What had Chica been hinting at before her brother
silenced her? What mischief was she about to un—
cover? As the boat headed back for Pera, Coralie tried to stifle these questions and their disturbing implications. She was cold and wet, and at that moment felt her vitality at a low ebb.
Miguel landed the Flores do Pera back at its moorings, where the weather-stained fishing boats waited to go out on serious business. He made no attempt to help Coralie out of the boat; and in confusion she stepped out into a foot of water, much to the amusement of the Portuguese girl. After thanking the brother and sister for the sail, she walked back along the sandy beach, the way she had come only a few hours ago—yet now she felt certain that her intuition had served her aright, and Dom Ricardo apparently knew more about Peter Radford than he intended to disdose to the girl who had come so far in search of him.
Swinging her ruined sandals in one hand, the other plunged deeply into the cotton pocket of her dress, Coralie let herself into the courtyard through the wrought-iron gate which she had become accustomed to using on her solitary jaunts to the cove. Still lost to all but her own thoughts, she wandered unthinkingly round to a patio at the side of the house, and was vaguely aware of a gnawing hunger, not having eaten since morning and suddenly feeling quite faint for the want of food.
She was startled into awareness by the sound of a woman's brittle laughter coming from somewhere beyond the French windows—followed by Dom Ricardo's deep tones. Wildly Coralie prayed for some means of escape. Too late she had discovered that the master of the house was home before her. Barefoot she sped across the grass, hoping to reach the gate in the walled garden before discovery. To her horror his deliberate voice called to her.
' Miss Grey ! ' In her desperate confusion, she tripped and stumbled on some loose gravel at the edge of the lawn. A little startled cry escaped her, and hardly had she caught the sound of footsteps limping across the grass than she felt herself gathered up into a pair of the strongest arms imaginable.
' Were you running away from me again?' His voice was expressionless, but a faint smile deepened the lines of annoyance about his mouth. Coralie tried to protest, but knew she looked so dishevelled and guilty that she couldn't answer him. Awkward and dumbstruck, she felt like an unruly child. There was a disconcerting glimmer of humour about his eyes that startled her, so certain had she been of his angered impatience at her tiresome appearance in front of his lovely companion. She tried to wrench free of him, but felt a tightening of his arms that crushed her into stillness as he carried her towards the patio—as if she were a piece of light flotsam he had found washed up on the beach, she thought miserably.
Come and meet Senhora Dona Elvira da Silva,' he said as he placed Coralie in a wicker chair on the patio where glasses of lemon tea were being served.
After all she had heard about the lovely Dona Elvira, to be suddenly confronted by her in person when Coralie herself was feeling such a scarecrow was a most embarrassing ordeal. How often she had wondered what this woman would be like, this rich Portuguese widow who it was rumoured was the woman Dom Ricardo intended to become the new mistress of the Quinta das Torres. Until now, Coralie had been idly curious about this woman, who by all accounts must have dissolved much of the bitterness that her dark admirer had stored up as armour against the world and women in general since fate had dealt him such cruel blows. Now, confronted by such elegance, Coralie felt so eclipsed by such dazzling beauty that she desperately longed for the ground beneath her to open and swallow her up, at such a disadvantage was she; but seeing that no such cataclysmic event came to her aid, she sat very still and waited, as the Senhora looked from under dark-fringed eyes at the pale-skinned English girl that Dom Ricardo had taken under his wing. So cool and assured, her blue-black hair parted smoothly in the middle, caught back into a chignon, revealing a swan-like neck and a creamy southern skin, petal soft in its flawlessness. A crisp blouse touched
with lace at the wrists clung narrowly to slim shoulders which shook sensuously like a blossom in the breeze as husky laughter broke the silence.
' Ricardo, you did not tell me that your protégée is such a charmingly unsophisticated child. No wonder it amuses you to play guardian to her.' The accent was rich and alluring, yet the dark eyes smiled with a stony brilliance as Dona Elvira's glance slid over the girl, from sea-tangled hair to bare sand-crusted toes. Coralie felt her cheeks turn pink, then white beneath the scrutiny of such apparent scorn. Again a wild urge to retreat from this imperious pair gripped her, so conscious was she of her youthful inelegance. She lifted appealing eyes to where Dom Ricardo leaned indolently against a carved pillar. His eyes held an amused, sardonic look as he watched with evident enjoyment the effect these two so opposite women had upon each other.
