Destiny Decrees

  The hotel was starched and airless, and after washing her hair and attending to her travel-weary clothes, Coralie wandered out to the garden behind the hotel, climbing a rain-torn path where orange trees and green hedges, flowers and rushing water made an oasis in the sun-dried city. It was the hour of siesta, but she was soon aware that she was not alone in the tranquil garden. She stood rooted to the spot as she caught the sound of Elvira's husky voice.

  ' Have you ever felt better than you do at this moment, caro? What a paradise, Ricardo!'

  The most beautiful place in Europe, and the best

  climate in the world,' came his rejoinder as he inclined his dark head to where the water gushed at his feet. 'This water comes from the serras, a delicious gift of heaven. Taste it.' The Portuguese girl dipped a finger gingerly in the stream, licked it, and gave a little shudder. Coralie heard his low laugh and felt a sharp stab of envy as he gathered a sprig of jasmine, and with an elegant bow gave it to the woman who stood at his elbow.

  ' For you, senhora,' he said indulgently. Her lovely eyes were raised to his, her hair was a halo of jet, and her smooth dress clung tightly to her body. They had come now to a walled garden, and pausing before an iron gateway, Dom Ricardo pushed it open and handed Elvira through. They walked away, up a pathway lined with roses and violets. Coralie retraced her steps, unseen back to her room and threw herself on the bed, for a while unable to still the odd trembling which overcame her.

  The lights came out one by one all over the city; the wide river darkened and night had suddenly fallen. They dined out at the Floresta, a sea-food restaurant, one of the best along the river-front. Moonlight shed mystery over the balcony where they sat at a table overlooking the spectacular view of Lisbon, piled upon its darkened hills across the water.

  In a perfectly cut dinner jacket. his shirt white against the brown skin of his throat, Ricardo's dark magnetism mesmerised her.

  A tremor ran through Coralie, a reaction from the

  pain of hating and loving this man, and from knowing

  him to be in love with another, while demanding that

  she, Coralie Grey, should marry him to establish his

  honour. But for how long would he be strong enough

  to rein in his desire for the alluring charms of the

  Portuguese girl, and to renounce his love for her,

  Coralie wondered, even if she had been so foolish as

  to accept his compromising offer. Not for long, she

  thought bitterly. The painful memory of coming

  upon them unaware in the garden oasis only that

  afternoon, was too new and humiliating. Had he

  been telling Elvira of his decision to marry the English girl? Coralie wondered despairingly. If so, Elvira was certainly playing it cool, but what revenge was she planning behind this calculating facade? When would this lynx show her claws? Afraid of her own thoughts, Coralie reached for her wineglass, hoping to drown her melancholy in the dark wine of this dramatic country. Her nerves were on edge as her trembling fingers touched the fragile stem. Why should it be that very moment, she thought, that Elvira chose to throw off her lovely stole, and expose her creamy shoulders.

  ' I find it so hot in here—oh ! I am so sorry,' she drawled as the dark red liquid spilled from Coralie's glass, staining her simple white dress like blood on virgin snow. How clumsy of me to have knocked your elbow—here, take my handkerchief—' But Coralie was too stunned and miserable to move. She was fully aware that Elvira's action in upsetting the wine had been deliberate, despite her effusive apologies, but why was she so determined to spoil the only evening dress that Coralie possessed in the whole world, and moreover, to wreck her first evening in Lisbon? But Coralie had little time for speculation on this premeditated little drama. With the instinctive alertness of a matador with one deft movement, Ricardo was at her side, an unreadable expression on his lean face as he bent over her.

  ' How unfortunate. Come, I will take you back to the hotel to change your dress, Miss Grey, but first we will have coffee in the lounge and get away from all this noisy music and dancing.' This time his smile came reassuringly as if upon seeing the foolish tears brim her eyes, he had bidden her take heart.

