'Do you mean you wish to leave the island?' A gleam of speculation came into Raquel's eyes. 'Are you not happy at the castle? Juan has been most generous to you, but I suppose it means less to a girl when she knows that a man's kindness is not motivated by any personal feeling. Juan is charitable by nature.'
Yvain winced, for Don Juan's charity was the last thing on earth that she wanted. She tucked Raquel's note into the hip pocket of her cream slacks, and tried to look as jaunty as her orange sports shirt. 'I'll call in tomorrow if I may, to see how the senor is feeling?'
'If you wish to do so,' Raquel said coolly. 'Do assure Senora Grayson that I am most sorry to break our date, but I must be a dutiful daughter and remain with my father.'
'Not every girl has such a fine father,' Yvain said meaningly. 'I wish him a speedy recovery, senorita. Hasta manana. '
She went out again into the sunshine and made her way down the cobbled streets to the harbour. It was a morning when everything had a peachy tinge and she felt so sorry that Senor Fonesca was confined to his bed. He loved the beauty of this island, hidden away from the world so that the old myths and sorceries were still believed in. She felt the sun on her arms as she crossed the plaza, with its baroque fountain and the cluster of houses with flower-hung balconies. Melons were being sold from a stall near the church; she paused to buy a slice and it tasted cool and juicy as she made for the tracery of nets and masts along the shore.
She was looking for a boatman who looked idle enough to want to earn a little rowing money. It was a good thing she had some pocket money, for Raquel had not thought to pay for the errand on which she was sending her.
Yvain spotted a youth leaning against a palm tree near a beached canoe. He had the sun and wind attractiveness of a seafarer and she approached him and asked if he could row her out to the Blue Dolphin, whose elegant blue and white shape could be seen at anchor about a mile off-shore.
He flicked a look over her casual attire and her hair in a sunlit switch down over her shoulder. 'The senorita has friends on the yacht?' he asked.
'I have a message for the lady who owns the yacht,' she explained. 'And I would like to be rowed back to the island after I deliver it.'
He nodded and began to pull the canoe down to the water. He held the small craft steady while Yvain climbed in and sat down on the plank seat. She felt a momentary pang of fear as the paddles dipped and they began to pull away from the safety of the beach. Then her fear was lost in the beauty of the bay and in the cool sea breeze fanning her face and throat. The water was so blue that she almost expected it to drip in shades of blue from her fingertips. Seabirds were etched against the sky and the tanned face of the young fisherman was capped by dark, salty curls.
'We don't get many tourists to our island,' he said. 'They are not encouraged by the Marques, who wishes the island to remain unspoiled.'
'I hope the Marques doesn't think that I spoil the island for him,' she said, with a rather wistful smile.
'Ah no!' The bold young eyes appraised her. 'If all tourists looked
like the senorita, then I am sure the Marques would be delighted.'
'I wonder?' She gave a little laugh that held a little sadness, and saw that they were drawing near to the Blue Dolphin. A sailor came to the rail of the yacht and stood watching their approach.
'Ahoy there!' He had a Yankee twang in his voice and he wore white ducks, a navy jacket and a yachting cap pushed to the back of his fair head. He leaned over the side as the canoe drew nearer and Yvain waved the letter to indicate that she wanted to deliver it.
'Come aboard!'
She hesitated, for there was a bit of a swell around the yacht and the flimsy canoe was rocking. She had to keep her balance in order to step from the canoe to the iron rungs leading to the deck, and she had visions of plunging into the water.
'Climb up and don't look down,' came yet another call from the gangway, and because there had to come a time when she must lose her fear of the sea, she grasped the cool iron and swung herself upwards. It was easier than she had imagined and, the salty sea breeze could not play games with the slacks she was wearing. As she reached the deck, strong hands lifted her the rest of the way, and she gave a breathless laugh and met a pair of sea-blue eyes.
'Well, this is a surprise!' He looked her over. 'Don't tell me the island has its mail delivered by the local cuties?'
Her eyes filled with amusement, for he seemed unaware that she was English and she handed over the envelope with a few demure words in Spanish.
'From Dona Raquel?' He looked at the envelope as if he longed to tear it open. 'For my mother, eh?'
