'Has he decided anything, you mean? If he has, he hasn't told me. To tell you the truth, it's rather weighing on me at present. I'd like to get things settled. If it's bad news I'd rather know.'
'He should have seen all he wants to see by now,'
Verity mused. 'He's toured the house and the potreros, even the far fields on the eastern boundary. He must have inspected every individual animal we keep. He's talked to all the men the estancia employs. He's gone over the farm finance books umpteen times, with and without the bank manager to explain them. What more does the man want?'
'Heaven knows.' Mark Williams sounded a little dispirited. 'I expect he'll tell me in his own good time. But the waiting gets one down rather.'
It must have been harder for him than for her, she thought sympathetically. She only had to put up with the man in the evenings and at breakfast-time. Her father had him as an observer on most working days. His men would know that he was on trial to a certain extent. That could not have been pleasant. But he had made the best of it and had not complained. He was even able to like the man who was imposing all this on him.
'You're nice, Dad,' she told him warmly.
'So are you.' He grinned at her. 'We sound like a mutual admiration society!'
Rather different from her and Ramón, Verity thought wryly. She smiled. 'It'll be even better when everything's sorted out, you'll see. Once that man's off our backs, life will be wonderful!'
They had a foretaste of exactly how wonderful it would be when Ramón announced next day that he would be away for the weekend.
'I hope it won't inconvenience the housekeeping arrangements too much,' he told Verity over dinner. The mockery in his eyes showed her that he knew only too well how happy the news would make her.
'I'll manage, I suppose,' she said ungraciously.
It was left to Mark Williams to ask pleasantly where he was going. 'Business or pleasure? You work too hard, Vance.'
'A little of both.' He smiled, showing white teeth. It was strange how pleasant he could be to anyone except herself, Verity mused. 'The Delgados have invited me to stay at their weekend place near San Roque. It sounds quite pleasant up there. There's good fishing, and Delgado tells me that he keeps a boat for sailing in good weather. And there are all kinds of sports to be had.'
Among which Isabel Delgado would figure largely, Verity had no doubt. Chaperoned by her family she might be, but there were always ways of dodging supervision, and her mother and father would probably turn a blind eye if they thought marriage was on the cards for their daughter.
She watched him stride out to the Land Rover with a small weekend bag in his hand next afternoon. If she knew Isabel at all the girl would be head over heels in love with him before the two days had elapsed—if she was not in love with him already. What girl wouldn't fall for such a handsome escort, if he put himself out to please her as well? He was wearing a casual safari suit, the jacket unbuttoned to show the tanned expanse of his broad chest, the trousers emphasising his muscled length of leg. He looked all male, Verity had to admit.
He straightened, as if aware that he was being watched, although she had taken care to stand back from the window. 'Verity?'
There was little point in concealing herself. She loosened the catch and opened the window, leaning casually out. 'Yes?'
If he was surprised by her response, he did not show it. He merely studied her with his usual intensity, as if, she always thought, he had to rate her for a prize in a beauty contest and was finding it hard to award her even half a mark. 'I'm leaving now. I'll be back late on Sunday. Tell your father, will you?'
'I'll do that,' she said coolly.
'Will you miss me?' he asked, his tone full of mockery.
'I shouldn't think so.'
'You might be surprised.'
'I might be,' she conceded. 'But I imagine it'll be more like the effect you get when you stop banging your head against a brick wall—a pleasant relief from suffering.'
Ramón left the car and walked up the steps to the verandah. Had he taken offence at the remark? Verity trembled, but .held her ground.
'You never miss a chance to hit out at me, do you?' he asked her.
'You could say that I make the most of my opportunities,' she said cautiously. Was he going to make an issue of it?
He was close now, close enough for her to catch a whiff of the tangy aftershave that he was wearing. He must just have bathed and shaved, she registered. Normally, as he was a dark-skinned man, his cheeks showed the beginnings of shadow by this time in the day.
