Beloved Tyrant

by Violet Winspear

  “Which made you fellow nursemaids, eh?”

  His flash of derision made her glance up and she saw that his eyes had grown steely under moody brows. When she shivered he misunderstood the reason for it and ordered her to get inside his jacket.

  “It will begin to grow colder.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s late and we are fairly high in the hills.”

  Lyn pushed her arms into the jacket, and it seemed a lifetime ago since she had sat in the lounge of Summit Lodge, totally unaware that she was destined to spend tonight in the fire-swept hills with the unpredictable Rick Corderas.

  Her eyes dwelt on his thin silk shirt; he’d be awfully cold without his jacket, but it would be useless to hand it back to him. He would only hustle her into it himself and no doubt remark that he didn’t let infants freeze while he toasted.

  Lyn rested against the rocky wall of the cavern and everything was so quiet outside, almost dead, as if the fire had chased away or burned all the living creatures who normally filled the night with their chirring and their stealthy padding; their flutter of wings, and eerie hootings.

  She could feel the gold bracelet against the bones of her wrist and before she slept she had to say she liked it, but - “Rick - will you insist that I keep your gift?”

  “Will you dare to refuse it?” he asked drily.

  “No. It’s lovely and strange, but I hope you meant it when you said it was inexpensive.”

  “It cost but a dime and a dollar.”

  “You liar, Rick!”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you -” The words came thickly; she seemed to have a lump in her throat. “For the bracelet, and for saving my life.”

  “You are welcome to both, Lynette.”

  After that his powerful, brooding figure drifted into the mist of her weariness. Her strange surroundings merged into a hazy darkness, and the arms of slumber enclosed her.

  Curiously warm arms, into which she snuggled with a drowsy murmur.

  Upon awakening Lyn was aware of being warm and totally rested ... for the first few moments she thought herself in her big bed at the hacienda, but when she gave a wriggle and a stretch, a body stirred against her and she came fully awake in an instant.

  She lay in Rick’s arms, so close that she could breathe his maleness and feel the warmth of his skin against her. He was still asleep and daylight streamed into the mouth of their den and revealed his face, relaxed in slumber, hair-shadowed, so much less alarming than when he was his aware and tormenting self.

  Then nerves tingled throughout her slim body, for without waking up Rick suddenly cradled her against him as if she were a toy he had taken to bed with him, his warm face nuzzling into her neck. Still half asleep, he murmured: “What would I do without you, honey-throat?”

  Lyn lay petrified. Oh, lord! Did he think he held Glenda in his arms? And if so—?

  To her unspeakable relief he awoke fully at that moment and stared at Lyn. Then slashes of humour sprang: into his cheeks. “Good morning, grubby face,” he said.

  “You look as if you’ve been sweeping a chimney yourself,” she retorted.

  “Are you always snappy in the mornings?” he asked impudently.

  She was usually as bright as a jay, but she didn’t normally awake in the arms of a large, dark man with the devil in his eyes.

  “Don’t you think we ought to get up?” she asked.

  “I never do much thinking at first. I like to let my faculties adjust to the daylight.” His lazy blue eyes roved her face and settled on the dimple in her chin. “Were you a rogue as a child?”

  “I - I can’t recall.”

  “I think you might have been - and could be again.”

  “Rick, let me go!”

  He was laughing deep in his throat, holding her captive and enjoying her look of alarm. “So you like the bracelet?” he murmured.

  “Yes - am I now expected to pay for it?”

  “Would you like to?”

  “Rick!”

  “Be gone, reluctant wench.” He spread wide his arms and she hopped from them like a bird from a cage. His laughter followed her from the cave.

  Their descent to ground level was made fairly rapidly, despite the fact that Lyn ached in every bone. The surrounding countryside was a charred waste, with thin spirals of smoke still drifting upwards from the blackened trunks of trees, while immense boulders had been cracked and bleached in the heat of the fire. It was a melancholy sight, and Rick’s face was grim as he bent and picked up a branch to which a few shrivelled leaves still clung.

