He shrugged. 'Please yourself. Then you can sit and watch me.'
'I'd rather—' she began hastily.
His eyes met her dark ones. 'I'm not concerned with what you'd rather do,' he said softly. 'Sit down.'
'You've no right to order me about!'
'I've every right. Now, are you going to sit down or do I have to come over to you and see that you do as I tell you. And, believe me, I will.'
He meant business. She could tell that from his tone, although he hadn't raised his voice. He didn't need to. She complied, perching nervously on the edge of one of the hard, upright dining chairs, her hands folded primly in front of her like a little girl. After all, if that was the way that he was determined to treat her, what was the point of trying to act any differently?
He poured himself a cup of coffee and its fragrance wafted tantalisingly over to her. 'Want a cup?' he asked.
'No, thank you,' she said.
He ate one sandwich and bit hungrily into another. 'These are good,' he told her.
'We aim to please.' She wasn't accepting any olive branches, if that was what he intended. Did he think he could sweet-talk her round with remarks like that? Her mouth curved scornfully at the thought.
'I'm glad to hear it. I must admit that I haven't noticed much evidence of your desire to please so far. Tell me,' he said pleasantly, 'are you always this bloody-minded, with visitors, or have you something special against me?'
'What do you think?' she asked him provocatively. She was a fool to bait him, she knew, but something drove her to it.
'I think you're going to land yourself in a load of trouble, if you're not careful.'
'Stop talking to me as if I was a child!' she flared angrily.
'Then stop acting like one.' He got to his feet and she tensed. What was he going to do? Surely he wouldn't dare lay a finger on her? Her face must have mirrored her thoughts accurately, because he laughed unpleasantly. 'You're not so bold as you make out, are you? All fire and fury, but no guts when it comes down to it.' He divided the sandwiches on his plate and brought a half share over to her. 'You'll eat these,' he commanded.
'I've already told you—' she began rebelliously.
'You'll eat them whether you're hungry or not. Arid get yourself a cup and have some coffee too. You've wasted enough of my time already.'
Verity found herself obeying him meekly. She hadn't really backed down, she told herself, as she bit ravenously into the food, relishing every mouthful. It was just that there was no point making a heavy issue out of something so relatively unimportant. She met his faintly mocking gaze as she drained her cup of coffee and wondered who she was fooling. It certainly wasn't him.
'Now,' her persecutor said, when she had finished, 'we have to talk.'
'What do you want to talk about?' she asked defensively. 'I've nothing to tell you.'
'I think you could tell me a great deal if it suited you.'
'Perhaps it doesn't suit me, then,' she countered.
'No, it probably doesn't. You're an awkward brat— that's one fact I've established without any digging,' he said nastily. 'What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were away at school.'
'You're very well informed!'
'I make it my business to be.'
She supposed there was no harm in explaining how things stood. It wasn't of vital importance anyway. 'I left school at the end of the term before last,' she admitted.
'And it's now January. What did you do in between?'
'A finishing course. It was run by an academy in Córdoba. We learnt deportment, etiquette, housecraft, how to entertain—'
'Spare me the details. I think I know the sort of thing,' he said rudely. 'You don't seem to have profited too much from it.'
'You, of all people, can hardly expect the red carpet treatment,' she told him resentfully. 'You're hardly a welcome visitor.'
'Somehow I didn't think I would be. Tell me, did the previous agent get the same sort of reception?'
'He never came to Vista Hermosa. He stayed in Buenos Aires and didn't poke his nose in where he wasn't wanted.'
'Very right and proper by your standards,' he mocked her. 'And, meanwhile, the estancia continued on its merry path to rack and ruin. But that wouldn't worry you, of course.'
'I wouldn't know about that,' she said defensively.
'No, of course not. You were away at school, weren't you? How convenient for you! Well, I would know. I've done my homework on the subject. And I'm far from satisfied with what's going on here. I suppose your father must have filled you in on how matters stood when he showed you my letter?'
