Image of Love

by Rebecca Stratton

  He seemed to recover at once when she apologised, and shook his head urgently, although there was still a certain suggestion of distance in his manner and his eyes did not quite meet hers when he spoke. 'No, no, no! I did not for a moment understand, Rosanne, forgive me.'

  'Of course you're forgiven!'

  He murmured' something in his own tongue, and seemed to ease out of the tension a little more. 'It is good to see you again, Rosanne.' He smiled, that wide and very attractive smile that was so very much like Pablo's. 'I like to be with you.'

  'I like to be with you.' She imitated his words gently, and smiled before glancing over her shoulder at the empty restaurant. The proprietor was obviously waiting for his last lunchers to go before he set to tidying the place and Rosanne caught his eye for a moment. 'But I think we'd better go,' she told Federico. 'It's getting late and I think that poor man is afraid we're going to order our lunch all over again!'

  Federico watched her for a second, almost as if he had something in mind to say to her, but then he shrugged and got to his feet, reaching to pull out her chair. 'Muy bien, let us go.'

  She gave the little man in the rather over-tight waistcoat a smile of thanks for not rushing them, and felt strangely content as she went outside on to the shadowy pavement with Federico. 'I enjoyed that very much,' she told him, smiling up into his face, and he lowered his head for a moment, speaking almost against her ear.

  'I am glad; but I hope that the company was as much part of the enjoyment as the food, eh?'

  'Of course!' Sometimes his anxiety to be reassured amused her. It was quite at odds with his swaggering self-confidence at other times. 'Are you going home now?' He looked vaguely surprised at the question and she laughed. 'I asked only because if you are I wondered if you'd drive me as far as the first turn, where you branch off to your place. I can walk the rest of the way.'

  'Certainly I will drive you, but not only as far as the turning. Such a walk in the sun is not good for you!'

  His concern for her well-being was typical of most of his countrymen, but it served in this instance to remind her of Don Jaime's less typical manner, and she frowned. Jaime Delguiro, however, was an unwelcome intruder into her present rather pleasantly lethargic mood, so she shook her head to dismiss him, turning to smile at Federico when he looked at her enquiringly.

  'I appreciate it, Federico,' she told him, 'but I really

  don't mind walking, and it isn't very far from the turning.'

  'No matter, I cannot simply—dump you on to the road, Rosanne.' He hesitated over the unfamiliar phrase, but went on, still in the same serious vein, 'I will drive you to your gate.'

  She might as well give in gracefully, Rosanne thought, for he would be very offended if she didn't, and she smiled up at him, holding his gaze for several seconds as they stopped beside his car. 'I rather like being spoiled, it makes me feel very special.'

  Federico bent over her as he saw her into the passenger seat and his eyes had a gleaming warmth, his mouth curving into a small satisfied smile. 'You are very special,' he murmured, and gave the words a quite different meaning.

  Straightening up again, he came face to face as he turned with a woman coming along the shadowed sidewalk; a middle-aged woman in a dark blue dress, unmistakably Spanish and very interested in Federico's passenger.

  'Buenas tardes, Senor Sanchez; como esta usted?'

  It seemed to Rosanne that Federico was more than simply taken aback, he seemed uneasy at being recognised, and she could not imagine why. He recovered quickly, however, and gave the woman a brief bow and a ghost of a smile as he murmured the conventional response.

  'Muy bien, gracias, Senora Ribera. Y usted?'

  Puzzled by his obvious discomfiture, Rosanne smiled at him when he took the seat beside her. 'A friend?'

  'A friend of Ana's,' he told her, and lifted his shoulders in a shrug of resignation as he started the engine. 'It must, of course, be Senora Ribera that we see!'

  More curious by the minute, Rosanne looked at him while he took the car across the little square. 'Does it matter?'