Miss Grey is English, and determined to be independent of my hospitality,' he drawled, watching Coralie through the veil of smoke from his cigar. I believe she is afraid of defying convention by staying under the roof of a lame Portuguese widower.' The cynicism in his tone was unmistakable.
Then why keep her here against her wishes?' Elvira protested with a concern born of jealousy. The heavily-ringed fingers twisted a spray of jasmine until the petals began to fall.
' I had little choice.' Coralie caught the arrogant note in his voice as he answered. ' She would not have lived if we had transported her any farther afield at the time of her unfortunate accident; and though Miss Grey thinks of herself as my hostage rather than as my guest, here she will remain until I decide that it is providential to her welfare to depart.' The tone of his voice had changed abruptly, his eyes had narrowed diamond-hard as he looked from one to the other, tall, lean and unyielding.
Dona Elvira's eyes flashed a dark provocative reproof in the sudden silence. Ricardo, caro, what have you done to so alarm Miss Grey?' The dark red lips
seemed to caress his name. Coralie caught the smouldering fire of his eyes as they slipped over her slender body. She could not control the colour which flew to her face.
My dear Elvira,' his eyes took on a worldly expression, some women expect a man to be faultless yet human.' His face was inscrutable. I am neither the Don Juan that you would have me, nor the pirate captor that Miss Grey has undoubtedly labelled me.'
I am not ungrateful, senhor.' Coralie spoke up with a sudden defensive air. Ignoring her remark, he continued:
' Miss Grey is so right in her romantic notions—this stronghold was once a pirate's base.' Coralie's delicate eyebrows lifted as he gave her the benefit of a long, level stare. ' However, I do claim my right as lord and master here, to deal suitably with damsels in distress.' His voice was coldly sarcastic. Incidentally, that is one reason why I arranged your visit, Elvira—to be duena to my young hostage ! ' He spoke lightly but with undisguised authority.
` You should be glad, Ricardo, that Senhorita Grey harbours no mercenary thoughts about her rich and handsome host.' Coralie felt a flame of anger run through her. There was no mistaking Elvira's meaning.
` Miss Grey already has a fiancé. I am merely affording her my protection until we rediscover him.' The Senhor's tone had an edge to it. Coralie saw Elvira fight with her rising anger as she forced herself to smile.
' Of course, caro—I remember you telling me.'
Exactly what had he told Elvira? Coralie wondered miserably. The lazy grace with which he had lounged there in the sunlight vanished.
' Please go and change into dry clothes before you catch cold, Miss Grey. You have also time to take a belated siesta before Joining us for dinner.' The command came abruptly, as if Dom Ricardo was impatient to have the lovely Elvira to himself again, thought Coralie, her feelings a mixture of embarrassment and relief. She did not miss the slow smile of satisfaction
on Dona Elvira's face, at such a blunt dismissal of the English girl.
Please excuse me.' Coralie could not retreat from the patio quickly enough.
Once more in her room, she flung herself in an exhausted
heap on to the bed, her thoughts in a turmoil. What a strange day it had been. Was it only this morning that she had sailed along the coast in Miguel's boat and discovered what she was certain was the clue to Peter's disappearance? Yet despite the uncertainty of her future, she knew without a doubt that for the time being she wanted to stay in this rambling Portuguese farmhouse, with its sun-filled days and starlit nights; where its feudal past was still very much present; forbidding yet fascinating—dominated by the lean masterful matador whose hint of bitter savagery challenged her sense of adventure.
As she slid off her bed, she noticed with a cry of delight that her lost luggage had arrived. Rosa must have brought it up to her room while she was out, she thought with a grateful sigh of relief. The cases were somewhat battered and looking the worse for wear, but she didn't mind in the least as long as her few belongings were still safely inside. How comforting to handle familiar things again, she mused, sorting through her clothes and hanging them up inside the great carved wardrobes.
