Mariel (13 page)

Dampening her suddenly dry lips, she said, “Ian, you should not do this here.”

“Not here? This is my home, my dear.”

“This is the parsonage!” she gasped.

“So?”

Mariel pushed him farther away and rose. Pointedly she sat in the chair opposite the sofa. When she saw his amusement, she spat, “I have no intention of being seduced in a parsonage!”

“No?” He leaned forward and retrieved his cane from the floor. He twirled it between his fingers as he asked, “Where exactly do you intend to be seduced?” When her cheeks tinted pink, he chuckled. “Forgive me, Mariel. That was an inappropriate thing to say. It is difficult to think of you so often and see you so seldom. Each time I do, Rosie is with you. It is not easy to enjoy your company when she makes it so clear how much she loathes mine.”

“I have tried to talk to her about this,” she replied. “I never realized how stubborn Rosie could be.”

He stood and took her hand. Without speaking, he brought her back to the settee. She watched as he sat next to her. His hands sandwiched hers between them. When he smiled, she tried to hide her unease.

“Mariel, what do you want me to say? That you have tried your best, so it is all right to give up? You don't want to hear that.” His brows formed a straight line across his forehead. “Or if you do, you aren't the woman I thought you were.”

“Ian! It is not easy! I have been trying so hard, but it doesn't seem to help. She refuses to be pleasant to you.”

“Don't press her. I remember another lady from that house who made her dislike of me clear. Rosie reminds me of a smaller, less resilient copy of you, Mariel. Let her find her own way. She will come around eventually.”

She waved aside his reasonable words. “Until then? I-I-I—” She paused as she fought her shyness to say what she wanted to tell him. When she saw his gentle smile, she forced the words past her trembling lips. “I want to see you more often, Ian, but each time the three of us are together, there is trouble.”

“Then the two of us. You promised to join me for a picnic last week.”

“It rained.”

“This Saturday we shall go. Just you and I, Mariel.” He released her hands to frame her face with his warm palms. His intense green stare cut into her to reveal the yearnings of her her soul. “Just the two of us. Yes?”

“Yes,” she answered as if caught within a spell. Her fingers came up to cover his. “On Saturday.”

The muted gong of the mantelclock broke her mesmerism. She stood so hastily her petticoats flared behind her. When she heard him step toward her, she moved to the door. Her hand settled on the knob, although she was loath to end this meeting.

“I will see you Saturday, Mariel.”

She looked up at him and wondered if touching his face would thrill her as much as when he stroked hers. When she realized her fingers were rising to do exactly that, she dropped them hastily to her side.

“It will be fun.”

He laughed. “I hope you sound more enthusiastic about it then than you do now. If—” He paused as a knock resounded through the house. “Mrs. Albion. That woman is obsessed with her altar cloth.”

His frustration with the wife of her nemesis on the school board brightened Mariel's spirits. It would be fun on Saturday. And she would take Ian's valid advice. Perhaps by allowing Rosie to make her own decisions, the child would learn to like Ian as much as her guardian did.

With a cheery farewell to him and a quick greeting to the dour-faced woman at the door, she ran across the green. If Phipps had witnessed such childish behavior, Mariel knew she would be reprimanded harshly. It was simply impossible to be sedate when her heart sang. Saturday was only two days away. Then she would have a chance to be with Ian as she had only dreamed.

Saturday dawned with the clear perfection of spring. The morning sun peeked over the top of the Cloister to find its way into Mariel's room. Slithering past the drapes and the curtains of her bed, its warmth tickled her nose.

After eating breakfast with Rosie and Phipps, Mariel returned to her room. She sang as she took a quick bath. The luxury of the claw-footed tub was something she took for granted, although she had been thrilled when it was installed five years before. Wrapping a towel around her, she danced across the room to the melody she hummed. It was impossible to deny her happiness. It had been building within her since Ian suggested this outing.

From her closet, she selected a pale blue gown, one which would withstand the punishment of the salt and sand. The frock of dotted swiss muslin was decorated with an organdy square bib on the bodice. It had been embroidered with an intricate pattern of green and blue to match the silk sash accenting the narrow line of her waist. The three-quarter-length sleeves ended in a half cuff edged with lace. A straw hat embellished with a rose sat on the back of her head. It would relieve her of taking a parasol to the beach.

