Mariel

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  In a small voice, she said, “I do not want to attend by myself.”

  “Bring Phipps. Bring Rosie.” He turned her face so he could scrutinize her distressed features. “Why won’t you be honest with me?”

  She stood and moved away from him. Picking up a small statue on the fireplace mantel, she examined it as if it was of the greatest interest. She put the china shepherdess back and she said, “I must get home. Phipps will be beside herself if I am late again.”

  “Will you stop by tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know. Tomorrow is the first Tuesday of the month. I have the school-board meeting with my report due on the new textbooks.”

  Ian did not intend to let her leave when she was this upset. She had come into the house a bright spirit and was leaving a hollow phantom. Rising, he took her hand and did not release it until she looked at him.

  “Have you thought about what I asked you last night?”

  “Yes.” Her whisper could barely be heard.

  “And?”

  She put her fingers on his arm. “Ian, can we forget you asked me to marry you? Can’t we go back to the way things were? It was so wonderful to be with you and feel your arms around me. I have never known anything so fabulous.”

  “All the more reason to stay together forever.” His green gaze cut through the flimsy defenses she offered to keep him from seeing the truth. With his wide hand warm against her icy cheek, he said, “I don’t know what frightens you so, my love, but I want to help you. I love you.”

  “I love you, Ian.”

  “Then be mine.”

  As if it was the most sacred vow, she whispered, “I am yours.”

  “You will marry me, then?” He could not keep the joy from his voice.

  “No!”

  “No?” His question hung in the empty room. Before he could speak, she had fled. The sound of the front door crashing against the wall echoed through the house.

  His eyes went to her hat sitting on the chair. Slowly, he walked to the door and reached to close it. He saw the automobile racing up the hill toward the Cloister as if demons were chasing it.

  Demons. Mariel could not hide her fright from him. What dark curse lay over that house and its inhabitants that would not allow her to do as she wished?

  Suddenly, he smiled. Perhaps he was seeing horror where there was none. Despite her eager yearning for all that was modern in thought and manner, she could not hide her charming modesty when he touched her. Pretty Mariel might be afraid of marriage simply because she clung to popular ideas that a woman should be frightened of what awaited her in the marriage bed.

  He closed the door and regarded the staircase with satisfaction. If that was Mariel’s problem, he could think of a way to solve it without much ado. With a laugh, he went back to his work. The words flowed with inspiration from his brain to the paper. It did not surprise him. He wanted to get this done today, so he could attend the school-board meeting tomorrow night. He was sure it would be delightful.

  Mariel’s eyes swept the filled classroom. She had not expected so many of the parents to accept her invitation to attend the meeting. If there had been a larger room in Foxbridge, they would have reconvened elsewhere. Each desk was occupied, and other people stood against the walls.

  “If you have any questions on this proposal, I would be quite happy to answer them now.” Her gaze settled on Ian’s smile where he stood near the door. Hastily, she looked away. She had been trying to avoid meeting his eyes all night.

  A man stood up in the first row of desks. He ran a hand nervously through the sparse hair on his head, making it spike into strange angles. “Lady Mariel, I don’t know about the rest of these folks, but I just want to say I think this sounds like a fine idea. My kids have complained about being jeered at by their city cousins. I say we should get these books for our kids.”

  Cheers met his words. She risked a glance at the board members to see their faces set in carefully immobile lines. They would not want their constituents to guess how much they hated the thought of spending some of the school board’s reserve for books. That plenty of money would remain after the purchase did not change their opinions.

  Other, equally supportive comments were offered by the parents. More than one woman took the courage to stand and speak for herself and her family. Before Lady Mariel had been nominated for this position, no woman in Foxbridge would have considered coming to a meeting like this. The idea of a woman stating her opinion at a political gathering would have been scoffed at as farfetched.

  Mr. Gratton signaled for quiet when he discovered no one was going to make a statement against the plan. Recognizing defeat when it slapped him in the face, he cut short the discussion. “I want to thank Lady Mariel for all the work she has done. This will be voted on next week at a special meeting. I thank you for coming tonight. This meeting is adjourned, although I understand Mr. Knowles and Mr. Jones request you remain for further information on next term. Good night.”

  All the board members rose to file stolidly from the room. Only Mariel was stopped by the townspeople. More than one repeated the enthusiasm expressed earlier. She thanked each one for their support.

  Ian stepped forward to join her as she reached the door. Quietly he said, “Good evening.”

  She smiled as they left the schoolhouse. Her joy at seeing him forced aside her unease at the conflict within her. “Ian, I did not expect to see you tonight. How did you like my report?”

  “I am sure it will have them talking for weeks.”

  “I don’t say such things simply to shake them up, you know. This world is changing with incredible speed.” She pointed to her automobile parked in front of the building. “Just a few years ago; even I would have called anyone who said I would be driving such a vehicle a fool. So many things are changing. Our village children must be prepared to meet those new challenges—the girls as well as the boys.”

  He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “A cup of tea before you go home?” When she hesitated, he added, “At least come and retrieve your hat.”