  Federico concentrated on taking the corner that took them out of Almaro and on to the open road, and he turned his head for just a moment to smile at her. 'No, of course not!' he denied, and drove them up the steep sun-parched road towards home.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Rosanne had been driving with Federico, stopping for lunch at a small place he knew. Like Pablo, he seemed to know of numberless such places, and much preferred to take her to one of them rather than to the restaurant in Almaro. Marta was presumably in the kitchen when she got back, supervising her daily cook, so that Rosanne called out that she would answer the telephone when it rang.

  'Hello, siete, cero, siete.'

  Marta had taught her their telephone number so that, should she ever need to, she could call them when she was out, but her Spanish had evidently not been fluent enough to deceive the caller, for after the merest second's pause, a deep and discomfitingly familiar voice asked, 'Senorita Gordon?'

  'Yes.' Rosanne swallowed hard, dismayed to feel so suddenly flustered, and wondering what more Don Jaime could have to say to her after their last emotional meeting. 'Yes, Senor Delguiro, this is Rosanne Gordon.' She refused to give him an any more exalted title since he had shown how far short he could fall of deserving the privilege. 'Can I help you?'

  'I have tried to contact you once before this morning, senorita, but Senora Segovia informed me that you were not at home.'

  He sounded as if he had the right to question her being away from home when he chose to telephone her, but Rosanne managed to disguise her resentment of it. 'That's right, I wasn't, I've been having lunch with Federico Sanchez.'

  Heaven knew why he should be interested in who she had lunched with, but the ensuing silence suggested that the point had gone home. Marta had appeared in the doorway of the kitchen and she was making frantic signs to her about something, possibly to do with the earlier calls he spoke of, and she was for the moment partly distracted when he spoke again.

  'I hope that does not preclude your having dinner with me, senorita!'

  Rosanne stared at the instrument in her hand as if it was some strange object she had never seen before, and she could not believe she had heard him properly. She knew Marta had come across to stand beside her, still making signals, and for a moment she simply stood there, her iqind casting back and forth between the expectant silence at the other end of the line and Marta's gesturing.

  She was still staring when that deep and slightly impatient voice spoke again. 'Or perhaps I am already too late, senorita? Perhaps you already have other arrangements for this evening?'

  'Oh no, I haven't!' She denied it hastily, turning her back on Marta's gesticulations in the hope of being better able to concentrate on what he was saying. 'I'm just so surprised, that's all, Doll Jaime.' She laughed and was dismayed to notice how small and shaky it sounded. 'You must admit I have reason to be surprised, senor, when I'm invited out to dinner by a man who only a few days ago banned me from calling at his house again as if I was a social outcast!'

  'That suggestion is your own, senorita—your pride has been hurt!'

  'Didn't you expect it to be?' It seemed scarcely credible that he could sound surprised about it, and she felt the rekindling of her anger for a moment, making her curl her fingers tightly around the telephone. 'I don't understand your motives at all, Don Jaime! How can you ask me to have dinner with you when you spoke to me as you did? Oh ' she gave a sigh of exasperation, 'you just don't make sense!'

  'Possibly not, senorita!' His coolness was staggering. 'Does that mean that you refuse to have dinner with me?'

  He sounded so matter-of fact that for a second or two Rosanne actually hated him. At the same time the invitation to have dinner with him was irresistible, although she told herself that it was primarily curiosity that made her accept; she could not imagine why he was doing it.

  Instead of anger, which she felt was justified,
she trembled with a kind of shivering excitement that ran through her like the touch of fire and her senses responded quite alarmingly to the sound of that deep cool voice. It appalled her to realise that Marta was listening unashamedly, willing her to accept.

  'I'll go with you, thank you, Don Jaime.'

  'Bueno!' He sounded so cool that Rosanne knew he at least had never doubted she would accept. T will come for you at eight o'clock, senorita, if that is convenient to you.'

  For a moment only, Rosanne was tempted by the-idea of telling him that it was not convenient to her, just to see what he would do, but somehow she resisted it and murmured agreement instead. 'That will suit me very well, senor.'

