Beth Kery - Because We Belong

“That’s what family is for,” James replied for everyone.

She stood, taking her cup to the sideboard. She hadn’t meant to say those things; she really needed to get ahold of herself. No one deserved her bitterness, save Ian.

Save herself.

“I hope you all have a good time at the movies,” she said with a smile, picking up her coat, hat, and the fingerless gloves she wore for outdoor sketching in the winter. “I think I’ll get started on some rough sketches before the canvas arrives. I could use a little work.”

“She’s right,” Gerard said. He stood to retrieve her sketchpad and pencils while she put on her gloves. “Work always sets things on track, I always say. And I’m not going to the movies, so I’ll take Francesca to the gardener’s cottage. That’s where you two were saying you wanted her to set up base while she draws, isn’t that right?” he asked James and Anne.

“Gardener’s cottage?” Francesca asked, hearing of this for the first time.

“Well, it’s not really a gardener’s cottage anymore,” James explained. “It hasn’t been anyone’s cottage but an occasional guest’s for the past twenty years. But it’d be a good post for you. It’s right at the edge of the woods, and it’s got an excellent straight-on view of Belford through a picture window. It won’t do for the details, of course, but we figured that since it’s so chilly out, it might save you a few days from the cold while you get the panoramic sketches. I had Mr. Sayers turn on the cottage furnace just yesterday, so it should be warm enough by now. If you think that’d be useful?”

“Very useful,” Francesca assured. “Thank you for thinking of it. It’ll save me having to go in and out to thaw out my fingers, for a few days, at least.

“I’ll take her to it,” Ian said, standing. Gerard shared Francesca’s nonplussed expression.

“I said I’d show her to it. You should go and relax with the others,” Gerard said.

“We’ll both show her then,” Ian said quietly, but his eyes flashed dangerously at Gerard before he picked up his coffee cup.

“It’s not really necessary for you to come,” Gerard prevaricated as Ian set his cup and saucer on the tray on the sideboard.

“It is, actually,” Ian said. James shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the hard edge to Ian’s tone. Ian’s stare at Gerard was one that Francesca could only describe as a silent, simmering challenge. Concern mingled with her annoyance. His calm exterior was far more brittle than she’d ever seen it before. “Because the gardener is off today, and I have the only other set of keys to the cottage.”

Gerard flushed. Clearly, Ian had preempted Gerard’s actions and asked his grandfather for the keys in advance. There was something subtly, but distinctly proprietary underlying Ian’s statement, as if he was reminding Gerard who the future master of Belford was. Or who the master of Francesca was. Resentment bubbled up into her chest. She noticed Elise giving Lucien an uncomfortable glance in the prickly silence that followed, and Anne and James did the same. Ian was acting like a caveman. It was all extremely awkward. She shot a fulminating look at Ian, which he didn’t notice as he studied his cousin.

“Come on, Gerard,” she said with false brightness. “I’ll enjoy your company.”

Gerard seemed a little angry, not to mention embarrassed, which made her even more irritated at Ian. At first, she thought he was going to stand down, but then he gave her a smile and nodded toward the door as if to say, Let’s proceed then. With everyone watching them in the uncomfortable silence that followed, she felt she had no choice but to follow Ian out of the room, Gerard falling in step behind her.

She, Ian, and Gerard walked to the cottage at the edge of the woods, their boots crunching on the frosty path leading through the gardens, the cold winter air seemingly doing nothing to cool either her irritation at Ian or the charged atmosphere swirling among the three of them.

The cottage itself was nice, she decided once Ian had unlocked the door and they’d entered, but chilly despite the furnace being activated. The interior was modest in comparison to the luxury of Belford itself. In fact, the little house looked like it hadn’t been redecorated for several decades. She found the shabby elegance of it cozy.

“Stay here. Both of you,” Ian said after he’d closed the front door. She gave Gerard a questioning glance, but Gerard was watching his cousin dubiously as well.

“What is with him?” Gerard mumbled for her ears only.

Francesca just shrugged, too irritated to reply.

