Beloved Tyrant

by Violet Winspear

  Lyn smiled a little at the description, and her thoughts turned to Glenda. “How is your painting of Mrs. Martell coming along?” she asked.

  His eyes quizzed her from amusedly bent eyebrows. “Glenda is a superbly attractive creature, but she has gone and turned my original idea into a glamorous resort poster. I shall make her a present of my disappointing ghost of Spanish Cove.”

  “Is the story true? Did a woman really drown herself down there?”

  “Yes. It happened in my grandfather’s time. All deep passion has an affinity with the ocean, so perhaps that is why so many people made unhappy by love seek the consolation of the sea’s embrace.”

  “Perhaps Concetta would have made a more fitting model for your painting,” Lyn suggested.

  “She is too suggestible a woman, chiquita. You found her down in the cove yourself and I knew from your eyes that her manner had frightened you.” He flicked ash from his cigar. “You have remarkably expressive eyes - a little too much so at times!”

  With that growling laugh of his he beckoned the waiter, and as he paid the bill, Lyn thought again of his description of his house, waiting on a Spanish hillside for his “prisoner of love.”

  Once inside the car she became aware of his scrutiny. “You look better,” he said. “Now you have some colour back in your cheeks.”

  Her colour shot a little high as Rick’s look seemed to go deep into her eyes ... hastily she said something about the many boats cluttering the harbour and this set him talking about Monterey and its seafaring history. A conversation which she encouraged all the way home.

  During the days that followed Lyn found Leoni very subdued. The child had been deeply upset by her mother’s fall, and when allowed into the sickroom by the nurse she had to sit quietly in a chair and not disturb Concetta.

  Concetta’s physical condition gradually improved and within a fortnight Dr. Judson declared his patient on the mend and the nurse marched off busily to her next patient. It was Rosa who suggested to Julio that he take his wife away for a nice long holiday, but work was tying his hands and he arranged instead that Concetta spend a month with Rosa, the child and Lyn at Summit Lodge in the Californian hills.

  The bookings were made before Lyn could tell Julio that she wished to return to England now Concetta was so much better. When she learned of her inclusion in the holiday plans she hesitated, naturally, to throw her employer’s generosity back in his face. She might have been able to make some excuse if his aunt had been going to the Lodge, but Dona Estella seemed to think the hacienda would go to rack and ruin if she was not on hand to supervise the staff. Then again the woman was possessively fond of Julio and she would have him almost entirely to herself, for Rick was going sailing with the del Reys for a couple of weeks.

  So once again Lyn set aside her personal inclinations and entered into the holiday spirit pervading the hacienda.

  Rosa declared that a month at Summit Lodge called for some really exciting leisure wear and several glamorous evening gowns. Lyn, who had saved most of the money Julio was paying her, spent at least half of it on gay holiday wear. Rosa was delighted. “We’ll have such fun!” she laughed. “I’ve a feeling in my very bones that this is going to be a holiday to remember.”

  The holiday party travelled up to the Lodge in Julio’s big car. Rick obligingly acted as chauffeur, for he and the del Reys were not sailing away until the weekend.

  Rick seemed to enjoy, in a slightly sardonic way, being in charge of so charming a group of females, though he couldn’t resist saying that the car smelled like a dam beauty salon.

  “Drive on, James, and mind your manners,” Rosa ordered.

  Leoni broke into giggles and cast a look under her lashes at her uncle’s profile. His cheek held a deep slash of humour, and Lyn, who shared the wide front seat with her charge, saw him lower an eyelid at his niece. Today he was clad impeccably in a dark blue suit, a crisp light blue shirt and a superbly knotted tie. Yet his sartorial elegance, Lyn saw, only served to throw into prominence his dark, panther-like dominance.

  “Cigarette, Rick?” Rosa leaned forward and held the case so it was close to Lyn. “You light it for him, honey.”

  Lyn bent her head to Rosa’s lighter, ignited Rick’s cigarette, then slipped it between his lips. The intimacy of the small service was somehow more so because the man was Rick. And he would have to say: “Gracias, senorita. I always enjoy a kiss-tipped cigarette.”