  Not wanting to speak of her actions yesterday, she agreed hastily to his invitation. “Let me bring the automobile around to the rectory. Then I won’t disturb the parents’ meeting when I leave.”

  “May I drive it?”

  “You?” She laughed. “I thought you despised this modern vehicle.”

  “I do, but I want to drive it.” He tapped the rim of the broad hat she wore when she drove.

  She gave him quick instructions on how to run the vehicle while they walked over to it. Leaning over the side, she watched intently as he inserted the key. Its muted rumble was loud in the night undisturbed by other mechanical sounds. With a skip in her step, she ran around to the passenger’s side. She grasped Ian’s hand and leapt into the seat.

  “It seems strange from this perspective,” she said with a laugh. “All right. Just be careful.”

  Ian found it simple to steer the machine around the green. He had ridden with her enough times to know exactly what the few controls did. When he drew even with the rectory, he passed the house.

  “Ian! The brake! There on the floor!”

  “Don’t panic, honey. I don’t intend to hurt your precious automobile.”

  She clutched the wrought-iron decoration on the side of the seat as he jounced the automobile onto the driveway leading to the stables at the back of the parsonage. The wheels grabbed the small stones and spurted out them behind them. They rolled to a stop by the back door leading to the kitchen.

  With a flourish, he doffed his cap to her. “Door-to-door service, my lady.”

  “I am impressed.” She jumped out and smoothed her skirt as she waited for him to descend more slowly. When he offered her his arm again, she took it with a smile. “I shall have to let you drive more often. You are clearly overwhelmed by it.”

  He opened the door and turned on the gaslight in the white kitchen. The light cut like a hot knife through the darkness. When she st
arted to walk toward the coal stove to put the cast iron kettle to heat, his hand tightened on her arm and spun her back to face him. Her joking retort died unspoken as she met the desire glowing in his eyes.

  In a voice thick with longing, he whispered, “It is not your automobile which overwhelms me, my love. It is you. I love you, Mariel Wythe. Stay here with me tonight.”

  “Stay here?” she gasped. “All night?”

  “Why not?” His hands encircled her face. “You know I love you.”

  She nodded. “Of course. Ian, I love you, too. But—” He silenced her protest by pressing his mouth over hers. For a second she acquiesced to the lure of his lips. Then sanity reasserted itself. She pushed herself out of his arms.

  “Ian, what is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing but that I cannot get the thought of loving you from my mind.”

  Refusing to be enticed by his fingers, moving in slow, sensuous circles along her arm, she stated coldly, “You are a minister, Ian. What you are asking me to do is …”

  “Sinful?” he supplied. “Come with me, my love. I have something I want to show you.”

  He stepped away from her and opened a door by the broom closet. He took a candle from a shelf and lit it from the gaslight. He turned the light down and took her hand in his. With his eyes holding her gaze, he led her up the kitchen stairs to the second floor of the house. Through the narrow hall, she followed until he opened a door near the front of the house. He ushered her in without comment.

  Her eyes widened as she saw this must be Ian’s bedroom. A wide tester bed sat in the middle of the opposite wall. Its crocheted canopy drooped into tassels. The design was repeated on the covers. A desk smaller than the one in the study bore its burden of papers and books. It stood on a worn rug. Other pieces of furniture lurked beyond the light of the single candle.

  “Ian, I shouldn’t be here.” She turned to go, but his arms halted her again. Looking up into his handsome face, she murmured, “If anyone was to discover this, it would ruin you. How can you forget what the church board—?”

  “No one will learn you slept in my arms tonight.” When he heard her soft sigh of desire, he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “Think of how you feel when I kiss you and touch you. Think how much more wonderful it will be when you and I have nothing between our hearts but the loving caress of our skin. Mariel, I love you. Be mine.”

  Sorrowfully, she shook her head and pulled away from him. When several feet of empty space lay between them, she regarded him with tears in her eyes. “Don’t you understand, Ian? That is why I can’t do as I want with all my heart.” She spread out her hands. “This is your life. You love your work. I cannot let you risk all that for me.”

  “You may be right,” he admitted slowly. When he saw the flicker of pain in her eyes, he added, “If you feel that way, you should probably go.”

  “Yes,” she answered in a dull tone.

  She did not look at him as she secured her hat ribbons under her chin. As she crossed the room, he said nothing. She hoped this would not destroy the love between them. If only he would not urge her with his deep green eyes to forget what she should do. They continued to tease her to do as she wanted.

  As she stepped past him to leave the room, the door closed in her face. She whirled to face Ian. His hands grasped her upper arms and tugged her to him. Any chance she had to remonstrate disappeared as his mouth captured hers. As one arm held her tight against him, his free hand untied her hat and tossed it to the floor. Easily, he sent the pins in her thick hair flying across the room as he loosened it to cascade over his hands.

  When he stepped backward from the door, he drew her with him. Although her mind shouted warnings, she refused to listen, and she followed. He smiled as he raised his head from hers. Bewitched by the magic of his desire, she could not look away as he undid the buttons of her driving coat. The mackintosh fell heavily to the floor.