Mrs. Puhle had the picnic basket ready when Mariel came into the kitchen. When she handed the young woman the basket covered with a linen towel, the plump cook stated, “Roast beef sandwiches, potato salad, pickles …”

“Wonderful,” Mariel interrupted before the cook announced everything in the basket. She peeked in to see that all she had ordered had been packed.

“Have a pleasant day, Lady Mariel.”

She met Mrs. Puhle's knowing grin steadily. A bit of mischief entered her voice as she said, “I intend to. Oh, don't forget Rosie is having a guest for lunch.”

“I remember, Lady Mariel.” Her delighted laughter followed Mariel out of the kitchen.

Crossing the garden bright with blossoms, she reached the garage. She smiled when she saw the automobile was ready. A glance at the gauge on the floor told her it had been properly charged. The cables were coiled neatly to the side.

She looked quickly around the barn, but Walter was nowhere to be seen. Vowing to commend him for his efficient work the next time she spoke to him, she loaded the basket into the back of the automobile. She checked that she had everything she wanted.

With a half-spoken curse, she realized she had forgotten the blanket to protect her dress from the relentless, rough particles of sand. She left the basket on the fender of the car and raced back to the Cloister.

Dodsley opened the door and was halfway down the steps as she sped across the emerald grass. Laughing, he held up the heavy wool blanket. “Miss Phipps thought you would want this.”

“Thank you.” She bundled it under her arm as she spun to return the way she had come. Over her shoulder, she added, “Tell Phipps I appreciate it.”

The butler chuckled again. Lady Mariel never failed to act as if she was late, even if she had plenty of time to get where she was going. Her impatience drove her hard, but she seemed to thrive on the fast pace of her life.

Mariel tucked the blanket between the seat and the batteries at the back of the automobile. She picked up the cloth, which had blown off the top of the picnic basket. Stuffing it down into the sides of the container, she placed the basket on the floor by the passenger seat. In the small vehicle, they would be crowded, but it was not a long ride from the village to the easiest path down to the beach.

Ian was waiting for her on the porch of the parsonage when she brought the automobile to a smooth stop in front of the steps. She smiled as she saw how handsome he appeared even through the dust on her glasses. Raising them, she allowed her eyes to rove along the surprisingly light tan of his frock coat. A plaid vest covered his white shirt with its high stock closed by a perfectly arranged tie. Dark brown trousers matched the band of his Panama hat. Seeing him in something other than his sedate ministerial blacks was a charming change.

As he settled himself on the plush seat, she readjusted her driving goggles. With a wave to Mrs. Reed, she turned toward the shore road.

The small vehicle protested as she drove it up the hill beyond the rectory. Concentrating, she kept their speed constant and did not let it stall. When they reached the top, she smiled at the accomplishment.

“You truly love this automobile, don't you?” asked Ian as he leaned back against the comfortable, royal blue upholstery. His arm rested behind her, but he did not touch her.

“It is wonderful.”

“Because it is new and different?”

She laughed. “Partly. You know my affinity for anything I feel will be important in the next century. I do like it simply because it can be so efficient. Now that Walter is taking care of it, I have not had any breakdowns.”

“It seems odd to be riding in it again.” He grinned. “I have been waiting to have a chance to be with you without Rosie, but I must admit I miss her sharp comments today.”

She smiled. “She must have a chance to be a child, instead of being with adults all the time. Tip Lyndell came up from the village to play with her today. I am sure they will give Phipps and the others a busy day.”

She listened as he spoke of the news from the village. Although she could feel his eyes on her, she did not dare to take hers from the road. The ruts left by the spring rains did not gibe with the axle width of her vehicle. They bounced along toward the shore.

When she parked the automobile in the short grass near the edge of the cliff, she wondered if her eyes would settle back in one place. It seemed as if everything still jounced unevenly across the horizon. She admired how the blue of the sea stretched to its meeting with the sky. The brisk wind ripped her hair from beneath her hat to float in front of her face. She wanted to pull off her hat and race along the strand.

