She was trying to stem the tide of angry questions and furious recriminations, aghast that he could think so badly of her, but he would not give her a chance to speak. Suddenly he stepped towards her and before she could avoid him pulled her hard against his chest.
His mouth came down to cover hers and stifle her protests, and his arms imprisoned hers in an iron embrace. Unable to breathe properly Ros felt her senses swim and then, while Lorenzo still held her imprisoned with one arm his other hand came up and began to caress her face and hair.
Ros trembled and tried to wrench her mouth away but he had her too firmly held. She wanted to respond, to cling to him and return his kisses, but when he despised her so much she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing his embrace could turn her as weak as water. The effort almost made her lose her senses, but at last it was over.
When he finally released her she clung to the closet door for support as he turned and strode out of the chalet. She wanted to hit him, but hadn't been able to move fast enough. Then she walked shakily across and collapsed onto the bed, only remembering some great time later to get up and lock the door.
*
She had been afraid. Not of violence, for she did not believe Lorenzo was a violent man. She had feared her own response, her inability to remain firm and reject him. Once more his touch had swamped all sense, all reality, and she had almost, again, succumbed.
It was all too much, the storms and emotions of the past few months must be allowed to subside. She could not begin to explain to him, and since he was angry at her rejection, at his failure to subdue her, and not in love with her, what was the use of trying? She had made no further progress in her search for Tim, now she would concentrate her entire efforts on it. But first thing in the morning she would insist on moving to a room in the main building. That should be some protection against his sudden visits.
Senor Mendez was not in his office when Ros went in the following morning, and the Deputy Manager explained he would be out all day.
'Perhaps you could arrange it, then,' she suggested. 'I wish to move into the main building.'
He looked at her carefully, and then his glance slid away.
'It is not something I can do without consulting Senor Mendez,' he mumbled, and Ros raised her eyebrows in disbelief.
She had wanted to see the Manager to complain directly about his action in providing Lorenzo with a key to her room, but had not thought he would need to be bothered with the fact of her change of room. However, she could scarcely discuss this with the Deputy Manager. It was embarrassing enough without anyone else having to know the true reason.
'When will Senor Mendez be back? Will he be here tonight?'
'I expect so, Senorita.'
'Then will you ask him, as a great favour to me, to see me about it as soon as possible?'
'Of course.'
He looked very relieved when she turned to go, and she puzzled about it all day. To her satisfaction Senor Mendez was in the foyer when she returned from yet more fruitless research into the elusive Mr Goldstein, and he approached her immediately. He looked embarrassed.
'I understand you have asked to move from the chalet? I hope there is nothing wrong with it, Miss Farleigh?'
'Of course not. But I object to your giving master keys to Senor Carreira. I like to feel certain of my privacy, and even of my safety.'
'Come into my office,' he almost begged her, glancing round. The clerk and the Deputy Manager were hovering nearby, and Ros was sure they were straining their ears to listen.
'I like to think my room is private,' Ros said firmly after Senor Mendez had ushered her into his office. 'It is not. Senor Carreira has obtained a key to it and I can never be sure I won't find him there!'
'But – I thought – that is, Miss Farleigh, I don't know what to say!'
'I hope you will say you intend to rebuke Senor Carreira, discover how he obtained a duplicate key, and discipline any other member of staff who was involved in giving it to him!' Ros retorted tartly, knowing he was himself the guilty person and taking considerable satisfaction in seeing him cringe at her words. 'I also expect you to provide me with another room where I will not be subject to unwelcome visits and molestation by members of your staff! If not, I will leave the hotel at once.'
Senor Mendez gulped, smiled placatingly, and after a pregnant moment nodded unhappily.
'I will speak to him,' he said hurriedly. 'And now, Miss Farleigh, if you will excuse me, I am very busy, I have been out all day, and have a great deal to catch up on.'
'And the room?' she asked, implacable.
'I will see what can be arranged. Can it wait until morning?'
'Thank you, Senor Mendez, I will see you again in the morning if you haven't managed to find something before then.'
She smiled grimly and left his office. She was intrigued as well as angry. Why had he been so much on edge, she wondered. Had it been just fear that she knew he had given Lorenzo the key, and hope she didn't know it? Why did Lorenzo appear so important in the eyes of the staff? Why did they all treat him so deferentially? Why was the Manager apparently in a fret of anxiety at the very thought of offending him.
He wasn't that brilliant a guitarist! Well, she corrected herself reluctantly, he was exceptionally good, but perhaps not in the top ten! Many guitarists far less skilled made perfectly adequate livings playing in hotels, and she doubted whether the majority of the hotel guests really knew the difference. So it couldn't be fear of losing him which made Senor Mendez positively quiver with dismay at her complaint. And surely it couldn't be anything to do with his knowing Juanita and persuading her to sing occasionally at the Castilla? It would hardly ruin the hotel if she didn't.
Enough of him. She had to think of other ways of tracing Tim, other ways of contacting Mr Goldstein's yacht and discovering if it had been Tim on board. She had done with Lorenzo y Carreira, she thought with a pang.