  'Muy bien—until eight o'clock, Senorita Gordon. Adios!'

  Marta's bright dark eyes were avid with curiosity when she turned slowly and looked at her, and Rosanne clasped her hands together in front of her mouth, looking at Marta over her finger-tips and laughing. 'I don't believe it—I must be insane to say I'll go, Marta!'

  'No, no, what else could you have done?'

  'I could have refused, that's what I could have done!' She was not sure whether she felt angry with herself or not. 'I could have told him that he was the last man I wanted to have dinner with, or—oh, heaven knows, there are a lot of things I could have said to him!'

  'But you will go with him?'

  Marta obviously saw nothing untoward about the situation at all but to Rosanne the idea of Don Jaime acting so very out of character, in her estimation, was discomfiting and she was still trying to find some reason other than the usual one for this latest manoeuvre. Followed by Marta, she crossed the hall to the sala, still musing on it.

  'Why would he ask me out to dinner, Marta?'

  Wriggling herself down comfortably into an armchair, Marta smiled happily. She had no doubts at all and her conclusions were inevitable, Rosanne recognised, even though she knew she must be wrong.

  'Is it not obvious?' Marta demanded, and Rosanne sat down too, facing her and far from as easily satisfied as Marta was.

  'I only wish it was,' she said.

  'Oh, mi amiga, can you not see?'

  Rosanne's heart was rapping away far more urgently than normal, and yet she knew that Marta couldn't be right.. She would like to believe that Don Jaime had a romantic reason for asking her out, it would make it so much more enjoyable than suspecting he had an ulterior motive, but from her judgment of the man as she knew him, she could not delude herself.

  'It isn't at all as you imagine, Marta, I am sure about that. No—I have a feeling that Jaime Delguiro has something in mind that I'm not going to like, and I wish I knew what it was!'

  Determinedly cool, Rosanne bathed and changed, then wished she had not got ready quite so early because it gave her too much time to dwell once more on Jaime's possible motive for asking her, and that was something she wished to avoid as much as possible.

  It was exactly eight o'clock when the now almost familiar big black car drew up at the patio gates, and only seconds later that a tall, rangy figure came striding through the gardens, every step conveying the characteristic suggestion of impatience Rosanne was beginning to recognise.

  Stylishly formal in a dark suit and a white shirt that made dramatic contrast with his dusky features, he was as impressive as ever. There was an elegance about him and, despite the very civilising influence of his dress, a certain air of ruthlessness that brought a sudden and quite involuntary shiver when Rosanne first saw him from her bedroom window.

  The rose pink dress she wore suited her. Marta had assured her that she looked better in it than in anything else she owned, and it certainly gave her a very soft and feminine look. It flattered her lightly tanned skin and it was styled to make the most of her slenderly round figure.

  She wore her light brown hair loose, as she most always did, and she had "brushed it until it had the sheen of pale silk and smelled fresh and clean. Perhaps there was a hint of uncertainty in her grey eyes as she listened to that firm tread coming across the patio, but outwardly she appeared cool and confident, and she hoped she could remain so.

  As soon as she appeared she had Jaime's immediate attention, and there was no mistaking Marta's look that suggested both satisfaction and curiosity. A slight inclination of his head that was not quite a bow greeted her much more formally than the bold survey of his dark eyes as they took stock of her, and Rosanne felt herself flushing in a way she had not done since she was at school.

  She still could not bring herself to believe that he had any other than an ulterior motive for asking her to have dinner with him, and yet somehow that intense, dark-eyed scrutiny, however brief, suggested that there might be other reasons too. It was those other reasons that disturbed her firm resolution to remain cool and self-possessed.

  'Buenas tardes, Senorita Gordon.'

  'Good evening, Don Jaime.'

  It was incredible how nervously excited she felt, especially now he was actually there, though she tried hard to disguise it. Looking down at the soft clinging folds of the rose pink dress she sought his opinion with a slightly uncertain laugh.