'We're two of a kind, then,' he said softly.
'Are we? Why?'
'I believe in making the most of my opportunities too.'
Before she had time to guess his intention his lips had claimed hers in a long kiss. And the magic was still there between them. He pulled her against him, holding her close, while his mouth continued to plunder hers, fanning a spark of pleasure into a flame that threatened to consume her. They were in full view of anyone coming up the drive to the house, but somehow it did not seem to matter. All that Verity wanted was for the embrace to go on for ever.
Ramón was more in control of himself, and when he released her, prising her clinging arms from him, he looked unmoved except for the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. She could have kicked herself for succumbing so easily. What must he think of her?
'It's a pity we have to use words to communicate, Verity. You and I get on so much better using other methods,' he told her, faintly mocking.
And then he was gone before she had a chance to say anything to him, slamming the car door behind him and giving her an insouciant wave of his hand as he sped down the drive.
She would not miss him, she vowed. She would be only too glad of two clear days away from his irritating presence. But the hours dragged and she caught herself wondering on more than one occasion exactly what was happening in San Roque. She had been there once, staying with some school friends, and she knew the set-up. One spent lazy days basking in the good weather that was almost assured at this time of year. There weren't many sophisticated attractions on offer, just the pleasures of outdoor life.
Ramón would be sailing with Seňor Delgado and fishing with him, perhaps—he had mentioned that. But the rest of the time he would be with Isabel. They would walk together by the lake. They would swim, if Isabel could be persuaded to get her bathing suit wet. Or perhaps they would just lie soaking up the sun.
How would Isabel react to the sight of that lithe, bronzed body so close to her own? Would she, like Verity, feel the first stirrings of desire? Would she give in to them? The questions chased round and round in Verity's head even while she tried to keep her mind firmly on other things. She wasn't really interested, she told herself. But somehow that didn't stop the process.
Whether she was interested or not, Ramón Vance did not volunteer much information about the trip when he returned late on the Sunday evening, looking rested and relaxed.
'Did you have a good time?' It was left to Mark Williams to put the polite query. Verity, in the last stages of clearing the supper table, was ostensibly not listening.
'Fine, thanks. It made a nice break.' His gaze flickered over Verity as if she was one of the problems that he had needed to distance himself from. Then, quite deliberately it seemed to her, he changed the subject, talking cattle with her father.
Isabel was more forthcoming when she called two days later to deliver a book that she claimed she had promised to lend to Ramón. Verity saw it as a blatant excuse for her to see the man and took malicious pleasure in telling the other girl that her quarry had driven into town for a business discussion.
'He won't be back until quite late, I'm afraid,' she said, with a noticeable lack of sympathy in her voice. 'I'm so sorry if you've had a wasted journey. You should have telephoned.'
'It doesn't matter. I hadn't anything else to do.' Isabel's plump shoulders lifted in a casual shrug.
So much for the idle rich, thou
ght Verity, but did not say anything. Isabel looked the part, too, her filmy cotton voile dress in palest lemon, swirled expensively about her, and she was bathed in an overwhelming cloud of musky French perfume. Verity's nose wrinkled with disgust. She used a fresh floral cologne herself and she found the heavy waves of fragrance rather too much for her. No doubt Ramón Vance would disagree with her. And, to be fair, it had been put on for his benefit alone—of that she was sure.
'Seňor Vance will be sorry he missed you,' she volunteered, as silence stretched between them and good manners demanded that she said something.
'Yes,' Isabel agreed smugly.
There was nothing like being assured of one's reception. 'You had a good time together at San Roque?' Verity could have kicked herself for asking the question once it was uttered. It sounded as if she cared what had happened. And she didn't, of course.
