Waves of Betrayal (The Isabel Marsh Trilogy Book 1) (19 page)

‘H
e thinks I’m beautiful,’ repeats Isabel to herself in a soft voice, staring at the tiled wall in front of her and sliding forward in the bath tub, dunking her hair into the warm scented soapy water. She lies for a few minutes, with her ears below the surface, enjoying the muffled sounds around her. She thinks of Marcos and what it would be like to share his huge corner bath with him. A glass of champagne each and a bowl of strawberries, which he would feed to her, of course. Fluffy bathrobes to wrap each other in afterwards as they would pad outside onto the moonlit terrace and make love on the sofa under the stars... ‘
Damn!
’ she shouts, snapping out of her reverie and sitting up abruptly, slopping bathwater onto the tiled floor. ‘Stop it Isabel, stop it
right
now!’

She rinses the soap from her hair, wraps herself in a big fluffy towel, and decides to go against Rachel’s advice completely, pouring herself a large glass of wine from the fridge, downstairs.

Tonight is the demure look
, she thinks.
Nothing too showy, I’m not in competition after all, at least he can’t think I am! Smart, respectable, but quietly sexy
. ‘Good plan’, she says out loud, as she realises that she has taken to talking to herself too which is surely not a good sign?!

Subtle, smoky-brown eye shadow, black mascara and a light mocha lipstick with coral nail varnish. Then for the fitted, knee-length, figure-hugging beige and pink dress with little cap sleeves. She adjusts the neckline so that a hint of her black lace camisole is just visible. Much better to be classy and to leave more to the imagination than brash and overtly brazen, surely? She slips her feet into her brown leather wedge heels and looks at herself critically in the full length mirror in the wardrobe. Her hair has dried into a natural curl which falls over her shoulders in delicate waves.
Just
right!
she thinks,
demure, innocent, but playful and sexy, all rolled into one
. She pushes her sunglasses through her hair, snatches her handbag from the bedside table and heads for the front door, resisting a final glance in the hallway mirror. ‘I should have gone dressed in green,’ she chuckles sadly to herself as she pulls the door shut behind her, ‘as the gooseberry that I am!’

Marcos is already waiting, hood down on his Mercedes, a tanned muscular forearm tapping subtly on the steering wheel to the beat of the music from his stereo.

‘Hi,’ he says in a relaxed voice, leaning over to kiss her on both cheeks as she sinks into the seat next to him.

‘Wow, it’s hot,’ she exclaims, feeling the warmth of the leather through her dress, ‘good job I decided against my nun’s costume after all,’ she giggles, trying to make light of the situation.

Marcos smiles, appreciating her humour, ‘she’s already at the house. She arrived early,’ he adds, as if preparing her for the meeting.

‘Oh, ok,’ Isabel stammers, trying to hide the disappointment from her voice, ‘so you two have sorted things out then?’

‘Well, she apologised, which is a good start,’ he says simply.

‘Oh no, I’ve just realised,’ says Isabel reaching for her handbag between her feet, ‘I didn’t even bring a bottle of wine. How rude of me. Maybe we could stop at a supermarket on the way?’

‘Isabel, that is really sweet of you but you are in Spain now,’ he glances over at her and smiles reassuringly, ‘there’s no need, honestly. Anyway, there is enough wine in my cellar for the whole of Málaga,’ he laughs, tapping her knee, trying not to sound too patronising. ‘I love the dress by the way. I’m sure Leanne will be desperate to know where you bought it.’

Isabel smirks, not wanting to imagine sitting and having a cosy conversation with this girl about her fashion sense, or anything else, come to think of it.

As they pull up in front of the garage, she sees Leanne glance over and stand up as she watches them approach. She looks so different from the other night that Isabel thinks, at first, that Leanne had invited a friend. She is wearing a pink floral maxi-dress with flat sandals with her hair in a long plait down her back. The look is sweet and young.
Maybe I’ve made a mistake?
Isabel thinks,
maybe she wasn’t the girl that we had seen?
She feels suddenly guilty about her feelings for Marcos and, although sick with jealousy, she is glad that she can at least understand why he would be attracted to Leanne. Somehow, she seems suddenly more deserving of him. Isabel lowers her head as she walks over towards Leanne, vowing to herself that she will take a backseat this evening and try her very best to be friends with her.

‘Hi,’ says Isabel, ‘lovely to see you again.’ She kisses her on both cheeks.

