Mariel (24 page)

In a whisper, she replied, “I think about it, Ian. I think about it all the time. I just do not want to talk about it tonight. Not when I want to be in your arms tasting the ambrosia of our love.” She flung her arms around him. “Love me, Ian. Now!”

“Now? Dinner is nearly ready.” He chuckled. “I understand your impatience, my love, but—”

Her fingers drew his face toward hers. “Now, please. I need you, Ian. I need the warmth of our love to wash away the fear within me.”

“Fear?” He stepped back to see her ashen face. “Mariel, what is it? What is wrong?”

Tears clung to her eyelashes as she whispered, “Don't ask me to tell you what I cannot. Ask no promises of me except that I will love you forever.”

He refused to be satisfied with such an obscure explanation. Taking her shoulders, he stepped away to view her face. “What is frightening you so? It must be more than what that Gypsy told you.”

“I haven't thought of that since,” she lied.
Not much
, she amended to herself. That Nadia's words matched her own fears of the future had startled her, but she had been warned. She could not do anything to change what would happen, just as she had been unable to do anything about the past. Softly, she added, “Don't make me beg you, Ian. Please allow me this much.”

“I will give you everything I can.” He reached past her to open the oven door. The heat spiraled out into the kitchen as they walked up the back stairs. At that moment, their feet moved in the perfect rhythm their bodies soon would know. They did not worry if their meal would be ruined. All they wanted was to cure the anguish in their hearts by delighting their senses with rapturous kisses and caresses.

The days passed in a flurry of joy and agony for Mariel. Whenever she was not with Ian, she tried to do all the other things she normally did to fill her days. Sleep became something she could experience only in her memory. She refused to spend the whole night with Ian again after that first night, but she did not sleep in her own bed.

Through the night, she paced endlessly. A warm bath or a cup of heated milk did nothing to help her sleep. She wanted to be in Ian's arms, to slumber dreamlessly, as she had that one night. To do that might decimate everything she wanted for herself and for the ones she loved.

She realized how distant she had been to everyone in the Cloister when she went looking for Rosie on Saturday. It disturbed her to be unable to remember if she had had time alone with her daughter since the day of the school-board meeting.

Searching through the house yielded her no clues to the location of the child. Finally, she asked one of the maids. The woman looked at her as if she was insane. “Why, Lady Mariel, today is the day Dodsley promised to take Miss Rosie to the pond to go fishing. Don't you remember?”

“Yes, thank you.” She said nothing more as she walked toward the solarium. Peering out the windows, she could see the line of trees edging the small pool at one end of the gardens.

She remembered that Dodsley meant to take Rosie fishing. She also recalled the day before she was to have gone with the child to visit Mrs. Parnell. Rosie's best friend at the orphanage turned six yesterday. There was to be a party which they should have attended. Instead she had forgotten in her desperate dreams of loving Ian.

When she heard crisp footfalls, she said, “Good afternoon, Phipps.”

“Good afternoon, Lady Mariel.” The iciness of her perfectly correct voice did not thaw when Mariel turned to face her.

Without preamble, she said, “I forgot to take Rosie to the party yesterday.”

“She asked for you, but I could not find you.”

“I—” There was no sense in lying. Phipps would know the truth anyhow. Mariel had never succeeded in telling her companion a falsehood. “I was with Ian. I should have remembered, but I didn't.”

“No,” she said, sitting on the settee, “you did not remember. Walter drove Rosie to the orphanage. I understand they had a grand time.” Her censure resounded through her voice as she added, “I hope you did also.”

Suddenly, Mariel felt the overwhelming need for someone to understand why she was acting this way. She went to the sofa and sat on the green cushion. Leaning forward, she took Phipps's gnarled hand in hers.

“I love him,” she said simply.

“Does he love you?”

“Yes.”

“And this is how he shows it? What kind of minister is he to bed you without marriage?”

Anger tainted Mariel's voice as she defended Ian. “He is a wonderful minister. He has been responsive to the needs of his parish. And he has asked me to marry him.”

