Mirror of My Soul, Joey Hill [ereader iphone .txt] 📗

that watched from the same hopeful vantage point.

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Joey W. Hill

Chapter Three

Marguerite surfaced slowly, disturbed by a hesitant sound. Feet on the staircase.

“Marguerite? Hon?”

She rolled over, her muscles aching from an orgasm that had been an exercise in prolonged isometrics. As she turned, she had a moment of panic when Chloe warily pushed the door open a bit.

She realized quickly she was alone in the bed, no evidence of Tyler in sight and her still naked body was modestly covered with a sheet.

“I’m so sorry to come up in your personal area. I was just worried because you’re usually up to let us in when we get here at seven and it’s seven-thirty.”

Marguerite blinked, shifted and sat up, pressing a hand through her disheveled hair. His scent was still here. She smelled it on her skin, felt surrounded by it. She needed a shower. Needed it now, to clear her brain. To stop her from wondering why there was no note, no…

“How did you get in?”

“Tyler let us in. Talked me into making him coffee, the savage.” Chloe shook her head. “Startled the heck out of me when he opened the door. And not just because he looked like he’d been a bar fight. Said you’d had a rough night.” Her attention moved to the floor. “He wouldn’t say he was the cause of it but I’m guessing a big, fat yes.”

Marguerite looked over the edge of the bed to find the remains of her dress on the floor. He’d taken the time to leave her bed, cover her, retain her modesty and dignity but he’d left—what were Chloe’s words—a big, fat statement of his presence in her bed lying on the floor.

“Nice flowers, by the way. I put them on a pedestal right outside the screen door since it’s going to be a pretty day. Thought it’d be a lovely welcome when people come up the stairs. I wasn’t sure about the tiger. What do you want to do with him?”

“I’ll think about it in a bit. I need to do my yoga first then I’ll get a quick shower and we’ll be open at our usual time.”

“But—”

“Chloe.” Marguerite put her hands over her face, laid her head over the side of the bed so all her hair tumbled toward the floor. “I really need a few minutes, okay? Let me do my yoga before I deal with anything else. I need to get on routine, all right?”

She interpreted the girl’s startled silence like a judgment. She was always ready to handle everything. She was not being the Marguerite they knew. But if they could give her a frigging half hour and a shower, she could pull it all together. She refused to believe she was as tattered as her dress.

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Mirror of My Soul

“Okay.”

Surprised by the quiet reassurance in Chloe’s voice, she stiffened when the girl laid a hand on her shoulder and dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head. “Don’t worry about a thing. You do what you need to do. We’ll handle the rest.”

“I’ll be with you in forty-five minutes.” Marguerite stated it forcefully into her palms. “Run the new black tea with peppermint and cloves as the Manager’s Special.”

* * * * *

Chloe came back into the kitchen to a curious-eyed Gen. “She’s freaking out,” Chloe reported calmly. “And my guess is Tiger Man’s the reason.”

“Is she coming down?”

“She’s going to do her yoga first in the back garden.”

“Does she know he’s still here?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t tell her.” Chloe’s eyes were thoughtful. “Thought I’d give her some time to pull it together. She’s seriously off balance, Gen.”

“Good way or bad way?”

A spark came back to Chloe’s gaze, even as her mouth remained sober. “Look out there at him. Sometimes it can be both, I think.”

When Chloe informed him that Marguerite would join him soon, that she was

doing her morning yoga in her back garden, Tyler considered giving her privacy, time to regroup. But he wanted to see her. Just wanted, period.

Resolving not to interrupt the work of her staff, he left out the front and slipped through the latched side gate, having little trouble unlocking the mechanism.

He didn’t want to disturb her. He wanted to see her at peace among her

surroundings. And in accordance with his resolve of the previous night, he wanted to learn more about his Ice Queen.

Her private area was designed like a Japanese garden with the simple designs that the culture preferred. Delicate maples, azaleas and some slow-growing, cool

temperature-loving plants that he wouldn’t have thought would have had a chance in the Florida heat. He’d thought Robert had a pact with the devil. Marguerite must have made one, too. The garden was beautiful, tranquil and she stood in the midst of it completely naked.

He knew where all her scars were, but illuminated by the early morning sun they were more noticeable. The macabre angel wing arrangement of the cigarette burns. The jagged scars on her shoulder and leg where bones had cracked and punched through her skin. The starburst on her hand.

With her ankles crossed and her slim form straight and tall, Marguerite leaned forward, stretching out her spine one vertebra at a time. As she bent at the waist, her head descended below the line of the rising sun and continued down as she folded her 29

Joey W. Hill

upper body gracefully against the line of her thighs, knees and calves, the pose as much an expression of reverence as an exercise of the body. For a moment she reminded him of a solitary priestess making a low bow toward the Sun God. The light limned her form.

Sinking silently into a patio chair, he continued to watch her perform the stretching move. He could almost feel the vibration of energy coming from her. That stillness he always sensed within her expanded in this obviously sacred morning ritual and reached out to include him. His eyes