Waves of Betrayal (The Isabel Marsh Trilogy Book 1)

by Michelle J. Bennett

  The area has a very cosmopolitan feel. Plenty of Spanish tapas bars, but they also pass a strip of seven or eight bars and restaurants advertising sport on wide-screen TV’s, cocktails, happy hours, even Guinness and traditional fish and chips! There is an authentic Italian Pizzeria, an Indian, Chinese, and amongst them all, a cosy English café selling pots of tea and home-made cakes.

  ‘I’m not going to have a car for a while yet, so let’s make sure things are within walking distance,’ proposes Isabel. They decide to walk further up the main street, a good guess because within minutes all basic amenities are accounted for; a supermarket, three chemists, a bank, a doctor, and even a bus-stop with a line directly into the centre of Málaga. ‘My ride to work!’, says Isabel, increasingly excited.

  Satisfied that she has made the right decision, Marcos suggests they walk back down, to the local beach. They have to pass through a black wrought iron gate, in between two beach side apartment complexes to get to the little, secluded cove.

  ‘It’s idyllic,’ whispers Isabel, as they step out onto the beach. It’s high tide but there is a narrow, semi-circular stretch of pebbles along the shore-line. The sea is very calm and clear. Isabel can only make out half a dozen people, dozing on the water’s edge, on towels or beach chairs. She can see someone snorkelling amongst the rocks. As they stand and admire the view, a little fishing boat bobs slowly past, causing little white capped waves to creep a little further onto the pebbles.

  ‘The water is so inviting,’ sighs Isabel, ‘if only I’d brought my beach stuff with me.’

  ‘It’s so quiet here Isa, if we walk up to the far-end over there, we can easily swim in our underwear... if that doesn’t offend your British sensibilities too much,’ he smirks.

  Shit, what am I wearing!? She quickly thinks, please don’t let it be a lacy thong... That would be pushing it a bit!

  ‘You’re on!’ she says, as they turn and crunch their way along the beach.

  Marcos wastes no time at all in unbuttoning his shirt and dropping his shorts. His tight boxers could easily pass as swimming trunks anyway. Without a word, he runs into the water, dives beneath the surface, and emerges happily about twelve feet further out, signalling for her to join him.

  Isabel self-consciously slips the straps of her summer dress from her shoulders and steps out of her flip flops. She feels exposed, standing in her underwear, and is convinced that people are staring at her with knowing looks, look at that girl, she’s in her M&S twin-set!

  Suddenly, and to her surprise, she is filled with a feeling of liberation. As she looks around her, there is nobody even remotely interested in who she is or what she is wearing, so why ruin a perfectly good bra?! She unclips it, tosses it on top of her discarded dress and runs into the cold sea. She lets out a happy squeal as the water ripples over her shoulders.

  ‘Jeeez, it’s cold,’ she laughs, as she reaches Marcos.

  ‘Refreshing though,’ he says, treading water opposite her, ‘are you ok in the water after what happened?’

  ‘As long as you’re around, Marcos,’ she smiles, ‘although I wouldn’t go as far as putting my head under water, at least not yet.’

  She swims a few strokes further out towards the horizon and twists over onto her back, floating with her arms out at her sides like a starfish, as she and Rachel had done in Torremolinos. She thinks about the current and the speed boat lane incident and smiles to herself, unaware that Marcos is right beside her.

  Her hair swirls around her shoulders as a black, silky halo. As she lies there floating, Isabel smiles up at the sky.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ he asks, in a husky whisper.

  She is embarrassed, but only for a moment, that she is topless. She flips over and treads water next to him. She expects to see him smiling but, his eyes are intense, his enlarged pupils making his, normally, icy-blue eyes look like dark, mysterious pools. Without saying a word, he encircles her waist with one strong arm, pulling her close to him. Her naked chest is pressed against his, their lips are almost touching. Their wet bodies softly rub against each other, with the movement of their legs keeping them afloat. Instinctively, Isabel wraps her arms around his neck. She can feel his warm breath on her mouth, leaving her whole body prickling with desire.

  ‘Shit, Marcos...’ she pants, ‘I need you so much but..., but, we can’t...’ She is silenced as he presses his lips urgently against hers and they kiss passionately. Marcos keeps them afloat with his legs when Isabel helplessly wraps hers around his waist, putting all her trust in Marcos, desperate to be closer to him.

