Forbidden Fire

by Heather Graham

  “Why, she’s nothing but an upstart, so they say. The downstairs maid. Tricked him into marriage, seduced him, I dare say.”

  “Oh, my, no!” came an outraged reply from a tall, heavy-bosomed dowager in dove gray. She looked down a very imperious nose at Marissa. “And our own Mr. Tremayne was such a prize!”

  “Perhaps he’ll find a way to rid himself of her,” Mrs. Masterson said firmly, in her whisper that carried halfway through the station.

  And despite her staunchest resolve, Marissa could feel the color flooding her cheeks. She prayed that Uncle Theo hadn’t heard the things being said. If he did, he pretended not to.

  And suddenly Ian was walking again, a slow smile curving his lips. He paused by Mrs. Masterson and took her hand. “Nancy!” he greeted her pleasantly, brushing a kiss over her hand. “How nice to see you. Edgar is due home for the break, eh?”

  “Oh, yes, Ian!” She was positively tittering, Marissa thought.

  “That’s good, Nancy. He’s a fine lad.” Ian tipped his hat to the dowager at Nancy’s side. “Edith, how are you? A fine evening to you, ladies.” He started away, but then he turned back. “Oh, by the way, Nancy. My wife did not trick me into marriage. Anyone has only to look at her to discern why I was quite determined to marry her from the moment we met. Good evening, then.”

  He walked away, leaving the women to gape after him. And it was only when he had almost reached her that Marissa could see the sparks of anger flying in his eyes. Eyes that touched her with hostility still, when she would have greeted him with so much gratitude. Indeed, she had almost thrown her arms around him in happiness.

  But seeing his gaze upon her, she held still. “My love!” he greeted her loudly for other ears. And he set an arm around her shoulder, and kissed her cheek.

  His lips were cold.

  She looked at him. “Welcome home, Ian.”

  “You needn’t have come to the station.”

  He was playing out a charade for the ladies, Marissa thought. And all she wanted was to go back to that brief time of complete happiness when she could have thrown herself against him, breathed in his cologne and the clean masculine scent of him, rubbed her cheek against the texture of his coat. Well, appearances mattered. He was playing for them. She could do the same.

  She faced him with a radiant smile, running her fingers over his lapel. “I’d not have dreamed of it! I had to see you as soon as possible!”

  “And your uncle, of course.”

  “Oh, yes, and Uncle Theo, of course!”

  She looped one arm through Theo’s, and the other through Ian’s, and she allowed her voice to slip huskily low for the benefit of Nancy Masterson. “Do let’s hurry home, Ian. Dinner will be waiting, and you must feel that it’s been a long, long time since you’ve slept in your own bed!”

  “Mmm,” he agreed, placing a hand upon her arm. “Do let’s get home.” There was a definite edge to his voice.

  As they left the station, Marissa swallowed hard. They had escaped Mrs. Masterson, but Uncle Theo was an intuitive old soul and could surely sense the sparks between them. What would he think?

  But what anybody thought didn’t really matter at all.

  Ian mattered.

  And Ian was home.

  Uncle Theo stood in the doorway of the house in Nob Hill and stared, jaw agape, at the chandelier and the marble flooring and the staircase rising high to the second floor. Marissa swallowed hard, thinking that Ian must be very aware of her roots now. But then he had to be aware of her past already—he had been to pick up Uncle Theo, he had seen the tiny cottage, he had breathed in the coal dust.

  “Uncle,” she murmured, urging him forward. Then she was ashamed of herself for having been ashamed of him. And she was suddenly furious with Ian for making her feel so miserable.

  Not that Ian had done anything, or indicated in any way that Theo was awkward in his rich surroundings. He walked in and called to Lee that they were back. Then he turned to Theo. “May I take your coat, sir?”

  “What? Oh!” Theo let Ian take his coat. A new coat, Marissa saw. Ian must have bought it before they left London. Theo seemed unhappy to let the fine woolen garment go, but then Marissa realized that the men had done a great deal of shopping. Theo was newly clad from head to toe. He was wearing handsome black leather shoes, and a dove-gray suit with tiny charcoal-gray pinstripes. His shirt was white with a pleated front, and his vest was a charcoal gray that matched the pinstripes on the suit.

