Image of Love

by Rebecca Stratton

  'I think—I found that in quite a lot of ways Federico and Pablo were alike.' She could not guess what impression that made, but he showed no sign of actually disliking the comparison, so she pressed on. 'They were both very good-looking, gallant and very charming; in fact they had so many things in common that it makes it all the more difficult to understand why I didn't spot the obvious point.' She shook her head, remembering how she had been deceived. 'I should have known there was something when Federico was always so—discreet.'

  A raised brow questioned her meaning and it occurred to her suddenly that Jaime himself was being less than discreet in the way those strong and infinitely comforting fingers enfolded hers still. 'Do you not consider discretion as part of the Spanish character?'

  However softly spoken, the words still carried a challenge, and Rosanne looked at him for a moment before she replied. 'I mean that whenever Pablo held my hand he never bothered to hide the fact, and he quite openly showed that he enjoyed my company, he didn't mind who saw us together. In almost every other way Federico is so much like Pablo that I should have realised that—discretion of his was out of character. I should have realised why, after he mentioned a forth-coming marriage between your two families.'

  Jaime withdrew his hand, a barely noticeable movement to anyone except Rosanne, who missed the strong warm pressure of his fingers, and he smiled. 'It perhaps suited your purpose better to consider me as the one to—how is it?—go out of circulation, eh?'

  'It didn't even occur to me to think anything of the sort!'

  Her hasty denial apparently amused him, for his mouth curved at one corner briefly and his eyes glowed with an unexpected .warmth. 'I am not even worthy of your consideration, hah?'

  'I didn't say that either!'

  She was being far too defensive and there seemed no reason for it, except that she felt curiously vulnerable suddenly. But Jaime did not bother to pursue the matter further, instead^ he called the waiter over and paid their bill, then came around the table and pulled out her chair for her. In the eyes of other diners he probably appeared as the perfect escort, attentive and infatuated, and Rosanne admitted to herself that she wished it was so.

  The evening had been such a turmoil of different sensations that she wasn't sure how she felt about it. On the whole her host had proved far less unfriendly than she had anticipated, and she could hardly claim to be shattered by the knowledge that Federico had simply been making use of her until his fiancee returned from Paris. Her pride was slightly hurt, but her heart was intact and Jaime Delguiro had been surprisingly understanding once he knew the truth.

  They were driving back along the same narrow, twisty road to Almaro before the subject of Federico was raised again, and to Rosanne it was unwelcome now that she knew the truth. 'You will not be seeing Federico Sanchez again?'

  The question was unexpected and Rosanne turned to look at the dark, fierce-looking profile seen against a background of moonlit countryside. Deep hollows appeared below the thickness of black lashes and the forehead was high and proud, like the head on a Roman coin. Semi-darkness and uneasy shadows gave ail even more dramatic effect to an already striking face, and she could not deny its fascination.

  'I wouldn't have thought you needed to ask me that,' she told him. 'I'm not in the habit of running around with other women's fiancés!'

  'Lo siento, senorita!' he apologised, but there was a hint of curiosity in the deep voice when he did so and he turned his head momentarily to look at her again. 'I ask only because I do not know you well enough to be sure. But you will miss his company, will you not?'

  Rosanne wondered what he was trying" to get her to admit—whether he expected her to say she had seen more of Federico than he realised, or whether she had formed the same kind of attachment with him that she had with Pablo. More than anything she resented his lingering suspicion of her, although she tried not to show it when she answered Because she did not want their present easier relations to end.

  'I've seen Federico about four times in all, Don Jaime, that's all. I shan't pine away because I can't—or don't intend to see him in the same circumstances again.' She looked at him steadily, trying to make him conscious of her scrutiny, and it seemed she succeeded, for he half turned his head for a moment. 'I wish you'd trust me to have at least as many scruples as you have!'

  'I do, senorita.' Once more his head turned slightly, and this time Rosanne caught the. unmistakable flash of white teeth in the darkness of his face. 'Now that I know you a little better, I trust you!'

  For the rest of the way Rosanne relaxed against the seat in the comforting glow of well-being, watching the moonlit countryside flash by them. The occasional car passed them going in the opposite direction and momentarily lit that hawkish profile into something quite incredibly primitive and exciting, and she made no attempt to disguise her interest, although she thought he remained unaware of it. She had never dared hope that she could feel so relaxed in the company of Jaime Delguiro.

  The Casa Delguiro surrounded by its lush gardens and walled patio was almost hidden from view when they passed it, but just knowing that it-lay just beyond the palms and acacias and the tall iron gates reminded Rosanne that there was still one matter unsettled between them, and she wished it wasn't so. Perhaps now that he knew her better, as he said, Jaime would not feel so strongly about her meeting his aunt, it was something she must approach in good time.

  A solitary neglected tree at the roadside appeared for a second in the headlights' beam before the car turned into the short access drive to the gates of Marta and Julio's home, and Rosanne could do nothing to stop the sudden sense of disappointment she felt that the evening was coming to an end. The headlights were turned off, leaving only the small sidelights and the moonlight while they sat for a second before Jaime turned and opened his door.

