I took a sip. “Oh, this is so good.”
“It will relax you.” He lifted his cup toward me and smiled.
“You too,” I said. “I’m sorry I woke you. Sorry for all the drama and— ”
“You don’t have to apologize. You certainly did nothing wrong. And I promise you tomorrow I will look into this and we’ll find out who was here and why. I don’t want you to be frightened in your own home.”
“Then you— you believe me?”
He smiled. “Of course, I believe you. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if you dreamed it. You’ve been thrust into an odd situation, in a strange house, a rather intimidating house, with people you don’t know. I’m sorry if it seemed I didn’t understand. I only meant to reassure you— I didn’t want you to be afraid.”
After touching my cup to his, I finished the chocolate and set my cup on the tray, feeling both relaxed and sleepy and I yawned. He finished his, too, and stood up.
“See? It’s working already. I’ll leave you now to sleep in peace.”
“Wait…please. Will you stay…till I fall asleep?”
“Of course I’ll stay.”
I eased back down and he pulled the covers over me, then sat in a chair near the bed. I saw him yawn and I felt guilty that he had to sit in the uncomfortable chair.
“Why don’t you lie down, too?” I asked.
He smiled, his eyes narrowing. “Here?”
“Yes,” I said, laying my hand on the bed beside me, which had not been turned down.
He eased himself alongside me, but not touching, on top of the covers. He sighed and reached over to brush my cheek with his fingers, murmuring, “Go to sleep. When I go back to my room, I’ll lock your door.”
“All right,” I whispered and dropped off to sleep.
When I next opened my eyes it was full daylight and I quickly became aware of warmth against my back and the feel of something heavy around my waist.
I turned my head and saw Ian was still in bed beside me. His arm held me tightly against him, my back to his chest. He looked young and vulnerable as he slept, with no frown marks on his brow.
I held my breath, not wanting to wake him as I gazed at his handsome face with those dark lashes against his skin. I found I quite enjoyed the feel of his arm firmly around me and the comfort of his warm body against mine.
I glanced at the little clock beside the bed and bit back a gasp. Almost noon! I couldn’t believe we’d both slept so long and I wondered why he hadn’t gone back to his room. I must have made a noise because I felt him stir beside me and murmur something softly.
He sat up quickly and looked around as if he wasn’t sure where he was. I turned over on my back and saw him staring down at me. He lifted his hand to his head and frowned.
“What happened?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not a heavy sleeper. I hope you don’t think I stayed here purposely.”
“Would that be so terrible?” I asked. “You make me feel safe.”
“Do I?” He leaned over me, looking into my eyes. His gaze was sweet and serious.
“Yes,” I whispered. I put my hand on his face and lifted my face to his.
His kiss was sweet and warm, soft at first before growing deeper, and more compelling.
“Ian,” I moaned.
“Isabella, my sweet wife. I want you— I’ve never wanted anything or anyone the way I want you.”
I moved closer to him. I couldn’t get enough of his kisses, the touch of his body against mine. This was something I’d never experienced and I was intoxicated by the excitement and passion and the touch of him.
I wanted him to make love to me and I felt exhilarated knowing we were married and nothing could stop us from doing what we both wanted.
It was then we heard the rustling sound outside the door. I gasped, feeling afraid again.
Ian quickly got out of bed and went to the door. He opened it and looked down the hallway both ways.
“There’s no one here,” he said. He seemed confused, shaking his head as he walked back toward me.
“I have a pounding headache. I never get headaches,” he said.
“Now that you mention it,” I said. “So do I.”
He glanced around the room again.
“The cups and tray. Where are they?”
They were nowhere in sight.
“Someone must have come in and removed them.” I swung my legs around and stood up. Feeling a little dizzy I sat back down on the bed.
“Someone is playing with us,” he announced. “And I will find out who.”
“Maybe it’s some of the guests, trying to be funny, playing a trick on the newlyweds,” I offered. I took a deep breath, realizing I began to feel sick.
He stood in the middle of the room, fists on his hips. He was a formidable figure and I didn’t envy any person who angered him.
“I don’t find drugging someone amusing.” He grated out the words.
“You think someone deliberately drugged us? Why would anyone do that?”
“I’m almost certain of it. Nothing else could account for the way we both feel.”
“But who? And why would anyone do something like that?” I asked. “Edna brought the chocolate. Surely you don’t think she would — ”
“I don’t know what to think, but I intend to get to the bottom of this. He came to the bed and sat beside me. “Worst of all whoever was at the door spoiled a perfectly enticing moment.”
I smiled in agreement.
“Look, the bath is just down the hallway if you’d like to refresh yourself,” he said. “I’ll get dressed and when you come back, lock your door and then wait for me. I’ll come get you and we’ll go down for breakfast together. Or lunch.”
“All right.”
Later, when both of us were dressed and ready to leave my room, Ian said, “Stay with me as much as possible today.”
As we left my room, one of the maids was in the hallway and she nodded toward me. “Good morning, ma’am…sir,” she said. “I’ll clean your rooms while you’re gone if that’s convenient.”