  She realized suddenly that her uncle was a handsome man, tall, gaunt, very dignified.

  “This—this is your house?” Theo said to Ian.

  Ian smiled at him. “Yes, and I think you’ll find it comfortable enough in time. John will see your trunks up to your room, and after dinner you can settle in.”

  Theo took his hand and shook it heartily. “Thank you, Mr. Tremayne. Thank you so very much.”

  “Ian, Theo, Ian. Please.”

  Theo turned to Marissa and swung her into his arms, trembling. He looked over her head at Ian. “My God, I cannot believe you, sir! I am so grateful for Marissa, that this is her life. Ah, Marissa, but you did well.”

  “Indeed,” Ian murmured dryly. “Very well.”

  She stiffened, but then Lee came and said that dinner could be served immediately.

  It was the most difficult meal of Marissa’s life. She tried to comment on things that had been happening. Ian replied stiffly. Theo stared from one of them to the other.

  At last the meal was finished. Ian suggested that Lee show Theo to his room. Suddenly unwilling to be alone with the man she had waited so desperately to see, Marissa jumped up and said that she would show her uncle up.

  And upstairs, when Theo had seen the space that was to be his and his alone, he hugged her fiercely again and whispered, “Marissa, but this is fine. You’ve found yourself a fine, fine man. And all this, too! But God has smiled upon us. And bless God, girl, for you’ve deserved this!”

  No, this was God’s irony for the deceit she had practiced, Marissa thought. But she laughed and hugged her uncle in return. She had to give him this first night in San Francisco. Whatever Ian chose to do, Theo would at least have this night.

  But when she started for the door, he suddenly called her back.

  “Marissa.”

  “What is it, Uncle?”

  “Whatever is wrong, you can solve it. I know you can.”

  “Nothing is wrong, Uncle Theo.”

  “Ah, but I can see it, girl! I can see it in your eyes. But you mustn’t be disturbed. You mustn’t let some little quarrel upset you. He loves you, lass.”

  “Did he say that, Uncle Theo?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “No, no, he didn’t so much as say it, but then I’ve spent some time with the man. He came to the jail and I was made to understand just who he was. You might have told me that you had married, Marissa,” he said, wounded.

  “I’m sorry, Uncle Theo. I really thought I knew what I was doing. Good night, now, Uncle. I love you. And I’m glad to have you here.”

  “Marissa, we’ll get on, you and I. We always have.”

  “Yes, Uncle, we always have.” She ran to him and they hugged tightly once again. Then she left him, still staring around his room, and retreated to her own.

  She sat on the foot of her bed and bit hard into her thumb and waited. Ian would come; he would have something to say to her soon.

  He didn’t come. She stood and began to pace the room. She sat down on the foot of the bed again, and then she stretched across it. Maybe she should try to find him. But it seemed that he didn’t want to see her.

  She closed her eyes, and she must have dozed for a while. She checked the time by the clock on her mantel and was startled to realize that it was four-thirty in the morning.

  She stood and pulled the pins from her dishevelled hair. In front of the mirror she brushed it out, fighting tears and a feeling of desperation. He hadn’t even wanted to talk to her.

  He ha
dn’t wanted to touch her, even in anger. That was the most frightening. If she had lost his passion, she had lost everything.

  She stared at her reflection, her eyes wide and haunted, her hair flowing thick and free down her back and framing the pallor of her cheeks.

  Then she started, aware that John Kwan and Ian were outside in the hall.

  “I can’t imagine what’s gotten into them!” Ian was saying.

  “I’ve never seen the beasts so restless, sir,” John agreed. “But it does seem that you’ve got the bay settled down for the night. Thank you. I’m sorry you were disturbed on your first night back.”

  “Curious night, John. I noticed the dogs barking downtown when we came in tonight. Oh, well, maybe the stars are aligning in a peculiar fashion or something. Who knows. Get some sleep, John, whatever you can.”