‘God, it’s so lovely of you to say so,’ she replies, gazing over Isabel’s head towards Marcos, ‘but let’s face it, I was a bitch,’ she sighs.

Marcos remains behind them, listening to the exchange, ‘can you forgive me?’ asks Leanne, taking Isabel by the hand.

‘Of course,’ Isabel laughs, pulling her hand away slowly. ‘We’ve all done things that we regret haven’t we? You look lovely by the way,’ says Isabel through gritted teeth.

‘You too. Where did you get your dress? I love it!’

Confident that the two girls are getting on well, Marcos steps inside to fetch the drinks.

‘Esprit, I think,’ answers Isabel simply, eyeing Leanne up and down carefully, reluctant to believe her innocent act.

‘Nice,’ replies Leanne curtly, as Marcos disappears inside. ‘I’m also enjoying the view of your underwear underneath. Intentional by any chance?’ she ridicules sarcastically, staring down at Isabel’s black lace camisole.

‘What?’ replies Isabel in disbelief, pulling up the neck of her dress.

‘Oh, you know perfectly well what I mean. I know your little game. The innocent friend from the past comes back to claim her man.’ Leanne’s lip curls and she leans in towards Isabel, ‘the man who is already
engaged
to someone else, in case you hadn’t noticed,’ she adds viciously.

‘Leanne...’ Isabel starts, but Marcos steps outside and they relax their faces into happy smiles.

 ‘Here we go girls, two glasses of the finest champagne. Marisa will bring out the canapés in a few minutes,’ he says cheerfully.

Leanne and Isabel stand up next to each other grinning and take the glasses of Moët, each secretly wishing that the other would choke on it.

‘I’m so glad that you two can be friends. Has Isabel told you that I’m taking her up into the mountains on Saturday?’
Oh crap, I’d forgotten about that
thinks Isabel. ‘Why don’t you come too Leanne? It’ll be fun.’

Leanne’s entire body language betrays her feigned look of indifference. Isabel can clearly see that she is seething inside. Her plump lips narrow into a thin straight line and her knuckles turn white as she grips the stem of her glass. Isabel almost expects it to shatter in her hand at any moment, but Marcos seems totally oblivious. He continues to smile at his fiancée, when something inside her seems to shift and she flicks her plait playfully over her shoulder. She looks at them both with, what looks like, genuine regret.
Wow, she’s good!
thinks Isabel. She is witnessing an Oscar-winning performance right here, in Marcos’s garden.

‘Oh, I’d love to darling but, Lucy has tickets for a new spa in Granada. We’re leaving on Saturday morning. I’ll be back by Sunday though,’ Leanne declines in a smooth, innocent voice, as she sidles up to him and strokes his arm lovingly.

‘I know mountains have never really been your thing anyway Lea, but I didn’t want you to think that I don’t want you to come,’ he smiles as he leans over and kisses her lightly on the top of her head.

Leanne rests her head on his shoulder and gives Isabel a look that makes her seriously worry about being left alone with this woman. Marcos just continues to grin happily.
How lovely it must be in his world, full of trust and innocence
, she thinks.

Marisa, his housekeeper, comes out bearing a large silver tray of mouth-watering canapés and places them carefully on the table in between them. ‘
Señores
,’ she says politely, as she steps back from the tray.

A housekeeper,
thinks Isabel,
so that’s why his bedroom was so tidy!
She is a short, rotund lady.
In her sixties, I’d guess
.
She’s probably worked for the family for years. Marcos treats her more like a mother than an employee.

‘
Gracias,
Marisa,’ says Marcos, and gives her shoulder a friendly squeeze.

Isabel reaches forward to take a vol-au-vent filled with prawns in a Marie-Rose sauce. She takes a bite and laughs nervously as her top lip sinks into it, leaving her with a pink creamy moustache. She laughs through her serviette as she presses it to her mouth and watches as Marcos does the same and ends up with crème fraiche on the end of his nose. They giggle like children, whilst Leanne takes a bite-sized biscuit topped with smoked salmon and pops it delicately into her mouth, without even smudging her lipstick.

‘I think maybe I’ll just go and see if Marisa needs a hand,’ Leanne says, looking at Marcos and Isabel like naughty children as she steps inside the house.

‘Oops, sorry,’ says Isabel, wiping her mouth, ‘I hope I haven’t offended her. Are you sure she’s ok about Saturday?’ she asks quietly, looking doubtful.

‘Of course! She said so, didn’t she? She prefers the coast to the mountains anyway,’ he says, dipping a stick of celery into a pot of hummus. ‘Honestly, she’s fine about it. I think we’d know if she was unhappy.’