  He offered her a hand and she felt the strong hard fingers close over hers as he helped her from the car, their bodies in brief contact as she stepped out on to the road. The scent of the gardens was almost overwhelming in the warm night air; roses, carnations and the musky bitterness of geraniums mingling headily, while overhead the acacia rustled softly in the light breeze that lent a silky softness to the warm air.

  Its shadow fluttered across the dark face that looked down at her as she stood with one hand already on the gate nearest to her, and her heart was beating with breathless urgency suddenly. She wished he would say something, for she could not see what expression was on his face because of those deceptive shadows, and she found it too hard to look at him for too long.

  He stood close enough for her to be tinglingly aware of that exciting masculine force about him; that air of almost savage pride that would make him always a difficult -man to get close to in any but the purely physical sense. His eyes were hidden from her and yet she knew he was looking at her, and she felt her whole being responding in a way that startled her.

  Lifting the iron latch of the gate, she pushed it open just a fraction, then steadied her voice as well as she could, trying to sound as self-possessed as possible. 'I've had a wonderful time, Don Jaime, even though I admit I didn't expect to.' She laughed, a small breathless sound, as she shook back her hair from her face arid looked up at him for a moment. 'You did ask me out with the intention of lecturing me, just as I suspected, but it wasn't nearly as severe as I expected, and I can only be grateful for that!'

  She was conscious of an almost irresistible desire to lean towards him and to touch the dark hand that hovered near her own on the bars of the gate, but she kept her emotions firmly under control, especially such emotions as the ones that now played such havoc with her composure. She could only hope that her own long brown lashes were as successful in hiding what was going on behind them as his were.

  'Do you believe that it was simply to—lecture you that I asked you to have dinner with me?' he asked, and the different timbre of his voice shivered like the touch of velvet over her sensitive nerves, so that she caught her breath.


  She remembered again that portrait of her that he kept hidden away in his study and its being there intrigued her more than ever at this moment. He knew she had seen it, they had actually spoken of it earlier, but even then he had offered no reason for its being there. Perhaps it was because it was almost the last thing that Pablo had done that made him keep it, or perhaps not.

  Looking directly at him was too difficult at the moment, but she lifted her eyes as far as the wide straight mouth and saw, instead of its more usual firmness, a more sensual fullness in the bottom lip and a curiously disturbing half-smile that tipped one corner of it.

  His hands reached out and closed around the tops of her arms, strong fingers pressing into her soft flesh as he pulled her towards him with a compulsion she made no attempt to resist. Then they slid around to her back, smooth and firm on her bare skin and pressing her even closer to the long, lean length of him. It was instinctive to tip back her head and her eyes closed as that dark and fiercely proud face came nearer until his mouth touched hers.

  It was like the striking of a spark, a touch that fired such an incredible excitement in her that she felt helpless to do anything but respond. She had been kissed, but never like this; it was like being consumed by a fire she could do nothing to quell, and she made a small soft sighing sound as she slid her hands round to press, flat-palmed, to his broad back.

  It seemed like an eternity before she breathed again, and it took a moment or two to realise that she was free of those encompassing arms, her hands held instead by strong brown fingers and pressed to his chest while he looked down at her. It seemed somehow curious that he should be smiling, and yet those white teeth showed gleamingly in the dark face once more, but only for a moment.

  He seemed to sober suddenly and let go her hands while he spoke. 'I think that perhaps I too have found the Panades too -strong for my senses,' he said in a huskily deep voice that touched her responsive senses like a chord. 'Perhaps I should apologise for behaving so.'

  He was seeking her reaction, Rosanne realised dazedly, and had no idea what he expected it to be. Did he think her quite accustomed to being kissed as a matter of course at the end of an evening out? If he did he could surely not think her used to being kissed as he had just kissed her.

  Needing something to cling to, Rosanne held the iron gate once more, opening it a little wider without being conscious of doing it. Her expression in the shadow of the acacia was indefinable, as his was. 'I hope you won't apologise, Don Jaime, I wouldn't like to think that you—regretted it so much.'

  The coolness of her own voice surprised her, and she knew it surprised Jaime too, for he was looking at her with the first hint of uncertainty she had ever detected in him. Then, after a moment or two, she thought he smiled; the merest glimpse of white against the dusky darkness of his face.

  'Then I will not apologise, for I do not wish to give a false impression!' He reached past her and opened the gate wider, seeing her inside before he took her hand and raised it to his mouth, his lips just lightly brushing across her soft palm. 'Buenas noches, senorita!'

  'Goodnight.'

  Rosanne stood for a second in the open gateway while he opened the car door, and then she remembered something else, something still troubling her and as yet unsettled. To call out to him was instinctive and impulsive.

  'Jaime!'

  He turned swiftly, too swiftly, and the light in his dark eyes stunned her for a moment, for it showed a fierce glow of passion that found a ready response in her own thudding heartbeat. He would have come back to her, she knew, but without realising what she did she put out a hand to stay him, and when she spoke it was because she could not think quickly enough to stop herself.