  He was still awake. Marissa waited, holding her breath. But he entered his room from the hallway, and she could hear him shedding his coat in his room. She waited longer, hearing nothing but silence. And then she couldn’t stand it anymore. She burst through the connecting doors to accost him face to face.

  He was stripped down to his black trousers and white pleated dress shirt. It was open at the throat. He stood at the window, staring out at the night, or at the coming morning. Very soon, the first hint of dawn would streak across the sky, and the misty beauty of the city below them would be visible.

  “Marissa,” he murmured, and his mouth took on a crooked, taunting smile. “What a time for a visit. And when your uncle is already here, and you’ve nothing left to bargain for.”

  She gasped, stunned. “Oh, how dare you!” she snapped in fury. Fists clenched at her sides, she strode across the room to stand before him. “How dare you! I came here to thank you for what you did for him, and that’s all. I can promise you, Ian Tremayne, I’ll never come for anything more! I’ll never touch you again, I—”

  She broke off as his fingers shot out and circled her arm, dragging her to him. “But you’re my wife, Marissa. Just where you wanted to be.”

  She was so close to him. She felt the bitterness and the tension that had not died. She wanted his fingers to move across her cheeks with tenderness. She wanted a whisper of love, and if she could receive it, nothing else would matter.

  But she wasn’t going to receive it.

  “You didn’t want a wife, Ian. You made that clear enough. But then it seemed to be all right until you discovered that you married the maid. Not good enough for a scion of Nob Hill!”

  “Why, you little witch!” he snapped heatedly, and she was jerked closer against him. The warmth of his breath fanned her cheeks, the scent that was inherently his filled her with the rampant heat of his body. “You lied to me! I gave you every chance, and you just kept lying and lying. You married me to climb a ladder.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “You married for money. We both knew it. It was just that I thought it was your own damned money.”

  “Then let us both out of this! I don’t want your money, I never wanted your money. I just want out. And then you won’t have to worry about what people think or say—”

  “I don’t give a damn what people think or say.”

  “Then go ahead—divorce me!”

  “There will be no divorce.”

  “But you just said you don’t give a damn about propriety, about the things people say—”

  His vise around her arms was so tight that she nearly cried out. His eyes were the silver-blue of a dagger as they pierced into her heart.

  “There will be no divorce, Marissa. And it hasn’t a thing to do with others, it has to do with a vow. Till death do us part.”

  “So you will let us live in this agony!”

  “I would let us live in hell, madam!”

  She stared at him in silence for a second and then she cried out. “I cannot! I cannot! I cannot live with you when you—”

  “You will live with me. And as a wife!”

  She trembled with hate and fury and excitement, and with love and hope. At least she could still anger him, still arouse him. She could have his touch this moment if she so desired.

  No.

  “No! I can’t live this way because I cannot bear it!” she told him. “I—I love you—”

  “Liar!” he thundered.

  But he seemed so startled that his hold on her loosened, and she wrenched free from him. They stared at one another for a moment, and then she cried out and ran from his room.

  “Marissa!”

  His voice bellowed after her. She ignored him, and tore down the stairway. She burst outside, knowing that he would be after her.

  And now she didn’t want to see him. She had bared her heart and soul once again to try to convince him that she loved him. He didn’t believe her, or else it didn’t matter. She couldn’t endure his mockery right now.

  She raced to the carriage house and into her mare’s stall. The animal bolted, nervous, skittish. “Oh, please, what is the matter with you!” she whispered to the horse. What was wrong with all the animals? She soothed the mare quickly, then bridled her and leaped upon her back without bothering with a saddle.

  The first streaks of dawn were becoming apparent in the far east as she trotted out of the carriage house. Ian was on the lawn.

  “Marissa!”

  She nudged the animal into a canter, knowing that he would follow her soon. She’d had no plan, but now she realized that she could race for the store. It would be open because Sandy and others would be preparing for one of the orphans’ breakfasts today.

