'You will as long as you're a guest in my house!' he snarled. 'I'm not having you parade around naked in front of Maria --!'
'I'm so sorry!' she exclaimed sweetly. 'I've never noticed you object to my naked body before --'
'I haven't had chance to object as I've never yet managed to get near it --' he grated.
'How disappointing for you!' She realised now that Maria, if that was the name of his temporarily silenced companion, didn't understand a word of what they were saying. 'It's obviously not what your friend thinks!'
'Don't goad me, Chrissy. You've upset her. I demand an immediate apology!'
'Demand? Did you say demand!' Her mouth opened in shock.
'You heard me. Do as I say, will you?'
'I don't think so!' she exclaimed in hauteur. 'Why on earth should I? Am I some sort of lackey to be ordered to grovel at your feet? I might remind you I'm not on your payroll yet!'
'I demand an apology and refuse to continue this futile conversation until I get one!'
'Don't be ridiculous!' she exploded. 'Apologise for being myself? I've nothing to be ashamed of! How dare you try to order me about? I might just as well ask you and your friend to apologise to me for disturbing my swim! I was having a wonderful time until you two came barging in without warning!' Even she thought it was pushing it to criticise him for walking beside his own pool, but the unexpectedness of his condemnation made her see red. One slim, black glove plucked at Rod's sleeve and a stream of words gushed from behind the veil.
'Momento, Maria.' His tone was noticeably less peremptory, but when he turned back to Chrissy it hardened again. 'Get upstairs! Do as I say, damn you!'
'I'm surprised you're not offering to accompany me!' she yelled as she stood her ground.
His control snapped and he lunged towards her with the speed of a panther, but the woman's high-pitched cry brought him to an abrupt halt. 'Get out!' he ordered in a hoarse whisper only inches from her face. 'Just get out. And when you do come down you're going to apologise if I have to force you to your knees to do it!'
'You must be mad!' she cried out as she backed towards the door. 'Who the hell do you think you are? You may be a little tin god in this forsaken backwater, but you're a total nobody in the outside world!' She shot a savage glance towards the woman who had taken a little black fan out of her bag and was whisking it rapidly back and forth as if the very air surrounding Chrissy had been contaminated in some way. 'I guess it's her doing, isn't it? You would never tell me off merely for having a swim if she weren't here! Far from it! So what's it all about? Who is she? What's so special about her?'
He moved a pace towards her, face stark, eyes like ice-chips. 'As from today,' he intoned, 'she happens to be my fiancée. For that reason her wishes are to be respected.'
'Your...?' Chrissy took a step back. 'I don't believe it... You can't...'
He was Staring at her as if willing her to go, his lips white, the hollows beneath the jutting edge of his cheekbones dragged deep like those of a sick man.
With she knew not what resource of inner strength, Chrissy managed to draw herself up, and with a slow, smouldering final glance that spoke more profoundly than any words, she pivoted and made from the room.
* * *
Fiancée? The word pounded in her head with the destructive force of a sledge-hammer. It couldn't be. But why? Why had he done this? Only days ago he had told her why they couldn't marry. But there had been no mention of an impending engagement to anyone else. Why had he not told her? And why, given that he had done this terrible thing, had he arranged for her to become an employee of his company?
With sickening clarity she thought she understood. He had warned her marriage was out of the question. But he still held out the hope that she would become his mistress—despite his denial that he would ever expect that of her! He had lied then. Tried to disarm her. Make her think well of him. So that he could all the more easily manoeuvre her into a position where she would be unable to say no!
The snake! she stormed in the privacy of her room. And how easily she had talked herself to the very edge of saying yes! He said he knew how she felt about him— and that made it all the worse, for he had cynically played on her feelings, while all the time hoping to satisfy his own undeniable lust.
Hate in a maelstrom of grief and betrayal threatened to overwhelm her. She paced back and forth, back and forth across the marble floor, oblivious to the knock on her door, to the sound of people going on to the terrace, to the lunch gong, to the murmur of dining guests, pacing back and forth in a torment of lost dreams and yearnings and a thousand unanswered questions.
