Return to Mariposa

Chapter 11

“Bella!” Marcus greeted me with such exuberance that I wanted to wince. I’d gotten used to the low-grade headache that had plagued me after the car accident, but the silent drive back home had shredded my nerves, and all I wanted to do was curl up in a darkened room and not have to pretend to be anyone. “Everything fine at the doctor’s?”

“Yes, how are you doing?” Mary Alice was no less strident from her seat on the stiff sofa in the living room. “You look pale.”

Before I could answer, Ian stepped in. “The doctor says she’s fine. She’ll just have a mild headache for a few days.”

I was about to object to such a summary dismissal but thought better of it. The more fuss I made, the more closely they would hover, and if I was ever going to get out of there, I would need to convince them that everything was normal.

It was strange, when for so many years I’d wanted nothing more than to return to Mariposa, and now I was desperate to get away. Though in fact, that wasn’t strictly true. Mariposa had felt like home from the moment I’d glimpsed it as we came up the drive. It was the two very disparate brothers who were the problem. At this point, I doubted they suspected a thing, but I’d already pushed my luck, and sooner or later I was going to make a major flub. One of them would realize I didn’t look quite right, or God, Bella might sashay back, exposing me for the imposter that I was. At this point, I wouldn’t put anything past her.

No, I had to get the hell out of here, but as long as Marcus was looming over me with his sunshiny smile and Ian was glowering behind him, I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Poor baby,” Marcus crooned. “I know just what you need. A quiet dinner à deux. I’ve got it all arranged—we’re eating on the terrace overlooking the rose garden. Maldonado has set it up, Selene has gone to a great deal of trouble cooking a glorious meal, and all you need to do is wash and change your clothes and let me ply you with wine and compliments.”

“No wine,” Ian said sharply. “It might only be a slight concussion, but she needs to stay away from alcohol for the next two weeks. She can drink Diet Coke. With caffeine,” he added, snarky as ever.

“I think I’d rather just go to bed,” I said weakly, but Marcus overrode me.

“You’ll be fine! It’ll be very quiet and low-key, just the two of us.” Since Marcus’s idea of quiet was a muted bellow, I didn’t hold out much hope, but Marcus didn’t take no for an answer. “I’ll even ask Selene to make it an early dinner—I know you prefer to eat at nine o’clock, but Ian’s right, you need to not push yourself.”

“I don’t think I said that,” Ian said. “But in fact, it’s true. Why don’t you give her a raincheck? She’s not going anywhere.”

Did I imagine the malicious threat beneath that? My irritation flared. Putting Marcus off for even a night was like trying to shove a hippopotamus into a playpen, so I summoned a weak smile. “Dinner tonight sounds lovely.”

Marcus beamed, and once more guilt assailed me. He thought I was Bella, the woman he’d loved all his life, when I was nothing more than the plainer, paler doppelganger. “Wonderful! We can talk about old times!”

Shit. “Let’s not,” I said. “Let’s just talk about the future.”

“Exactly what I wanted you to say,” Marcus said, his smile exposing every single one of his perfect teeth, and I wanted to groan.

“Sounds like it’ll be a lovely evening,” Ian drawled. “I won’t be joining you two, thanks for asking. Young love gives me hives.”

“And Valerie and I can look after ourselves, I suppose,” Mary Alice said in a long-suffering voice. “We wouldn’t want to interfere in your plans.” She looked like she wanted to do exactly that.

Marcus startled, looking guilty. “You’re welcome to join us if you want, all of you. I was thinking a moonlight dinner would be romantic, but I would never think...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ian cut him off. “I made arrangements when I was in town for a romantic dinner myself. I expect to be fully occupied.”

And there it was, that slash of pain and something else, something I refused to recognize. I was going to be fending off Marcus’s advances while Ian was in bed with that glorious creature I saw the first night I got here. Or maybe someone else—there was no reason to suppose he was in a monogamous relationship, and for some reason that made me feel even worse.

“I’ll just go upstairs,” I said faintly. “You’re right—a shower will do wonders. What time should I be ready?”

“We’ll eat at nine. There’s time for you to take a short rest before you spruce yourself up. I’ll come and get you.”

Spruce myself up? Slightly bedraggled Bella was still miles ahead of plain old Podge, and I wanted to kick him, until I saw Ian’s smirk. Plastering a charming smile on my face, I nodded. “You’ll get the works, Marcus.”

“I can’t wait.”

I really wanted to leave Ian with some parting shot, but everything I could think of gave away too much, so I simply tightened my smile and took off, not relaxing until I was through the door into my room. I slumped down on the floor in relief, leaning my head against the thick, solid door, and let the tension just drain out of me. It wasn’t that bad. So Ian knew I wanted to leave—I’d already told him that any number of times, but he was determined to keep me here for Granda’s sake. He had no suspicions, no ulterior motives—how could he? I should just relax and enjoy myself in the warm, spring weather. Back in Hanover they’d still be getting frost.