'Senor Fonesca is not at all well and Raquel thought it best that she stay with him. She's disappointed about missing her trip to the yacht.'
'Huh?' He stared at Yvain and then gave a laugh. 'So you're not a senorita! You're a tourist like me?'
The word had a way of going through her like a knife, but it was true ... she was only a tourist who had fallen in love with the island. She couldn't stay, like the young fishermen, like the women collecting seaweed on the shore, or the pupils of the convent out walking with the nuns in their great wimples.
'The Isla del Leon is quite a place.' Mrs. Grayson's son stood at the deck rail gazing towards the island with its white cluster of houses, its tall palms and bell-tower above the wharves. 'Are you staying with
the Fonescas? Raquel didn't mention having a guest — '
To Yvain's relief she was spared an explanation of where she was staying, for at that moment a woman appeared on deck. She was plump, grey-fair, and dressed pleasantly in cool pink. 'Kent, who have we got calling on us?' She approached with an inquiring smile, and then her blue eyes widened as they dwelt on Yvain. 'Well, my, this is an honour! I saw you only the other day and it was pointed out to me that you're the ward of the Marques de Leon. The little girl with a name out of a fairy tale!' Yvain winced and felt like making a dash for the gangway.
'Yvain and the Lion!' Mrs. Grayson said triumphantly. 'How too quaint and wonderful to meet you, my dear. Do I take it you're a friend of Kent's?'
Kent was looking highly amused as he handed Raquel's note to his mother. 'The young lady brought this.'
She opened the envelope, read the enclosure, voiced her regret that Senor Fonesca was not feeling well, and then announced that if Raquel could not join them for lunch, then Yvain must take her place.
'But I couldn't — ' Yvain wanted to escape all questions regarding Juan de Leon, and there was a deep gleam of curiosity in Mrs. Grayson's blue eyes.
'I insist, my dear.' Bettina Grayson was a woman unused to being denied. 'I'll only let you go if you have to meet the Senor Marques for lunch.'
Yvain was tempted to tell a white lie, but honesty prevailed and she admitted that she wasn't expected home. 'All the same, I have some lessons I should be getting on with.'
'Lessons?' Mrs. Grayson raised her eyebrows. 'Language lessons, my dear?'
'Yes.'
'Oh, they can surely wait. Kent and I would love to have you to lunch and I'm not going to take a refusal.' Mrs. Grayson looked at her son in a charmingly bossy fashion. 'We'll have drinks brought to the sun-deck, Kent. I'm longing to get really acquainted with our fairytale girl.'
'A boy brought me to the yacht in his canoe.' Yvain avoided a direct meeting with Kent Grayson's amused eyes. 'He's waiting to take me back to the island.'
'I'll go and tell him that you won't be going back - not yet awhile,' said Kent with a smile.
CHAPTER NINE
YVAIN found in the next few days that she was seeing Kent Grayson rather a lot. He was pleasant company, and while Senor Fonesca was laid up she was free to roam about the island with Kent. He had a high-powered camera and was a keen photographer and together they found old and lovely places to put on film.
He was naturally curious about the castle, but Yvain made excuses about taking him there to meet her guardian. 'Don Juan doesn't regard his home as a tourist attraction,' she s
aid.
'But I'm a friend of yours,' Kent wheedled, 'and you're his ward. Surely I can come home with you to be introduced to him?'
'He likes his privacy.'
'Are you scared of him?' Kent took a picture of her as she sat on a wall beside a golden allamanda tree.
'Of course not!'
'You look as if you are, honey. Is he the traditionally stern and black-browed guardian who rules you with a rod of iron?'
She gave a laugh and plucked a spray of blossom. 'He's the handsomest man in the world, and if his temper is uncertain, it's because he has had sadness in his life and the torturing pain of almost losing his leg in a riding accident. He loved to ride and was a gaucho when he was a young man.'
'How old is he now?' Kent lounged against the wall and lit a cigarette. As he puffed smoke he narrowed his eyes and they were like shafts of blue upon her face.
'He's about thirty-five.' She stroked the golden spray against her cheek and looked very young herself, and uncertain of the future. Until her tutor was well, she could not talk to him about the job he had in mind for her.