Would we, indeed? Completely oblivious!
thinks Isabel, smiling in disbelief and helping herself to a mozzarella and cherry tomato bite. She assumes that she would make less of an embarrassment of herself with something less creamy. She is wrong! As she tries to be ladylike, she takes a small bite instead of popping it straight into her mouth like Leanne. The tomato bursts, sending a spray of juice and seeds all over Marcos’s white linen shirt. ‘Oh crap, I’m so sorry!’ she laughs, covering her mouth as she chews the offending morsel.

Marcos bursts out laughing too and Isabel nearly chokes on the tomato skin when Leanne comes running out onto the terrace to see what on earth is going on. It takes them a couple of minutes to pull themselves together, before they can explain the joke to Leanne. She is now standing with her arms folded, tapping her foot, looking decidedly unamused.

Eventually, when things have calmed down, Leanne follows Marcos back into the house as he goes to change his shirt and Isabel sits down heavily on the sofa, shaking her head. How she wishes that Rachel were there to witness the evening. It didn’t take a genius to work out that things were not going at all well.

She finishes her glass of champagne and looks up as she hears Leanne hissing something at Marcos as they step back outside.

‘Isa, I’m so sorry for leaving you alone. New shirt!’ he says, spreading out his arms to reveal another identical shirt, minus the stains. ‘The other one is in soak,’ he grins, ‘so no harm done! ...Oh, your glass is empty. Top up?’

‘Oh yes please,’ says Isabel, gratefully wondering how long her liver will hold out, if she spends any longer than a month out in Spain. She smiles tentatively at Leanne to gauge her mood. She smiles back, but through gritted teeth and raises her glass.
An indication that Marcos has ordered her to behave...!
Isabel thinks. She notices Leanne’s fingers as she wraps her hand around a champagne flute.
She could do some serious damage with those nails
!

‘Dinner is almost ready. Shall we eat out here darling?’ asks Leanne, practically purring like a cat.

‘I think so. It’s quite cool tonight and it’s a shame to miss the sunset. Maybe we could have a swim later?’ suggests Marcos.

‘I really think I should leave after dinner,’ Isabel says quickly. ‘Thank you so much for the offer, but I have to work tomorrow and, besides, I don’t even have a swimming costume with me.’

‘I’m sure Leanne must have a spare one here that you could borrow, don’t you
cielo
?’ he asks, turning to his white lipped fiancée, her glass visibly trembling in her hand.

‘I’m sure I could find something,’ she mutters obligingly, ‘the top may be a bit big for you of course,’ she adds, eyeing Isabel up and down with a bitchy smirk.

Isabel’s first reaction is to refuse, but seeing Leanne’s reproach as a challenge, she takes her up on the offer immediately. She takes a swift swig from her champagne and replaces the glass firmly on the table, smiling widely at her host whilst giving Leanne a subtle, but victorious, stare.

Marisa announces that dinner is ready. She begins to load the tray with the remaining canapés and Marcos pulls back a chair for Isabel, ‘Please,’ he invites, and tucks the chair back under her. Leanne is already seated at the opposite end of the table and Marcos takes his napkin from the table and places it on his knees as he takes his seat between them.

‘I hope you like salmon?’ he smiles proudly, as Marisa delivers three delicious looking fillets of salmon in a dill sauce with dauphinoise potatoes and a crisp, colourful salad.

‘Wow, this looks delicious,’ says Isabel, wondering if Marcos dines like this every night.

‘White wine?’ he asks. Without waiting for a response, he pours for the three of them. They enjoy their meal in comfortable silence for a while and then Marcos turns to Isabel and asks her if she had heard any more from Paul. Caught unawares, Isabel chews for far longer than necessary on a piece of delicate salmon, then takes a slow sip of wine.

‘No, no. Rachel said that no one has seen him,’ she finally answers, loading her fork again to avoid having to speak ‘so that’s good.’ She nods convincingly as she bites into a mouthful of salad.

‘Who’s Paul?’ asks Leanne predictably, looking suddenly very interested.

‘Isabel’s ex,’ answers Marcos simply, dabbing the corner of his mouth with his serviette, ‘he had an affair last month.’ He keeps the explanation simple, for Isabel’s sake.

‘So then the poor, jilted teacher runs off to Spain?’ Leanne chuckles nastily, setting down her cutlery and taking a sip of wine. She looks over her glass at Isabel, her eyes narrowing.