  His blue eyes briefly met Lyn’s, amused but for once not mocking. He looked handsome, and pleased with himself, she thought. He was no doubt anticipating with pleasure the next two weeks in Glenda’s company.

  Around one o’clock they stopped at a country-style restaurant and lunched on prodigious helpings of cold sirloin beef and salad. They completed the drive to the hotel just on four o’clock.

  “Stay over for the night, Rick,” Rosa suggested. “I don’t suppose you’ll get a room, but I can share with Concetta and you can use my room.”

  He stood massaging the back of his neck, his glance drifting over the ornate verandas of the hotel, taking in the profusion of flowering shrubs and smooth green lawns. “Right,” he agreed. “That spell of driving has given me a crick in the neck, and that looks like hard tennis court over to the left.”

  “It is, Rick.” Rosa gave him a wide smile. “I’ll take you on right after I change into something casual.”

  Half an hour later Rosa and her brother indulged in a merciless tournament on that hard court, volleying shots with the precision of experts and drawing quite an audience. Concetta and Lyn sat watching in garden chairs, cool drinks on a table beside them ... suddenly Rick won the game with a crackling backhander that drew a spontaneous round of applause from the onlookers. Rosa came running off the court, flushed and bright-eyed from her exertions. “Do you play, Lyn?” she demanded.

  Lyn gave a laugh. “I’m not in your class, and certainly not in Rick’s.”

  “So what?” Rosa jerked Lyn to her feet. “Come and tackle him with me. If he isn’t taken down a peg he’ll get a big head!” A sudden need for action took hold of Lyn and she ran on to the hard court with Rosa, caught the racket Rick spun over the net and joined his sister in a vigorous three-comer game. There were signs that he allowed them to give him the runaround, but it was fun and when they finally left the court Rick’s black hair was damply mussed and he remarked that it was a good thing the hotel had its own shops. The pair of them had made him sweat like a horse!

  Rosa wrapped an arm about him and glanced up at him with a touch of wistfulness. “I wish you were having a couple of weeks with us, big brother. Tell me, what’s so attractive about sailing the blue?”

  Lyn glanced up slantways at him through a tousled lock of her hair and saw his mouth assume its sardonic smile. “How about Glenda sunning herself on deck?” he drawled.

  “In which case is it necessary to take Felipe along with you?” Rosa grinned.

  “Felipe won’t lose much time finding his own distraction.” Rick thrust the tumbling hair back from his eyes. “What I need right now is a long slender drink. Join Concetta, you two, and I’ll buy that shirt.”

  He strolled off in the direction of the hotel arcade, very tall, the sleeves of his blue shirt rolled above the elbows of his muscular arms. Rosa and Lyn flopped into chairs beside Concetta, who looked deliciously cool in a sleeveless primrose dress. “Such a display of energy!” she laughed, and Lyn noticed that already she was looking more relaxed, as though it had been a real relief for her to get away from the hacienda.

  “Yes, and to think I shall be thirty in a few weeks.” Rosa stretched her long legs in front of her and gazed broodingly at a trio of children playing on the lawn with a small dog.

  “Where’s the magpie?” she asked abruptly.

  “In the children’s swimming pool. There is a young man in charge to whom she has taken an immediate fancy. She will be all right.” Concetta laid a thin, restraining hand on Lyn’s arm. “Stay and relax. Here co
mes Rick with a tray of drinks.”

  “Pull that other chair round to your side, Lyn,” Rosa suggested. “Rick can sit by you.”

  But Lyn had suddenly jumped to her feet. “I - I think I ought to go and make sure Leoni is keeping out of mischief.” She had taken only a few steps across the lawn when Rick called her name. She kept on walking and heard Rosa tell him that she was going to check up on the magpie.

  “Sterling little character, isn’t she?” Sarcasm rang in his deep voice, carrying across the grass. “She’ll make the perfect nanny for other people’s children!”

  Lyn bit her lip and didn’t look back. She found the pool and stayed there watching Leoni gambolling with the other children. When they eventually rejoined the others, Rick had left. He had decided after all not to spend the night at Summit Lodge.