'Somehow I got the impression he was older.' A smile quirked on the edge of Kent's lip. 'So he's handsome, eh? It's a wonder you haven't got a crush on him. I have heard it said that
Latin men have a lot of S.A.'
'Spanish appeal?' she smiled.
'You know what I mean, Miss Pilgrim.' Kent leaned forward and tweaked her braid, reminding her of Rique and making her shy away from the touch. Kent grinned. 'You shy of men, Yvain?'
'I like to be friends with them,' she rejoined.
'Because it's more comfortable?'
'I see no point in flirting with every man one meets.'
'You think certain aspects of the man-woman relationship should be kept sacred, eh? For the one and only?' Kent's blue eyes held a quizzical light. 'Have I actually met up with an old-fashioned, heart-thinking girl who could love a guy for more than the security he has to offer?'
'Kent, not all women are mercenary!'
'The kind I've met have wanted to feather their nest rather than make a love nest.'
'You escaped getting caught by one of them, so I think you're a wily bird, Kent. You know what you want.'
'Maybe I want someone like you?' He spoke lightly but with a glint in his eyes. 'Are you heart-free, Yvain?'
'Yes, and I'm staying that way.' She slid off the wall and they made their way to a beach taverna, where the tables were shaded from the sun by thatched umbrellas. Walking in the sun had made them both dry and Kent ordered a couple of long iced fruit drinks and told the waiter to bring them a menu in about a quarter of an hour. The sea sparkled only a few yards from where they sat, and a lazy band of seabirds mewed and frolicked on the crest of the waves.
It was pleasant to sip a cool drink in the company of an attractive man, and Yvain was not unaware that she was drifting into a relationship that could offer more than Rique's passion; less than the stormy enchantment she dreamed of.
She liked Kent and found him good company. His mother was a charming, good-hearted, inquisitive woman. Only last evening, as they had sat dreaming away an hour on the starlit deck of the yacht, Mrs. Grayson had hinted that Yvain would make the perfect companion. Soon they were leaving to sail on to Spain, then Portugal, and home to America. Yvain could go with them ... if she chose
'Come back from far away.' Kent took her hand and pressed the slender fingers. 'I felt awful lonely just then, as if I had no place in your thoughts.'
'But I was thinking about you.' She gave him a thoughtful smile 'I shall miss you, Kent, when you sail away.'
'Sail away with me,' he coaxed. 'Mom likes you. You could take the companion job she broadly hinted at, and we could let things develop nice and easy between us. If they didn't develop - not for lack of encouragement on my part, be warned - then what would you have lost? You told me you expected to leave the Isla del Leon to go and work in Madrid. What, all alone?' His fingers tightened on hers. 'A girl like you? A tawny kitten with a lost look in her eyes. There is, Yvain! Makes me wonder who put it there.'
'I'm just hungry for some big delicious shrimps.' She gave a laugh. 'Snap your fingers like a Spaniard and let's have a look at the menu.'
'I'm not a Spaniard, honey.'
Her eyes dwelt on his close-cut fair hair, took in the sea-blue gaze, the sudden compression of his lips. 'No, there's nothing Latin about you, Kent.'
'Does it make a difference?'
'On the contrary, it makes me feel ... secure.'
'On solid ground with no fireworks underneath, eh? No hidden volcano?'
She laughed again, ignoring the jab of pain at the memory of the stirring of the volcano in Don Juan. The anger when she had picked up his ebony stick. The biting order that she keep her pity to herself. Pity? She had never felt any such thing for a man so strong, so adult, so independent. She had only wanted to give
him a little of her heart's warmth.
Kent sat back, his glass in his hand. 'The solid people have more to offer in the long run than the mystery people you can never get really in touch with. I think if you come away with us, if you leave this island without looking back, you will find happiness.'
She gazed first at Kent and then at the distant mountains of Spain, peaks of violet above the blue and gold of the horizon. 'Going to Madrid was all so settled in my mind, until you came.' She glanced back at Kent. 'Racquel's father has been helping me to learn about art and antiques. I wanted a career.'
'There are art galleries in California, and I'd be there, Yvain.'
'You Americans are very persistent salesmen.'