They stood next to the cold hearth of the fireplace as Ian stepped into the kitchen and looked around, and then stalked down the hallway, his dark head just two feet away from the low ceiling. At first, she’d thought he was inspecting the place like someone might a rarely used property in order to make sure there were no leaks or property damage. By the time he returned to the small living room where she stood, however, another suspicion had struck her.

“Ian, you’re not checking out this place for . . . I don’t know, bad guys or something, are you?”

“What’s this?” Gerard asked, both amused and confused.

“Just making sure everything is in order for you to work here today,” Ian said evenly, stepping closer, blue eyes pinning her. His size struck her suddenly, his presence. He was really too large for these cramped quarters. She stepped back reflexively, and then felt foolish when he only knelt and started to build a fire.

“Were there any other unusual occurrences either before or after that man tried to take you in Chicago?” Ian asked in an offhand manner as he began to arrange logs and kindling.

“No one tried to take me,” she insisted. She noticed Gerard’s puzzled expression. For some reason, a sharp somatic memory of the assailant’s brutal grip rose to her awareness. She rubbed her upper arms as if to erase the unpleasant recollection. Was there any possibility that Ian was right in his suspicion? “And in answer to your question, no. Nothing unusual at all has happened other than that.”

“Gerard? Anything odd that you noticed while you were in Chicago?”

“Other than the fact that the waiters there whisked away my plate the second I took my last bite, everything was boringly normal,” Gerard said dryly.

Ian just continued to build the fire in silence. She shook her head in disgust, knowing him well enough to recognize he wasn’t going to argue, but that he hadn’t changed his mind in the slightest. She left Gerard and looked around the little house, familiarizing herself with the location of the bathroom, which was in the hallway between the living room and bedroom. The small, tidy bedroom included a made double bed, upholstered chair, a desk and bureau. She’d be very comfortable working here, she decided. She found some tea bags in a kitchen cabinet and filled the kettle on the stove.

When she returned to the living room with a mug of tea in her hand, Ian had successfully started a fire. It felt warm enough for her to remove her coat.

“There’s hot water for tea, if you’d like it,” she said politely as she hung up her coat. Personally, she was hoping both men would vacate as quickly as possible. She’d never be able to focus with Ian there in the small confines of the cottage, sending her simmering, churning emotions up to a full boil.

“That sounds good,” Gerard said, starting for the kitchen.

“I’m going to walk around and inspect the grounds a bit, maybe look in at the stables,” Ian said pointedly to Gerard, who came to a halt. “Why don’t you come with me? There are some things we need to discuss.”

Francesca went still in the process of lifting her mug to her lips, her gaze bouncing from Ian to Gerard to Ian again. Surely Ian wasn’t planning on confronting Gerard. Surely he wasn’t considering talking to Gerard about her. The thought angered her—what right did he have to tell Gerard what to do when it came to her? At the same time, she’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t experience a little relief. She’d already determined she wasn’t interested in Gerard’s advances. With Ian here, Gerard’s attraction to her just seemed to muddy the waters even more when all she needed was clarity.

“Francesca doesn’t like people around when she works,” Ian said quietly when Gerard opened his mouth—Francesca would have guessed to protest. “It makes it difficult for her to concentrate.”

She took a sip of her tea to hide the pain that went through her at Ian saying out loud something she’d told him once in an intimate moment. It seemed too strange, the paradox of the closeness she felt with him combined with a glaring distance, given his actions. It suddenly felt unbearable. Strangling. She wanted nothing more than to be alone.

“It’s true,” she told Gerard apologetically. “I freeze up when people are around.”

“We’ll walk then,” Gerard said, shrugging. “I have plenty of questions for you as well, Ian.”

“Grandfather bid on an old boxer-engine World War Two motorcycle at Higsby’s last month. Care to have a look at it?” she heard Ian say to Gerard as they headed toward the door.

“Is it in running condition?” Gerard asked, and Francesca was glad to hear the note of interest in his voice. Ian was trying, at least. He must feel guilty for his earlier heavy-handedness with his cousin. She’d always heard from Ian that Gerard and he were close. If they weren’t getting along, it was most likely due to some misplaced jealousy on Ian’s part.

“Needs some work.” Ian opened the front door and cool air rushed into the room. “I’ll be able to keep an eye on the cottage from the grounds, but lock this after we leave,” he called back to Francesca.