  CHAPTER IX

  With the onset of August the weather turned scorching and the guests at the hotel near enough lived in the swimming-pool until some of the heat was wafted away at dusk fall by cool, piney mountain breezes. Then they could dance to the smooth resident orchestra, drink and play cards in the attractive lounge, or join in any one of a dozen games in the large club-room, which had knobbly brick walls and a crescent-shaped refreshment bar.

  It was because of Leoni that Lyn became friends with the bronzed young man who was in charge of the children’s pool. His name was Terry and he was boyish, gay, fun to dance with in the evenings, after she had put Leoni to bed. Or they would play ninepins or ping-pong in the club-room. Concetta and Rosa were inclined to make smiling jokes about the friendship, for Lyn was unaware that during those sun-drenched weeks at the Lodge she had grown wonderfully pretty, the bloom of her youth restored completely. And when she swam she no longer experienced discomfort in the region of her left lung.

  But she never completely forgot David, and when she danced with Terry she closed her eyes sometimes and tried to pretend that it was her flyer’s arms around her. An illusion that was completely shattered whenever Terry spoke to her in his drawling Yankee voice. She would smile at him, and yet that little touch of loneliness would remain.

  Concetta, too, had benefited marvellously from this holiday in the hills. She had colour in her cheeks, a revitalized sheen to her hair, and a re-awakened interest in people. Now and again Rosa seemed moody, and while she and Lyn were smoking on the veranda one evening she confided that when they went home she meant to say a final yes or no to Cort Langdon.

  “I’ve hung that poor guy over a cliff long enough,” she said.

  “Have you decided what your answer to Cort is going to be?” Lyn asked.

  “Yes, I have finally made up my mind. It remains to be seen whether I’ve decided wisely.”

  The smoke of Rosa’s cigarette made a web into which a moth flew, and the hotel orchestra was playing the sweet-sad Autumn Leaves, wafting Lyn to England on a wave of nostalgia. For autumn was always so lovely in England, with the apple trees golden with fruit and the hawthorn bushes flushed with berries. Lyn could almost smell the deep drifts of leaves lining the quiet lanes, and hear the cawing of birds across an evening-hazed stubble field.

  They were due to return to the hacienda in two days’ time. Julio telephoned to say he was driving up to collect them, and on Friday morning at breakfast there was an abrupt change in Concetta. She flared into passionate anger when Leoni upset her morning chocolate in her lap.

  “Take her away, Lyn, before I spank her!”

  Lyn tactfully hurried the child into the bathroom, where she proceeded to clean her up.

  “It was an accident, Lyn, honest it was. M-my wrist went funny.” Tears glittered in Leoni’s large eyes, then all at once she wrapped tight arms about Lyn and burst into tears against her.

  “I don’t want to go home,” she sobbed. “I want to s-stay here. It’s nice here, with Terry, and Momma was angry, with me because she doesn’t want to go home either.”

  Lyn held the child and comforted her. The poor little kid was right. Concetta didn’t want to go home ... the fear that had been absent from her eyes for the past four weeks had suddenly returned to them.

  “We’ll go down to the pool, shall we?” Lyn coaxed. “Or do you want to go riding?”

  Leoni rubbed a fretful head against Lyn and finally decided that she wanted to go and play with Frankie and Josie, small twin sisters who fascinated Leoni because they were identical.

  “All right,” Lyn agreed. “Play on the front lawn, then I’ll know where to find you if I want you.” She slipped a polka-dot dress over Leoni’s head and fastened the belt. “There, now you look nice and crisp. Have you got a hanky?”

  “Nope.”

  “You’d better have one.”

  Leoni wandered behind Lyn to the dressing-table, where she picked up a lipstick and was about to apply it to her puckered lips when Lyn took the small gilt tube away from her. A smile danced in her eyes.

  “If I were grown up,” Leoni announced, “I wouldn’t go home, so there! I’d stay here all the time.”

  “You wouldn’t be able to do that, darling.” Lyn folded a handkerchief and tucked it into Leoni’s pocket. “The hotel closes down at the end of October and then Terry will be going back to college.”

