Waves of Betrayal (The Isabel Marsh Trilogy Book 1) (27 page)

He thinks about Isabel and how he had left her crumpled on the pavement. The pain in her eyes. She had told him about Leanne but he had rejected the idea outright. He thinks back to the incident in the pool and his blood runs cold. He suddenly realises that he can believe Leanne capable of wanting to hurt Isabel
. Even kill her?
He feels so ashamed.
How could I have been so blind!

All of a sudden, he is pulled out of his thoughts by a light knock on the door. ‘Are you ok,
Cariño
? Shall I make us some coffee?’

He grips the sink with both hands, taking a deep, calming breath before answering.

‘Ok. Out in a minute,’ he manages to say, as casually as he can.

When he emerges a few minutes later, Leanne is pouring boiling water into the coffee pot, smiling happily, still oblivious to the change in mood.

‘Let’s sit in the living room,’ he says, quietly, taking two cups from the cupboard.

Leanne follows him, concerned. ‘Is everything ok Marcos? Have I done something wrong?’ she asks, setting the coffee pot down on a rubber place mat and settling herself in a comfortable arm chair opposite him. ‘Sweetheart...? Is it work?’

‘No, no it’s not work’ he says, sitting forward in the chair. Agitated, he rubs the palms of his hands together slowly. ‘Leanne’ he starts, trying to control the anger in his voice, ‘when did you go to the doctor?’

‘To the doctors’?’ she smiles quizzically, jumping to her feet and pressing the plunger slowly down onto the coffee, ‘I haven’t been yet sweetheart,’ she continuous, filling two small cups and handing one to Marcos.

‘But you
are
pregnant?’ He studies her face carefully as she settles herself back into the armchair.

‘Well, I did a test,’ she smiles, ‘in fact I did two. And they were both positive. Why, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me.’

He places his cup on the table and pulls out his mobile phone. ‘I’ll tell you what’s worrying
me
Leanne,’ he says in a steely voice, ‘this!’ He thrusts the picture into Leanne’s face, ‘this image worries me,
very
much.’

He watches the colour drain from her face as she recognises herself. ‘I... I don’t understand,’ she mumbles.

‘Oh I think
I
do. Rachel remembered where she and Isabel had seen you before, when they met you at our engagement party. She never said anything of course, she’s far too good a person for that.’ Marcos watches her as her eyes widen and she shifts in the chair, desperately trying to think of an explanation. ‘After your little revelation today though, Rachel remembered the photo that she had taken as a joke. A
joke!’
Marcos shouts, thrusting his phone back into his pocket, ‘which is, incidentally, what our relationship has been to you, isn’t it? Hasn’t it!’

Leanne recoils back against the cushions. She has never seen Marcos lose his temper like this. She realises that she has pushed him too far. Her voice comes out as a scared whisper as he leans over her, gripping the arms of the chair, demanding an answer.

‘I... no, not a joke. Never a joke,’ she says, her eyes welling up.

‘How long?’ he asks. His voice deep, unfaltering.

‘Eighteen months maybe,’ she shivers, staring down at her hands.

Marcos grits his teeth and presses hard down on the arms of the chair, pushing himself away from her. ‘You
disgust
me!’ he shouts, rubbing his face roughly with both hands.

Leanne sinks deeper into the armchair, pulling her legs up towards her chest as he strides towards her. ‘You let me propose to you! You said
Yes... why???’

Leanne doesn’t answer. She remains motionless, curled in the chair like a child, as she realises that she has no defence. She has used him. Used them both. Marcos and David.

‘Is there a baby?’ he asks, his face only inches from her own. She simply shrugs in response, not able to look him in the eyes, confirming her deceit.

She cowers helplessly, screwing up her eyes expecting to feel a stinging slap across her face at any minute. She knows that she deserves it. She hears his ragged breathing close to her face and then his heavy footsteps receding. She opens her eyes and watches as the door slams behind him. ‘Just
get out,’
he bellows.

I
sabel allows herself to be cradled in Paul’s arms on the sunbed on the roof terrace. He had settled her there and returned with a tray of food and drinks for them both. Stroking his chest through his thin linen shirt, her sadness is gradually replaced by a deep longing for him. She lifts her head from his shoulder and smiles slowly down at his familiar features. His white teeth shining between his parted lips, his thick wavy hair swept neatly back from his face. A faint shadow of stubble accentuates his strong, masculine jaw and he is more tanned than she has ever seen him.

