by Anne Mather
Juliet looked up. 'What do you mean by that?'
'I mean that if you thwart me, if you escape to this island retreat of yours, wherever it might be, and I have to return to London alone, you'll have made things worse and not better for them!'
Juliet's hurt resentment almost choked her. So much for the lovable, more sinned against than sinning parent of a few minutes ago. How could he? How could he?
She drank some of her daiquiri, aware of his eyes upon her, and then looked up at him with eyes swimming with unshed tears.
'If you attempt to interrogate the Summers, or make their lives impossible by some devious method you might find, then the whole sorry story will be told to the papers, and you know what a beanfeast they'll make out of it !'
'As you're so fond of telling me, the Summers have integrity,' retorted her father sarcastically. 'They wouldn't do such a dastardly thing !'
Juliet got unsteadily to her feet. 'No, perhaps not. But I would!'
Her father stared at her in amazement, and then an unwilling light of admiration lit his harsh features.
'Damn you, Juliet, I believe you would !' he muttered in astonishment.
'Make no mistake about it!' said Juliet unevenly. 'I'm your daughter, remember?'
Robert Lindsay stubbed out his cigar, and lit another.
'And you're not going to tell me where you're staying?'
'No.'
'Why? What if I agree to let you stay if you tell me?'
Juliet wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. 'Integrity is a dirty word to you,' she said. 'Do you think I could trust you?'
'You might try.'
'No, thanks.' She lifted her handbag. 'Are you going to let me go?'
'Do I hrfve any choice?'
'Not really. I meant what I said.'
'I know you did.' He sighed heavily. 'When will you come home?'
Juliet bent her head, shaking it. 'I don't know. Maybe soon - maybe not. Have I still got a home to come back to?'
'In spite of everything, you mean? Of course. You're my daughter, Juliet, and a damn fine one, I suppose, only I'm too bloody pig-headed to see it. All right, I admit it. I want to run your life. I want to approve of the man you'll eventually marry. Is that so bad?'
'In moderation, no. But nothing with you is in moderation. You do everything on the grand scale.'
'So I can tell all your friends back in London that they need have no aspirations in your direction?'
'If you mean boy-friends, yes, you can safely tell them that.'
Her father shook his head. 'What is it you're searching for, Juliet?'
She shrugged her slim shoulders. 'I don't really know.'
He gave a heavy sigh. 'I only hope you do know what you're doing. I'd hate to see you get into a situation that you couldn't handle. There are plenty of men in the world, just waiting for the opportunity to meet someone like you.'
'I'm not naive, Dad. I do know about the birds and the bees, you know.'
'Maybe, maybe. All right, Juliet, go your own way, But remember, I'll always be there, if ever you need me.'
In the taxi going back to Bridgetown, Juliet kept glancing back, out of the rear window, assuring herself she was not being followed, but the road at that hour of the afternoon was deserted.
Relaxing in her seat, she found other problems crowding her mind. Most prominent of all, that of the Duque de Castro. During lunch, she had tentatively suggested that she met them back at the hotel for afternoon tea at five o'clock, but after the Duque's incensed departure, she was not certain he would be there. However, after paying the taxi-driver, a glance in the hotel car-park confirmed that the Duque was in the building, and she walked through the wide entrance hall looking about her with some trepidation.
Eventually, a word to the receptionist informed her that the Duque and his niece were having tea in the hotel lounge, and she entered the high-ceilinged room on rather unsteady legs, making her way towards them very nervously. Despite her calm departure from her father, she still felt strung up, and unready for any more verbal battles with anyone.
Teresa smiled at her arrival, and said: 'You're late, senhorita. It's already five-fifteen!'
Juliet managed a smile in return, trying to ignore the Duque's forbidding countenance. 'Am I? I'm sorry. The traffic. ...' She allowed the sentence to trail away into nothingness.
The Duque, who had risen at her arrival, indicated that she should sit down, and gladly she did so, while he summoned the waiter for more tea.
'No - really—' began Juliet, only to be silenced by the cold glance he cast in her direction.
