by Penny Jordan
Jessica's face flamed as the implication of his words sank in, and out of the corner of her eye she saw his aunt frown a little and glance at her uncertainly. There was no doubt at all in Jessica's mind that his aunt thought that they were lovers. Lovers! A sharp pain seemed to stab through her heart, her muscles tensing in protest at the images the word invoked. But she and Sebastian were not lovers, she reminded herself, nor ever likely to be. For one thing, he felt nothing but contempt for her, while she, of course, equally detested him… Just for a moment she remembered her mixed emotions when he had kissed her, quickly banishing the treacherous suggestion that there had been something infinitely pleasurable in the pressure of his mouth against hers. How could it have been remotely pleasurable? He had kissed her in punishment and she had loathed and resented it! Of course she had.
* * *
CHAPTER FIVE
It was Sebastian's aunt who showed Jessica to Rosalinda's tower, much to her relief.
They approached the tower via a narrow, spiralling staircase, the smoothly plastered walls decorated with decorative frescoes and friezes in the Arabic style.
At the top of the stairs, Tia Sofia opened a door and gestured to Jessica to precede her. Once inside Jessica caught her breath on a gasp of pleasure. The room was large and octagonal in shape, an arched doorway leading to another room, and the view from the mediaeval slit windows stunned her with the magnificent panorama spread out below.
'This room is the highest in the house,' Sofia de Calvadores explained. 'Although latterly it has not been used—it is too impractical for a married couple, and there have been no daughters of the house to make it their own as was the custom in the past.'
'It's beautiful,' Jessica said reverently, gazing at her surroundings. The walls were hung with a soft apricot silk, matching rugs on the polished wood floor. This room was furnished as a small sitting room, and she guessed that beyond it lay the bedroom. Bookcases had been built to fit the octagonal walls; one of the larger window embrasures was fitted with a cushioned seat, and it wasn't hard to imagine a lovely Spanish girl sitting there perhaps playing her mandolin while she gazed through the window waiting for her husband to return home.
Her guide opened the communicating door to show Jessica the bedroom, once again decorated in the same soft apricot, the huge bed covered with a soft silk coverlet.
'There is a bathroom through there,' she told Jessica, indicating another door set into one of the walls. 'It is fortunate that when the idea of this octagonal room was conceived it was built within the existing square tower, so we have been able to make use of the space between the walls to install modern plumbing. I shall leave you now— Maria will come and unpack for you, and we normally have lunch at one.'
Taking the gentle hint, as soon as she was alone Jessica opened the bathroom door, gasping with fresh delight when she saw the sunken marble bath and mirrored walls of the room, reflecting images of her whichever way she turned, the mirrors possessing a greenish tinge, given off by the malachite.
She washed quickly, then changed into a linen skirt in a buttercup yellow shade that complemented her colouring, adding a delicate short-sleeved embroidered blouse. She was going to need more clothes if she was to stay here for the time stipulated. She would have to write to her aunt and ask her to arrange to send some of her things on.
She checked her make-up, renewing her lipstick, chagrined to see how little of it was left after Sebastian's kiss, and having brushed her hair she walked through the sitting room to the top of the stairs, conscious of a nervous butterfly sensation in her stomach, and something faintly akin to anticipation tingling along her spine, as she steeled herself to face her host and new employer.
Whatever his aunt might privately think of Jessica's presence, it was plain to Jessica that she was a Spanish woman of the old school, and that the will of the male members of her family was law. She greeted Jessica pleasantly when she reached the bottom of the stairs and explained that she was waiting to show her the rest of the house, 'Which is rather rambling,' she told her, 'so I will show you round so that you will not get lost.'
Jessica followed her into the main sala, furnished with rare antiques, and with a silkily beautiful and probably priceless Aubusson rug on the floor. Beyond the windows lay a courtyard similar in design to the one beneath Jessica's tower, only this one was larger, encompassing several formal beds of flowers, and whereas Jessica's boasted a fountain and a small pool, this one possessed a shimmeringly blue swimming pool and a terrace.