She sits up slowly, admiring him. She can feel his tension.

‘Isabel, will you let me explain...?’ he asks softly, his dark eyes pleading with her.

‘No,’ she answers simply, smiling and shaking her head slowly, ‘after all, you’re on holiday,’ she giggles. He can see that she is drunk.

He watches her, one arm behind his head, as she mixes them a large gin and tonic each and picks up a slice of pizza from the table. ‘Join me!’ she says in her teasing voice, usually reserved for those special nights of passion. The last time he had seen her like this had been only a couple of hours before he had betrayed her for the last time. His face becomes serious and full of regret, as he remembers how he had let Jules secretly into Joan’s empty house and made love to her across the kitchen table. He watches Isabel saunter sexily over to the hot tub and fold back the lid. He tries to suppress the guilty memories of his shameful affair.

Isabel had been so sweet and naive that it was easier than he thought to betray her. A late night or two at work, an early-morning training run. He even actively encouraged Isabel to go clubbing with her friends in Plymouth, so that he could meet Jules.
It was the excitement
, he thinks, trying to justify all the occasions in those few weeks that he had cheated on Isabel. Sometimes they weren’t even discreet. It was almost as if he wanted her to find out, to discover them together. In the car parked a few metres from the front door of their cottage; in the bed he shared with Isabel just hours before she returned from work; in the shower; in the tall grass of the Ploughman’s just metres from where Isabel was drinking with her friends.
I’m not proud of myself
, he thinks.

He gets to his feet and helps himself to a handful of peanuts and a large gulp of G&T in an attempt to bring his mind back to the present moment, to swallow the guilt. Isabel looks beautiful as she lowers herself into the steaming bubbles, drink in hand, beckoning him to join her. He hesitates for a few seconds as he slips out of his shorts and pulls his shirt over his head.
If Isabel can forget about the past for a few hours then so can I
, he thinks, smiling as he picks up his drink and steps into the deliciously warm water in the cool evening air.

When Isabel wakes up the next morning it is still early. She had forgotten to close the blinds the night before and the sun is streaming in across the bedroom even though it is still only low in sky, behind the mountains. It must be about seven o’clock, she guesses, and turns over lazily. She is instantly wracked with guilt and regret as she sees Paul lying beside her. He is asleep with one bronzed muscular leg entangled in the white sheet.
Oh shit!
she thinks, cringing as the memories of last night come flooding back one-by-one.

She is comforted, momentarily, by the fact that she was drunk and upset, but then cringes, feeling the physical blow of embarrassment as she remembers how she had practically thrown herself at him.
No, he can definitely not be blamed for seducing me
, she thinks.

She lies perfectly still, willing him not to wake up, as she replays the scenes in her mind.
The gin, the hot tub... did I even turn it off?! The noise, the neighbours!
She can feel herself blushing as she remembers all the scenes of pure lust that she had imagined she would share with Marcos, once he had left Leanne. She had shared them with the wrong man! Marcos had left her and Paul had been there to rescue her. She feels totally ashamed of herself. She had no intention of getting back with Paul and yet she probably led him to believe the complete opposite last night. She feels ill as she quietly slides from the bed, grabbing a towel from the floor. She tiptoes to the bathroom and locks herself in. She sits on the edge of the bath, trying to work out what she should do. And how to stop the bloody room from spinning.

After a few minutes she stands up, unsteadily, and catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Not a pretty sight! She takes out a packet of make-up removal wipes and cleans the mascara from under her eyes and stares at her reflection. I
have to leave
she thinks. Sadly, her dream is over.

She runs herself a deep, warm bubble bath and, after testing the water with her toe, she steps in and submerges herself into the clouds of scented foam. It feels so good that she smiles and rests her head back on the inflatable cushion.

The blissful silence is disturbed as she hears a knock on the door, ‘Izzy love, are you in there?’

Isabel pushes herself upright in the bath, spilling water onto the floor. ‘Yes,’ she answers, more sharply than she had intended, ‘just having a bath.’ She has no idea what is the appropriate thing to say next, so she remains sitting rigidly upright, waiting for a response.

