The Overlord

by Susanna Firth

  'How much longer is he staying?' she asked her father in one of the brief moments that they got alone these days. Their guest was in the stables talking horses with Juan, the man who looked after them.

  Her father laughed. He seemed more relaxed than he had been for a while. Verity had the impression that things weren't going too badly. Reprieve had not been officially granted, but she had the feeling that it might be on the way, although, superstitiously, they avoided discussing the subject. 'What's the matter, love?' he asked. 'Is the housework getting you down? I know it's one more person for you to cook and clean for, but. you've been managing wonderfully well. Ramón was saying the other day that he'll be running to fat if he eats many more of your good cooking!'

  She could not say that she had noticed any evidence of it. His tall frame did not carry an ounce of excess flab. She supposed that the exercise that he was getting ensured that. What did he do in Buenos Aires? she wondered. Perhaps he worked out in one of the numerous gyms that existed for busy executives? It was more likely that his pursuit of women kept him trim. Or did they pursue him?

  'I'm all right,' she fended off her father's query. 'A little bored, I suppose. You seem to be tied up all the time. I don't see very much of you.'

  'You don't want to spend your time with an old man like me,' he teased her. 'You need some young company. Get Ramón to take you riding. He'd like that, I'm sure.'

  'Maybe.' She kept her tone carefully noncommittal. There was no point in telling her father that she would die rather than ask any such thing of Ramón Vance. She did not want his company, in the house or out of it.

  'I'll mention it to him,' Mark Williams offered.

  'No, there's no need,' she said quickly. 'I can talk to him myself. Really, Dad, anyone would think I was two years old, the way you treat me sometimes!'

  'Methuselah,' he teased her and, in the ensuing laughter, the subject they were discussing was forgotten.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Unfortunately for Verity matters did not stay that way. Two days later, as she was washing the breakfast dishes, she had the sudden feeling that she was being watched. She turned to see Ramón Vance in the doorway.

  'Did you want something?' she asked distantly. Away from her father's presence she saw no reason to keep up the pleasantly civil tone that she adopted at mealtimes and on the other occasions when she was forced to suffer their visitor's company.

  She had not really looked in his direction at breakfast, keeping her eyes on her plate and letting her thoughts rove in other directions as usual. She rarely spoke to him unless directly addressed. Now she noted that his usual working clothes, serviceable jeans topped with a casual shirt, had been replaced by a formal business suit that fitted him superbly. His white shirt emphasised the tan of his face, bronzed by the long hours that he had spent recently in the pampas sun. He wore an immaculately knotted silk tie in a discreet shade, and his dark, hand-made shoes gleamed with polish. Clothes did not make the man, Verity reminded herself firmly, resisting an involuntary tug of attraction.

  'I have to go to Córdoba on business,' he said. 'Your father tells me that you want a taste of the bright lights. Do you want to come with me?'

  If it had been anyone else making the offer, she would have accepted eagerly, not hesitating for a moment. As it was she wavered, then told him, 'No, I don't think so. Thank you anyway.'

  A dark brow raised mockingly, he took her up on her refusal. 'Why not? I understood that you were bored to tears with domesticity and craving a little excitement.'

  But definitely not the sort that he could provide, Verity thought warily. 'I don't choose to go,' she said carefully.

  'You mean you don't choose to go with me. Isn't that it?' he asked.

  'I've got work to do.' She dodged the question. 'The house needs—'

  'I'm well aware of what the house needs. It can wait. A day won't make any difference,' he said crisply. 'Well?'

  'I've got to—I must—' Verity's voice tailed off miserably as she tried desperately to find an adequate excuse for not going with him. 'I can't go, that's all.'

  'Can't doesn't exist in my vocabulary.' He looked at his watch, then told her, 'You've got half an hour to get yourself ready. I assume that even you will want to try to pretty yourself for a trip to the big city. Go and get ready—I'll meet you by the car.' Having delivered his orders, he prepared to go. Then, catching sight of the expression on her voice, he paused. 'Oh, there's just one thing—'

  'What?' she asked rudely.