  She raced recklessly through the streets, seeing the city as she began to come to life. Most people would still be in their nightshirts, but several grocers were setting up their produce. Newsboys were already on the streets. Some sleepy soul swore at her as he jumped out of her way.

  Feeling guilty, she plowed on, and soon reached the store. She jumped from the mare and tethered the animal. She looked up the street to see that Ian was already thundering down upon her.

  She quickly flung open the door and nodded to the security guard who greeted her retreating back. Then she hurried down to the basement, anxious to be with others.

  Across the room she could see Darrin. His freckled face broke into a broad grin and he rose to greet her. He began to frown, taking in her wild hair and disheveled appearance.

  She couldn’t hide behind children, she thought. If Ian was angry enough, he’d drag her out of the basement and demand a confrontation. She had no right to be here. She should have faced him, no matter what.

  “Mrs. Tremayne!” Darrin called to her.

  And then there was a rumbling beneath her feet.

  “What the—” someone cried.

  “Shaker!” Darrin shouted. “Shaker! It’s a shaker! A big one.”

  The rumbling became a cacophony, and it seemed as if the world began to crumble and break.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The most amazing thing to Ian was that he saw the quake. Saw the way it ran up the street, tearing the ground apart, saw it rend the earth asunder.

  There was the sound, a rumbling, a moaning.

  The bay reared, nearly unseating him, and Ian leaped quickly from the animal’s back. Even as he soothed the horse, he looked down the street. And he could see it.

  The great buildings, waving, undulating, engaged in a macabre dance. And the rip … the rip itself, slashing its way down Washington Street, undulating, sweeping, cascading, coming toward him like the massive and powerful waves of an ocean.

  “Marissa!” he screamed. The desperate urge to protect her, to see her, to hold her, at all costs, assailed him. But it was too late. The street was ripping in half. Steel pipes were bending and snapping. Wood, cement, concrete, metal … everything buckled beneath the gigantic tear …

  It reached him. The bay screeched as it was picked up and hurtled toward the building. Ian could give the horse no comfort for he was suddenly flying himself, picked up as if he were no more than
an ant, thrown in a high arc then slammed down flat. He braced himself against the wall he touched. It was the brick wall of the emporium.

  He stared across the street. Facades were crumbling, buildings were falling. He braced himself as the world continued to shiver and shake. Marissa! She was inside the building …

  The building would hold! he promised himself. His grandfather had built it well, and he had personally seen to all the modifications over the years. The store would hold.

  Before him, a wall came crashing forward. Great chunks of cement came hurtling through the air, and he rolled just in time to avoid being crushed. A wood frame building came crashing down as if it had been wrecked by dynamite.

  And the street continued to undulate, the buildings to dance.

  Ian heard screams, horrible screams.

  And then suddenly, the earth went still.

  The bay was down; he ignored it. Screams were rising from all around him. He barely heard them. Picking himself up, he ran to the emporium entrance.

  Only one thing gave him pause.

  He could hear a hiss. A slow, almost lazy hiss.

  But he knew what it was. Gas. The pipes beneath the city had been split by the quake. At any moment, explosions could start up.

  “Marissa!”

  He tore into the store and found a security guard on the floor. Ian stooped beside the man and quickly noted the smashed display case by his side. It was Bobby Harrison, a young Irishman who had been with the emporium since his sixteenth birthday.

  The latest in French pottery had downed him.

  Ian lifted him. The man began to blink. “Mr. Tremayne. I’m sorry, sir. There was a shaker. Oh.” He grimaced. “You must know that. The case fell. I—”

  “Yes, Bobby, it was a shaker, a bad one. My wife just ran in here, before the quake. Where did she go? Who else is in here, and where?”

  “Just the folks down in the basement. No one’s been up to the offices, and no one’s come to work on the floor. Only some of the kitchen folk to cook, and—” he paused, his eyes opening wide “—the kids. There’s about ten kids down there already. Two cooks, a priest, er, Sandy is in, and that’s it, I’m sure.” He stared at Ian. “You needn’t worry, she’s going to stand, sir. I’m sure of it. Some merchandise went flying around, to be sure, but the building, she’s as good as gold.”