‘Is there a shop near here? I was thinking of going out and getting us something nice for breakfast,’ he suggests, hesitantly.

‘Oh, yes, great,’ she says, ‘just out of the house, turn right. Only a short walk. Take the key with you. It’s in the door,’ she continues awkwardly, grateful for a moment alone, but dreading actually having to face him later.

‘Excellent. I’ll see you in a bit then, enjoy your soak.’

‘Thanks, see you later.’
Oh shit, how awkward is this?
Isabel thinks, as she hears his shoes tapping down the marble staircase.

Paul opens the front door, slides on his shades and steps out into the warm morning sun. As he slips the key into his pocket and pulls the door firmly shut behind him, he sees a man striding towards the house. He is tall and handsome, like a film star, he notices. He looks Spanish and, if he has just stepped out of the black convertible Mercedes parked at the kerb, he must be loaded!

The man seems startled to see him there. ‘Hi’ he says simply, in perfect English, looking up and checking the house number.

‘Hi,’ answers Paul, suspiciously, ‘are you looking for someone?’

‘Yes, Isabel. She was staying here. Has she moved out already?’ he asks with a look of panic in his eyes.

‘Moved out? No, not yet. We plan to fly back to the UK as soon as possible though.’

‘We?’ Marcos asks, looking confused.

‘Yes, Isabel and I. I’m sorry but, who are you?’ he asks firmly, not moving from the front door.

‘A friend,’ Marcos replies, ‘we had a bit of a misunderstanding and I just wanted to explain things to her. Are you a friend of hers? I wouldn’t have blamed her for calling someone. She was pretty upset yesterday.’

‘Oh, I’m more than a friend,’ he smiles, his head on one side, looking Marcos up and down with a challenging expression. ‘I’m Paul, Isabel’s boyfriend, soon to be fiancé.’

‘Paul? But I thought you two had split up?’ He asks, frowning.

‘We had, but we are most definitely back together now,’ he winks, ‘we hooked up last night. She’s soaking in the tub now, if you know what I mean?’ He, slaps Marcos on the arm. ‘I’m sorry about your misunderstanding, but now that I’m back I don’t see how it’s appropriate for my girlfriend to be entertaining men while I’m out, do you? Anyway, as I said, she’s in the bath so can’t come to the door.’ Paul smiles falsely, manoeuvring Marcos from the path by his shoulder.

‘Can you tell her I came to see her? Ask her to call me. Please, it’s really important,’ he asks, looking desperately back at the house as Paul escorts him to his car.

‘Yeah, of course I’ll tell her,’ he smiles and watches as Marcos gets into his car and hesitates before starting the engine, looking up to the roof terrace, hoping to catch a glimpse of Isabel.

Paul watches the car disappear into the distance and slowly walks back to the front door. There’s no way he’s going to risk leaving Isabel alone when there’s every chance that this man, who clearly has designs on his girl, will do a circuit and come straight back.

‘That was quick,’ says Isabel from the patio as he steps into the house. She is sitting with her hair wrapped in a towel, her slim legs stretched out in front of her, resting on the chair opposite.
She looks so different
, he thinks. Young, fresh, tanned, more beautiful than he has ever seen her.

‘It was closed,’ he says simply from the living room. ‘I’ve missed you Iz.’

Isabel lowers her legs from the chair and turns slowly to face him, ‘Paul, this doesn’t change anything you know. Last night...’ she frowns, ‘I was upset. I had an argument with someone and, well, then you turned up out of the blue and comforted me,’ she smiles with regret.

Paul walks slowly towards her and kneels on the floor in front of her, taking her hands in his. ‘Please don’t say that Iz. I love you. I’ve loved you for five years. I came out to find you, to ask for your forgiveness. Isabel please, I came to ask you to marry me...’

The silence is deafening. Isabel looks down at him with love and sympathy. ‘Marry me?’ she whispers, ‘oh Paul, I have waited so long to hear those words, but, can’t you see, it’s too late? I don’t trust you anymore, I can never trust you again.’

Paul shuffles even closer towards her, resting his head on her knees. She can hear his breathing become ragged as he looks up at her with tears running down his cheeks. ‘Please Isabel, please give me another chance. I made a massive mistake and I have never regretted anything so much in all my life. I’ve been so lonely without you. Please come home with me,’ he begs.