  'I don't like being kept waiting. If you're not there on time—'

  'You'll go without me,' Verity concluded, faintly relieved. He had just shown her how to escape him. If she did not turn up, he would get impatient and leave on his own, which was exactly what she wanted to happen. 'That would be a pity, wouldn't it?' She gave him a sweet, false smile. 'I'll try not to disappoint you.'

  'Will you? I'm glad to hear it,' he said smoothly. 'Because if you're not ready and waiting for me in precisely thirty minutes, I'll have to come and find you. And if you're not dressed by then, I'll help you.'

  'You wouldn't dare!' she challenged him.

  'Wouldn't I? Don't put me to the test, Verity.' His face was full of mockery. 'You wouldn't be the first, believe me.'

  'I'll lock my door.'

  He laughed scornfully. 'That wouldn't present too many problems to a determined man,' he told her. 'And you'd be amazed just how determined I can be when someone tries to cross me.'

  'I don't want to go to Córdoba with you,' she said angrily, truthful at last.

  'Too bad,' he shrugged. 'I'm not interested in what you want. I'm in charge here and I'm telling you what you'll do. Is that understood?'

  'I haven't much option, have I?'

  'Not much,' he agreed.

  She was defeated and she knew it. There was no fighting Ramón Vance in this mood. 'All right, I'll come with you.'

  'Not the most gracious acceptance I've ever received from a lady,' he commented lazily.

  'I'm not a lady.'

  'No, but you might get there some day. If you try.' He turned and headed away from her. 'You've rather less than twenty-five minutes to turn yourself into a fair imitation of one,' he called back to her. 'I should get weaving, if I were you. Transformation scenes usually take a bit of effort outside fairy tales.'

  'Beast! Arrogant, domineering beast!' Verity muttered to herself as she kept a hold on her temper with a struggle and forced herself to finish the dishes and leave them to drain. She had no doubt that Ramón Vance meant exactly what he said. She had a quarter of an hour now. She stripped off her apron and ran to her room. One of these days she would get even with that man!

  A quick glance at her wardrobe revealed only one possible dress for the outing, and she donned it rapidly. She was not sure if he would find it up to Buenos Aires standards, but for Córdoba it would pass muster. It was a simply cut cotton in a shade of pink that had always flattered her, and it was a dress that always gave her confidence. And, heaven knows, she needed a boost at the moment.

  Verity brushed her hair and applied a little makeup. Her eyes in the mirror stared back at her, wide and apprehensive. She was not looking forward to long hours spent in Ramón Vance's company. It was a fair journey to Córdoba, even in a fast car. What on earth would they talk about? Or would he drive in total silence? In a way that would be even worse.

  Five minutes left and she was panicking now. Her hand trembled as she tried to apply a coat of lipstick and she had to wipe off her first attempt with a tissue and try again. Damn the man! He had no right to get her worked up like this. There, she was ready, and if he disapproved of the end result it was just too bad. She knew she was no beauty, so why bother trying to pretend? With a final glance in the mirror she slipped her feet into her best navy-blue shoes and headed for the door. She did not want Ramón coming to find her!

  She skidded to the front door with seconds to spare from the deadline that he had given her and then slowed to
a casual walk that was meant to demonstrate to him, if he was waiting for her outside, that she did not give a fig for his ultimatum. But he had his back turned to her, speaking to one of the men, as she paused on the steps.

  'I'm ready!' she called, interrupting the conversation.

  He spun round at that and for a second she suffered his critical appraisal of her appearance. Suddenly she was glad that she had made an effort as she saw what could have been a glint of approval in the dark eyes.

  'Well, will I do?' she asked pertly. She could tell from the dazzled look on the face of the man beside him that she had made a distinct impression there. But she was not interested in him.