Teresa for her part seemed completely aware of the antagonism between her guardian and her companion, and Juliet wondered what construction she would place upon it.
When the tea came, she poured herself a cup, offering Teresa and the Duque in turn the same. Teresa accepted a second cup, but the Duque merely looked bored, shaking his head, as though he would have preferred something rather stronger.
Teresa, unable to suppress her curiosity, said: 'The Hauser Reef Club seemed a wonderful place!' enthusiastically.
Juliet smiled a little wryly. 'Yes - yes, it is.'
'Have you finished your - er - business, now, senhorita?' said the Duque suddenly, startling Juliet so that she spilt some of her tea on the immaculate table cloth.
Swallowing hard, she nodded. 'Yes — thank you.'
'Good.' He rose to his feet abruptly. 'I will be in the car park when you have finished. Will you wheel Teresa's chair outside?'
Teresa looked surprised now. 'Can't I come with you, Tio Felipe?'
The Duque shook his head. 'Keep Senhorita Summers company. I do not expect she will take long.'
In truth, Juliet felt that food would choke her, but rather than appear like a scared rabbit, she drank two cups of tea, smoked a cigarette, and made polite conversation with Teresa before agreeing to leave.
Driving to the airport, Juliet expected more questions from Teresa about her assignation, but to her surprise, apart from that one reference to the Club, Teresa said nothing more.
In the hydroplane, the Duque sat with the pilot, and it was getting late by the time they landed on the waters of Venterra Bay, Miguel was waiting with the car, but the Duque drove, with Miguel beside him, and Juliet and Teresa in the back of the car, to the quinta.
After such an exhausting day, Juliet was not surprised when the Duque advised Teresa to dine in her room as he was going out. Juliet wondered where he was going, and assumed Estelle Vinceiro had some part in his plans. She herself was glad to gain the sanctuary of her bedroom, and when Consuelo brought her dinner on a tray, she merely picked at the lobster and fruit.
It was very late when she heard the sound of the Duque's car returning to the quinta, but her nerves tensed in spite of everything that had happened.
Her interview with her father had receded into the background again, assuming the proportions of a dream now that she was back here on Venterra. At least now she didn't Jhave to worry about Rosemary and her parents, and her father seemed to have accepted that her will was as strong as his.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Two days passed during which time Juliet saw very little of the Duque. He seemed continually out and about his estate, talking with the estate managers, dining out with friends, and generally living a life apart from the quinta. Once Estelle visited, but she again came while Teresa was resting in the afternoon, and Juliet was forced to listen to the detailed plans the Senhora had to put into operation once she was married to the Duque.
Teresa spent less and less time with Nurse Madison, seeming to realize that actual movement, normal movement that is, proved more satisfying than mere exercises. In the water she was becoming quite proficient, and with the aid of a rubber ring could propel herself quite energetically. Juliet felt convinced that it was only a matter of time before she asked for sticks or crutches in an effort to put life into limbs long unused. Whether Teresa's condition was the result of actual s
pinal damage that no one could find, or merely the psychological blockage, the specialists seemed to think was immaterial. She had not used her legs for so long she had forgotten how to walk, how to balance herself. But once she made those first initial efforts, Juliet felt sure her progress would make leaps and bounds.
Francisco Valmos visited them one morning, and in his company Teresa blossomed becomingly. Juliet, aware of Francisco's admiration of herself, encouraged him to spend time with Teresa alone, hoping his company would in some way assuage the bitterness of the Duque's marriage to Estelle when it actually happened.
In truth, of all of them, Francisco seemed to possess the knack of persuading Teresa to have more confidence in herself. He complimented her on the healthy tan her legs were acquiring from hours spent on the beach, and admired her dress and the pretty, loose way Juliet had dressed her hair.
They were all having morning chocolate together when the Duque arrived back at the quinta unexpectedly early. His expression was dour when he saw Francisco, although he was forced to greet the young man politely, and make a casual remark. But his eyes were inscrutable, and Juliet was astonished when he said to her:
'Senhorita! I should like to speak with you in my study, if you have the time, of course!' This last was said with some sarcasm.