  “It is no pretty sight, Lynette.” He drew a deep sigh, then he looked at her and his expression changed. She had cleaned and powdered her face, applied a dash of lipstick and combed her hair. Despite the rumpled state of her leaf-green dress she looked much tidier than he.

  He rasped a hand across his unshaven chin. “You don’t happen to be toting a razor in that handbag, do you?”

  “Do I look as though I shave?” she enquired pertly.

  He shook his black head in amused wonderment as he surveyed her. “Women are remarkable creatures,” he said, and he added something in his fluent Spanish which was too quick for Lyn to follow.

  “Dare I ask for a translation?” She smiled but didn’t look at him.

  “Dare I hope that you wouldn’t be wild?” he countered.

  “Is your opinion of women so - devastating?”

  “A woman might think so.”

  Her chestnut head lifted, her eyes sparkled. “Women might try your arrogant capability, senor, but not to the point of actual dislike. You are no chilly misogynist.”

  “How clever of you to realize it,” he mocked.

  But she had been thinking of him with his face nuzzling her neck that morning ... the depth of yearning in his drowsy voice when he had called her “honey-throat”.

  “My estimation of a woman, if you really dare to hear it, is that she is a creature of confounding charm and unashamed deceit. She is both adorable and sometimes hateful, and that no man is truly satisfied until he possesses one of these complex creatures for his own—”

  A small silence followed what in truth was a confession he might never dare to make to anyone else, then he smiled with that old touch of mockery and held out a hand to her. “Come, we must be on our way.”

  It was her left hand which gave itself to his, and his gemmed gold bracelet slid along her arm, flashing in the smoky sunshine that hazed the spoiled land. “You will keep the bracelet.”

  It was more a command than a request.

  “I - I know it to be expensive, Rick.”

  “That should not deter you from accepting it, as you are the type who only places value on memories. Let it stand as a reminder of last night. I admit there were trying aspects to being smoked out, dried out, blistered and battered in a hillside cave, but our adventure was also gemmed with flashes of charm and wisdom, and you might say that we too were tried in fire like gold.”

  With these words he made acceptance possible and rejection a strange impossibility ... he would not, Lyn realized, ever be denied what he really wanted.

  She decided in that moment that one day she would have inscribed on one of the segments of gold some lines by Shelley:

  He was as the sun in his fierce youth

  As terrible and lovely as a tempest

  A little later that morning they came to the highway and were able to thumb a lift in a fruit truck. When they reached the nearest town, Rick at once telephoned the hacienda to let the family know they were safe. Then he managed to hire a car and they were driven home to Monterey.

  CHAPTER XI

  Rosa’s birthday was to be celebrated on the Friday following Lyn’s adventure with Rick, and there was to be a dinner party. A number of friends were invited, and on Friday morning Lyn and Leoni drove into town to shop for birthday presents.

  Leoni had coaxed the money out of her mother, and she walked Lyn from shop to shop until she finally saw a blue silk sc
arf that she liked. The young shop assistant obligingly packed the scarf in a gift box and Leoni carried it in her own small bag as she accompanied Lyn to a shop that sold costume jewellery, and other attractive oddments dear to the female heart. There Lyn bought Rosa a pretty sardonyx compact shaped like a shell and lined a pearly pink inside, with a tiny diamond fish decorating the flap. Leoni was very taken with the powder compact and announced that Aunt Rosa was very lucky to be getting such nice presents.

  The child had been a poppet all the morning, so Lyn took her to the ice-cream parlour and they gorged themselves on banana splits, whipped cream and nuts.

  Back at the hacienda they came upon Rick in the patio, sprawled at his ease on a low stone wall, a black sombrero shading his eyes from the sun. He tipped its brim at their approach and smiled lazily.

  “You look like a caballero, Uncle Ricky.” Leoni ran to him and gave him a peep at the gaily wrapped package in her bag. “It’s a present for Auntie Rosa. Lyn bought her one as well.”

  Lyn stood by the fountain, her dress as crisply green and white as the sea would be this morning, the outstanding skirt making her waist seem very slight. A smile crinkled her mouth, for Rick did look intensely Latin in that wide-brimmed hat.

  “I’d like to sketch you by that fountain, Lynette,” he remarked. “The sun on the water is striking upwards on your hair and the effect is that of a nimbus.”