Verity gave what she hoped was a careless shrug of her shoulders. There was no sense in letting him know into what confusion that letter had cast them. 'He said there were a few problems. Nothing that can't be ironed out fairly quickly, I imagine.'
'Do you? And when did you study cattle-farming?'
'I don't need to,' she said haughtily.
'No? You go on instinct, I suppose,' he asked sarcastically.
'I trust my father's judgment,' she snapped back at him.
'I'm glad someone's got some faith in him.'
'Meaning you haven't?'
Irritatingly, he checked himself and retrieved the temper that he had seemed in imminent danger of losing. It would have been satisfying if she had made him drop that air of cool superiority, Verity thought. 'Don't put words in my mouth,' he warned her.
'It's true, isn't it,' she said bitterly. 'It was there in every line of that letter you wrote. You don't believe in him, do you?'
'I don't know your father, so I can't judge.'
'No, you don't know him. Well, let me tell you, Mr Vance, he's worth ten of you! He's decent and hardworking and honest and—'
'He may be all of those things,' Ramón Vance agreed smoothly. 'And, if he is, there may be some other reason for the estancia profits going downhill in the last few years. Whatever it is, I'm here to find out the cause. With your permission, of course.'
What a sarcastic beast he was, thought Verity. She had never met anyone that she disliked quite as much as she disliked this man. 'You belittle my farming knowledge and I've lived here all my life—long enough to have picked up a fair amount of practical information about cattle and the way they behave. What does a city slicker like yourself know? Have you even seen ranch cattle outside pictures in books or on the screen?' she asked him scornfully.
'I know enough to get by,' he said, but didn't seem inclined to expand on the remark.
'We weren't expecting a visit from you,' she added.
'So I'd gathered. I can't think why, it was the obvious course to take. But there's no need to apologise about that.' His tone-was very bland and she raised her chin defiantly in reaction.
'I'm not apologising, I was just—'
'Yes?'
'Explaining why I was surprised to see you,' she said lamely. 'I expect my father would have stayed at home if he'd known you were arriving. But I suppose that was deliberate on your part.'
He didn't pretend to misunderstand her. 'Arriving out of the blue, you mean. Perhaps. Another example of my underhand nature which you find so different from your father.'
'As you say.' She tossed her head, her chestnut hair escaping untidily from the confines of the scarf that she wound round it and had determinedly not removed in the visitor's presence. 'You'll see that I'm right when you meet him.'
'And when do I get to meet this paragon?' he asked. 'Rewarding as I find it bandying words with you, it's not my primary objective at the moment. As far as I remember, I asked you where your father was within the first few seconds of our meeting. It's now,' he consulted his watch, 'nearly forty-five minutes later and we still haven't established his whereabouts.'
Verity capitulated. There was no point stalling for time. The sooner the two men met, the sooner this arrogant stranger could revise his opinion of her father.
'Dad's out on a round-up over near the Los Molinos boundary,' she sa
id. 'They left early, but I don't expect them back for a while yet.' She studied the visitor doubtfully. 'It's a good way and I don't know which route they'll take back. Can you ride? I could come with you and show you the way, but we might miss them, even so. This isn't Palermo Park in Buenos Aires, you know, tame and civilised. It's vast. You get lost quite easily if you're not familiar with the landmarks. I've done it myself, and I've been riding round here since I was a little girl.'
'And I'm sure you'd weep bitter tears if I did,' he mocked her. 'So when do you expect them back?'
'Two hours, maybe three. It depends if there've been any problems. He'll want to have the cattle secured in the pens before nightfall so that dipping can start first thing tomorrow. We do it in batches, you know.'
Ramón Vance nodded. Verity couldn't tell whether all this was new to him or not. 'There's no point riding out. He'll be fully occupied with the job in hand and won't thank me for interfering at a time like that.'
Verity doubted if her father would want him interfering at any time, but refrained from saying as much. 'You'll take a rest,' she suggested hopefully. 'I expect you're tired after your journey.' She could certainly do with a break from him.