Ian smiled as she looked in his direction. “It is beautiful, isn't it?” he asked.

“Beautiful and powerful and forever. I cannot imagine living away from the sea.” She placed her thick coat on the seat and brushed the wrinkles from her dress. “How boring it must be never to have the song of the waves rumbling in your ears!”

She reached for the blanket, and her fingers met Ian's. Instantly, as it had the first time she touched him, the spurt of electricity raced along her, creating a glow on her face she could not dampen.

“I will take the blanket, Mariel,” he said softly. “The basket is lighter.”

“Yes,” she agreed. With her face afire, she could think of nothing else to say.

When he held out his hand to her, she slowly raised hers to place it on his palm. His fingers closed over it as he drew her closer. She gazed up into his face. Beneath his auburn brows, his green eyes caressed her sweetly. She felt her lips part in a breathy sigh. Suddenly she shook herself.

“Shall we go, Ian?”

“Of course.” He put the blanket over his hand holding the cane. “I am anxious to sample this beauty on the sand below.”

Mariel hid her concerns as Ian led the way down the steep path to the beach. By the time they were halfway to the strand, she realized she need not worry. He was as surefooted with his cane as she was with her two good legs. Soon they stood side by side on the pebbles at the base of the cliff. She sat on one of the larger rocks.

Without modesty, she drew up her skirts to reveal her calf-high shoes. She unbuttoned them, removed them, and drew off her black stockings. Stuffing them into the shoes, she glanced up at Ian.

“With all the sand, I don't …” Her voice faded as she saw his expression. Heat swept over her that had nothing to do with the warmth of the summer sun.

His hands settled on her arms and he drew her to her feet. Without her shoes, she discovered her eyes were even with the fullness of his lips. As they tilted up in a smile, she lifted her gaze to meet his. His fingers created a tingle against the skin of her neck as he moved her head into the perfect position for his mouth descending toward hers.

Unable to move, mute, and captured by the sweet sensation of his arms around her, she welcomed his kiss. Her hands slid along his arms to clasp behind his neck. The crash of the waves and the screech of the seabirds vanished into the vortex of the passion drawing her to him.

A muttered oath severed the magic. She clutched onto Ian as she felt them sway together. With a grin, he stabilized himself on his cane. “Damn leg!”

“Reverend!” she stated with feigned shock. “Such language!”

“Compared to what I was thinking, it was mild indeed. I have been waiting so long for that kiss. I think such an expletive is appropriate.” His eyes sparkled as he traced her slim lines with his eager gaze. “It was not difficult to be godly, until I met you, Mariel. Are you my temptation?”

She laughed. “Such a thing to say, Ian!”

Taking her hand, he watched as she picked up the basket and her shoes. As they walked closer to the water, he said softly, “I meant it as a compliment. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, but it is more than that. I have never met anyone as full of life as you. Since the—since I hurt my leg, I have found it more comfortable to watch life as a bystander. You could never be that way.”

“No,” she said with characteristic honesty. “I can't imagine letting the world pass me by. Ian, what happened to your leg?” Hastily she added, “If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to, of course.”

He took the blanket from her and shook it out to settle slowly to the sand. As she sat on one corner, he said, reflectively, “The question sometimes bothers me, but not when you ask it. You don't want to know simply because you are curious.”

“Yes, I do!” she retorted with her pixie smile brightening her face.

“It is not simply that. You care about me, don't you?”

Her lips parted in a breathless invitation as she looked up into his face. “You shouldn't have to ask that, Ian. You know you are very special to me.”

“As you are to me.” He sat by her, watching the wind course through her hair, loosening the pins holding it in a sedate bun. “I hurt myself in a stupid hunting accident at a house party after I was graduated from the seminary. I was riding with some friends and others. Overwhelmed by the zeal of the chase, I tried to jump my horse over a thicket I knew he could not take. He went down. I went down under him. My leg was crushed.” He said the words with the dull resignation he had learned since the accident. “By the time my friends found me, they did not know if I would live. At that moment, they did not think of anything as inconsequential as whether I would ever walk again.”