  Out in the lounge, he threw a decisive glance at the limp white dress and announced that they would head straight back to the hotel, dismissing the idea of coffee in the lounge, evidently not wishing to be embarrassed by her dishevelled appearance, thought Coralie, trembling a little as she felt the night air on her bare arms, and not a little from the apprehension of being escorted alone by this dangerously handsome grandee.

  Please,' her eyes were wide and appealing. There is no need for you to come with me to change my dress —just put me in a taxi and I shall be all right. There is no need for your evening to be spoiled by—by my clumsiness.'

  Don't be a child,' he rejoined. Do I have to

  remind you what might happen to a young woman unescorted in a country so unpredictable?' He stood looking down at her with a significant knowing quality. You still behave like an innocent babe instead of a woman contemplating marriage.'

  Her cheeks flamed at his sudden and unexpected allusion to his former proposal, the first time he had broached the subject since that traumatic evening—was it really only two days ago ?—of their walk in the moonlit garden when he had demanded that she pay him her debts—by marriage.

  Marriage to whom, senhor? Not to you!' Her voice was low and vibrating with emotion.

  ' Really?' His tone sounded almost intimidating, and his eyes narrowed dangerously as if this Portuguese autocrat had never before been defied—certainly not by a mere slip of a girl.

  He was utterly silent as they drove back through he lamplit streets to the hotel, and Coralie was afraid she had made him very angry. She felt her pulse quicken as he ushered her into the shadowy opulence of the hotel foyer.

  I'll meet you here in ten minutes. That should give you sufficient time to change.' He looked at the gold dial of his watch with an impatient gesture.

  Coralie made no move.

  ' Please don't wait for me—I'm tired, so I think I'll go to bed,' she said in a smothered voice. Her heart drummed madly as he looked at her, his eyes smouldering.

  ' You will do nothing of the sort, young lady. You will go up and change.'

  But—but I haven't another decent dress to change into!' she blurted out the words.

  A dark frown knit his brows together. Suddenly he

  .

  smiled, decidedly whimsically.

  ' You stubborn child! Do you really mean me .to believe that a young woman goes on a holiday spree with only a couple of dresses or so?'

  ' But it's true! I only brought this one—if you must know, it's the only one I have besides the one you've already seen—and anyhow, I'm no fashion-plate to need a wardrobe of evening gowns,' she finished flatly.

  ' But surely you knew you would need more clothes than this for a weekend in the city.'

  Coralie flushed angrily.

  I've never spent a weekend in the city in my life before. My breakaways in England have been a day's shopping in town, between times of our annual holiday when my parents were alive—when we could afford one—and then a girl's luggage consisted of a few cotton washing frocks, and a cardigan or two—oh, and a raincoat, of course! I'm not used to dressing according to your social circle. I—I'm sorry if I've let you down—'

  But I told you to buy some suitable clothes, and to charge them to my account,' he broke in tightly.

  ' What was the use of extravagant buying, senhor, when I shan't be needing them? I couldn't possibly accept your kind hospitality for much longer—and I was brought up to be thrifty. I have no place in your world—'

  ' Yes, yes, I understand! ' he said with some exasperation. ' But this is neither the time nor the place to hold an enquiry into the orientation of our diverse backgrounds.' His expression relaxed slightly. ' Cheer up, pequena, the night is yet young, and you have seen not
hing of Lisbon by night.'

  ' But what about the others—?'

  ' Do not worry your lovely head. I shall join them later for a nightcap, but not before I have shown my little English guest something of this fascinating city by night.'

  ' But—'

  ' Do not argue! ' His voice became a menacing purr.

  And I am not requesting you to go and change into whatever you have brought with you—I am ordering you to do so.'

  ' English girls are not accustomed to taking orders,' she flung at him, her annoyance giving her courage.

  Then I shall have to teach you obedience as the Latin girls are taught!' Coralie gasped at the dangerous gleam in these ebony eyes, as she fled to the sanctuary of her room to change.