She wondered if he numbered mind-reading among his talents as his eyes met hers briefly and lit with the inner mockery that never seemed far below the surface with him. 'I'm sorry to disappoint you, but no, I don't want a rest. It takes more than a one-hour flight in a well-equipped plane, followed by a shortish drive and reasonable roads, to throw me off balance. Although,' he slanted a wicked look at her, 'I'll admit that the last hour has been a little on the hectic side.'
She wouldn't rise to that one. Instead she said stiffly, 'What would you like to do, Mr Vance?' Perhaps if she froze him off with icy politeness she might find him easier to deal with.
'You're giving me a free rein?'
'It looks as if I haven't got much option,' she shrugged.
'Not a lot,' he agreed. 'So show me the house. I want to see every part of it from the roof to the cellars, if there are any. I don't want anything missed out. Is that understood?'
'Crystal clear,' she said through gritted teeth.
Two hours later Verity could well believe his claim that he didn't tire easily. They had toured the house from top to bottom and from end to end. He had even inspected the gardens. And, as they went along, the sight of each new room inspired more questions, most of which she found herself totally incapable of answering. This man covered points that she had never even thought about before. How long since the roof was last overhauled? Were the unused bedrooms aired regularly? The mattresses in those rooms, were they originals, dating from the first owner's time, or had they been replaced since? Which herbs were in the overgrown garden? Were they ever used? And what about entertainment? Did they do a lot? Had they done in the past?
They returned to the living room at the back of the house where the tour had begun, and Verity could not conceal her weariness as she slumped into an easy chair.
'Tired?' he asked, with a noticeable lack of sympathy in his voice. 'Have I been too hard on you?'
As if he would care if he had! She suspected that Ramón Vance had enjoyed watching her flounder under his barrage of questions. She had not come out of the inquisition too well, and they were both aware of the fact.
She wondered what was next on the agenda. Normally she would have been thinking about preparations for dinner. She enjoyed cooking and, after his usual diet of beef, beef, and more beef, done in a fairly unimaginative way, when he was on his own Mark Williams was an always appreciative sampler of her efforts.
The visitor's thoughts seemed to be moving in the same direction, however. 'You look as if it would take a major earthquake to get you out of that chair,' he began in a deceptively soft tone.
That, or a couple of sarcastic words from him, Verity thought. 'But?' she said.
'But there's an evening meal to get ready.'
'So there is,' she agreed. If she was wise, she knew that she ought to hang on to the shreds of her temper and disappear into the kitchen, docility personified. But Verity had never been one to take the easy way out. It didn't come with her colour hair. 'But I'm tired.'
'Doesn't that wonderful father of yours merit a decent meal when he gets home after a hard day in the saddle?'
'He'll understand.'
'Will he? Well, he may put up with your moods, but I won't.'
'If you're so keen on eating why don't you do something about it?' she challenged him.
'I fully intend to.' Before she knew exactly what was happening to her he was across the room, jerking her roughly to her feet and forcing her towards the kitchen.
'Let me go, you swine!' She struggled impotently against the steel strength of his arms, kicking out wildly at his legs in an attempt to get him to release her. She might just as well have saved her energy; her efforts got her precisely nowhere.
'Is that the sort of behaviour you learnt at finishing school?' he taunted her as, with one twist of his wrist, he ensured her surrender.
'Damn you!' she shouted furiously, forced to lean back against his hard, unyielding body, the fight knocked out of her. He was not even breathing any faster; the tussle had left him unmoved.
'Well, are you going to prepare the meal or not?' The hateful voice reached her again. 'I've been fairly kind to you so far, but, if you want to play rough—'
'No,' she said. She knew when she was beaten and he had got the better of her this time.
'You'll do the cooking?'
'I'll do the cooking,' she agreed, and found herself free.
'What time do you and your father usually eat?'