At last, taking a hold on herself, she dragged to a halt. It was pointless hoping to make decisions in this frame of mind. Should she go, should she stay? She felt only the desire to scream and cry, to lash out in fury at the man who had so hurt her. But time would heal, she told herself feverishly. Now I simply have to live each moment as it comes. Think only five minutes ahead, only five minutes to the next thing I have to do.
She forced herself to the cupboard and took down at random one of the dresses that hung inside. Yes, that was it. Dress. Brush her hair. Put on an expression of complete indifference. And go down to lunch. And make polite conversation. And smile. And never, never let him know how he had all but destroyed her. She would not let him know. She would be calm. In control. He would never know.
Having made up her mind, she forced herself to go through the actions one by one. First slip out of the gold bikini. Second put on the dress. No time for a shower. Her skin was dry already. A spray of perfume. Then sandals. Where were the sandals? ;
She groped like an automaton in the bottom of the cupboard. Then the hair. Brush it. Leave it loose. No energy to tie it up. Make-up? She hovered near the mirror. She would show him. In control. A little lip-gloss. Liner. A touch of shadow. Now she was ready.
Like a sleep-walker she moved to the door, then with a quick gulping breath she made her way to the head of the staircase. Then she descended to the gathering below.
'Here she is!' It was Anna. There was an empty place halfway down the table. So many people, she thought, glancing at the familiar faces of the Garcia Montada employees. So large an audience.
With a brilliant smile fixed to her face she swayed slowly across the terrace towards them all. There was a lull in the conversation as one by one the eyes followed the direction of Rodrigo's glance and swivelled to watch her.
She greeted first those nearest, then, as she moved along the rows to the top of the table where he sat with the dark woman on his right, she greeted others. Only when she drew level with Rodrigo himself did her smile falter.
Forcing herself not to cast even so much as the flicker of a glance towards the reproving presence of his fiancée, she said, 'Do forgive me, Rodrigo...' She paused. 'That is what you wanted, isn't it?' She paused again, eyes brilliant with repressed misery. 'I mean, forgive me for being so late.' She bestowed a smile on him, eyes dead beneath their superficial sheen, then, still the centre of attention, she moved calmly to the place reserved for her with the rest of the staff.
Little by little the conversation resumed. Anna, a slight smile of alarm on her face, tried unsuccessfully to catch her eye across the table. A waiter filled her glass. Chrissy kept the smile on her face. It was will-power pushed to its ultimate.
CHAPTER TEN
Chrissy saw Rodrigo knock over a wine glass. The liquid flowed like blood over the white cloth. The fiancée gave a little cry. Her veil was back now revealing a plain, plump face, sharp brown eyes and scarlet lips. Gold hoops glinted in her ears and her glossy black hair was scraped back off her face and coiled in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. It looked so dark it was like black lacquer.
Chrissy tried not to hate her, even when she dabbed at a spot of wine on Rodrigo's sleeve with a lace-edged handkerchief and smiled possessively up at him. He took the handkerchief from her fingers and handed it to one of the maids. Another cloth was spread at t
heir end of the table; things took up where they'd left off.
The man on her right was trying to engage her in conversation, struggling gallantly with her language when he realised she didn't speak his own. She forced herself to respond, tried to school herself not to let her glance stray continually to the far end where now there was a burst of merriment. Her glance was grasped by a sudden, piercing, ice-blue stare. At least he wasn't laughing. She averted her head, cutting off that fleeting contact.
When coffee was brought the guests scattered, some to the loungers, one or two, she was pleased to note, donning swimming gear, with plans to swim later on.
Chrissy wondered if Rodrigo was going to announce his betrothal. An old-fashioned word. Did it hint at a dynastic marriage after all? Was that supposed to make a difference to her feelings? She tried to imagine what she would do if an announcement was made. Cause a scene? Pretend it meant nothing? Offer her congratulations?
