Free Mariel by Jo Ann Ferguson

succeed by wearing them down.”
    Mariel said, “That is the whole plan. Ian, if—”
    â€œNo one will learn of it from me.”
    With a chuckle, Mr. Jones bid them a good evening and followed the others toward the far edge of the village. When he had approached Mariel with his concerns, she had understood immediately. Not only did Mr. Jones work with Mr. Knowles, but the two bachelors shared a small house not far from the Three Georges. By reaiming the outrage at her, she protected him.
    â€œWhere is your automobile?”
    The question drew Mariel out of her thoughts. She smiled when she saw that Ian’s eyes were on a level with hers, for he stood on a lower step. “It is recharging. I had to drive out to the orphans’ home this afternoon. It refused to cooperate on the way home, but I think it is in good hands now. I hired a mechanic to take care of it.”
    He took her hands in his. “I have been anxious to see you, Mariel. I hope we don’t always have to part in anger.”
    â€œIan—”
    â€œNo, don’t say it. Forget the quarrels we have had. I have to go to the church to retrieve the records book I left there after the wedding Saturday. Do you want to walk with me? Afterward, we can go to the parsonage for another sampling of Mrs. Reed’s biscuits.”
    Searching his face, she saw the longing, which tormented her. Phipps’s words rang in her ears, but she could not see any reason to refuse such a kind invitation. No one would think ill of them for walking to the church.
    The thickness of the close air of the building swirled over them as he opened the door. She paused as she stepped into the foyer. When he lit a candle from the box on a nearby stand, she smiled uneasily. More than Phipps’s warning, this place forced her to recall proprieties. She held her hands clenched in front of her as he picked up the leather-bound book he needed.
    â€œOne other thing,” he murmured as he walked into the sanctuary.
    She followed, for she did not want to be alone with her uneasy thoughts. Her hands ran along the backs of the pews until she reached the foremost one on the right side of the aisle. Unlike the others, this pew had a door secured with a lock. So often she had come with her uncle to sit here and try to remain quiet through the sermon. If Reverend Tanner had written ones like the lesson Ian had let her read, he might have held her attention.
    â€œIt is always empty,” came a gentle reprimand in a velvet, dark voice.
    Mariel turned to see Ian had returned to stand directly behind her. His strong, masculine allure could not be ignored even in the church. She fought her hands which wanted to raise to caress the uncompromising lines of his face. To touch him would be wrong. Her fingers clenched onto the door as she faced him.
    â€œIt is reserved for the Wythes,” she said quietly.
    â€œI know.”
    â€œIan, don’t start lecturing me, too!”
    â€œToo?” He put his hands on her shoulders to halt her as she was ready to walk back up the aisle. “Mariel, what is wrong?”
    She shrugged his hands off her. “Nothing. I just don’t like having people telling me what I should or should not do. If you want us to keep from quarreling each time we meet, you must remember that.”
    His laugh resounded off the high ceiling of the church, startling her. “I doubt if you will allow me to forget.” He sobered as he said, “I have heard talk that the fire at the Cloister was not accidental.”
    Her eyes in the candlelight showed her shock at his sudden alteration in the course of the conversation. Inanely, she said, “That is always said after a fire.”
    â€œBut?”
    â€œI don’t know, Ian.” Tears of sorrow at the loss of part of her beloved home glittered brightly as she flung out her hands. “Why would anyone want to destroy the Cloister?”
    â€œDo you have any