn’t remember the driving lesson from twelve years ago, when I actually thought I might...like him.

We drove in silence. I leaned back and looked at the view as we wound down to the perfect white village with its spotless houses, the deep blue of the Mediterranean a perfect contrast. I had forgotten how breathlessly beautiful it was, and I could feel my tension begin to fade. How could one feel edgy with all this gorgeousness around?

I turned and sneaked a glance at Ian. If I had to be absolutely honest, I would admit that Ian was part of the gorgeousness. He had more pronounced cheekbones than Marcus, and his dark eyes were oddly compelling. All my life I’d dreamed about Marcus, the perfect man, and now I was reluctantly coming to realize that if I had to choose between one of them, I would go for Ian the Wretch.

Fortunately, both of them were off-limits, even with Marcus’s absurd suggestion that we get engaged. He’d been right—we could simply lie about it, wait Granda out, but that was only if I was planning to stay, and I wasn’t. I was going to get out of there as soon as possible, hopefully today.

“So when are you and Marcus going to make your happy announcement?” Ian demanded out of the blue, and I jumped, startled out of my daydream. Could he read minds?

“There’s no happy announcement. I’ve told you time and time again that I need to leave, and for some reason you seem determined to keep me here, which is absurd. I’m not going to marry Marcus as a sop to Granda’s ambition, and I’ve been here long enough to say goodbye. If you had any sense, you’d drive me to the airport once we’re finished with the doctor.”

“If you had any sense, you’d stop fussing about it,” he shot back. There was a pause, and he continued in a milder voice. “If you truly have no intention of marrying Marcus, then you should at least come back and explain it to him. To both of them. Granda will sulk, but he’ll get over it. He’s gotten used to grandchildren who don’t do what he tells them to.”

“You?” I questioned with real surprise. “Doesn’t Granda have final word on everything? He always did.”

“He’s old. I’ve been running things for years now, and you know the old man. Sometimes we butt heads.”

“I know you,” I said.

“Not nearly as well as you think you do, Bella-Beast.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“What should I call you then?”

I waited, breathless. What if he suddenly said the dreaded “Podge”? Or “Kitty”? For some reason I wanted to hear it in his faintly drawling voice.

“Plain Bella,” I said.

“Oh, never ‘plain’ Bella,” he protested. “Not when you’ve gone to so much trouble to look like this.”

My earlier peace had been shattered by his pointed comments. “What do you mean by that?”

“Why, merely the time and effort you take to look so good. Not to mention the surgery.”

I was almost stupid enough to ask, “what surgery?” I took a calming breath. “You’re right, it requires a certain amount of energy to maintain perfection. After all, I’m twenty-nine years old,” I said in triumph, for once remembering that Bella was a year older than I was.

“So you are,” he said. “But I wouldn’t say you were perfect. There’s a trace of the artificial about you that ruins the effect.”

He’s talking to Bella, I reminded myself, ignoring the odd hurt. He’s jabbing at his worst enemy, he’s just being Ian the Wretch. I had no reason to feel bad.

“Nature has its way with all of us sooner or later,” I said breezily. “Sooner or later, you’re going to lose all those brooding good looks and become a podgy old man.”

“Brooding good looks? Have you lost your mind, Bella-Beast? I’m your worst enemy.”

“Are you?”

His expression gave nothing away. “That’s for you to determine. And who are you calling podgy? You do like that word, don’t you?”

“What word? Podge?” I was demeaning Bella in his mind now, and I gladly threw myself under the bus. “It’s a useful word. It was Podge’s own fault that she got all butt-hurt about it.”

His eyes narrowed. “Kitty said it never bothered her.”

“If you believed that, then you’re a fool. No young girl wants to be called fat, even if she knows she isn’t!” In fact, the baby fat I’d held on to was merely a few pounds heavier than Bella’s naturally willowy frame, and she’d simply been joking, hadn’t she? And yet now I could finally admit it had stung.

“Then why did you call her that?” he shot back.