“That’s fine, Amy,” Ian said. “I’m afraid we overslept.”
Amy smiled broadly and ducked her head. “Yes sir,” she said. “That’s no problem, sir.”
We walked down the hall until we were out of her hearing, then Ian laughed. “I don’t know why I felt it necessary to tell her we’d overslept.”
We both laughed but I blushed. Ian definitely had a way about him, an undeniable charm. I could see Amy and the rest of the household staff were completely taken with him.
James and Edna were seated at the long dining room table. She seemed happy to see us. After greetings were exchanged, we learned the guests had left shortly after breakfast, the weather having cleared.
“You know where Mother is?” Ian asked.
“I believe she’s still sleeping,” Edna said. “She had a restless night last night. So did I. Perhaps it was the storm that made everyone so restless,” she continued, looking pointedly at me.
“Edna,” Ian said “Speaking of that, did you come back to Isabella’s room this morning for any reason? Maybe to pick up the tray and dishes?”
James turned and looked oddly at his wife. It was obvious she hadn’t told him anything. And he definitely wasn’t pleased about it.
“No,” she replied. “I went straight back to my room. Why?”
“No reason,” he said. “When you were in the kitchen preparing the tray— was there anyone else there?”
“Why yes,” she said. “Morning Cook was there and two girls were helping her. They were starting the fires and preparing everything for breakfast.”
“Did she…or anyone else help you with the chocolate?”
“Cook heated the chocolate and poured it into the pot while I got the cups and put them on the tray. Why?” she asked. “What is this all about?”
“Are you accusing my wife of something, Ian?” James aske
d. I was surprised at the resentment in his voice. He always seemed so passive and distant that this seemed out of character.
“Not at all,” Ian said. “I’m sorry if I gave that impression.” He turned to me, dismissing James’ concern. “I’m starving. How about you, Mrs. Fitzgerald?” He smiled, and I knew he was trying to lighten the mood at the table.
I smiled back at him, though I was not feeling well at all.
“Maybe just tea and toast.” A sudden pang made me place a hand on my stomach.
Ian’s lips tightened and I knew he was still angry that someone had played such an ugly trick on us. I couldn’t imagine who would do such a thing but I certainly didn’t think it was Edna.
After we’d eaten, I felt a bit better when Edna turned to me and said, “Isabella, would you like to take a stroll around the courtyard and maybe outside if it isn’t raining?”
“Yes, I’d love some fresh air.” I turned and looked questioningly at Ian.
He put his hand on my arm. “Don’t go far. Not out of sight of the house.”
“Why, Ian,” Edna teased. “I’ve never known you to be so protective or so attentive. Isabella, I do believe you have completely charmed my dear brother- in-law.”
Ian laughed, but I knew he was not appeased.
“Be careful,” he said quietly to me.
Later after Edna and I had walked around the outside of the square Moorish-type house, we went inside the courtyard. It always seemed cooler there with the palms swaying and the sound of splashing water from the various fountains.
My eyes went automatically to the area of the house where Marguerite’s studio had once been. Mrs. Fitzgerald had covered the door for the wedding with a lattice panel and various plants.
“One would hardly know the door to the studio was there,” I commented.
“Would you like to go in?” Edna asked. “You know Marguerite made those sculptures you’ve seen the courtyard. She was a talented artist.”
“She must have been,” I said. “But it looks impossible to enter the studio.”
She smiled. “There’s another entrance. This way.”
I followed Edna through an archway at the back of the courtyard that led outside. Then we went around to the left of the house, pushing our way through some brush and vines growing up against the stucco walls.
“It’s rather like a secret passage with all that’s been allowed to grow up along here,” she called over her shoulder. “But I know the way. They say this door is the one her lovers used.”
“You really think she had lovers?” I asked.
“Oh, I know she did.” Edna glanced back at me with a sly smile. “My husband for one.”
I stopped and stared at her.
She halted as well, saying, “Oh, dear, I’ve shocked you. But James and I weren’t married at the time, so it’s really of no consequence. Don’t be such a prude, Isabella. Come on, we’re almost there.”
Moments later, she brushed aside a large flowery shrub and behind it was a door with a round brass circle that she pulled. The door opened with a creak. A coolness emanated from the room along with the pungent smell of straw and dust.
“James told you this?” I asked.
“Of course, he did,” she said. “We have no secrets from one another.”
“Does Ian know?”
“I’m sure he’s heard the rumor. But of course that isn’t something James is going to confess to his brother. Nor would I. That would make for a rather messy living situation, don’t you think?”
I must say I was stunned by her blasé attitude about the entire matter. I tried not to think about it as she held the door open for me to come inside.
Edna left the door ajar and then found a lantern and lit it. There were rows of windows on both of the outside walls, dusty now and obscuring the light. I imagined if the door to the courtyard were open, the area would be flooded with light. Edna made it obvious she’d been here before as she strode to the middle of the room and pulled a long, looped chain. Two large skylights above us opened with much creaking and clanging.
A large area was revealed, with part of the floor covered in Spanish tile and the other part dirt and straw. That part contained a large stall where Marguerite must have brought in horses to use as models for her work.