  His fingers reached for the buttons of her blouse. Despite herself, her blush betrayed her. Even in her own room, she undressed behind her screen. Although she acted very outspoken on other subjects, on this most intimate one, she was charmingly shy. Her hands folded in front of her. Only his fingers beneath her chin would bring her eyes up to meet his.

  Bending, he placed his lips against the heat of her cheeks. He sighed with regret. He must not push her, for he did not want to lose this opportunity, which might never come again. In his fantasies, he had disrobed her with unhurried pleasure, delighting in each newly discovered treasure. He would submerge that longing tonight. Somehow, he hoped, there would be other times.

  Quietly, he said, “The dressing screen is over there.” He reached in his closet and withdrew his satin collared robe. Its ruby colored, quilted material would cover her sufficiently to ease her discomfort.

  “I don’t know if—”

  “My love, do you think I would do anything to hurt you?”

  Her voice strengthened. She regarded him without her azure eyes sliding away from his. “Of course not. Just be patient with me.”

  “There is no need to hurry, honey.” He teased her earlobe with the tip of his tongue. “We have all night.”

  The tingling from his caress swept all the way to her toes. With a gasp, she drew away from him. She ran to the dressing screen and put it between him and her yearning heart.

  Her fingers trembled as she drew her shirt from her skirt. Flustered, she paused. She did nothing more, until she realized she could not stand behind the screen all night in indecision. Bending to undo her shoes, she stepped out of them and drew off her stockings. Easily her skirt untied to fall to the floor over them. The petticoats followed like huge snowflakes. It was more difficult to undo the buttons of her shirt.

  Beyond the screen, she could hear Ian’s movements through the room. She did not satisfy the curiosity to discover what he was doing. A small voice in the back of her head taunted her by accusing her of being afraid to look. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she did not listen to her more daring self. She clung to the anonymity of the screen, frightened by the strong desires whirling through her.

  She had the strange feeling this was not really Mariel Wythe here. Never had she considered staying with Ian in his house alone. Yet no more than he, could she turn her back on this chance to share what her heart ached to know. Forever could not belong to them, but this one stolen night could be theirs.

  The light dimmed just as she drew the robe around her. It clung to the silk of her underclothes and outlined her body easily. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath to strengthen herself. She stepped from around the side of the screen.

  “Come here,” came a soft command from out of the twilight.

  Slowly, she walked to the bed and stood on the opposite side from where Ian reclined under the covers. As he reached across to take her hand, the blanket slipped to reveal far more of his muscular body than she had ever seen. Her eyes followed his silhouette from broad shoulders to the leaner line of his waist. The blanket covered him lower than that, but her imagination, honed by nights of fervid dreams completed the fantasy of the man she loved.

  “Sit with me, my love. If you wish only to sit and talk now, we will.” From the warmth of his voice, she knew he longed to do far more.

  “I want you to kiss me.” As she said the words, she knew he was right. Tonight belonged to them. Whatever might happen in the future, this one night was set apart to be spent in magic. She sat next to him and held out her arms, nearly lost in the wide sleeves of the robe. “I want you to love me.”

  His eyes burned with green desire as he leaned over her. Timidly her fingers reached out to touch the dark matting across his chest. The flame leapt from him to ignite her longing as she touched him. His lips on hers fanned the spark to a conflagration. Easily he pushed the ties of the robe apart. When his fingers touched the silk beneath, he smiled. This modesty was a part of her hidden behind her brash exterior. He knew how difficult it was for her to combat
it. At the thought of what she did for their love, his yearning exploded within him to submerge every other thought.

  She barely noticed as he drew the robe from her. Her fingers were enrapt in learning the thrill of his bare skin. The hard texture of his body was so different from her own. When his fingers settled on the curve of her breast, her eyes opened wide. The involuntary gasp of his name brought a smile to his lips. She did not see it, swept away as she was in the lyrical melody he played upon her skin.

  With his love lacing his words, he murmured, “I want to see every inch of your beauty. Now, my love.”

  Rising to her knees, she reached for the hooks which held her chemise in place. His hands slowly drew hers away as he brought her to rest over him. One hand at the back of her head kept her mouth against his while he loosened the fine silk shadowing her body.

  Her gasp of unbridled rapture spiraled through his mouth as he pulled aside the opened camisole to introduce the sweetness of her skin to him. The soft sound became a cry as he raised her so his mouth could taste what he had touched so infrequently.

  A spring tide rose deep within her as his tongue teased the tip of her breast before seeking its way along the downy surface. The moist rhythm of his kisses urged her body to a tempo she did not recognize. With the blankets between them, she could sense only slightly his reaction to her craving.

  Before she quite realized what was happening, his fingers were drawing the last of her underclothes from her. When they settled onto the jumble of clothes on the floor, he flipped aside the covers and reclined her on the cool muslin sheets.

  She took a deep breath of astonishment as she saw him naked before her for the first time. The embarrassment she had expected to feel when she shared herself with the man she loved never materialized. All she could think of was how much she wanted to touch him in the same enticing way he was stroking her.

  When her fingers raised tentatively, he smiled. That expression gave her the courage to do as she ached to. Each caress along him brought her more delight from his fingers.