  The Portuguese night air was warm and soft like the caress of silk about her slim shoulders, intoxicating, too intensely disturbing, and Coralie felt tangibly aware of Dom Ricardo's presence as they stood for a while on the ramparts of St George's Castle, high above the labyrinth of narrow streets huddled beneath the canopy of stars. They listened as down below in the ancient Moorish quarter of Alfama, a fado singer poured out her soul.

  Of what are you thinking?' he demanded, his eyes still gazing down upon the jewelled lights of the city.

  Coralie felt an odd pounding of her heart.

  I was thinking that this night will give me something to remember when—' her voice faltered.

  Yes?' He had turned to look down at her now, his dark eyes probing.

  For the rest of my life,' she murmured, leaning unsteadily against the parapet as she struggled for composure. One moment she was leaning there, and the next his hands were around her waist, gripping hard as his gypsy-dark face came nearer to hers. She saw his eyes burning with an intensity that she could not comprehend.

  ' You little fool,' he muttered roughly, ' do you want to break your neck?'

  I'm sorry,' she murmured inadequately, trembling with an emotion which she realised now she had never experienced in her relationship with Peter. If fate were less than kind, she thought. the strains of the fado thrumming in her veins, it would let her marry Peter, who at least still loved her—or did he?—it would surely not be so cruel as to order her fate of marry-

  ing this dynamic Portuguese, whom to love was a physical torture—knowing she would receive from him merely the empty demands of unrequited love. Struggling desperately to keep a hold on her nerves, she moved abruptly from his hold, a shiver running through her as she feared that her eyes would reveal to him the secret of her heart. A gasp of fear broke from her as he reached out, forcing her to look at him.

  ' You do not like me to touch you, eh? You still think of me as a barbarian—but there you are wrong. I am first of all a man, Coralie.' She caught her breath at her name upon his lips, it was even more effective than his touch. She wished to goodness the sound of his voice did not set her nerves quivering.

  A man alone with the girl he is determined to marry.' His lean fingers were gripping her cruelly, his smile uncaring as she wrestled beneath his hands. ' I can see I shall have to curb some of that wild spirit.'

  Don't think you can tame me as you have tamed bulls on the Quintal ' she cried in desperation. ' I shall never marry you, you beast—is that clear?—I hate you ! ' she cried, striving to keep the panic from her voice at being at the mercy of his relentlessness.

  ' On the subject of bullfighting, we have a saying, " It is always too late to run ".' His smile was a glint of wickedness in the saturnine face, so darkly handsome above her, and she did not trust herself to reply. Abruptly he released her, yet she remained his prisoner between the dangerous edge of the parapet and his hard, unrelenting frame.

  ' Come now, you might even decide to like me before the weekend is over.'

  ' I can't marry you, I am already promised to another man,' she said tautly.

  ' Do you love him?' he demanded. The dark eyes were deliberately probing. She could not truthfully answer yes.

  ' You should know, senhor, that when the English make a promise they keep it,' she evaded.

  I applaud your British pluck, senhorita.' Lean and

  masterful fingers tilted her head towards the shimmering waterscape far below them where, between sails and masts of schooners rocking gently across a mile of waves, were reflected the lights of Lisbon like ten thousand fireflies.

  She felt his hand warm at her elbow. ' Look, Coralie, tonight the moon is blue!' She became instantly still at the tone of his voice. Bewitched, she followed his gaze. The moon was truly blue. Everywhere had become sheathed in a soft, metallic blue light, the clustering city sleeping upon its folded hills; the suspension bridge, delicately clasping either bank of the river like a filigree brooch.

  ' It's a sleeping blue,' Coralie whispered; her voice held a tinge of sadness, but no regret.

  Ricardo's eyes rested on her face. He seemed for a moment to be examining her closely, taking in the delicately moulded features and the soft quiver of her lips. A muscle moved at the corner of his mouth, and his voice was low as he drawled, ' Sleeping with one eye open to watch us pass! '

  Coralie raised incredulous eyes to his. Could it be that this man of steel had a romantic heart? she wondered in bewilderment. She almost prayed aloud to keep her dream a little while longer, but he had turned from his contemplation of the moon, and she realised that already they were back on the prosaic level. Come, Coralie, it is late. Give me your hand for these steps down.'