'There are orange valleys and white-stoned houses. You'd love it there.'
'Do you and your mother live in a white-stoned house,
Kent?'
'We do.' His smile was slow and attractive. 'It has a couple of patios and some camellia trees. They bloom scarlet. Quite a picture against the white walls.'
'I,' she gave a sigh of uncertainty, 'I couldn't decide anything without talking it over with my guardian.'
'Only a temporary guardian, Yvain. He doesn't own you.'
'No — '
'Does he act as if he owns you?'
'No, but he's been good to me. I had nothing when I was fished out of the sea and brought here by boat. He arranged with the Spanish authorities that I stay here as a visitor. He sent to Madrid and ordered some lovely clothes for me. He persuaded Senor Fonesca to become my teacher. I . I was only a maid-companion. He treats me almost as a... niece.'
'Not a daughter?'
'He's hardly old enough for that.' She smiled slightly. 'Unless as a young gaucho he was very precocious.'
'I'd like to meet him, Yvain. I feel I should in the circumstances.' Kent spoke seriously. 'I think you're half inclined to accept Mom's offer of a job, and if I speak with the Marques he will at least be in no doubt about the kind of people we are. I gather this other woman you worked for was a bit of a tartar?'
'She was all tartar.' Yvain smiled and shrugged. 'Maybe I allowed myself to be put upon, but mixing with Spanish people has taught me that pride doesn't have to be overbearing, and that everyone is really equal. Not once during my stay at the castle have I heard or seen Don Juan anything but gracious towards his staff. He's aloof because that's his way, but he isn't a bully.'
'Will you take me to see him?'
'Kent, let's wait a day or two — '
'But we leave on Saturday! We're only staying till then so we can take in the fun of the fiesta on Friday.' Kent frowned. 'You've got to make up your mind, Yvain. Somehow I get the impression that if the Senor Marques says no to anything, then you go along with it.'
'Not all the time,' she protested.
'When have you ever defied him?'
'There was Rique - my guardian was not keen on my friendship with him, and I found out later that Don Juan is much more clear-sighted about people than I am. Or maybe I should say more worldly.'
'Who's Rique?' The
blue eyes looked jealous.
'He's the guitarist at the Club Hidalgo.'
'He's too good-looking not to have a roving eye,' Kent grunted.
'Yes.' She laughed a trifle nervously, and remembered with a missed heartbeat the last time she and Rique had met and why they had parted. She looked at Kent, who had been her constant companion for several days, and suddenly she felt a little afraid. People might already be
talking about them. They might be saying that he was the man with whom she had spent a night alone. If the gossip reached Kent's ears, would he react as Rique had done? 'Hungry?' He smiled across at her. 'Shall we order those big delicious shrimps?'
She nodded and he called the waiter to their table. He was nice. She felt at ease with him, and California was a long way from the island. All those miles would surely blur the memory of Don Juan, until she could think of him as happily married to Raquel and no longer alone.
The shrimps were big, dewy and pink, and with them they had twists of Spanish bread and a carafe of white wine. Kent then had veal cutlets, while Yvain toyed with a ham salad. She no longer felt very hungry. It seemed to her that the sea had lost some of its sparkle and the mewing of the birds sounded a little sad. But things always seemed that way when you knew you were seeing them for perhaps the last time. If she left on Saturday with Kent and his mother, then already this place, this moment, were turning into memories.
After lunch they lazed on the beach beneath the shade of a palm tree. They didn't talk much. It was as if Kent understood that quietly and a little sadly she was easing the island out of her heart. Preparing herself for the moment when she would say good-bye, and her Spanish guardian would say Vaya con Dios.
Kent invited her to spend the evening of the fiesta on board the yacht, which was being decorated with coloured lights for the festive occasion.
'Do you think the Senor Marques would agree to attend our small farewell party?' Mrs. Grayson asked hopefully. 'I saw Dona Raquel this morning and her father is so much better that she can get away for the evening. From all accounts Don Juan should find her presence at the party an enticement.'
Yvain met the playful blue eyes and realized that she could no longer keep the Graysons from meeting her guardian. 'He won't refuse,' she said, 'if Raquel is coming.'
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