I could see an advantage to all Bella’s elaborate potions and preparations. By the time nine o’clock rolled around, I felt unrecognizable beneath the mask of makeup and crimped hair—the real Kitty was deep inside where no one would ever find her, not through the tinted contact lenses or the lipsticked mouth or the arched eyebrows. I was an actress, playing a role, and no one was going to get hurt, except, quite possibly, me. I could handle this.

Marcus’s approximation of a gentle knock thundered at my door, and I opened it quickly, determined to get this evening over with, when Marcus looked me up and down with a low, appreciative whistle. “You do clean up well, Bella,” he said, holding out his arm. He was wearing a pink linen jacket that accentuated his golden tan, and I knew a million women would be on their knees in gratitude for the promise of a night in his company. It was just too bad I wasn’t one of them.

“Could we stop and visit Granda?” I asked, as he led me through the wide hallways and up the tiled staircase.

“He’s already asleep,” Marcus said, but for some reason the regret in his voice didn’t sound quite right. “I told him we were having a romantic dinner and he was very pleased. You know how much he wants us to be together.”

I was prepared for this and didn’t squirm. “I know.”

He drew me out onto the third floor terrace, and the setting was almost laughably romantic—the candlelit table for two, the wine chilling in a silver bucket, the soft sounds of canned music in the background. It was probably called “Music for Seduction” but it was just the sort of gloppy, sentimental mush I hated. Play me a little Marvin Gaye and “Sexual Healing” and I might have even jumped Marcus’s bones. If Ian had set up a romantic dinner, the soundtrack would probably include something down and dirty like “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails.

I laughed, when I really shouldn’t have, and Marcus pulled me around, a confused expression on his face. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” I quickly controlled myself. “I was just thinking of something highly unlikely.”

Marcus didn’t appear particularly pleased with my answer, but a moment later, he plastered his suave smile across his face, the one that used to make me go weak in the knees. “I don’t want you thinking about anything but me tonight,” he said in a low, seductive voice, and I just managed to hide my knee-jerk reaction. Marcus was a young girl’s dream. He was a grown woman’s...nightmare would be too harsh, but I couldn’t think of any other word. I had plenty of things to think about besides him, things that I’d rather think about.

The evening moved at an excruciating pace, but I played my role perfectly. Marcus’s conversation alternated between showing off and showering me with effusive compliments, and I simpered appropriately, letting the words wash over me and paying them no attention. In this case, I was doing exactly what Bella would do—she was so used to being beautiful that she didn’t need fulsome praise to shore up a flagging ego. Selene had outdone herself with the food, and I ate quietly as I listened to Marcus’s opinions on music, movies, politics, money, marriage.

I heard the last one with increasing edginess. Surely I had made myself perfectly clear, but then Marcus’s handsome head was a lot thicker than I remembered. He waited until we were eating leche frita, the famous fried milk dessert, to finish off the wonderful meal, and then he went in for the kill.

“I’m not taking no for an answer, Bella,” he said with what he must have fancied was a winning smile. “This is too important, for Granda’s sake. You don’t have to marry me, but I’m hoping you will. We belong together, we both know it, and we’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

What Would Bella Do? Would she want to marry Marcus? They’d certainly been devoted enough when we were young, but Bella had barely mentioned him when she showed up at my apartment with this absurd masquerade in mind. The masquerade I’d said yes to, I reminded myself.

Marcus was charging forward. “But if you’d just agree to an engagement, just to make Granda happy... What harm can it do? The old man needs peace of mind, and you know he always wanted us together, just as he wanted Ian and Podge.”

“Well, he failed at that, because Kitty and Ian hate each other.” I absolutely refused to call myself “Podge.”

“I don’t think so.” There was a sly expression on Marcus’s face. “But then, you never paid them any attention.”

No, Bella hadn’t. And it would serve her right if she made her triumphant return to Mariposa to find out she was engaged to her ex-boyfriend.

But you said yes to this,I reminded myself. I had no right to be angry with Bella—it was my own damned fault. “I’m not going to marry you,” I said firmly.

“But will you at least agree to an engagement? For Granda’s sake?”

I opened my mouth to answer when I heard a noise. I turned, and Ian filled the doorway, dressed in khakis and an old tweed jacket that had seen better days. He carried a snifter of brandy, and the smile he gave us reminded me of a crocodile.

“Have you two lovebirds worked out the details of your upcoming nuptials?” he said, strolling out onto the candle-lit terrace.

“Ian, tell Bella that she has to marry me,” Marcus whined.

I watched him as he came closer, and my fingers curled into a fist beneath the table. “Marcus says you have to marry him,” he said affably, and I wanted to slap him.

I turned my back on him, addressing Marcus. “I told you, time and time again,” I said wearily. “I’m not marrying you. Our time is over and you know it.” At least I hoped he knew it. “And I’m not going to lie and say I’m engaged just to make Granda happy. He’d see right through it.”

“He’s half blind,” Marcus protested. “I never thought you would be so selfish. Granda’s given you everything, and now you can’t do this one little thing to make his last days peaceful.”

There was absolutely no reason for me to feel guilty. “I never thought Granda was so gothic as to want to build a dynasty.”