'About seven,' Verity said. 'I know you've barely finished afternoon tea at that time in Buenos Aires, but we don't keep city hours here. We're up at first light and in bed early at night. There's work to be done.'
He ignored the gibe. 'All right, seven o'clock it is. Can you cook?'
'You'll have to wait and see, won't you? I don't suppose I'll come up to your high standards, will I? I suppose all the women that you know are Cordon Bleu cooks?'
'Some of them,' he said with faint amusement. 'But, generally speaking, I don't pick my escorts for their ability in the kitchen.'
No, for their expertise in quite another department, Verity decided. If he was trying to embarrass her, he wouldn't succeed. She might not have much practical experience of meeting men and dealing with them, but she had read enough to know just what he meant. Well, he would get a rough reception if he tried any of that sort of thing on her!
He was two feet away from her now, leaning casually against the door-jamb, but, somehow, he was still too close for comfort. His nearness overpowered her, overwhelmed her in a way that she had not known before, and she wanted to distance herself from him to dispel the effect. She moved back into the room and winced as she did so. Did he have to be so—so physical?
'Did I hurt you?' he asked.
'What do you think? I'll have bruises all over me by tomorrow,' she told him resentfully.
'That's your own fault entirely. Perhaps they'll serve as a reminder to you in the future not to fight the inevitable.'
'I should give in gracefully, you mean. Yes, Mr Vance. No, Mr Vance. Three bags full, Mr Vance,' she snapped. 'Is that what you want?'
'It would come as a pleasant surprise in your case,' he admitted.
'You may get that sort of treatment from your other women, but you won't hear it from me!'
'We'll see,' he said lazily.
'Will we?' she challenged him. 'I don't think so.'
He shrugged. He wasn't going to make an issue of it, thank goodness. He was studying her, as if comparing her with his usual female escorts and finding her wanting, and Verity felt an irrational pang of wounded female pride. So she didn't look glamorous just at the moment. No one would after being manhandled like that! She wasn't a pampered city girl, forever at the beauty salon and alarmed if the wind blew her hair out of place. But, when sh
e was trying, she didn't look bad. She had her moments, even if she couldn't give his women a run for their money. Not that she would want to, she thought scornfully. They were welcome to him!
'I'll leave you to produce the meal of the century.' Ramón Vance straightened and turned away.
'What are you going to do?' Was he intending to turn his attention to some other area where the Williams family would be found to be slack and lazy?
'Did you want me to keep you company in the kitchen?' His voice mocked her. 'Somehow, I thought you would have had enough of me for the moment.'
'Oh, I have. More than enough. But I—'
'But you don't want me snooping around on my own discovering any more of your father's sins of omission. Is that it?'
He read her like a book, she thought furiously, wondering how to retrieve the situation. He was too clever by half. Why did it have to be him? Why couldn't it have been an elderly businessman with an eye to a pretty girl whom she could have twisted round her finger with ease? She very much doubted if any woman could get the better of Ramón Vance.
'I'm going for a stroll outside,' he informed her. 'Do you think that will keep me out of harm's way?'
'If you keep out of my way, I don't care where you get to,' she flared at him, no longer caring about his intentions. If he wanted to pry, he would. There was nothing much she could do to stop him.
He laughed, a deep and unexpectedly attractive sound. 'I'll try not to be late for dinner,' he said. 'Oh, and Verity—'
It was the first time that he had used her Christian name, and she stiffened. 'Yes?' she snapped. 'What is it now?'
'You might tidy yourself up a little. It would pay you.'
'Would it really?'
'Yes. I can always forgive culinary disasters if the woman who perpetrated them makes an effort in other directions. You're a mess at the moment, but I imagine you could be quite presentable if you put your mind to it.'
And, giving her no opportunity to respond to that calculated piece of provocation, he vanished in the direction of the gardens, leaving Verity no solace except that of banging saucepans about as she wished that she could throw them at Ramón Vance's arrogant head.
The Overlord Page 3