Luckily she wasn't pushed to the test. Time went on. No announcement was made. The afternoon turned to evening. The fiancée smiled and smiled in a way that didn't quite reach her eyes. Rodrigo wore the air of a condemned man. Chrissy struggled among the ruins of a shattered heart.
It was night now. The sun dropped like a red plum off a tree. Little lights came on, covering the surface of the water with wriggling snakes of gold. It was still hot. Steamy. Fireflies danced. In the background was the continual howl of night creatures. The swoop of bats. Eyes that glinted and were gone. She imagined Rodrigo's mother, for whom, like herself, the jungle was a threatening place, steeling herself not to be afraid. Their circle of light and life and order seemed so small set against that vast emptiness beyond the perimeter of the hacienda. Hadn't Miguel Garcia understood this?
She drifted down to the paddock fence. Beneath the soaring royal palms she felt something powerful take hold of her. It was like a call, drawing her deeper into the night. A wave of self-pity at the thought that he wouldn't care a damn if she disappeared forever into that savage maw brought a constriction to her throat. She turned, blinded by it. He would not force her to do that. She stumbled back towards the lights of the house.
They were walking towards her down the path. The fiancée was fingering the gold brooch at her neck, hair as sleek and black as ever. There was no way Chrissy could turn back without being seen. She marched on, spine straight, hoping that by the time they drew level her face would be unmarked by that sudden access of grief that had overtaken her beneath the palms.
Now they had seen her. She saw Rod's lips tighten. Would they part and let her through, or would she-be forced to step off the path so as not to hinder their progress? Her heart was bumping uncontrollably. Why are you doing this to me, Garcia Montada? she cried inwardly.
They came to a halt a few paces in front of her as if waiting for her to go to them. Rod's face was still and stern, his eyes watching as if unsure what she was going to do. Maybe he thinks I'm going to fly at him with my nails and claw his face to ribbons? She took a deep breath and drew level.
'Chrissy.' He spoke first, his voice' flat with pain. 'I didn't get chance to introduce you properly. Please --' there was a haunted look on his face '—Maria Carvela de Cana, Christine Baker.'
How drab her name sounded beside the exotic foreign one. The woman held out one hand, poker-straight.
'Maria speaks little English,' he said. Explaining away her silence, thought Chrissy, as they politely touched fingers.
'It's all right,' she replied, 'As you know, I don't speak much Portuguese.'
She turned to Rod. 'In the circumstances it's a good job she doesn't speak English. It means I can tell you what a louse you are.'
She gave him a brilliant smile and, still smiling, went on, 'In fact, it's very very lucky she doesn't understand, because in my opinion she's going to have to get very used to playing deaf and dumb with you around. No doubt you'll be running quite a household, Roddy darling. I hope you've warned her what a hot devil you are when it comes to trying to get other women into bed. If you ask me she's got her time cut out with you on her hands, sweety. Rather her than me! She has my total sympathy. I only hope she's able to find solace elsewhere when the going gets really tough.'
Still smiling, she made to walk past him.
'Not so fast, honey,' he said, giving a bland smile that didn't reach his eyes but concealed the heavy-duty sarcasm he was indulging.. 'You're not such a cold fish yourself, and if you will flaunt your beautiful, not to say delectable body at every turn, you shouldn't complain when you get a full-blooded response.'
'You snake!' she hissed.
'Listen to me,' he said more urgently. 'I've told you how I feel about you. I want you. I've wanted you since that first moment when I found you sleeping like a dryad in my forest. Nothing will change that. But I have to do this. It's the only way out. I've explained it to you. One of these days you'll understand.' He was speaking rapidly as if to get -it all said, the sarcasm gone.
She felt her throat constrict. 'I'll never understand, Rod. You made it possible for me to stay, then you do this to me. I shall never forgive you.' Feeling her eyes beginning to glisten, she wished the couple would move apart and let her through.