Juliet glanced questioningly at Teresa, who shrugged, and then getting to her feet said: 'Of course, senhor.'
She followed the Duque into the quinta, and across the hall to the study she had not entered since the first day of her arrival. The Duque waited until she was inside, and then closed the door firmly, and walked briskly across to his desk. Dressed in riding clothes, a dark green silk shirt open at the throat, he looked darkly attractive, the forbidding expression he wore adding to his almost animal magnetism.
'Sit down,' he said coldly, and she complied, mainly because her legs felt weak and unable to support her.
'Is something wrong, senhor?' she asked uneasily, aware of the tension in the room, like a living, tangible thing.
The Duque stood behind his desk, taking a cheroot from the box on his desk almost absently, and lighting it while his eyes appraised her inscrutably. Then he said:
'Tell me, senhorita, why did you come here?'
Juliet was startled. Whatever did he mean by that? Had he somehow discovered her real identity?
'I - I don't understand, senhor,' she said unevenly. 'You know why I came here. To help Teresa.'
'Indeed!' His tone was biting, and caught Juliet on the raw.
'Can you deny that I have helped her?' she exclaimed indignantly.
He shrugged, and did not reply. Then he said: 'You realize, of course, that your probationary period of one month is nearing its close.'
Juliet bent her head. 'Yes, I had realized that, senhor.'
He frowned. 'I confess, senhorita, your behaviour causes me some misgivings. Despite your undeniable friendship with my niece I have the feeling that her disablement was not the whole of the reason that brought you to Venterra.'
Juliet flushed. 'What are you trying to say, senhor?'
The Duque brought his fist down hard on the table, causing Juliet to jump nervously. 'All right, senhorita. You are the one who has always professed to like plain speaking, I will give you some. I believe you came to Venterra because you knew at some time you would be able to go to Barbados to meet your - your - man- friend!'
Juliet could almost have laughed, hysterically, at the Duque's words, had not the situation been so precarious.
'He is not my - my man-friend, senhor,' she said, with more composure than she was feeling.
The Duque's expression was disbelieving. 'Come now,' he said. 'You really don't expect me to believe that!'
Juliet felt angry suddenly. Even if she had met a friend in Barbados, what business was it of the Duque's? How dared he catechize her like this?
'What I do in my own time is my business, senhor!' she said angrily. 'If this is the way you treat your employees then I am not surprised you find it difficult to find them!'
'What do you mean?' He was dangerously quiet in his speech now.
'I mean Laura Weston - I've been told in some detail how Miss Weston became infatuated with you and was dismissed because of it! Maybe this is just some trumped-up story to cover your own inadequacies !' Even as she said the words, Juliet knew they were not true. He was just not that kind of man, but somehow she had to assuage the bitterness she was feeling, and just then she didn't particularly care who she hurt.
The Duque came round the desk in three strides, reaching her side in seconds, hauling her up out of her seat savagely, thrusting his face close against hers, terrifying her.
'That man you met so emotionally in Barbados was Robert Lindsay!' he muttered violently. 'A millionaire, no less, no doubt with commitments in England which prevented you from meeting openly! Not to mention the publicity if you were caught, of course! A man more than twenty years your senior, a man of ruthlessness in business, a man without any apparent conscience ! Do you know he has a daughter older than you are?'
Did she know it? Now Juliet really felt hysterical. She struggled impotently to free herself, but the Duque's slender hands were surprisingly hard and strong, and they bit into the soft flesh of her upper arms with deliberate cruelty.
'How - how do you know who - who he was?' she asked, a little faintly.
The Duque's dark eyes were burning with the strength of his anger. 'I'll tell you how I know! Because after you and your - your—' he bit off an angry epithet, 'after you had disappeared into Lindsay's chalet, I returned to the Hauser Reef Club and made certain inquiries !'
'Oh, no!' Juliet felt despairing. 'Did - did the steward at the Club know you?' she asked bitterly.