“Then you don’t remember Granda,” Ian offered helpfully. “He wants the place tied up—if it’s split three ways, there won’t be enough money to meet expenses with the groves.”

I met his dark, cynical eyes. “Then you’ll have to figure something out.”

The crocodile smile remained in place. “I already have. Since you won’t marry Marcus, you’ll simply have to marry me.”

“What?” Marcus shrieked, pushing back from the table and knocking over his wine. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Ian the Wretch shrugged. “Granda wants a dynasty. You’ve already blown your chance—the only one left is me. How about it, Bella-Beast? Will you make me the happiest man on earth?”

“Go to hell,” I said sweetly. This was the strangest conversation I’d ever had in my life, and I wanted the both of them at the bottom of the ocean. It was a deliberate insult, in Ian’s drawling tones, because worst of all, an idiot might think he actually meant it.

“I’m wounded,” Ian said, his dark eyes glittering wickedly.

I’d had more than enough for one day. I flung my brandy glass at his head, but he easily ducked, and the fine Waterford crystal smashed against the stone parapet. “I told you not to drink,” he said.

In fact, I hadn’t touched the brandy that Marcus had insisted he pour for me, but I wasn’t going to tell Ian that. “I’ve changed my mind,” I said abruptly, rising from the table, bringing me far too close to Ian. I looked Ian straight in the eyes as I uttered the fateful words. “I’ll get engaged to you, Marcus, but that’s all. And only for as long as Granda lives.”

“That’s perfect!” Marcus cried, but I didn’t look at him. Neither did Ian. Instead, we stared into each other’s eyes, anger sparking back and forth between us. And then he stepped back with a lazy smile.

“May I be the first to wish you every happiness?” he said in a silken tone, raising his glass in mock salute. A moment later, he spun on his heel and was gone, leaving me alone on the terrace with my unwanted fiancé, feeling curiously bereft.

It took me more than an hour to get away from Marcus. First, he had to toast me and my stupid, pride-filled decision, then he had to try to kiss me, and then there was a solid half hour of compliments meant for the real Bella, all while I was trying to escape. I kept seeing Ian’s eyes as Marcus rambled on, and for some reason I wanted to cry.

Of course, Marcus insisted on escorting me down to my bedroom, though by that time he was fairly unsteady from all the brandy he’d been drinking. He clamped my arm against his sweaty body and tried very hard to push his way into my bedroom when we got there, slurring all sorts of stuff about how good it could be, and he’d get me to change my mind about marriage. It was like wrestling with an octopus, but I finally managed to escape, and I locked the door behind me. I knew it was a ridiculous precaution—Marcus might be drunk, but he’d never stoop to rape. It was simply that he couldn’t comprehend that a woman didn’t want him.

I listened to him stumble away before I went to my window, sucking in deep lungsful of cool night air. What in God’s name had I done? I’d let bad temper goad me into making a catastrophic mistake, and now I was stuck with it. Honestly, if I had to do something so stupid, I should have simply told Ian that I’d marry him, not his brother.

A shiver ran across my backbone, and I wanted to cry. I wasn’t an idiot, and one could only hide from the truth for so long. For some illogical, self-destructive, totally insane reason, I was attracted to Ian. There, I admitted it. Strongly attracted. And that unfortunate truth had to be hidden at all costs. If he had even the slightest inkling, he would treat me unmercifully, as he had teased Bella and me when we were young. If he knew I was...drawn to him, he’d never let it go.

It was perfectly logical. That kiss in his rooms had been a scorcher, unquestionably the best of my entire life. Maybe I’d just been involved with bad kissers in the past—most men I knew weren’t that into seduction. Their idea of foreplay wasn’t much better than “brace yourself.” Maybe it was the jet lag and the sheer shock that Ian the Wretch would kiss me.

Why had I ever said yes to Bella? It had seemed so simple at the time, a chance to say goodbye to Granda and Mariposa, goodbye to my unresolved childhood and my adolescent crush.

That last part was well over and done with—I couldn’t even guess what I had once seen in Marcus apart from his dazzling good looks. If I’d had any taste, I would have had a crush on Ian instead...

And there I went again. Ian and I were enemies—I needed to remember that. If he knew who I really was he’d have me out on my ass so fast...

But he didn’t know who I was. To him I was Bella-Beast, an object to tease and torment, but marginally one step better than a liar.

I let my head fall back against the heavy wooden door with a thump that didn’t do my ever-present headache any favors.

Would this really make Granda’s last days happy and peaceful? If it did, then who was I to deny him? Yes, he’d banished me from Mariposa, but he’d also loved me. I shouldn’t feel like I owed him anything, but I did, and for him, I could make this minor effort, as long as Marcus remembered that it was all an act, a lie within a lie.

I rose and stripped off my clothes, washed the makeup from my face and popped out the colored contacts, taking a moment to look at my reflection in the mirror. My hazel eyes looked back at me, the scrubbed face that was only an approximation of Bella’s flawless beauty. I was a liar and a cheat, and I’d just dug myself into an even deeper hole out of a fit of pique.

I had to get the hell out of here.