  She runs her hand sensually over his back, and slides it slowly inside his boxer shorts. Suddenly, she lets out a guttural groan and pushes herself away from him. She swims as fast as she can out towards the horizon, struggling to control her breathing. Not like this, she thinks, not like this!

  She swims until she has exhausted herself. The burning desire in her dispersed, she turns back to the shore and sees Marcos lying on his front, sunbathing. Part of her expected him to have left her there. I was the temptress she thinks, ashamed.

  She reaches the shore, wrings out her hair and quickly gets dressed, preferring to let her clothes dry out in the sun, rather than lie next to Marcos in her underwear.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers, as she lies down next to him.

  ‘You have nothing to be sorry for Isabel. I’m the one with the fiancée,’ he says sadly.

  ‘Do you think it would be better if you dropped me home tonight?’ she asks, looking concerned.

  ‘No. No, stay tonight, please. Leanne is coming over to see you and she’s bound to jump to some conclusion or other if you’re not there,’ he pleads, burying his head in his arms, face down in the pebbles.

  ‘Ok, but you’ll take me back tomorrow after the walk...? If you still want to go?’ she asks, hanging her head and twisting a salty lock of hair between her fingers.

  ‘Isa, I don’t know what it is between us but we can’t ignore it. It’s neither your fault nor mine and I don’t know about you but... I am desperate to explore it and spend as much time with you as possible.’ He looks up at her with such genuine affection, that she feels that she may really embarrass herself and burst out crying!

  ‘But, Leanne...?’ she frowns, sighing deeply.

  ‘I’ll talk to her. Not tonight, but when she’s back from her night away. I promise’

  ‘Marcos, I think we should probably spend Saturday apart too. Give us both time to think things through properly. Is that ok?’ she asks quietly, stroking his cheek lightly with her fingertips.

  ‘If you insist,’ he smiles, before dropping his head back onto his folded arms, ‘pffffffff, Madre Mía!’

  Chapter 39

  When Leanne speeds up the driveway at seven o’clock that evening, Isabel is curled up comfortably on the sofa on the terrace, reading a book with a glass of red wine on the table in front of her.

  ‘Hi!’ Leanne shouts happily, as Isabel looks up from her novel.

  Leanne is wearing a white, fitted mini-dress with a tie waist and flat pumps. Her hair flows out behind her as she skips up towards the terrace smiling widely, her lips painted a bright glossy pink. She is making a huge effort, thinks Isabel. Something is definitely up!

  ‘Where’s Marcos?’ Leanne asks, placing her handbag on the chair next to Isabel.

  ‘He’s helping Marisa with the dinner, I think’ says Isabel, as casually as she can.

  ‘Cool,’ she says, ‘how are you feeling?’ she asks sweetly.

  ‘Er, good, thanks. I’m going to go back home tomorrow night. I don’t think I need babysitting anymore,’ she smiles, ‘that gives you and Marcos the night alone together too, before you go away on your spa thing.’

  ‘Oh, great... thanks! I’m not sure I’m actually going on the spa trip anymore. Plans may have sort of changed, not sure yet,’ she adds cryptically.

  Before Isabel can ask any more questions, Marcos arrives on the terrace carrying three cocktails o
n a tray.

  ‘Hi baby,’ Leanne greets him lovingly, kissing him on the cheek, ‘so that’s what you’ve been up to? Tequila Sunrise, my favourite. Isn’t he a sweetheart?’ she adds, looking over at Isabel. ‘I’m the luckiest girl in the world.’ She takes her drink and kisses him tenderly on the lips.

  What is going on??? thinks Isabel. This loving-fiancée-act is sickening! Poor Marcos looks slightly confused and embarrassed.

  ‘Such a busy day at work today,’ Leanne sighs, ‘what have you two been up to?’ she asks, sipping her cocktail.

  ‘Not much. Resting mainly,’ replies Isabel, concentrating, far more than really necessary, on slipping the bookmark into her novel. ‘I’m just going to pop to the loo, back in a minute.’

  Leanne watches as Isabel makes her way through the kitchen, her exotic maxi dress skimming the floor tiles.

  ‘I’ll just fetch some olives,’ says Marcos.

  Leanne follows him into the kitchen, cocktail in her hand. She stands, watching as he scoops olives into a ceramic bowl and searches the cupboard for other nibbles. She leans over the breakfast bar, enjoying the view of Marcos’s rippling shoulders through his tight t-shirt. Why had she never really paid attention to how good-looking he really is. Maybe she could have what she has with David, with Marcos after all? He could be trained, she smiles to herself.