  'When Marta comes to see Beatriz again, may I come with her?'

  The passion did not die, but it changed character and his mouth drew into the much more familiar straight line. 'No, senorita; nothing has changed that situation, as you must be quite aware!'

  He turned and got into the driving seat and slammed the door firmly. Rosanne watched him start the engine and take the car back on to the road, and she felt a sudden furious anger not only at his stubbornness but at her own rashness in spoiling what had turned out to be an exciting evening.

  The car sped off along the upward road, headlights blazing, and the tall figure at the wheel invisible to her now as she watched it go. Her emotions were in chaos, and as soon as the car disappeared around the first bend towards Casa Delguiro she closed the iron gate behind her with a clang that must have announced her coming to Marta and Julio, and walked quickly across the scented patio to the house.

  'Goodnight!' she murmured angrily to no one in particular.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Rosanne had not even thought about what she was going to say to Federico when she saw him again, and she felt oddly embarrassed when she caught sight of him in Almaro the following day. She had been shopping and she was coming out of the pastelerla with some special cakes that she knew were a favourite of Marta's when Federico drove past in his car.

  Just too late to duck back inside the shop, Rosanne could only hope that he had not had time to see her. Sooner or later she was going to have to see him again, but she would rather it was when she was more prepared and knew just what she was going to say to him. It was obvious that her hopes to remain unseen were in vain when he raised a hand in salute, and when the car pulled into the kerb just a few metres along the street, she sighed resignedly.

  He wore a bright blue shirt with short sleeves and cream slacks and he looked incredibly handsome when he beamed her a smile. Getting out of the car, he stood beside it, but she noticed how he glanced around, as if to make sure there was no one about in the little square who would recognise him. At any other time she might not even have been aware of it, but knowing what she did now, it seemed so obvious that she reacted with a sudden impatient frown.

  It should have been easy to simply walk up and say hello and then excuse herself by saying that she was in a hurry to get back, but Rosanne knew she wasn't going to be able to do it. Federico had telephoned her last night, while she was getting ready to go out, and she asked Marta to tell him she was not available. It had been cowardly of her, she supposed, but at the time it had seemed the easiest way out, and now she knew the truth about him she was not nearly so sorry. But he would be curious, perhaps even annoyed about it, and she wondered what he would have to say.

  Possibly it was having that in mind that gave her the idea there was something slightly different about his attitude this morning, even though he smiled at her so beamingly. His dark eyes were frankly curious and there seemed, to be a hint of reserve that she did not remember noticing before.

  'Hola, Rosanne; are you well?'

  As it most often was, his greeting was a strange mixture of the familiar and the formal, but it seemed somehow this morning to confirm that suspicion of coolness. Changing the box containing the cakes from one hand to the other, she smiled.

  'I'm fine, Federico, thanks.'

  He gave the box a curious glance. 'Are you anxious to go home, Rosanne, or have you time to come for coffee with me?' It wasn't hard to guess that he was unlikely to want to have coffee there in Almaro, where he could be seen with her, so that his next manoeuvre hardly came as a surprise. 'I kn'ow of a very good place not far from here, if you will come with me.'

  'I'm sorry.' Rosanne had meant to be firm, but somehow those dark eyes were too much like Pablo's to be easy to resist. 'I've promised to be back fairly quickly, Federico, I have these cakes for Marta '

  'Oh, Rosanne!' There was reproach in his eyes and he knew there was something wrong, it showed plainly on his face, so that she could not have simply walked away and left him. 'Have I done something to offend you? I telephoned you in the evening of yesterday to ask that you have dinner with me and Senora Segovia told me that you were—not available! What was I to think?'

  'Didn't you think about asking me to have dinner when I was with you at lunchtime?'


  Rosanne thought he looked uneasy, and he hesitated for a second before he answered. 'I did not know then that I could ask you, Rosanne, and when I did call you I am told that you are—unavailable; such an unfriendly thing to be told! And now this morning you will not have coffee with me.' He shrugged and it was such a touching gesture that it aroused her sympathy. 'How is it that I have displeased you, Rosanne?'

  Standing there in Almaro's sunny little square hardly seemed a suitable place to tell him that she now knew he was on the brink of becoming engaged to Jaime's cousin, and she looked around for an alternative. Shifting the box of cakes once more from hand to hand, she looked back at the pastelerla with its small tables, and made up her mind. She had no intention of driving anywhere else with him, so he would have to take a chance on their being seen together.

  'We could have that coffee in the pasteleria if you like. I have to talk to you*, Federico, and standing out here in the square isn't the ideal place.'

  'If that is what you wish.'

  It was obviously not what he wished, and he gave that almost surreptitious look around as they walked back towards the hot, spicy-smelling little baker's shop. It had only four small round tables, where customers could sit and drink coffee and eat pastries, and two of them were already occupied. Federico after a quick look around, chose the one furthest from the window and saw her seated before fetching two cups of frothy sweet espresso coffee and' a couple of pastries.