'This is the main courtyard,' Sofia de Calvadores told her. 'There are others, because the Calvadores are first and foremost a Moorish family and for many centuries strictly segregated the differing sections of the family; privacy becomes of prime importance when a house is shared by several generations, and while this sala and its courtyard has always been considered a gathering place, there are several small, secluded courtyards which in the past were the private domain of various family members.'
'Just as the tower belonged to Rosalinda,' Jessica suggested. 'It must be fascinating to be able to trace one's family history back so far,' she added genuinely, suddenly remembering what Ramon Ferres had told them about the first Calvadores bride.
'Sometimes—sometimes it is not so pleasant to have the world privy to all one's secrets.'
'But the first Calvadores was one of Pedro the Cruel's knights, wasn't he?'
'Ah, you have heard that story,' Sofia smiled. 'Yes, indeed, that was so. He married the daughter of a Christian knight and it was for her, Rosalinda, that the tower was built.'
Jessica longed to question her further, but refrained, not wanting to appear too curious. What was it Ramon Ferres had said about the girl? That she had claimed her father's enemy had ravished her, and that rather than endure the taint of such an accusation he had married her?
'There you are!' a tiny voice suddenly piped up childishly, from the back of the room. 'Tio Sebastian sent me to look for you.'
'Lisa!' Senora Calvadores' voice reproached. 'Please remember we have a guest.' Her face relaxed into a faint smile as she turned to Jessica and explained in English, 'She is a little unthinking at times, and as always is excited by Sebastian's arrival. Lisa, come and meet Miss James, who is to work with Sebastian.'
A small, dark-haired child, with unexpectedly shadowed brown eyes, stepped forward and gravely offered her hand. She was immaculately if somewhat impractically dressed in a flounced white dress, matching ribbons securing her long hair, gleaming white socks and little black patent shoes such as Jessica couldn't remember seeing a little girl wearing since she herself had been a child.
She regarded Jessica with anxious gravity for several seconds and then burst out impetuously, 'Tio Sebastian won't be working all the time, will he?'
'Not quite,' Sebastian announced, startling Jessica with his silent entrance. 'You were so long, pequena, I thought I should come and look for you.'
'Then, if you are not to work all the time, this afternoon we may go for a ride?' Lisa suggested with innocent coquetry. 'Please, Tio Sebastian! No one else lets me ride as fast as you.'
'We shall see, after lunch,' he told her. 'First your aunt must tell me if you have been a good girl while I have been gone.'
The child ran across to him, clinging to his arm while she assured him that indeed she had, and Jessica was shocked by the sudden wave of longing she experienced to be part of that charmed circle, with Sebastian's free arm securely round her.
was gone almost immediately, the knowledge that she was ridiculous daydream, probably the fact that she was virtually alone in an alien land, excluded from the intimate family scene being played in front of her.
'Sebastian spoils her,' Sofia Calvadores complained as she and Jessica followed them out of the room, 'but in the circumstances it is easy to understand why. She is the image of her mother
The feeling superseded by indulging in a brought on by and…' She broke off as though feeling that she had said too much, drawing J
essica's attention to the doors leading to some of the other rooms as they walked into the hall.
'This is Sebastian's study,' she told her, opening one door and giving Jessica a brief glimpse of highly polished heavy furniture and a stained wooden floor covered in rich animal skins. 'But of course he will show you that himself later.'
The dining room seemed huge, the glittering chandeliers and frank opulence of the heavy mahogany table, polished until one could see one's reflection in it, making Jessica blink a little in dismay. She had forgotten how formal life could still be in the great Spanish houses.