  Taking another sip of her drink, something catches her eye on the kitchen surface. She checks that Marcos is still busy and carefully pulls the sheet of paper towards her. Fuck, these are rental property details! She feels an icy grip of panic in her chest, rental properties for who?

  Before she has a chance to look at them properly, Isabel walks back into the kitchen. Leanne returns her gaze to Marcos. Isabel hesitates a moment at the breakfast bar, before stepping back out onto the terrace. Leanne looks back at the property details, but... they are gone! Bitch! thinks Leanne as she feels herself flush with anger and frustration from her chest right up to the roots of her hair.

  ‘Are you ok, cielo?’ asks Marcos tenderly, as he turns around with a tray of snacks. ‘Have I put too much tequila in your drink?’

  ‘No, it’s fine. Just a bit warm that’s all. Let’s go outside,’ she says, lifting her hair up from the back of her neck, feeling as though she may faint.

  Isabel is enjoying her cocktail in one of the armchairs when they join her again on the terrace. Leanne cuddles uncharacteristically up against Marcos on the sofa. One of her bare legs resting on his lap. Isabel notices that Marcos looks awkward as he shifts his weight slightly and rests on the arm of the sofa as Leanne leans further in towards him.

  ‘Good cocktail?’ he asks Isabel.

  She sucks stronger than she intended on the straw, leaving her no option but to gulp down a huge mouthful of strong tequila. ‘Oh, good, good...’ she says, giggling and holding up her rapidly diminishing drink, ‘maybe I should stick to wine though. I drink cocktails like fruit juice,’ she sniggers again, ‘I forget that there’s alcohol in them!!’

  ‘Well, that’s ok!’ Marcos laughs, ‘it’s not as if you need to drive anywhere tonight, is it?’

  ‘Marcos,’ Leanne interrupts, stroking Marcos’s chest, ‘is it ok if I stay over tonight? I don’t think I should drive anyway, after this cocktail, and I need my car for work tomorrow.’ She smiles seductively.

  ‘Erm, yes, why not?’ he stammers, ‘I thought you didn’t like to stay over on week nights because of getting up early and everything?’ He leans back and studies her, confused at her sudden change in behaviour. He feels terrible for Isabel.

  ‘Listen guys, I think I might just go and give my friend Rach a call. I said I would call this evening and I don’t want to leave it too late,’ says Isabel as she picks up her empty wine glass and stands up, smiling down at them both.

  ‘Of course. Dinner will be in about forty-five minutes,’ says Marcos awkwardly, as Leanne plants delicate kisses down the side of his face.

  Isabel sweeps into the kitchen, grabs the open bottle of Rioja and heads to her bedroom with her mobile phone.

  She takes a few deep breaths before dialling, not wanting to alarm her friend, but feeling dangerously on the edge of tears. Rachel answers, as usual, on the second ring.

  ‘Izzy, what’s going on? Tell me everything!’ she blurts out, omitting any sort of greeting.

  ‘Oh Rach,’ sniffs Isabel on hearing her friends voice, ‘I’m so confused.’

  ‘Ok hun, just take a breath and tell me. Are you still at Marcos’s?’

  ‘Yes,’ she mumbles, taking a gulp of wine.

  ‘And is Leanne there?’

  ‘Yes,’ she croaks again.

  ‘Are you in love with Marcos?’

  ‘Yes.’ Isabel bursts into tears.

  ‘Oh lovey. Is he in love with you?’

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ she sniffs.

  ‘Seriously, have you told him about Leanne’s affair?’

  ‘No Rach, I don’t want to play it that way. We don’t have any evidence anyway. But listen,’ she says, calmer now, ‘I have been viewing some apartments to rent today and I’ve found one that’s perfect, Rach!’

  ‘Woah! What’s happened to my friend?! Isabel Marsh leaving Cartheston?!’

  ‘I know, I know,’ she says laughing through her tears, ‘I just love it here and, Marcos aside, I feel so at home here. I need to get away from Cartheston Rach. I can’t live there with the whole Paul thing hanging over me.’

  ‘That’s so exciting!! Is there a spare room for me?’

  ‘There’s a sofa bed’ Isabel giggles, taking another sip of wine.