  Immediately she withdrew from the fountain rim. “I’m afraid I haven’t time to model for you, senor. I have to help with the party preparations.”

  “Naturally! That houseful of bustling servants couldn’t possibly manage without your help!”

  Her eyes clashed with his beneath the brim of his sombrero; he snapped his handsome teeth at her, half amused, and half exasperated. “Adios!” he growled. “Hurry indoors and enjoy your dusting.”

  “Sketch Leoni,” Lyn suggested, with a touch of mischief. “That will keep both of you out of the way for a while.”

  “Yes, sketch me, Uncle Ricky!” Leoni began to dance excitedly up and down. “I want to be sketched by the fountain with the water up on my hair.”

  An audible groan broke from Rick, and Lyn couldn’t resist an imitation of his sardonic smile a moment ago. “Adios, senor! Enjoy your sketching.”

  A manservant was looking busy in the hall, glossing up the big copper containers that tonight would be overflowing with flowers cut from the garden. Lyn told him to take a sketching block and a nice long piece of charcoal out to Senor Rick. She then proceeded upstairs to change out of her dress into jeans and a shirt, rather pleased at having got the better of that ... that caballero for once.

  The remainder of the day passed busily, and it seemed to Lyn that never had she seen the hacienda looking so splendid. The chandeliers had been cleaned until they glittered, the floors shone, and the table in the dining-room looked as if ready for a banquet, with all the silver and crystal arranged among the candles and flowers. Lyn found she was humming to herself as she dressed for the party. She had chosen to wear white silky net, glimmering against her soft tan, with a blush velvet rose nestling at her waist and the exact shade of her evening slippers.

  She was putting the final touches to her appearance when there was a tap on her door and Rosa appeared. “I’m having zip trouble, Lyn!” She rustled into the room in gorgeous tangerine brocade, and presented a bare, tanned back to Lyn, who obligingly closed up the area.

  “Rosa, you’re stunning!” she exclaimed, as the other girl whirled to face her. “And I do like your hair swirled up like that.”

  “I must admit that I feel rather exotic tonight.” Rosa flushed and laughed as she lifted a hand to her upswept hair, secured by a jewelled fillet. “You’re a darn knock-out yourself, Lyn. You’ve a lovely soft tan that sort of glows against the white of your dress. Say, haven’t you a string of pearls to wear? That scooped neckline is crying out for them.”

  “I’ve a string of pink pearls which I won in that spot prize dance at Summit Lodge - do you think they’ll do?”

  “Try them on, honey.”

  Lyn opened a drawer of the dressing-table and took out the shagreen box in which she kept her trinkets. She lifted the lid and was poking about for the necklace when Rosa exclaimed: “That’s an unusual bracelet,” and whipped it out of the box.

  Lyn flushed slightly as Rosa examined the gold, green-gemmed bracelet which Rick had given her in the hills. “My, this is fun! Much cuter than a wristful of jangling charms.” Then her eyes met Lyn’s, and she plainly hesitated to ask who the donor had been in case it had been David. Lyn wished she could have said it was David; somehow it would have been easier than having to say: “Rick gave it to me. It’s a sort of holiday gift.”

  “I see.” Tiny imps of curiosity danced in Rosa’s eyes. “I wonder if he gave emeralds to Glenda?”

  “Emeralds?” Lyn shook her head. “The gems aren’t real—”

  “They are, my pet. They glow like a cat’s eyes - and Rick isn’t the type to give artificial jewels to a woman.” Then Rosa broke into a smile at the look of discomfiture on Lyn’s face. “Don’t be shy about it. Actually I’m rather bucked that Glenda has a rival.”

  “That isn’t so,” Lyn broke in. “Rick does these things just to tease me.”

  “An expensive tease, sweetie.”

  “Yes,” Lyn gnawed her lip. “I - I should return it, but he’d probably wring my neck.”

  “He probably would.” Rosa’s eyes were dancing.

  “I - I imagine quite a few women have collected trinkets from your much travelled brother.”

  “Are you saying he leaves you cool, Lyn?”

