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I opened my mouth to answer when I heard a noise. I turned, and Ian filled the doorway, dressed in khakis and an old tweed jacket that had seen better days. He carried a snifter of brandy, and the smile he gave us reminded me of a crocodile.
“Have you two lovebirds worked out the details of your upcoming nuptials?” he said, strolling out onto the candle-lit terrace.
“Ian, tell Bella that she has to marry me,” Marcus whined.
I watched him as he came closer, and my fingers curled into a fist beneath the table. “Marcus says you have to marry him,” he said affably, and I wanted to slap him.
I turned my back on him, addressing Marcus. “I told you, time and time again,” I said wearily. “I’m not marrying you. Our time is over and you know it.” At least I hoped he knew it. “And I’m not going to lie and say I’m engaged just to make Granda happy. He’d see right through it.”
“He’s half blind,” Marcus protested. “I never thought you would be so selfish. Granda’s given you everything, and now you can’t do this one little thing to make his last days peaceful.”
There was absolutely no reason for me to feel guilty. “I never thought Granda was so gothic as to want to build a dynasty.”
“Then you don’t remember Granda,” Ian offered helpfully. “He wants the place tied up—if it’s split three ways, there won’t be enough money to meet expenses with the groves.”
I met his dark, cynical eyes. “Then you’ll have to figure something out.”
The crocodile smile remained in place. “I already have. Since you won’t marry Marcus, you’ll simply have to marry me.”
“What?” Marcus shrieked, pushing back from the table and knocking over his wine. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Ian the Wretch shrugged. “Granda wants a dynasty. You’ve already blown your chance—the only one left is me. How about it, Bella-Beast? Will you make me the happiest man on earth?”
“Go to hell,” I said sweetly. This was the strangest conversation I’d ever had in my life, and I wanted the both of them at the bottom of the ocean. It was a deliberate insult, in Ian’s drawling tones, because worst of all, an idiot might think he actually meant it.
“I’m wounded,” Ian said, his dark eyes glittering wickedly.
I’d had more than enough for one day. I flung my brandy glass at his head, but he easily ducked, and the fine Waterford crystal smashed against the stone parapet. “I told you not to drink,” he said.
In fact, I hadn’t touched the brandy that Marcus had insisted he pour for me, but I wasn’t going to tell Ian that. “I’ve changed my mind,” I said abruptly, rising from the table, bringing me far too close to Ian. I looked Ian straight in the eyes as I uttered the fateful words. “I’ll get engaged to you, Marcus, but that’s all. And only for as long as Granda lives.”
“That’s perfect!” Marcus cried, but I didn’t look at him. Neither did Ian. Instead, we stared into each other’s eyes, anger sparking back and forth between us. And then he stepped back with a lazy smile.
“May I be the first to wish you every happiness?” he said in a silken tone, raising his glass in mock salute. A moment later, he spun on his heel and was gone, leaving me alone on the terrace with my unwanted fiancé, feeling curiously bereft.
It took me more than an hour to get away from Marcus. First, he had to toast me and my stupid, pride-filled decision, then he had to try to kiss me, and then there was a solid half hour of compliments meant for the real Bella, all while I was trying to escape. I kept seeing Ian’s eyes as Marcus rambled on, and for some reason I wanted to cry.
Of course, Marcus insisted on escorting me down to my bedroom, though by that time he was fairly unsteady from all the brandy he’d been drinking. He clamped my arm against his sweaty body and tried very hard to push his way into my bedroom when we got there, slurring all sorts of stuff about how good it could be, and he’d get me to change my mind about marriage. It was like wrestling with an octopus, but I finally managed to escape, and I locked the door behind me. I knew it was a ridiculous precaution—Marcus might be drunk, but he’d never stoop to rape. It was simply that he couldn’t comprehend that a woman didn’t want him.
I listened to him stumble away before I went to my window, sucking in deep lungsful of cool night air. What in God’s name had I done? I’d let bad temper goad me into making a catastrophic mistake, and now I was stuck with it. Honestly, if I had to do something so stupid, I should have simply told Ian that I’d marry him, not his brother.
A shiver ran across my backbone, and I wanted to cry. I wasn’t an idiot, and one could only hide from the truth for so long. For some illogical, self-destructive, totally insane reason, I was attracted to Ian. There, I admitted it. Strongly attracted. And that unfortunate truth had to be hidden at all costs. If he had even the slightest inkling, he would treat me unmercifully, as he had teased Bella and me when we were young. If he knew I was...drawn to him, he’d never let it go.
It was perfectly logical. That kiss in his rooms had been a scorcher, unquestionably the best of my entire life. Maybe I’d just been involved with bad kissers in the past—most men I knew weren’t that into seduction. Their idea of foreplay wasn’t much better than “brace yourself.” Maybe it was the jet lag and the sheer shock that Ian the Wretch would kiss me.
Why had I ever said yes to Bella? It had seemed so simple at the time, a chance to say goodbye to Granda and Mariposa, goodbye to my unresolved childhood and my adolescent crush.
That last part was well over and done with—I couldn’t even guess what I had once seen in Marcus apart from his dazzling good looks. If I’d had any taste, I would have had a crush on Ian instead...
And there I went again. Ian and I were enemies—I needed to remember that. If he knew who I really was he’d have me out on my ass so fast...
But he didn’t know who I was. To him I was Bella-Beast, an object to tease and torment, but marginally one step better than a liar.
I let my head fall back against the heavy wooden door with a thump that didn’t do my ever-present headache any favors.
Would this really make Granda’s last days happy and peaceful? If it did, then who was I to deny him? Yes, he’d banished me from Mariposa, but he’d also loved me. I shouldn’t feel like I owed him anything, but I did, and for him, I could make this minor effort, as long as Marcus remembered that it was all an act, a lie within a lie.
I rose and stripped off my clothes, washed the makeup from my face and popped out the colored contacts, taking a moment to look at my reflection in the mirror. My hazel eyes looked back at me, the scrubbed face that was only an approximation of Bella’s flawless beauty. I was a liar and a cheat, and I’d just dug myself into an even deeper hole out of a fit of pique.