  ‘Have you told your parents yet?’ Rachel asks, more seriously.

  ‘No, I’m waiting to see what happens over the weekend. I don’t have to decide on the apartment until Monday.’

  ‘Wow, wait until I tell Claire! We’re meeting in the pub tomorrow night,’ she gasps, ‘she’ll be dead shocked. I can’t wait to see her face!’

  ‘Listen Rach, I’m going to go back outside now. Leanne is acting even more weird than usual and I don’t trust her one bit. Marcos is going to talk to her over the weekend,’ she whispers.

  ‘About you two??’ Rachel gasps.

  ‘Yes, but look, it’s complicated. Please don’t get too excited!’ Isabel is unable to stop the big smile from taking over her face.

  ‘Ok, look, promise me you’ll keep me posted. You know me, I won’t be able to sleep.’

  ‘I will, love you Rach.’

  Isabel hangs up and lies back on the bed for a while and grimaces at the thought of having to sleep down the corridor from Marcos and Leanne’s bedroom. She decides to leave the rest of the wine and her glass on the bedside table. She may well need something to help her sleep later.

  She slips quietly into the kitchen, only to find Marcos mixing more cocktails. He turns around to face her, looking concerned.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers, ‘who knows what’s got into her tonight. If you weren’t here I’d talk to her but now is obviously not the right time.’ Marcos has a pained expression on his face.

  Isabel sighs and shrugs her shoulders, ‘it’s not your fault. Who would have guessed that she’d turn into bloody Snow White over night?!’

  ‘Strawberry Daiquiri?’ he smirks, handing her a very professional looking cocktail.

  ‘Ohhh thank you, that looks awesome! Forget everything I said about not drinking cocktails,’ she smiles.

  ‘Hola, Isabel, ¿Qué tal?’ Marisa bustles into the kitchen, tying her apron around her floral printed dress.

  ‘Muy bien, gracias Marisa,’ she answers, in her best Spanish accent. ‘How do I ask her what’s for dinner?’ she asks Marcos.

  ‘¿Qué hay para cenar?’ he whispers.

  ‘¿Qué hay para cenar?’ she repeats.

  Marisa smiles, appreciating her effort, ‘Ensalada césar con pollo a la plancha, y anchoas, hija.’

  ‘Did you get any of that?’ asks Marcos, smiling at Isabel.

  ‘I got the Caesa
r Salad bit!’ she laughs, blushing.

  ‘Right! Caesar Salad with grilled chicken and anchovies.’

  ‘Mmmmm, delicioso,’ says Isabel appreciatively, licking her lips.

  Leanne steps inside, brushes past Isabel and rudely interrupts by launching into a fluent conversation with Marisa. Something about Marcos that Isabel can’t understand. She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him on the lips. Whatever it was, Marisa approves, as she claps her hands happily and begins to chop the lettuce with a big smile on her face. Isabel just takes herself and her Daiquiri back outside.

  Marisa brings out some wine to go with the salad and a big basket of rustic bread. ‘Not for me.’ Declines Leanne, ‘it will make me fat, Marcos.’ She looks lovingly up at him, tapping her perfectly toned stomach.

  Apart from Leanne’s strange behaviour, the evening passes without so much as an evil stare between either of them. This time the alcohol seemed to have had a calming effect, thinks Isabel, but, then again, I’m so tired of playing this awful game. After coffee and liqueurs Isabel decides to excuse herself. It’s getting late and she has to be up early for their walk in the mountains tomorrow before it gets too hot.

  ‘Sleep well, Isabel. See you in the morning,’ says Marcos, smiling up at her.

  ‘Night Isabel. So glad you’re feeling better,’ Leanne says, making a display of climbing onto Marco’s lap as Isabel disappears inside.

  Chapter 40

  After lying awake, trying to read her book and drinking another glass of wine in an attempt to dull her senses, she eventually falls asleep to the giggles and creaks coming from Marcos’s bedroom. Purely for my benefit, she had thought. And come to think of it, it was only Leanne’s voice that I had heard. For all she knew, Marcos was asleep on the sofa!

  At 7 a.m. Isabel climbs out of bed, scrapes her hair back into a tight pony tail and has a refreshing shower. By the time she is dressed and ready for coffee, Leanne has already left. Such a pity! she thinks.

  Marcos is already at the breakfast bar, sipping an espresso and checking his phone when Isabel walks into the kitchen.