  Perversely, she felt a strange lurch of disappointment that he had not gathered her to him and kissed her up there beneath the stars, in a world that consisted of herself and Ricardo alone. How different he was from the man she had first thought him, unknown behind that inscrutable mask.

  Back in her hotel bedroom, as she slipped into her chiffon nightdress and stood brushing her hair, she recalled the velvety darkness on the castle battlements. How deceptive the trick her imagination had played. It had exaggerated the intimacy of those moments spent alone with Ricardo. It was her absurd fancy

  that had read into the occasion overtures that were never intended. The sooner she accepted the fact that she was just Coralie Grey who was totally out of her depth among this high society, anyway, the easier it would be to pack her bags and say goodbye to the Quinta das Torres and its enigmatical master, when the artificiality of this weekend was over.

  CHAPTER XI

  Lisbon's dawn chorus woke her. Cockerels calling in high Alfama windows. Every tenement dweller seemed to keep a few fowls in his backyard or balcony, and before the city's sounds gained ascendancy, they gave a rural greeting to the sun. Later came the penetrating cry of the varinas across the narrow beco streets, as they dressed; and the splash of the ferries bearing workers across the Tagus to flow up the avenidas to offices and shops.

  Coralie was aware of a sense of excitement mixed with foreboding. It was her birthday, but none of her companions knew that, since she had been brought up to believe that announcing one's birthday was to invite gifts and other favours. No, the excitement came from the anticipation of exploring the city this morning and the foreboding was the prospect of a bullfight that afternoon.

  Elvira, it seemed, had recovered from her slight indisposition at breakfast time. Evidently she was not going to lose her advantage in this game of love if she could help it. Her smile was one of dark brilliance as their eyes met.

  ' Good morning.' The foreign voice was perfectly composed. What happened to you after dinner last night?' she asked Coralie with assumed indifference.

  ' Last night?' Coralie's eyes slid to Dom Ricardo's and fancied she saw an amused look—there was no help from that quarter, she thought dismally.

  ' I was rather tired—I thought perhaps you wouldn't miss me—' she fumbled desperately for the words.

  Elvira's lips curled in a secret smile, recalling, Coralie guessed, the incident of her ruined dress last night. She found herself wondering how long Dom Ricardo had stayed up entertaining his other guests after he had deliv
ered her back to the hotel last night. Was it something that had happened then, she wondered, to bring back the happier much younger look

  into Elvira's eyes?

  Ricardo's deep voice broke across the awkward moment.

  ' I have some business to which I must attend this morning, but I am sure Jacques will be more than happy to escort you ladies around the sights of Lisbon.' He grinned disarmingly at Jacques.

  ' Oh, caro, Elvira exclaimed, it is surely not so important, your business, that it cannot wait!'

  ' It would have to be something very special to make me agree.' His eyes gleamed sardonically. A dark flush betrayed the hidden anger behind Elvira's outward composure. It was obvious that she had intended to annexe Dom Ricardo for the morning, and had been foiled by his commitments to duty.

  You take life too seriously, caro.' Elvira raised slanting eyes to his face; eyes that seemed to hold an unfathomable expression in her exquisitely made-up face.

  His eyes flickered angrily, silencing any further protests from Elvira.

  ' I'll see you at lunch,' he shot over his shoulder as he strode out to the forecourt where his car waited.

  How strange that Ricardo should remember this business appointment this morning, when only last night his plans were carefully arranged for today.' Jacques' hooded gaze conveyed a world of meaning. His voice lowered. It would not surprise me if his business were to do with the loss of the family diamonds.'

  Coralie willed herself not to conjecture about Ricardo's absence. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with her—or with Peter—or could it? However, her companions were intent upon their coffee and rolls, and did not notice her sense of unease.