  'I wasn't "sure what I should wear; whether I should choose something very formal, 'or—'

  'Your choice is excellent, Senorita Gordon!' Rosanne's senses responded urgently to the sudden warmth of a smile that showed in his eyes for a moment, but she wished he could have forgotten his autocratic formality sufficiently to call her by her first name; it would have been a little more friendly in the circumstances. 'You are ready to leave?'

  Rosanne nodded, brushing a hand down the pink dress and giving him a smile. 'Yes, quite ready.'

  He saw her into his car with quite as much gallantry as Federico would have done, but without that extra gentle pressure on her arm before he released her. Instead the long brown fingers lent the necessary assistance until she was safely installed in the passenger seat, then slid quickly away.

  They turned left out of the gate, and it was the first indication that Rosanne had that they were going any further afield than Almaro. Almost as if he sensed her curiosity he turned his head for a moment, though it was impossible to see anything of his expression in the semi-darkness.

  'You do not mind driving to San Gregorio before we have dinner?' he asked, and Rosanne shook her head.

  It made little difference where he took her, although driving to a place more than ten kilometres away meant that she would be in his company for longer. No doubt he had his reasons for taking her elsewhere than the little restaurant in Almaro, but she was not inclined to question them just yet.

  'No, of course I don't mind, Don Jaime, why should I?'

  'No se.' She thought he was smiling when he said it, but she could not be sure, and she was content at the moment to do nothing but sit back and enjoy the ride.

  He drove well, which was no more than she expected of him, and he certainly made her less nervous than either Pablo or Federico had done, for he was skilful without being over-confident. The road they took was one she was not very familiar with, although she thought she remembered it vaguely from last year, when she had done so much driving around with Pablo.

  But Pablo had always given as much attention to his passenger as he did to the road, while Jaime Delguiro kept his eyes firmly on the way ahead, and looked as if nothing would distract him, least of all his present passenger. It was still very hard for Rosanne to realise that the dark and rather forbidding man beside her was Pablo's cousin, for there was nothing about him that was reminiscent of Pablo's dashing good looks and lazy lightheartedness.

  The only suggestion of similarity had been in an occasional glimpse of arrogance in the way Pablo held his head sometimes, but he had always been charming and anxious to be liked, while Jaime's brooding arrogance suggested that he was untroubled whether or not he was liked. He was above such weaknesses as trying to charm his way into anyone's good books.

  There was a moon and the road before them ran in an endless track opening up as the headlights forged ah
ead of them, turning and twisting in the tortuous way of Spanish roads. It was a slightly unreal landscape in the moonlight, where an occasional orange tree in a small country patio filled the night air with its curiously bitter-sweet scent, or an olive writhed- like a grey ghost against the night sky.

  Signboards looming suddenly out of the darkness gave directions and distances to Ronda and Arcos de la Frontera, as well as to places Rosanne did not have time to make out before they vanished again. There had been little conversation between them so far, and it was partly in an attempt to find a subject for discussion that Rosanne made the observation she did, as well as because she had a genuine interest.

  'There are quite a lot of places around with the name de la Frontera attached to them, aren't there?' She glanced at the dark profile of the man beside her when it became clearly discernible for a moment in the headlights of a car passing in the opposite direction. 'I suppose it's because they're fairly near the frontier with Portugal?'

  It remained to be seen whether or not he chose to indulge her curiosity and become a little less reserved, but after a moment he turned his head and looked at her, although his dark eyes were completely unfathomable in the mingling of moonlight and shadows. 'Are you interested in our history, Senorita Gordon, or is it that I have been poor company and you seek to make conversation?'

  The tone of his voice was much less discouraging than the words he used, but nevertheless Rosanne felt a momentary niggle of resentment which she did her best to stifle. 'I am interested, senor, but if you prefer to drive in silence, please don't let me distract you.'