“He has?” Phipps' scowl disappeared instantly. “Then when will the wedding be held? Oh, my lady, why haven't you shared these wondrous tidings with us?”

“There will be no wedding.”

Phipps gasped. Her voice squeaked as she repeated, “No wedding?” She cleared her throat and asked in her normal voice, “But why? You clearly love him. He loves you. Why won't you marry him?”

Tears filled her eyes as she whispered, “I thought you would comprehend why I can't bring Ian into this family.”

“That was years ago, Lady Mariel. Why should any of that resurface now?”

“Why not? Or in our children? Should I be ecstatic because the curse passed me by if my children must suffer the consequences of their parentage?”

Tersely, the gray-haired woman stated, “It may be too late to be thinking of that now.”

The residual color in Mariel's face vanished as she asked herself how she could have been so stupid. She knew it was simply because denying herself Ian's love required more willpower than she possessed. Children did not come only from marriage beds.

Pain ripped through her. If it was not too late now, she had to put a stop to this madness. She shuddered as she thought of that word. Perhaps she was not exempt from the curse, after all. She could not have been sane to allow him to lure her to his bed when she was aware of the horror that could follow.

Pushing herself to her feet, Mariel said, “I must go out, Phipps. I will be back before dinner.”

“Lady Mariel, do—”

“I am fine,” she interrupted. “I will see you at dinner.”

Phipps wanted to follow her lady and urge her to be careful. She did not want her to have a mishap while so upset. Instead of chasing after Lady Mariel, she simply sat on the settee again. It would be a waste of time and breath to offer such warnings. She sighed and prayed her distraught lady would return to the Cloister safely.

Ian glanced up at the study doorway, astonished to see Mariel there. He had not expected her for several hours. When he saw the distress on her face, he rose and held out his arms. With a cry, she ran to him. He held her without asking why she wept.

“Hush, my love,” he murmured against her ear.

“Ian, I love you,” she gulped between harsh sobs. “I love you.” He urged her to sit on the sofa. Smoothing her dampened hair from her face, he watched as she tried to recompose her shattered self.

“I came to tell you that I cannot stay with you tonight.”

A swell of disappointment washed over him, and he tried to keep her from seeing it. He knew he had failed when he saw the pain in her eyes. Softly, he asked, “Why?”

“It's Rosie.” During the short drive to Foxbridge, she had decided to use this excuse to serve in place of the truth. If only she could tell him … She could not! Trying to keep her voice calm, she said, “I have barely spent a minute with her in the past days. I love her, too. She needs me.”

He leaned against the back of the sofa and nestled her against him. As his fingers stroked the line of her arm, he whispered, “I have been selfish. I would like to have all your love for me.”

“I have enough for both of you.”

He chuckled. “That Rosie has learned. I do not want to be as jealous of you as she was when she first came to the Cloister.” He glanced at the mantelclock. “I have an appointment in two hours. Do you want to help me pass the time until then?” Heated kisses against her face accented his words.

With a gasp, she ripped herself out of his arms. “I—I can't! I have to be back to the Cloister.”

“Why?” He rose to put his hand on her arm. He did not allow her to escape him.

Mariel stared up into his face and felt the yearning that never lessened. She wanted to know his loving again; to feel his lips touching her skin, searing it with the heat of their love; to caress him and hear his eager response to her fingertips moving along him in a spiral path.

Her feet moved to bring her close to him before she could form a thought. By the time she realized how foolish she was being, it was too late. His mouth had wooed hers into believing that this one time would be the last time she would risk their love by giving in to its rapture.

When he moved to latch the door and draw the drapes, she knew what she had from the beginning. She did not want to escape from the sweet web of love Ian had woven about her. Knowing that it would not last forever, she could not waste any of the time they had been given now. If later she rued the decision of this day, she would remember the enchantment of watching him slip off his dark coat while he walked toward her. The memory of his green eyes bright with passion would accompany the thought of his body pressing her into the soft cushions of the sofa.