'First an aperitif,' Sebastian announced, pouring small measures of golden sherry into small glasses and handing first his aunt and then Jessica one. 'This is made with the produce from our vines,' he told Jessica as she sipped hesitantly at the amber liquid. She had had nothing to eat all day and was beginning to feel the effects. A glass of sherry on an empty stomach was the last thing she wanted, but rather than cause offence by refusing she sipped hesitantly at the rich liquid. It slid warmly down her throat, but any hopes she had had of simply sipping a little and leaving the rest were dashed when Sebastian said ominously, 'Perhaps it is not to your liking?'
As though she would dare not like it! she thought half hysterically, and quickly drank the rest, and wishing she hadn't when her head started to spin muzzily.
It was still spinning when Sebastian indicated that she should sit down at the table. A servant was holding her chair for her, and she walked hesitantly towards it, appalled to realise how disorientated the sherry had made her feel. Surely it was far more potent than anything she had drunk at home?
'Jessica!' Sebastian's voice cut sharply through her muddled thoughts.
'I… it's… I'm so sorry,' she managed to gasp as the world started whirling round dizzily and she reached for the first solid thing she could find, her fingers tightening convulsively on Sebastian's jacketed arm.
She heard him swear mildly, and then to her relief the mists started to clear.
'It was the sherry,' she managed to explain apologetically. 'I didn't have any breakfast, and…'
'It is very potent if you are not used to it,' Sebastian's aunt agreed. 'Sebastian,' she directed her nephew, 'it is your fault for insisting she drink it, but you will feel better directly, my dear,' she comforted Jessica.
What a terrible impression she must be creating, Jessica thought with burning cheeks, and she released Sebastian's arm as though it were live coals. She didn't miss the flash of sardonic comprehension in his eyes and shrank back when he bent his head and murmured softly, 'You cling to me as fiercely as a dove to the branch that gives it shelter, but I am not deceived by your air of helpless dismay. Jorge told me of the wild beach barbecues you both attended, when drinking raw Sangria was the order of the day, so please do not expect me to believe that one single glass of sherry could have such a calamitous effect.'
What was he trying to imply? That she might have some other motive for clinging to him? But what?
'If you are having second thoughts,' he added, supplying her with the answer, 'and thinking that any man in your bed is better than none, do not, I beg you, even think of nominating me for the role. As I have already said, I am particular about with whom I share the pleasures of the act of love.'
Tio Sebastian, what are you saying to Miss James?' Lisa piped up curiously. 'She is looking all pink and funny!'
His aunt quickly shushed the child, but not before Jessica had pulled away and slid into her chair. What must his aunt think of her? she wondered bitterly; or was she inured to her nephew's habits? Did she perhaps simply ignore the real role in his life of the women whom he brought home? They would think they were lovers, he had told her, and she was forced to admit that he had been right, but how did one correct such insidious suggestions? By simply and frankly correcting them? How could she tell his aunt they were not lovers? It was impossible!
After lunch Sebastian suggested that he should show her round the laboratory.
'Can I come too, Tio?' Lisa pleaded. 'I promise I will be good.'
'If you have no objection?' he murmured enquiringly to Jessica.
She shook her head. In truth she would be glad of the little girl's company, because her excited chatter broke the constrained atmosphere that stretched between them.
The laboratory was situated at the back of the hacienda, in what had originally been an immense stable block but which Sebastian explained to Jessica had been converted into garages and his laboratory.
The door was padlocked and bolted, and he told her as he unlocked it that because of the dyes and processes used he allowed no one apart from himself to enter the building.
'At the moment we are working on a new generation of dyes, almost entirely based on natural substances, but there is still some problem with the stabilising agent, although that should not take too long to sort out.'
'You are the only company I know that uses only natural dyes,' Jessica mentioned. 'It's quite rare, but of course that's why no other concern can match you for delicacy of colour.'
'This is so,' Sebastian agreed, 'and that is why the exact blending and stabilising of the various agents is a closely guarded secret. Indeed, I am the only person in the company who possesses the complete formula—it is as valuable as that to us.'