  “I’m hardly the type he’d want to warm up.” It had come as a shock about the emeralds, but Lyn strove to look flippant. “He regards me as a youthful, rather ineffectual creature who comes a cropper each time she tries her wings.”

  “H’m, you are a little like that,” Rosa admitted. “And Rick, for all that he’s a devil, has a soft spot for young things.”

  “He thinks I should go home. I - I couldn’t have borne going too soon after David’s death, but now I feel differently.”

  “You intend leaving us?” Rosa looked stricken.

  “I’ve been here three months, Rosa. It’s time, now, for me to go back to my airline work. You must understand.”

  “I suppose I do.” Rosa took Lyn’s wrist and fastened the bracelet about it. “It looks nice, sort of barbaric against the slenderness of your wrist. I guess that’s why Rick couldn’t resist giving it to you. You know what I told you about that touch of the Saracen. A little of it may linger in me, for I suddenly have the need to be ruled over - that’s how the strain affects Latin women!” She laughed a little, and studied the words Rick had had inscribed on the bracelet. “I’m going to marry Cort. Our engagement is to be announced tonight at the party.”

  “Rosa, I am glad!” Lyn impulsively kissed Rosa’s flushed cheek. “I’m sure you’ve made the right decision.”

  “I hope so. I wanted the glory and the terror of the grand passion, but I guess it’s better that I settle for what Cort can give me. He’ll never hurt me. His ranch is big, ruggedly masculine at the present time, so I can amuse myself making a few changes. We both want a family - oh, Lyn, it’s got to work!”

  “It will, Rosa. Cort isn’t a boy who’s rushing you headlong into marriage with him. He’s known you a long time, and you’ll be marrying his understanding as well as his love.”

  “You don’t feel I’ll be cheating him in any way?”

  “You’d only be cheating if you made out to be head over heels in love with him. As things stand you’ll be giving him the chance to gradually win your love - in fact, I’m sure you’re, halfway to loving him this very moment.” Lyn stood back to admire Rosa. “This evening you look lovely, and a woman doesn’t make herself lovely for a man who leaves her unmoved, now does she?”

  “You are good for my morale, Lyn. I - I shall miss you terribly when you leave. I guess we
’ll all miss you.”

  “The same goes for me.” Lyn spoke warmly, from her heart. “Being here at the hacienda has been quite an experience. I even flatter myself that Leoni has grown quite fond of me in the past few weeks.”

  “You’ve been good for the little hellion. Gosh, Lyn, you’ll have plenty to tell your friends in England. Especially about your escape from the fire last week.”

  Every detail of that day and night were painted in vivid colours on Lyn’s mind ... in retrospect each detail seemed outlandish. “It will all sound terribly far-fetched,” she smiled. “How do I describe a man like, Rick? Why, he tracked me through the forest like a savage, and absolutely forced me to be brave.”

  “You mean he was unafraid to bully you,” his sister laughed. “The best of cloth has its rough edges. Yes, he’s good cloth, and in a way he’ll be wasted on Glenda, even though they dovetail in a physical sense. I believe that savage, as you call, him, has it in him to love a woman beyond his own eyes, as the Latin saying goes. And Glenda, for all her glamour, is not the type to strike chords in a man’s soul.”

  Lyn thought of him that morning in the cave. Bemused by sleep, he had mistaken her for Glenda. Honey-throat, he had whispered ... and that honey-coloured column that carried Glenda’s ruddy head would surely incite a man to such an endearment as he searched its warm hollows, its silken curves and leaping pulse.

  Rick was now thirty-three. Perhaps he no longer hoped to find his soulmate and was now prepared to settle for his physical one.

  “I wonder how Glenda will like living in Andalucia?” Lyn murmured.

  “Yes, he’ll return to Spain,” Rosa mused. “And now let us go downstairs. My guests will soon be arriving!”

  Cars began to crunch the gravel of the driveway and to spread their lights across the courtyard, and soon the brightly lit hacienda was ringing with talk and laughter. Most of the guests were Spanish-Americans; dark-haired women beautifully clad; upright men with lively eyes who, like Rick Corderas, seemed to walk to invisible music.