A happy smile played about her lips as she savoured the thought that for the first time since coming into Dom Ricardo's household, she would be able to wear her own clothes. Instead of feeling so heavily indebted to her host, she could go down to dinner this evening, wearing a comfortable English dress.
With a slight wince, she realised that she couldn't hope to compete with whatever attire Dona Elvira would choose to wear for dinner tonight. Still, Dom Ricardo would have no eyes tonight for anyone's attire but his fascinating Elvira—whom Coralie had no inclination to impress anyhow.
While dressing for dinner later that evening, Coralie could not quell a small tremor of anticipation. ' Don't
be silly,' she told herself emphatically. ' Hold your own with Dom Ricardo, and Elvira, but don't become involved in their lives. Remember, to them you are merely a passing ship in the night.' Nevertheless, she found herself dressing with care, in a slim-fitting white tunic which Rosa had pressed for her, its only adornment a gold chain belt. She brushed her bright hair until it fell smoothly about her shoulders; it was no use aiming at a sophisticated hair-do. It would be so out of keeping both with the simplicity of her dress and with her own uncomplicated personality.
Outside dusk was falling swiftly. Her footsteps echoed on the old-fashioned stairs as Coralie descended. The house was hushed, and the lamps turned low, as she pushed open the door of the dining room. Again she was struck by the beauty of this ornate Portuguese room. Giant urns of orchids filled the fireplace; ornaments and paintings were full of colour; and the furniture and fabrics glowed with a resplendent warmth. The table, set for three, was decked with bowls of gay flowers suggesting a truly festive air.
She trembled at the tread of heavy footsteps crossing the hall.
' Forgive me if I have kept you waiting, Miss Grey. I am unused to entertaining punctual young ladies in my home ! '
Coralie turned with a slight gasp at the sound of Dom Ricardo's voice as he crossed the room. He was immaculate in a dark silk suit that heightened his gypsy-dark looks. As always when confronted by the master of the Quinta das Tones, Coralie was intensely aware of him as a personality to be reckoned with. She was forcibly reminded of that first dinner in his presence when she had dined here alone with him—at least there was no fear of a repetition of another such nerve-racking evening now that Dona Elvira was here.
With a primitive grace he leaned over the great chestnut sideboard and filled two delicate cut-glass goblets with wine.
' This will help you regain the composure that Englishwomen use to hide the charm of their natural emotions.' A flush tinted Coralie's cheeks at the way he had of disarming her of what little dignity she felt was left to her in these sophisticated surroundings.
' I—I'm no good at small talk, senhor. I have no clever answers to match your own peculiar brand of humour. I shall only make a fool of myself if I stay and dine with you and your other very self-assured guest tonight.' With an unsteady hand she put down her untouched wine glass. If—if you will excuse me, I will plead a headache and return to my room,' she said miserably. She brushed past him like a moth attracted to the light, heedless of the risk to scorch its wings. At once he barred her way, nailing her with the dangerous glimmer of his smile.
' Pardon me, but you will not, senhorita.' She felt his touch through the thin cotton of her dress. ' You seem adept at running away from difficult situations—but tonight you stay.'
' Y—you don't need me to chaperone you.' Her voice shook with emotion. How she hated him for his ruthlessness! She felt like a trapped bird, beating its wings against the sides of a golden cage. Y—you enjoy humiliating me because I'm not worldly like the women you're used to. You have no heart-!' Her words broke off as she felt the steady beat of his heart against her arm, robbing her of courage to go on.
Make no mistake, little one, I do have a heart.' The dangerous note in his voice sent panic surging through her.
' Please let me go.' Even as she spoke, she knew that the appeal in her whole body had left him unmoved. There was no escape from his unbearable fetters, and her heart alone knew why ! Did he intend merely to frighten her—or--or what? She never knew, for he released his grip abruptly as the door was flung wide and Elvira's tall slim figure swept into the room.