  “Are you going to marry him?” Leoni wanted to know. “Because if so I can come and live with you.”

  “I like Terry, but not to marry, my pet.”

  “But he’s dreamy and nice and everyone likes him,” Leoni pointed out.

  “He’s very nice,” Lyn smiled, and ran a comb through the child’s dark hair, thick and at times unruly, like the hair of her Latin father and his brother.

  “Don’t you love him, Lyn?”

  Lyn shook her head.

  “Don’t you love anyone?”

  “You, my imp, when you’re behaving yourself.” Lyn gave the child a warm hug, then led her to the door. “Now run downstairs to your playmates and do try to keep your nice frock looking fresh.”

  “Okay, I’ll try - honey.” Leoni skipped off down the corridor, waving goodbye to Lyn as she went, her fit of depression seemingly forgotten.

  Lyn tidied the bathroom, and then made her way down to the lounge, where she sat in a deep chair and tried to read a magazine. But her thoughts kept wandering back to Concetta and her worrying change of mood. She hated to think that Concetta’s marriage was breaking up after eight years, but there were undeniable signs that it was. Since her fall she rarely mentioned Julio’s name.

  Lyn stared through the window beside her chair, and her train of thought was broken into by a group of young people talking excitedly just outside the window. “The fire’s said to be spreading from Yucca Canyon,” one of them said clearly, “A camper could have started it, but it’s my guess that the brush has ignited naturally from the scorching weather we’ve been having.”

  “I’m kinda scared,” one of the girls broke in. “Brush fires spread like measles once they get started, and if a wind should rise and start fanning the flames in this direction, then we’d be in real trouble.”

  “We’re pretty well rimmed in by forest and undergrowth,” agreed a tall lad in sun-glasses.

  The girl clutched at his arm. “I’m all for checking out.” Her voice had grown shaky and a little shrill. “Other folks will be on the move before long and if we go now we’ll have a clear road. Later on there’ll be car jams and I - I’d hate to be stuck on a mountain road with a brush fire creeping up on me.”

  “Jenny, you’re giving me goose bumps,” one of the other girls complained.

  Lyn, too, was suddenly aware of goose bumps on her arms. She had heard of these sudden fires in California, how wildly and fiercely they could spread when the brush, spruce and other vegetation was dried brittle and inflammable by the long hot summer.

  She threw aside her magazine and went in search of Concetta and Rosa. She found them on the side lawn, standing among a group of older people who were also discussing the outbreak of fire. Although it was well to the south-east as yet,
the general view seemed to be that it could sweep in this direction if the wind should change. One man had been on the phone to the weather bureau and he had been assured that there was no immediate danger. The wind was not expected to change direction until well into the afternoon, and by that time fire workers should have the conflagration well under control.

  All the same, many of the guests were talking of leaving the hotel before nightfall.

  “I’m half inclined to suggest that we make a bolt for it.” Rosa shaded her eyes with her hand and gazed towards the forest of trees fringing the hotel grounds, where in the distance puffs of darkish cloud hung in the sky, ejections as from a cannon’s mouth, and not clouds at all but eddies of smoke from the fire that had broken loose in Yucca Canyon.

  A portly, middle-aged man in a lightweight suit shouldered through the cluster of people to Concetta’s side. “What are you ladies planning to do?” he asked.

  “We are most disturbed by the prospect of remaining here, Mr. Royston,” Concetta told him. “Is there, do you think, a likelihood of the fire spreading in this direction?”

  He fingered his striped tie and obviously disliked the idea of alarming her. “Fires are unpredictable enemies, Mrs. Corderas.”

  “Darned dangerous ones, Mr. Royston.” Rosa thrust her hands into the pockets of her trouser suit. “The trouble is we haven’t a car with us. My brother, Concetta’s husband, is driving up from Monterey tomorrow to collect us, but I’m inclined to think that we’re going to need a lift out of this area today.”

  “I could squeeze two of you into my car,” Mr. Royston offered. “It normally seats four people, but my wife and my daughter are slenderly built and we’re planning to make a move in about an hour’s time. Verna and Gay are at this moment packing the suitcases.”