*
Chapter 9
Ros stalked into the bar, ordered gin and tonic, and belatedly became conscious of Mandy waving to her. She took her glass and went to join Mandy and a couple of new guests, introduced as Mr and Mrs Short.
'We do so love Majorca,' Mrs Short enthused. 'It's lovely. We come here every year, don't we, John, but it's the first time we've stayed at the Castilla. It looks lovely, doesn't it, John? And isn't your uniform a lovely colour. Green like the sea, I suppose. '
'This is my daytime uniform. We wear long skirts for evening. I really ought to go and change.'
Ros looked at her curiously. Mandy was babbling.
'We'd better change too,' Mr Short said soon. His wife had been talking non-stop. They were the only words he'd uttered.
They departed, and Mandy heaved a huge sigh of relief.
'Whew! The woman latched on to me the minute she arrived, and if she finds anything else lovely I shall brain her!'
Ros grinned in sympathy. 'It was a bit much. I'm going to read a good book. Have a lovely time showing them round lovely Majorca!'
Dodging Mandy's indignant swipe at her, she moved away. Mandy waved as she made for the stairs.
As Ros stepped out through the main doors she stopped suddenly. Lorenzo was there.
'Go away!' she hissed, keeping her voice low in order to prevent some guests arriving by car from hearing.
Lorenzo's hand was clasped firmly round her wrist.
'Don't run away from me again, Ros. It's high time we sorted things out. You will come and have dinner with me tonight, and clear up a few misunderstandings!'
She risked looking at him. He was standing very close to her and she was shaking at his unexpected appearance and the sheer vibrancy of his personality. As she encountered the intent look in his eyes she stepped away from him, but his hold on her did not relax.
'Well?' he demanded implacably.
Why did he plague her with demands for private talks – which could resolve nothing, Ros cried to herself. What she wanted, Lorenzo's undivided love, was un
attainable. He could not resist being charming to other women, or worse.
'We've said all there is to say,' she retorted, forcing anger into her voice as she struggled to prevent herself from shedding ignominious tears.
'No. Or rather I haven't. I must talk with you, Ros.'
'There's no point. We've talked and there's nothing to say. Please will you let me go?'
Lorenzo pulled her roughly round to face him.
'I haven't said all I need to say, but if you won't agree to meet me and talk in peace and privacy, very well. I'll say what I must right now, and never mind who hears!' he said angrily, thrusting Ros back into the foyer, seating her forcibly in one of the chairs, flinging himself into another.
*
She was momentarily bereft of speech, and before she could begin to voice her anger he was speaking again in a low, furious tone.
'It's time you stopped listening to rumours, thinking the worst of me, and began to listen to me instead and tried to believe what you hear!'
Ros found her voice and cut in furiously. 'I believe what I see!'
'What you think you see, and there's a world of difference! Well, do we stay here to argue or will you come with me? We're already attracting a most intrigued audience.'
Appalled, Ros looked up. Several guests, who had clearly seen Lorenzo almost throw her into the chair, hovered nearby. They smiled foolishly and moved away as she stared at them. One of the waiters tried hard to hide a grin as he crossed the foyer, and Senor Mendez was standing, mouth agape, behind the reception desk.
'I won't come with you!' she muttered furiously.
'Then we'll have dinner here. Pablo, bring a proper table!' he called, and Ros gulped. 'If I have to kiss you breathless to shut you up, I'll do it here. If I have to make love to you to prove I mean what I say, I'll do it!' Lorenzo went on quietly, and from the anticipatory glitter in his eye Ros knew he meant what he said.
She stood up abruptly.
'Damn you!' She glared helplessly at him, and then at Senor Mendez scurrying towards them in front of a waiter bearing a folding card table.
Lorenzo took her hand, tucked it under his arm, and calmly waved the Manager away.
'The lady has changed her mind,' he said coolly.
He ceremoniously led Ros, inwardly fuming, along the path to the chalets.
'Will half an hour be enough? It's a quiet place we're going to, there's no need to dress elaborately, darling.'
He shut the door and strode away to the next chalet. Ros contemplated defying him, but he was far bigger and stronger than she was. There would be no opportunity, she was sure, of slipping away from the chalet. He was quite capable of carrying her into the restaurant and conducting the argument there. Of course she could simply refuse to answer, but she shuddered at the very notion of what revenge he might take then.
It was utterly ridiculous, she thought, raging impotently, that a man could assault and threaten a girl in the full view of normal, sensible people, and get away with it! Nevertheless she was discarding her clothes with considerable speed.
A swift cold shower cooled her slightly, and she dragged out the white dress she'd worn on her first evening. If she had been less angry she might have paused, for it was one of the most alluring she possessed, but Ros cared little for any effect she might be making, she just wore clothes she liked without considering how they presented her to other people.
*
Promptly in thirty minutes Lorenzo knocked on the door. He was impeccably dressed in faultless evening clothes, and nodded approvingly when he saw she was ready.
Since being on the island she'd acquired a faint tan, and now her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks delicately flushed. Beautiful as he had considered her when they first met, then she was pale and with a worried look in her eyes. Now she was vigorously alive, incredibly more gorgeous.