'Estupendo!' Isabel launched into a long account of their time together. They had been riding. 'Ramón is an expert horseman, you know.' He swam like a fish, but was gallant enough to accommodate his pace to her more limited ability in the water. He had taken her out on the lake in her father's sailing boat for an idyllic afternoon spent alone together. One evening there had been a concert of folk music by the lake side and he had taken her to it. He had been a perfect escort— 'Muy atento, muy cortes.' Isabel's face glowed at the memory. 'Y muy macho.' She glanced slyly at Verity as if to stress the point. 'He's all man.'
'I'm glad you enjoyed yourselves,' Verity said stiffly. Inside her something was cold. Ramón had been amusing himself, she told herself. It was hardly likely that he would want what Isabel had to offer him when he could have that sort of thing many times over in Buenos Aires without the need for a wedding ring. And Isabel was too much her father's daughter to give in without blessing from a priest.
Her thoughts were clearly running on those lines. She smoothed back a strand of her thick black hair that had escaped from the severe chignon in which she wore it and preened slightly. 'My father likes Ramón very much,' she confided.
That said it all. Even Isabel, spoilt and indulged as she was, would not bestow her affections without parental approval. Seňor Delgado had obviously given her the green light to encourage Ramón. It would appear that the matter was settled if the other party to it gave his approval. And that was a big if.
Isabel had few doubts as to the power of her charms. She subjected Verity to a long consideration of which dress she should wear to delight him when he took her out to dine at a newly opened restaurant outside Córdoba. 'I haven't been there yet. It sounds rather elegant. One wouldn't want to be under-dressed.'
'No, indeed,' Verity muttered, bored. She did not think there was much danger of that.
'Blue, I think. Ramón likes me in blue—he told me so.' Isabel sounded smug. 'A woman should always try to please her man, shouldn't she?'
'Probably.' Verity wanted to say, 'He's not yours yet, so don't count your chickens.' She was surprised by the violence of her reaction to the idea of the two of them together. It was because Isabel deserved better than that, she told herself. Smug and self-satisfied the girl might be, and spoilt and pampered and overindulged, and a crashing snob into the bargain. But the awakening that she would get when she realised that Ramón Vance could not be twisted round her little finger would be an undeservedly shattering one. If Verity herself had a lot to learn about men, Isabel had even more, for all her two years' advantage, if she was hoping to tame a man like that.
'Your girl-friend called while you were out,' she told him acidly when Ramón returned to the estancia, long after Isabel had taken her reluctant leave. Mark Williams was not back yet and Verity had prepared a cold supper and was sitting out on the verandah, enjoying the evening air, so pleasant after the baking heat of the day, when even the pampas breezes blew hot air rather than cool.
'Isabel?' He halted before her chair, a dark brow raised in interrogation.
'How many others have you acquired in the neighbourhood in the brief time that you've been here?' She saw a gleam in his eyes and went on hastily, 'No, don't tell me. I don't want to know.'
'Jealous, Verity?'
'Just not interested,' she said coolly.
He shrugged. 'And what did Isabel want?'
'You. With or without a noose through your nose.'
The corners of his firm mouth lifted in something like amusement, although whether at her expense or at Isabel's, Verity could not tell. 'A pity I missed her.'
'That's what she thought. I'm afraid that telling me tales of your cosy weekend together was a good deal less amusing for her than seeing you again.'
'For someone who doesn't give a damn about me, you take a commendable interest in my activities,' he said lazily. 'Was it entertaining hearing?'
'Not in the least,' she snapped.
'You needn't have listened.'
'I wouldn't have done, if there had been any way of stopping her,' she told him sweetly.
'In that case you're not very resourceful.' He eased his powerful frame into the chair beside her and it creaked in protest at his weight.
'I couldn't be rude to the girl.'
'Why not? You don't seem to have any hang-ups about insulting me,' he taxed her.
'You're different,' she muttered.
'So I'd gathered.' He paused a moment, as if waiting for her to enlarge on the statement, and, when she was silent, continued, 'It's a pity that you feel like that.'
'I spoil your record, I suppose.'
'Is that how you really think that I see women?' he asked.