I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to laugh or to cry. Ian was defending me, when all those years I thought everyone was oblivious to the cruelty of the name. Obviously, Bella was—I’d let my own feelings cloud my portrayal and I shouldn’t have.

“Oh, she and I had a talk about it,” I said airily. “All is forgiven.” In fact, I had forgiven Bella, over and over and over again.

But I was finding out new things during this masquerade, and I wondered whether I could ever forgive her again.

By the timeI finished at the brand-new clinic in Santa Maria de Fe, I was feeling much more positive about Dr. Madhur. “If it’s a concussion, it’s a mild one,” he pronounced, after checking everything under the sun. “Stay away from alcohol for the next couple of weeks, and be aware of any confusion or odd behavior, but you should be just fine. Call any time if you have concerns.”

“What about caffeine?” I demanded, still holding a grudge.

“There’s no reason why you can’t have caffeine. Just moderation for a while, and you should be fine.”

“Tell that to Ian.” At least I’d kept Ian at the examination room door when he’d been entirely prepared to follow me inside. I slid off the table with a breezy smile. “I don’t suppose you have a back entrance to this place, do you?”

Dr. Madhur raised an eyebrow. “Not for patients,” he said stuffily.

“But I could leave that way if you turn your back, couldn’t I?” I smiled my best Bella-smile, all charm, and the doctor nodded.

“Why are you avoiding your cousin? Do you feel safe at home?” he asked, focusing on me, and I wanted to laugh. Ian might be a wretch but he would never be physically abusive.

“I have some personal shopping to do, and I don’t want him tagging along,” I said breezily. “I’ll catch up with him in town.”

“And what am I supposed to tell him?”

“The truth,” I said cheerily. “But give it as long as you can.”

He agreed, reluctantly, and five minutes later, I was strolling along the waterfront, the smell of the sea strong in the air, as I tried to figure out my escape.

But for once, luck was on my side. There was a car rental place, so small that no vehicle was immediately available, but it would be within the hour, and I was counting on Ian’s bad temper at being abandoned to slow him down. I just needed a little more luck and I would be driving north toward the airport, where I could ditch the rental and get my butt to France, away from the crazy Whitehead family and all their drama.

Except that I was a Whitehead, and I was part of it. I’d been such an idiot to listen to Bella when she showed up at my apartment, but Bella had never had any trouble talking people into doing what she wanted. I’d adored her all my life, in awe of her bewitching charm and silvery laugh, but I was old enough now to know better. Bella could pick up the pieces of the mess she set in motion—I’d be having the time of my life in Paris before I headed home to the mess I’d made.

And if I were fair, I could thank her for this bizarre masquerade. I’d finally, easily, let go of my adolescent passion for Marcus, I’d been able to see Granda one last time, and I’d even made an odd sort of peace with Ian the Wretch. Now if I could just escape, I would count the whole thing a qualified success.

The waiting room at the rental place was small, fly-specked, the shades pulled down against the mid-afternoon heat, and I dug through my bag to make sure I had everything I needed. Credit card, cash, passport, iPad, a change of underwear. I’d left the extra contact lenses behind, which was stupid. Bella’s green eyes were legendary, so much more vibrant than my quiet hazel ones, but I doubted that would be enough for them to realize they’d had a cuckoo in the nest. Not exactly a cuckoo—I reminded myself. I belonged there as much as anyone. Granda had even sent Bella to get me, though she’d simply sent me in her place. When I had time, I would be angry about that—for now, I just needed to concentrate on escape.

“Your car is ready, miss,” the bored office worker announced, and I rose, my stomach in knots. I wanted this, I reminded myself. I wanted to walk away from Granda and Marcus and most definitely Ian, because there was nothing here for me. Nothing I actually wanted. They would split up Mariposa and sell it, and I had long ago lost any say in the matter.

I headed for the smoked glass door and out onto the portico, to find Ian leaning against the side of the Mercedes, a bored expression on his face.

“You ready?”

I considered my options, which were exactly zero. Glaring at him, I let him open the car door for me as I slid inside. “I can drink caffeine,” I snapped as he got in beside me.

“Noted.” We drove back to Mariposa without a word.