“I will say goodnight then.” His words were interrupted by four chimes from the grandfather clock downstairs.
“Or good morning,” she grumbled to hide her awkwardness.
With as much aplomb as she could muster, she turned around and hurried back to her room. She had to close the door on the sight of Marcus watching her. While it felt rude to shut him out, she had no intention of offering him anything. She didn’t run that kind of establishment.
As she turned away and removed her wrap she was painfully aware that her hands shook, but it had nothing to do with the coolness of the room. It had nothing to do with the fact that she had just been woken up in the early hours by strange noises downstairs, or had bumped into someone at the top of the stairs.
Her disquiet was generated purely by the strangeness of the feelings surging through her, brought forth by the new lodger. The unwanted emotions she experienced had nothing to do with fear, uncertainty, suspicion, or curiosity, which were all of the things she knew she should expect to feel for him. Her feelings were instead focused firmly on the wild thrill of excitement, anticipation, and feminine curiosity his kiss had created.
She had never been that close to any man other than her brother before in her life. Even when she had hugged Ben, he stood still long enough for only the briefest of hugs. Her father had passed away when Jess had been a young child. She had been so young that she didn’t even have the faintest recollection of what kind of person he had been. She had never had a suitor either, so had no idea what it felt like to be held, or kissed, or loved, by a man.
It felt strange to be in Marcus’ arms. Warm and reassuring, yet so delightful that she rather reluctantly had to admit that she wanted to try it again. Not just the hug either. She wanted him to kiss her again as he had just now. She touched her lips with wondering fingers and smiled.
Flopping over in bed, she jerked when the clock in the hallway chimed five times. She had spent the better part of an hour thinking about him and what they had shared, and she hadn’t even realised how much time had passed. With a wide yawn, she threw the covers back and got up.
She was in turmoil. She would never manage to get back to sleep in the half hour she had left before she had to light the fires. To try to get her mind off Marcus, she needed to keep busy. It was time to go downstairs and get the bread made and baked for breakfast. Then she had to get the meat cooked, and the table set for breakfast. Hopefully, by the time she had finished all of that her attention would be more focused on the life she led, not the man she would like to be a part of it.
Unfortunately, her day went downhill rapidly as the morning progressed. To her disgust, while she was serving the guests breakfast, Ben took the opportunity to leave. The loud slam of the back door closing behind him stoked her anger. She hurried to the kitchen window and caught sight of him on the edge of the woods. It was too late to call him back.
“Damn you, Ben,” she whispered. “You have to help me at some point.”
She had no idea what had gotten into her brother of late. He used to be a willing and able hand, happy to take his fair share of the burden. Of late, it rather felt as though he had lost all interest in the place, and didn’t care what happened to it, or her.
“At some point, something has to improve,” she whispered. “You had better hope so in any case because if it doesn’t, and something goes catastrophically wrong, we are going to have to leave.”
“Are you alright?” Marcus asked from the doorway.
“Oh!” She spun around, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment at being caught talking to herself. “I didn’t realise you were there.”
She made no attempt to keep the anger out of her voice. If she was honest, it unnerved her how easily Marcus popped up here and there without making a sound.
“The ale jug is empty,” he declared, lifting the jug for her to see.
Marcus made no attempt to approach her. He had witnessed the worry on her face as she had stared after her brother. Although he hadn’t been close enough to hear everything she had muttered beneath her breath, he understood that she was angry at Ben.
Was she afraid he was going to steal again?
Marcus had spent the better part of the last two weeks following people around the village. While Ben proved to be the most elusive, he had followed the lad to the rectory, where he had stayed for quite a while, to Retterton. His visits there were frequent enough to cause concern, but Marcus had yet to find out what he did while he was there. Ben had not met with his contact again, nor had he done anything outwardly suspicious that warranted being followed. Both Lloyd and Carruthers loitered – practically everywhere, without really getting much done, and there had been no sign of Ben’s contact at all.
So far, although they were an odd group of people, they weren’t as suspicious as the other guests living at the lodging house. All four of the other guests were like shadows in the night, whose behaviour was most definitely not matching their characters.
Marcus therefore rather felt the solution to his problems lay within the house.
“I think there is some more in the keg in the scullery,” she replied. “I will bring some through.”
“There is no rush. Most of the guests have gone now,” he informed her.
He wanted to engage her in conversation, but she didn’t give him the opportunity to. She snatched the jug off the table and hurried into the scullery.
“Something smells nice,” he murmured. He eyed the pot on the fireplace responsible for the delicious scent of roast beef that was teasing his nostrils and sighed in dismay.
“It is for dinner,” she replied, her voice growing louder as she re-entered the room.
Rather than hand him the pitcher, she carried it into the dining room, effectively dismissing him. Determined not to be avoided, Marcus followed her. When he got there, he watched her for a moment. She was a hive of activity collecting the plates and stacking them, clearing the table and sweeping the floor.
Shaking his head, he found his disgust for the rather selfish brother growing by leaps and bounds. Would it be best if he pursued the lad? If only to force him off his wayward pathway of illegal activity? After all, the Star Elite’s investigation was the reason Marcus was in the house in the first place. His work for them had to come first, over and above any other situations that arose. Any other problems the Parkinsons had were an entirely private matter and, if Ben were involved with Sayers’ gang, they would be resolved in time.
“Best get to it then,” he murmured reluctantly.