Elvira I ' Like a chameleon, his mood had changed to the suave charm of which he was a master. We were wondering where you were. Miss Grey is becoming unbelievably thirsty ! '
Forgive me, caro, for keeping you waiting—but
meanwhile your little English girl will no doubt have amused you.' Elvira had not been slow to sense the tension n the air upon her arrival.
Dom Ricardo held out to Elvira a brimming goblet, then he handed back to Coralie the glass she had put down a moment ago.
Watching them so perfectly suited and of the same culture, Coralie knew a sudden pang of longing, for something that could never be hers. Pulling herself together, she chided herself for being over-sensitive. Yet she could not help feeling embarrassed in the company of these two elegant Portuguese. She wished she was far from their alien world. The short white dress that had been her best one in England now felt cheap and insipid beside Elvira's dose-fitting sheath of midnight blue, moulded to perfection on the sophisticated figure. From the high instep of her expensive slippers to the sleek head of raven black hair, she was the embodiment of all that was required to fit the station of Mistress of the Quinta das Torres.
The conversation during dinner was conducted largely in Portuguese, as Elvira claimed that it gave her an unbearable headache, trying to concentrate at this time of night on the English tongue. From time to time Dom Ricardo included his young protégée by addressing a remark in English directly to her.
' Miss Grey.' Coralie stared at the sound of her name on his lips. You are unusually quiet this evening.' His eyes were upon her as she sipped her coffee. She suspected that he was smiling at her, cruelly amused by the knowledge that he had compelled her to dine with them against her will. She glanced up straight into his penetrating eyes and caught her breath at their cool challenge.
' There are those who search desperately for something to say, senhor, and those who can happily leave the floor to the talkers.' She hoped her tone matched the confidence of her words.
And the shy ones can choose which they wish to be, eh?' His dark eyes held a glint of mockery.
Don't tease the child so, Ricardo. She cannot help
it if she is not an amusing conversationalist. No wonder the little inglesa is timid, caro, you are such a bear to her.' Elvira's silken tones did nothing to ease Coralie's embarrassment. Dom Ricardo's laugh held a sardonic note as he studied the slender, uncertain figure in her plain white dress which accentuated the bright crown of her coppery hair.
You may be assured, Elvira, that there is nothing timid about this so reserved young schoolmistress. Behind that cool English facade she hides the fearless, passionate heart of the British.' He stretched a long, protective arm along the back of the
Portuguese woman's chair, but his eyes still held Coralie's gaze with his own. She felt aware of the disturbing magic of this man with every fibre in her body. He addressed Elvira, yet invaded the privacy of Coralie's own emotions with his dynamic gaze.
Would you dare to set off half way across the world —a lone traveller—to seek your truant love?'
I would not be so foolish—' Elvira's tone was frankly cynical. Fired by the look of derision which marred the beauty of the other girl's lovely face, Coralie sprang to her own defence.
You forget, senhor, that I came of a race born and bred to the adventurous life. Our island habitat fosters freedom and independence. It was not your Portuguese ancestors alone who were emboldened with the spirit of adventure.'
Her play-acting was rewarded by Elvira's look of blank astonishment that the English girl had the courage to address the Senhor so forthrightly. His eyes were stabs of darkness as they flashed over Coralie's face, causing her pulse to race against her will. His deep laugh was edged with irony.
It is the wine that has gone to Miss Grey's heart and not to her head.' He spoke casually while regarding her with an intentness that again brought the colour rushing to her cheeks. Why was it that he had such power to take her confidence and crush it—by a mere glance, a casual remark? She straightened her slim shoulders as they stared at one another in embittered
silence until the steel glinted through his look of cool
indifference, then Coralie bit her lip and looked away.
' If you'll excuse me I will go to bed now. It—it's getting late and I'm rather tired.'
' Not at all, my dear!' Elvira's tone was mocking.
' Miss Grey had a late night last night also, and she is not used to our continental evenings.' Dom Ricardo leaned back in his chair drawing on his cheroot, and regarding the slim, trembling figure in the white dress through a veil of smoke. Plainly, to Coralie, he was recollecting the picture she had made last night in the moonlight—it put her in a most unpleasant state of confusion.
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