'Don't you? Aren't they just numbers in a little black book designed for your pleasure?'
He seemed amused, not angered by the thought. 'When I was twenty, perhaps. But not any more. I look for more out of a relationship than my own selfish pleasure, I hope. I give as well as take from any woman I befriend.'
'Noble sentiments,' she said with faint sarcasm. 'And what exactly do you give to Isabel?'
'You mean she hasn't told you? And I thought women always spilled all to their best girl-friends.'
'I'm not Isabel's best friend.' Not by a long chalk, Verity thought.
'She must be unusually discreet for one of your sex.' A look of amusement crossed his face.
'You mean you have an understanding with her?' It was a strangely difficult question to ask, for some reason. It shouldn't matter. But somehow it did.
'You could say that.' He stretched lazily like a big cat and turned his face to catch the last rays of the evening sunshine.
'Oh. I see.' So Isabel was right to be so smug; she had captured the prize that she was after. Verity was slightly stunned.
'Do you? I wonder.'
He was watching her keenly, looking for some reaction, she supposed. 'I'm surprised,' she said. 'I thought you weren't the marrying type.'
'I wasn't. But when a man meets his fate, he accepts it.' He gave an expressive shrug. 'If the girl is exactly what you've been looking for all your life, you don't wait around. You grab her before someone else gets to her.'
That sounded certain enough. He knew what he wanted—and he had found that quality in Isabel of all people.
'I suppose outsiders never understand what draws two people together and makes them fall in love.' She voiced her thoughts.
Ramón answered her unspoken question. 'You wonder what I see in her?' He was too perceptive by half, she thought. He considered the horizon with a faintly calculating expression. 'She's restful,' he said at last. 'Isabel isn't a little spitfire like you, Verity, but calm and placid and welcoming. A man likes to come home to a little peace and tranquillity.'
'Is that how you like your women, like milk and water?' Verity asked carefully. It was an effort to sound brightly interested, when, for some strange reason, she wanted to burst into tears. But that would never do. He might think that his news had affected her in some way. 'No wonder we never got on!'
'You're not one of my women, Verity,' he told her with cruel emphasis..
'After the marriage, you mean?'
'Yes. Will it be Buenos Aires? I suppose it will, as you've got business there. It'll be a great change for— for—'
'For my wife?' He said the word that she found herself unable to speak. He shrugged. 'If she loves me, she'll adapt to a new lifestyle. You would, wouldn't you?'
'Yes, I think I would,' she said slowly. It would be hard luck on Isabel if she didn't feel inclined to change when the man in her life demanded it. Clearly he had no intention of altering his own ways. Marriage would be on Ramón's terms not those of the woman he wed, however much he loved her. Although he hadn't said a word about that, Verity noted absently. 'You'll be leaving us soon, then?' She supposed any normal man would be eager for his wedding to take place as soon as could be arranged.
'It won't be long now,' he agreed. 'You'll be glad to see the back of me, I expect.'
'I expect so,' she echoed. Suddenly she didn't know. She didn't know at all. It was what she had wanted for weeks. But now she was not sure.
'I'd better go and ring Isabel.' Ramón got to his feet in one lithe movement and sauntered towards the house. 'Is supper ready yet?'
Normally she would have flared up at this reminder of her duties, but tonight, for some reason, it passed her by. 'It won't be long. Dad should be back shortly.'
'Good. I'm hungry.' He disappeared into the house, leaving the door ajar behind him.
Verity supposed she had better make a move. There were still a couple of things to attend to in the kitchen—fruit to prepare for a dessert and the table to lay. She got slowly to her feet and stood for a moment, gazing unseeingly down the drive. Usually she loved looking at the wide avenue of eucalyptus trees that some previous owner had planted to give style to Vista Hermosa. Green and stately, they always seemed symbolic of the strength and purpose of life on the pampas. Tonight she didn't even register their presence. They were of no comfort to her. She turned to go in. Suddenly she felt tired and dispirited.
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