Maria put a hand on Rod's arm 'Caro...?' Her face was troubled.
'Si...' He put his hand over hers and stepped to one side. Chrissy barged through the gap and made her way blindly towards the house.
The dancing went on halfway through the night. She wondered if indeed the engagement had been announced and she had missed it for there was an air of celebration which only made her heartache worse. She sat up in her room, watching the inverted shadows of dancing couples on her ceiling. She had to get away, but how? She was trapped until Rod gave her the means to leave. No doubt after today he would be only too eager to send her home. He must have known she wouldn't stay when he was contemplating marriage to someone else.
'What do you want?' She turned her head. He had come inside without knocking and was closing the door behind him when she spoke.
'That's immaterial at this point,' he muttered hoarsely, coming across the room.
'Don't touch me!' She drew back against the balcony.
'I don't intend to.' He sat down in one of the chairs within. 'Come inside and sit down.',.
'I'm happy out here.'
'Come inside, I said. I don't want all and sundry to know I'm in your room.'
'I bet you don't!'
'Would it be fair?'
'On whom?'
'Don't go round in circles. I've told you there is no choice. I'm not being unfair to you, if only you would try to see it!'
'Not unfair?' She lunged forward so she could see him. Her eyes were shining with unhappiness. 'You set up a peach of a contract for me then turn round and get yourself engaged to someone else. Is that fair?' There was no point now in pretending she didn't feel anything.
'It may not seem fair right now. But you are young. You think you're attracted to me—but it will soon fade. What is physical love after all?'
'How would I know?' she muttered, turning her head.
'No, that is another thing that makes it vital that we stop now before we get any deeper into this.'
She wondered how deep it was possible to get if this was only the shallows. 'All right for you to say—picking me up, putting me down. Why did you make me feel like this?'
'I can assure you, Chrissy, that was not my intention. If I had known you were going to feel as strongly as this I would have made jolly sure I kept my distance from the beginning.'
'You would? What wonderful self-control you have.'
'If it's any consolation it hasn't been easy. I should have been more determined.'
'Why weren't you?' she asked miserably, unable to keep the reproach out of her voice.
'You are right to blame me.' He paused. 'I am after all the one with the experience—I should have been more careful. But your feelings will pass, believe me. It is an infatuation, probably. Feelings of being in love
are nothing.'
'How would you know? What gives you the right to tell me about my own feelings? How do you know how it feels to me?' She checked herself. She mustn't sound as if she was pleading. He was absolutely right. There was no future for them.
He was considering her words and now his voice deepened. 'I can assure you I do know. I know... But I did try to explain to you. You are from the same part of the world as my mother. You too would sicken here. Then you would want to leave. By then love would have deepened. You would strike at the very foundations of— of everything. It would be like trying to uproot one of the giant trees of the forest. It could be done, but the scar would remain forever --' He broke off impatiently. 'I can't do it! Be satisfied with that. This is how it must be!'
'Go to hell, then! Why come here at all? Get out of this room. Send me back to the city now! Tonight! Do you think I can bear to stay here with things like this between us?'
'You're being impractical. Even I can't summon a helicopter just like that.' He snapped his fingers.
'You mean the great Rodrigo Garcia Montada can't do any single damn thing he chooses? My, you do surprise me!'
'The truth is I don't want to send you away yet. I had hoped...' He paused again. 'You know what I hoped. But 1 suppose that is all to ashes now?'
'You mean the contract?'
She saw him nod, his face a blur in the flickering light from the garden.
'Is it finished?' she asked. 'I don't see why that should come to ashes as well as—as well,' she corrected miserably. 'Gavin can take over. He doesn't want to but I'm sure he will. Or you can advertise for someone. There are plenty of people who'd leap at the chance.' Her lips twisted. 'You can even advertise for a female researcher, pretend you believe in equal opportunities, but don't forget to ask them to send a photo first. Then you can vet them properly!'
'This bitterness does not become you.'
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