Jessica could well understand why. The subtlety and delicacy of their colours was one of the things that helped to make their range of fabrics so successful.
The laboratory was well equipped, and she followed with interest Sebastian's description of the work he was carrying out, although her prime interest lay not so much in the dying of the fabric but in the design of it.
There was an office off the laboratory with a row of metal filing cabinets, and Sebastian unlocked one, producing some detailed sketches and swatches of fabric which he handed to her.
'These are the colours we are hoping to produce for next season's fabrics—as you know, the Colour Council normally decide a season's colours two or three years in advance. These are the colours suggested by the last Council meeting. What we have to do now is to incorporate them into the design of the fabric. What I should like you to do initially is to work on them and produce some suggestions for me.'
Jessica nodded, excitement stirring as, against her will, she became fascinated by the project ahead. She did know that the Colour Council worked two years ahead of the fashion designers, selecting the spectrum of colours for a particular season, and the swatches Sebastian had handed her made her mouth water in anticipation. They were autumn and winter colours; black, charcoal grey, softly muted heathers and a bright peacock blue shading to mauve.
'You can use the office here, or the sitting room in the tower, whichever you wish,' Sebastian told her carelessly, glancing down at Lisa as she tugged impatiently at his hand.
'You said we could go riding,' she reminded him, pouting a little. 'You promised!'
'You are forgetting that we have a guest,' Sebastian reminded her firmly. 'Would it not be polite also to ask Miss James if she would care to come with us?'
The question was for Lisa's benefit and not hers, Jessica acknowledged. Like other Latin races Spanish children were petted and indulged, but good manners were considered paramount. Hesitantly Lisa asked if she would like to join them, her relief patent and winning Jessica a wide relieved smile, when she gently refused.
'I'll take these up to the tower with me,' she told Sebastian, adding to Lisa, 'Enjoy your ride.'
She didn't go straight back to the tower, but found her way instead to the small enclosed courtyard she could see from her bedroom window. Jacaranda bloomed profusely against the walls, mingling with the bougainvillea, while two doves cooed melodiously on the rim of the pool. The courtyard had a secluded, mysterious air, as though it preferred moonlight and the seductive whispers of lovers to sunshine and birdsong. Had Rosalinda ever walked here with a lover—the husband who had married her so unwillingly, perhaps? Had they ever found love together?
'Charming—when she wants to be,' Sofia Calvadores agreed dryly, 'but Sebastian spoils her. It is natural, I suppose. He is all she has.'
'Her parents are dead, then?' Jessica asked sympathetically.
Was it her imagination or did the Senora hesitate briefly before saying, 'Yes, I'm afraid so, she is Sebastian's ward. It could be difficult for her should Sebastian marry and have children of his own.'
'But surely, when he does, his wife will understand and accept that Lisa is bound to find it hard at first,' Jessica suggested.
Senora Calvadores smiled. 'One would hope so, but it would depend very much on the wife. Sebastian must marry, of course, to carry on the name. He was betrothed once, but his betrothed died—a tragic accident in a car.' She sighed and shook her head. 'It was all a long time ago, and best forgotten now.'
It was late afternoon before Lisa and Sebastian returned to the hacienda. Jessica had been working in her sitting room when a maid had knocked and told her that it was the custom for the ladies of the household to drink sherry and eat almond pastries at this particular time of the day, adding that Senora Calvadores was waiting for her in the main courtyard.
She hadn't realised how cramped her limbs had become, and she was still a little stiff when she emerged into the sunshine to find that Lisa and Sebastian had returned and were sitting with the Senora.
Sebastian moved and Jessica realised there was someone else with them; a tall stately woman in her early thirties, her thick dark hair drawn back in a chignon, her cold dark eyes appraising Jessica as they moved over her.
Jessica recognised her from the hotel in Seville, and wondered who she was.
'Ah, Jessica, there you are. Allow me to introduce Miss James to you, cara,' he said to his companion. 'She has come here to work for me for several weeks.'