  'You'll do.' Ramón Vance opened the car door for her to get in. 'I'll be with you in a minute.' And he turned away again, obviously wanting to finish his conversation.

  Verity felt suddenly fiat. She supposed that it was too much to expect him to praise her, to appreciate the effort that she had made to look nice. But no; the approving look had clearly been for her obedience, not for her appearance. She wished now that she had worn her shabbiest dress; he would probably not have noticed the difference.

  She got into the car and sat there disconsolately. Then she heard a laughing exchange between the two men and Ramón got into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind him. He started the engine and prepared to move off.

  'Adios, Don Ramón, que tenga suerte!'

  'Adios.' Her companion waved as they headed down the drive.

  Don Ramón indeed! How dared the hired hands accord him that old-fashioned title of respect and treat him in that way, half deferential, half companionable, like a well-loved master? In the space of a few weeks he seemed to have manoeuvred himself into a position of trust and authority. Why didn't people realise what he was really like? Was she the only person to see through the facade to the hard, cold man underneath who would stop at nothing to gain his own ends?

  He seemed in a high good humour all of a sudden, his lean features relaxed in a way that made him seem almost human for once. Verity could see why some women might find him attractive, she conceded to herself. But not her. Suddenly she itched to wipe the smile off his face.

  'Why was Felipe wishing you good luck?' she asked him. 'Doesn't he think too much of your ability to handle a car?'

  He laughed with genuine amusement. 'I don't think that was the question at issue.'

  'Then what was?' She was puzzled.

  He glanced sideways at her, still amused. 'My ability to handle you. He thought I should make a pass at you because you were looking attractive.'

  'Oh.' Verity wished she had not asked now. 'He had no right to suggest anything of the kind,' she said primly.

  'Only the right of any man who sees a pretty girl and admires her. He knew you were out of his league, so he wished me success with you instead. There's generosity for you, if you like.'

  'I don't like. I'm not a chattel to be handed from one man to another. This is the twentieth century, in case you hadn't realised,' she told him coldly.

  'I had, but I doubt if Felipe bothers too much about it. The gaucho lives pretty much as he's always done without making many concessions to modern living. A woman has her uses, of course. She's there to share his bed, bear his sons, tend his home when he has one—'

  'And take any treatment he hands out to her without complaint. What an attractive picture you paint,' Verity said sarcastically. 'I wonder why I'm not panting to lead such a life.'

  'It has its advantages.'

  'For the man!'

  'Argentina is still a man's country. Accept it. You won't change it, Verity.'

  'Perhaps not,' she said stiffly. 'Arguing with someone like you certainly won't get me anywhere, will it?'

  He looked slightly impatient. 'Where's your sense of humour?'

  'Missing when you're around.'

  'I'd noticed. Like you yourself. You're avoiding me these days,' he added.

  'What if I am?' she challenged him. 'Aren't you satisfied with the total adoration of everyone else on the estancia and outside it? Does it spoil your record to have one person standing aloof?'

  'Are you jealous of my success?' he mocked her 'Would you like lessons on how to win friends and influence people?'

  'Do you think I need them?'

  He gave a short laugh. If your attitude towards me is anything to go by, you're crying out for a bit of instruction.'

  'Thanks for the offer,' she said coldly. 'But no, thanks.'

  'You'll regret it.'

  'I don't think so.'

  Ramón shrugged. 'Please yourself. I imagine you usually do.'

  He thought she was selfish and spoilt, and somehow it hurt her that he should feel that way. Ramón Vance was the first person that she had ever met to inspire such antagonism in her. She almost wished she could explain to him why she acted towards him in a way so alien to her normal nature. But she did not really know the answer herself, and any attempt to excuse her behaviour would only look like weakness. Instead she subsided into silence, staring out of the window at the flat landscape that stretched on every side of them.

  For mile after mile the view was unchanging as the road cut through the grassland. Occasionally a patch of thistles or clump of bushes broke the monotony and, equally rarely, a grove of tall trees indicated the presence of a nearby estancia. Wire fences showed the boundary limits and on the fence posts, made of hard quebracho wood, Verity could see the strange dried mud nests of the hornero or ovenbird.'