'Maybe, maybe not. Why? Are you afraid he might find out where you are staying? Of course,' he gave a brief mirthless laugh, 'maybe you ran away from him! Why didn't I think of that? Maybe you fancied a change, and Lindsay wouldn't agree to it!' He gnawed at his lower lip, unaware that Juliet was almost giddy with the pain in her arms. 'And now that the grand reconciliation has taken place, are you afraid he will find you are with me and be jealous? After all, what further heights await you after unlimited wealth? Only perhaps a title!'
'I - I think you're - you're mad!' she groaned, and the Duque became conscious of his cruelty.
With a stifled exclamation, he released her and she swayed faintly, hardly aware of anything but the agonizing pain of blood surging back where numbness had been before. The Duque frowned, and then he saw the heavy imprint of his finger marks upon her arms, and the pallor of her cheeks.
'Por deus, Juliet,' he muttered harshly. 'Perdao! I am sorry!'
Juliet rubbed her arms weakly. 'You - you're not sorry,' she exclaimed, 'unless you're afraid Estelle may see these marks and imagine something entirely different!' Her voice broke.
But she had goaded him too far, for his eyes darkened, and he pulled her to him, his arms sliding round her back, pressing her body close against his, so that she was wholly conscious of the hard strength of his body. Juliet had no strength left with which to fight, even had she wanted to do so, and when his mouth sought and found hers, parting her lips, drawing all resistance out of her, she responded in the way her whole mind and body longed to respond. Her arms slid convulsively round his neck, her fingers tangling in the thick vitality of his hair, and she was no longer conscious of anything or anybody but Felipe, his caressing hands in the small of her back, the passionate heat of his body, and the devastating sensuality of his mouth.
Neither of them were aware of the door opening, and only Teresa's horrified gasp brought them both back to a sensibility of the present. Juliet tore herself out of Felipe's arms, finding the strength somehow in that awful moment. Awful, because as her brain began to function again, she realized just what the Duque had proved with that kiss. He had not kissed her because he wanted to, but because she had goaded him into it, and now he would despise her because she had responded so wanto
nly to his deliberate expertise. She rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand, hating him and loving him all inv one soul-destroying emotion.
The Duke regained his composure almost at once, but Teresa had swung round her chair, and was propelling it furiously away across the hall. Juliet looked at the Duque agonizingly, and then ran out of the room and after Teresa. She heard the study door slam behind her, but glancing back she realized the Duque was still inside.
Teresa's chair sped along the corridor towards her room, but Juliet ran quicker, and she caught her before she could get inside and lock her door.
'Teresa, please,' she begged. 'Wait! Let me explain!'
Teresa's cheeks were stained with tears, and she shook her head dumbly. 'You - you were my friend!' she said chokingly. 'You were my friend!'
Juliet halted the chair by Teresa's door, and opening it, pushed her inside. Then she closed the door again, and went down on her knees beside Teresa's chair.
'Please, please, Teresa,' she said unsteadily. 'Please let me explain.'
Teresa shook her head. 'There's nothing to explain. You're just like the others: like Estelle, and Laura Weston. You don't care about me,' you only want Felipe!'
Juliet compressed her lips. 'That's not true, Teresa, and you know it. Of course I care about you. You know I do. The scene you just witnessed between your uncle and myself should never have happened. It was all my fault, I admit, and yet—' She halted. 'Oh, Teresa, it's such a complicated mess. It was all a misunderstanding, that was all.'
Teresa dried her eyes on a handkerchief, and looked down at Juliet stiffly. 'I ought to have known,' she said tautly. 'Felipe is too attractive.'
'Teresa, for God's sake!' Juliet got to her feet. 'Look, honey, I've got to convince you. Your uncle doesn't care a damn about me! I'm not saying he doesn't care about Estelle; I'm sure he does. I'm sure she will get her way and marry him. But I don't want our friendship to be killed by a misunderstanding.'
Teresa looked down at her hands. 'What makes you so sure he'll marry Estelle?' she asked. 'Has - has he said so?'