They drove in silence, and only began to exchange polite, brief remarks when they were seated in the restaurant. As usual when she went out with Lorenzo, he had chosen an apparently unpretentious place, but with exceptionally good cuisine. Tonight it was French.
'How do you know all these marvellous places to eat?' Ros demanded, forgetting for a moment her antagonism.
Lorenzo shrugged. 'Professional interest, I suppose, since I make my living out of tourists. Remember, I've been here often.'
'You know Majorca well, I suppose.'
'Yes, but I don't want to talk about Majorca. I intend to talk about us.'
'What is there to say?' Ros asked bleakly.
'A great deal, I think. First, I have the suspicion that foolish boyfriend of yours caused you more heartache than you'll admit.'
'Foolish?'
'Of course. What man who'd won your love could have been so incredibly stupid as not to recognise the precious thing he had? Crazy enough to indulge in drugs, to consider his own petty appetites before your happiness, toss your love away? A real man would conquer the world to keep your love. He didn't love you. He might have been proud of you – any man would be proud to have you wear his ring – but he wasn't worthy of you, Ros, believe me!'
'I loved him,' Ros insisted. 'He was unlucky.'
'You may think you did, but he still colours your reaction to other men. To me, for instance. He's made you afraid of love.'
'What do you know about real love?' Ros demanded, unwilling to have her own behaviour scrutinised too closely, for as usual the magic Lorenzo wove about her was beginning to ensnare her again.
'More than you do, I begin to think!'
'It's not love you feel for anyone,' Ros told him bitterly. 'How can you when you distribute your favours so lavishly?'
'When I do what? Now what are you holding against me?' he demanded, a sudden frown darkening his face.
'You kissed Juanita after the barbecue, then me, and for all I know dozens more. That's not love!'
He was staring at her in surprise and she was astonished to see his angry face suddenly relax.
'The barbecue? I remember. But Juanita kissed me, in gratitude for my getting her this booking. We're very old friends – '
'That is perfectly obvious!' Ros interjected.
'Be quiet for once!' he replied explosively. 'You're jealous without cause but it gives me hope.'
Angrily Ros began to deny his accusation, but he raised his voice above hers.
'Hope, I say. Juanita, I admit, you might have suspected but when else have I even looked at another woman?'
*
Ros began to speak, then stopped. It was true he hadn't actually paid any particular attention to other women. It was the rumours, the attitude of other women towards him, and her own suspicions which had led her into assuming what might not be true.
He was laughing. 'What a dreadful opinion you must have of me, my love.'
'How dare you call me your love when you know it's not true!' she stormed at him, unable to fully believe what he said. She stood up to march away before the tears of rage and jealousy and hopeless love overwhelmed her. Before she could move, however, he had taken both her hands in his and halted her.
'Listen to me, Ros. Please. Sit down again.'
The combination of his powerful personality, the grip on her hands, the unexpectedness of that humble 'Please' and the fact that her legs felt like cotton wool caused Ros to subside once more into her chair. This time Lorenzo leant forward, keeping her hands imprisoned in his as he spoke.
'Look at me. That's better. I suppose to someone who doesn't know Juanita it looked suspicious, and she's been bitchy, which couldn't have helped you judge her calmly. You must have thought she was jealous.'
'Why should I care?' Ros flung at him, but he ignored this outburst.
'I've known Juanita all her life. Her family lived on – in a village near my family home. I helped her to get her first singing engagements and she has always been grateful to me.'
'So I thought,' Ros interjected scornfully, but Lorenzo laughed.
'Grateful,' he insisted. 'We
've been colleagues for a long time but nothing more. Yes, her manner implies more but that's Juanita. She behaves the same with any presentable man and especially one who might help her find work. She's fanatical about her career. When you saw her kissing me – not the other way round – at the barbecue it was because we had just fixed up her engagement at the Castilla and she was pleased about it. It meant a lot to her since this is one of the best hotels in Majorca. But it was her career she was thinking of, not me.'
'You seem to know a great deal about her motives,' Ros retorted disbelievingly. 'I've seen her looking at you, remember.'
'All sorts of women look at me,' he replied with a grin. 'Are you going to be jealous of every one of them?'
'I've nothing to be jealous of!' Ros said, and the idea made her feel totally forlorn.
Lorenzo called for the check, and within minutes was leading Ros outside.
'We'll walk in the gardens, it's a warm night,' he said, slipping his arm about her.
They were silent for a while, then came to a secluded seat set under an arbour heavy with clambering roses. Lorenzo took off his jacket and spread it on the seat.
'No, you'll be cold – the jacket will be ruined!' Ros protested.
'You'll keep me warm, and what's a jacket compared with your serenity?'
She did not object when he slipped his arm about her waist. Gradually Ros's eyes adjusted to the moonlight, and she cast a shy glance up at him. He bent and swiftly brushed her lips with his.
'You thought you had cause to be jealous, you were suspicious of me, thinking I wanted a short affair. I don't, my sweet. I want to marry you. I knew it the moment I saw you, but I've searched so long for a girl I could love I couldn't believe you were true, my darling. Then you started asking questions, spying on Mr Goldstein, quizzing young doctors and journalists. I wondered what you were up to.'
Island Quest Page 10