  Writers were fond of comparing the pampas with the ocean. And they were right, Verity thought, as she watched the landscape shimmer in the growing heat of the day. It was like a strange motionless surface, gently stirred by the breeze that blew continually over it. The general effect was hypnotic. She could feel her eyes, closing and jerked herself upright in an effort to stay awake. She was not going to fall asleep, she told herself.

  He noticed, of course. He never seemed to miss a thing where she was concerned. 'It's another two hours to Córdoba. Why not take a nap?' He threw her a wicked look. 'Use my shoulder as a pillow, if you like. It won't be the first time.'

  She did not suppose it would be; she was not that naive. 'No, thank you, I'm fine as I am.' Did he really think she would adopt the casual intimacy that he shared with his women friends? He had another think coming, if he did! Verity leaned her head against the metal of the window frame and dozed uncomfortably.

  She came round with a start as the car swerved suddenly. 'What's the matter?' she asked.

  'A cow on the road. Move, you stupid animal,' he said without heat, as the cow raced frantically along the road in front of them, apparently incapable of turning off into the safety of the open ground on either side of the road. He slowed to a crawl, then, as the animal finally came to its senses and pounded off the road, speeded on again.

  'They're like that. They don't think things out,' said Verity.

  'Typically female,' he commented. 'One idea in mind and hellbent on clinging to it.'

  He had not taken his glance off the road. He was not even speaking to her directly, but to a point somewhere on the far horizon. Verity took his drift, though. 'You think I'm like that, do you?'

  'If the cap fits,' he said carelessly.

  'Meaning I should reconsider my opinion of you?' she asked.

  'Blind prejudice usually springs from ignorance or stupidity,' he told her calmly. 'And you're neither ignorant nor stupid.'

  'Thanks for the compliment! From a razor-sharp mind like yours it's quite a concession.'

  'You're determined not to like me, aren't you?' he accused.

  'Does it matter so much to you?'

  'Not at all,' he said. 'We'll play it your way, if that's what you want. The end result will be the same.'

  What did he mean by that? Verity felt suddenly uneasy. He had capitulated just now, hadn't he? He had told her it no longer mattered to him what she thought of him. In the future she could go her own road without let or hindrance from him. That
was what he had been saying, wasn't it?

  But Ramón Vance did not give up that easily, she was sure. It was a trap of some kind, she was certain of it. She glanced warily across at him and he caught her before she had time to look away.

  'Worried?' he asked her.

  'No, why should I be?'

  'I don't make a fair opponent, Verity. I play dirty when it suits me.'

  All's fair in love and war—the tag flashed through her mind. But Ramón Vance was not in love with her, so that was all right. 'I can imagine,' she said tartly.

  'Well, don't say you didn't ask for it. And don't expect any sympathy if you get hurt in the process.'

  'I shan't get hurt,' she said defiantly, and spoke to herself as much as to him.

  'It would be a pity,' he told her lightly. He did not believe she could look after herself. Well, he would see!

  They were on National Route Nine leading directly to Córdoba, and it was not long before the towers of the city came into view. It was a strange mix of old and new, but Verity had always loved the way that the colonial buildings nestled cheek by jowl with the office blocks and industrial plants of later times.

  They followed the signs to the city centre, slowing down as they encountered more traffic on the road! Ramón was a good driver, she would allow him that, Verity thought. After the aggressive displays of most Argentinian men, who, once behind a wheel, drove as if they were on a racing circuit, her companion's quiet control was a great relief. But, no doubt, he felt no need to prove himself in that area. Ramón Vance would take other opportunities to demonstrate his manhood.

  He parked the car not far from the Plaza San Martin in the old part of town and then turned to collect the bulky briefcase that he had left in the back seat. Suddenly he was a city businessman again; cool, hard-headed, aloof.