Edna seemed very familiar with the room and not at all ill at ease that we had more or less forced our way in.
I was not so comfortable; remembering here was where Marguerite died. But, of course, this was also where she spent so much of her time creating. I’d seen some of her sculptures in the gardens and courtyard and her passion and talent were obvious in her work. Her pieces, some finished some not, lined the walls and her tools lay on a large table. This made me see her as a real, live person. Her presence was definitely still in this studio. For me it was a powerful and moving moment.
Suddenly I smelled a beautiful, exotic perfume that made chills race over my skin. “Do you smell perfume?” I asked.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Yes, I often smell her perfume when I come here.”
“Her? You mean Marguerite?”
“Of course.” She frowned at me. “Who else would I mean? Marguerite hardly allowed anyone in here when she was working. Not even Ian. But perhaps that had more to do with her secrets than with her privacy about her work.”
I don’t know why her words bothered me so much. She was so casual about it. There was a tone to her voice when she spoke of Marguerite that I couldn’t quite figure out. Dislike? Jealousy? A shiver ran down my spine.
“She was murdered right over there,” Edna pointed. “Near the horse’s stall.”
“Murdered?”
“Oh, do forgive me. The appropriate Fitzgerald story is that it was an unfortunate accident. Beautiful sculptress killed by the magnificent horse she adored. Tragic, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “It is.”
Edna paced back and forth, almost dancing. She seemed so different here— hard and cold. And something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
“I think we should go,” I said. “It’s cold in here.”
“Did Ian tell you he was a suspect?” she asked, making no move to leave.
“Yes, he did.”
She smiled. “Ah.” Placing he hands on her hips, she smirked at me. “Warned you did he?”
“Really, Edna…”
“He has a violent temper you know. Runs in the family. That quick, violent Irish temper. His father had it too they say. In fact he’s just like his father. Aggressive and masculine— not at all like my sweet, sensitive James.”
I turned to go. “I don’t care to hear any more of this.”
She grabbed my arm, pulling me around to face her, blue eyes sparkling with anger.
“Of course, you don’t want to hear it. No one wants to hear anything bad about the handsome, charming Ian Fitzgerald. They’d rather believe that I did it, or that, heaven forbid, my own husband did it.”
I pulled away from her, wondering if I had heard correctly. “Are you saying you and James were also suspects?”
“Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous? They say the child she was carrying belonged to James. Well, if that were true, why would he murder his own child? It’s far more reasonable that her insanely jealous husband would.”
I stared at her, unable to believe her vicious, spiteful words. The way her eyes blazed at me gave me chills. She must really hate Ian. I thought Edna, with her frilly blonde curls and dimpled cheeks was as sweet and innocent as anyone I’d ever known. Now I saw an angry and vindictive spitfire
“I don’t believe that,” I snapped.
“Isabella, you shouldn’t be here. And neither should you, Edna.”
I turned to see Ian standing in the doorway. With the light behind him, he appeared as a dark shadow, looming and dangerous. And though his voice was soft and quiet there was a frightening quality in it I had not heard before.
I felt as if I were in a nightmar
e. After this, plus the events of last night, I didn’t know who to trust or who to believe. Had I made a terrible mistake by coming to Marshbay?
I pushed past Ian. He let me go, not reaching to stop me, but called after me.
“Isabella, wait.”
I ran back around the house and through the opening into the courtyard. I hurried as fast as I could to my room and closed the door, locking it behind me. My hands trembled and I felt weak and dizzy.
I stood for a moment, catching my breath before I remembered Ian’s room also had a door to the hallway. I turned to go into his room, but it was too late. Ian was already through the connecting door, staring at me, his eyes blazing, and lips tight with anger.
“No,” I cried.
“Isabella, listen to me.” He took my wrists in his hands, shaking me slightly. “I am not the enemy, Bella,” he said softly. “I’m not.”
Before I could make a sound he pulled me against him and kissed me. At first his kiss was hard and punishing, then just as suddenly as he’d caught me to him, his mouth turned soft and warm and tender.
His tenderness stopped me cold as always. I wanted to pull away. I knew I should, but I couldn’t. I wanted more of him, more of his kisses. I wanted to feel his hands on my body, his chest pressing against me, his arms holding me tight. I never wanted this to end, though in the back of my mind I tried to summon all the reasons why I should.
In the end it was he who finally pulled away from me. My arms were trapped against his chest, and he still held me. He gazed down at me with such tenderness it took my breath away.
“Does that kiss tell you anything?” he asked. “I love you, Isabella and I would never hurt you. Don’t you know that by now? Can’t you see? Don’t you know that what happened between us earlier was real? Remember how I told you that love is a natural thing? That’s what you’re feeling sweetheart, I promise you. Love.”
Was I insane? After all the rumors, after all that Edna told me, was I completely insane to believe this man? I wanted him to love me more than anything. I began to cry, as much from frustration as anything
“Shh,” he whispered, brushing the hair from my forehead. “Don’t cry.” He kissed my cheeks and my eyes. “I would never hurt you— don’t you know that?”
Storm at Marshbay Page 6