All fear left her mind as she gave herself up to the love that knew no limits. Only later, when the soft glow of happiness had faded, did the tears fall to stain the fabric of the settee. When Ian could not comfort her, he ached for the pain within her. He did not ask her again why she acted this way, for she had devised too many stories to cover the truth. Until she opened her heart completely to him, he would not be able to help her heal the wounds festering deep in her heart.

When she left the parsonage half an hour before his meeting, he wondered if he had helped her or harmed her by professing his love for her. It was something he might never know.

Rosie was thrilled the next morning to have her beloved Mariel offer to take her for a ride. The young woman asked, “Why don't you come, too, Phipps?”

“A ride? Where to, Lady Mariel?” She reached for the sugar bowl to sweeten her morning coffee.

Offhandedly, Mariel said, “I thought we would go to church.”

The older woman choked on her sip. She lowered her cup to the Wedgwood saucer and asked, “Do you think under the circumstances, my lady, that is a good idea?”

“I think it is a wonderful idea under the circumstances.” She turned to Rosie, who was planning excitedly what she would wear. “What you have on is fine, my dear. Now, you must remember that Ian is working today, so you cannot tease him as you normally do.”

“That won't be as much fun!”

Mariel patted her hand as she picked up her own coffee cup. “After the service, I am sure you will have plenty of time to play with him. Just be quiet and make him and me proud of you.”

Phipps hid her concerns as the three of them finished breakfast and went to the garage to get the automobile. She said nothing while Lady Mariel chatted easily with Walter Collins. The man unplugged the vehicle from the generator and folded the cables neatly on the floor. He looked up to see Miss Phipps watching him. A strange expression crossed his face, but he was smiling when he turned to bid Lady Mariel a pleasant trip into the village.

The automobile drove smoothly along the steep road into the village. Mariel negotiated the dangerous corner at the bottom with ease. When they stopped in front of the white, clapboard church, the bell overhead was clanging in joyous abandon.

“That's Tip Lyndell,” confided Rosie as Mariel lifted her from the vehicle. “He told me he gets to ring the bells every Sunday.”

“What a lucky lad!” she agreed. Taking the child's hand in her gloved one, she led the way up the steps.

A welcoming sense of peace reached out for Mariel as the sexton unlocked the pew reserved for Lord Foxbridge and his family. She thanked Mr. Stadley, pretending they would not be foes in the argument over the textbooks on Tuesday evening.

“My pleasure, Lady Mariel.”

Her smile broadened as she noted the humor in his eyes. Despite the harsh words she often shared with the residents of this small town, she saw they understood that she cared deeply for the future of their children. The ties binding the Wythes to Foxbridge were older than she could imagine. She felt like a member of an extended family.

Phipps brushed invisible dust from the unrelieved black of her skirt. She handed Rosie a hymnal and sat in correct silence. Opening her own to the first song posted on the board at the right side of the altar, Mariel wondered if Phipps had ever fidgeted when she was a girl or if she had always exhibited such perfect behavior.

Hiding her smile, she told herself this was not the time to be plotting devilment to tease her companion. She handed Rosie a piece of candy and told her to chew it quietly. If she would behave during the service, Mariel promised her another. A door on the opposite side of the church opened. At the same time, the choir accompanied the organ in a rousing song to brighten the summer morning.

Mariel hoped no one could see the admiration she was unable to hide, as her eyes took in the transformation of Ian into the imposing Reverend Beckwith-Carter. A white surplice decorated with thick lace covered the dark suit he wore on calls to his parishioners. With his auburn hair and emerald eyes the only colors in his outfit, he seemed so different from the laughing, loving man who had caressed her and introduced her to paradise. Despite that, the familiar yearning to feel his arms around her suffused her with warmth.

As he greeted his congregation, Ian smiled. The church was full today. Continuing attendance meant he was serving the needs of these people. He hoped he could find someone willing to chair the committee for the annual summer fair. One of the ladies was sure to volunteer if he charmed her. When he first came to this small church, he would not have considered such tactics, but he learned quickly that politics played a part in his position. He forced those thoughts from his mind as he bent his head to lead the prayer.