As she sat sipping the wine that he had poured from an immense china jug into clean glasses and helping herself to a platter of delicious black grapes that had been placed on the table, she reflected that nothing in the room nor in any part of the taberna would have appeared unfamiliar to an eighteenth-century revenant. The walls were panelled in dark brown chestnut wood. Immense built-in carved cupboards of chestnut gave weight to the dining room, where the servants were in the process of putting the finishing touches to the table for dinner.
As if reading her thoughts the Senhor remarked:
' The Taberna Bravo is famous. It is where many of the bullfighters and bull-breeders come after a fight.'
' Here, senhorita,' added the patrão with a knowing smile, ' you can be happy for a night and feel ever afterwards that it is a little part of your life,' and with that he withdrew, leaving Coralie pink-cheeked and choking with outrage.
' He-he-thinks—' she stammered, unable to continue. Ricardo watched her wickedly above the rim of his glass, quirking an eyebrow.
' And does it worry you. pequena, what the patrão thinks?' he drawled. Come, this is your birthday dinner, and a farewell celebration to Jacques, who will soon be leaving Portugal.' In the smouldering lamplight, his face was contorted with savage shadows, as quite unexpectedly he leaned across the table and shackled her slim wrist in his steely grip. Taking a small box from his pocket, he said, My business appointment this morning was truly urgent, you see. I could not let your birthday pass without giving you some small token.' As he spoke, he clasped a silver bracelet round her wrist, his strong brown fingers snapping the clip as if putting the final shackles on his prisoner.
Senhor!' she breathed. It's beautiful—no one
has ever before given me a bracelet.' Her eyes filled with tears again.
He was regarding her strangely and she was aware of his strong hand still clasping her wrist where her pulse raced beneath the pressure of his possessive fingers.
' It has been in my family for many years. It was deposited along with other pieces of family jewellery at the bank in Lisbon, until this morning—I was on my way back from there when I met Elvira and Jacques, who told me that you had managed to stray away from them—'
It was precisely at that moment that to Coralie's mixed relief and embarrassment, Elvira's husky voice said from the doorway :
' I see we have taken you by surprise! '
Unhappily aware of the scarlet spots in her cheeks, Coralie jerked her hand free.
Not at all,' rejoined Ricardo smoothly. ' We were hoping you would arrive soon, as we have it on good authority that dinner is under way.'
Jacques enquired solicitously if Coralie was feeling better, but Elvira's smiling eyes were fixed maliciously on Coralie's wrist as the younger girl sat nervously twisting together her fingers, acutely conscious of the Portuguese girl's jealousy of her bracelet, yet for some reason Elvira refrained from mentioning it.
Elvira's vivid presence, like her exotic perfume, filled the room, but irate as she was, she was in full control of herself, and with those shrewd dark eyes of Dom Ricardo watching her, had no intention of being anything but outwardly charming. Elvira knew also how to be amusing and throughout dinner kept herself the very centre of attraction, relating the dramatic highlights of the bullfight until Coralie was again swept by nausea at the horror of it all. Jacques' handsome face held a look of extreme nobility and torment throughout, his eyes watching Elvira throw laughing and provocative glances in Ricardo's direction.
The patrao, a swarthy Moor, had appointed himself as their host for the evening. Persuasive and delighted with the appetites of his celebrated guests, he cheated himself frivolously for the pleasure of seeing his company dine. Drunk with generosity and bewitched by the honour of such a celebrity as Dom Ricardo Casimiro Carvalho dining beneath his roof, he had spread before them a feast fit for a king, with a sucking pig and clams served with beans, mountain cheese, the first fresh figs of spring, and a delectable iced birthday cake—far too great a spread for the four of them, and Dom Ricardo indicated to the patrão that he wished the rest of the company to join them.
' What sympathy—what grace!' cried the patrão, rolling his eyes and shouting to the men in the next room, while ripping out the corks of special bottles of wine, and sending out for more cigars. They were joined by sombre men in flat black hats and dark suits, sitting over endless glasses of wine, discussing the bulls, the horses, and the fighters of the afternoon—men from all walks of life.
As the evening wore on, and more wine was drunk, the company became more excited. The cry of a fisherman singing an exotic love song rent the air. Surrounded by the rapt attention of friends, his dark face raised to the light, he sang with a powerful, controlled passion that shook his whole body. He sang in the high-pitched Portuguese wail with the most natural grief and happiness. Amid the dim lights and
flickering shadows Coralie gave herself up to the power and tenderness and perfection of his song.
She was brought suddenly to earth by Ricardo's hard grip on her shoulder. He had not missed the intensity in the singer's searching gaze.
' Come, child, it is late, and you have had quite a day. I have reserved rooms for the four of us here tonight.'
' Yes, I-I have a bit of a headache,' said Coralie, thankful for release at last from the strains and tensions of the evening.
She climbed dazedly to her room, where the furniture was hand-painted with roses, hunting dogs and bulls. It was a warm, dark night, and the season for serenading. Instead of undressing, Coralie opened the window to let in some fresh air. The shutters had been closed, and the air in the bedroom felt stifling. Leaning against the window ledge, she looked up at a sky hung with glittering, pendulous stars. It was past midnight, and a huge moon hung motionless as a frozen bloom above blue-glazed towers and white arches guarding their blind secret alleys.
She inhaled the tang of musky orange gardens and listened to the curious music drifting up to her from the narrow streets below. The surging night-life of those picturesque Alfama streets that in daylight had so fascinated her were now a haunting presence, smouldering in the violet darkness.
On such a night she could not bear the loneliness of her empty room nor the tempestuous thoughts that churned in her head. Too bright with wine to feel the need for sleep, a sudden recklessness lured her out. She paused only to fling a light woollen cardigan across her shoulders and then, silently and apparently unobserved, she hurried down the wooden stairs and out into the obscurity of the night, glad to be alone and unknown.
She struck up through narrow streets, where moon-gilt houses peered at her from grilled, mysterious windows; where birds on the warm walls sang as if it were day, and the hot voices of youths echoed along dark
side-streets.
It was the height of the night when anything might happen and Coralie derived a perverse satisfaction in her impulsive night-raking from the thought of Dom Ricardo's annoyance if he had the faintest notion that his protégee was roaming the shadowy Alfama streets at this unearthly hour—and alone—borne along on a tide of gallants, and the harsh singing of solemn-eyed girls in the shabby lamplit alleys.
It was late now, and the first exhilaration of truancy had left her. All was dim light and eerie shadows and the ghostly lapping of invisible water. Suddenly from a dark doorway a figure appeared and blocked her path —a youth with wine-struck eyes that crawled slowly over her. Stealthily she felt his arms pinion her body. Wild panic gripped her, and she opened her mouth to scream, but no sound could she utter. What a fool she had been to lay herself open to such assault, wandering alone in these sinister quarters! In an unequal struggle she jerked wildly in an attempt to free herself, but the strong, purposeful arms closed more tightly like banded steel.
' This is no place for an inglesa.' He spoke with a rasping Portuguese accent.
Please,' she implored, ' get out of my way.'
His grip on her tightened. Ah, the lady has spiri
t!'
Let me go!' Her voice was hysterical. Struggling with him, she managed to free her right hand which instinctively swung up and made hard contact with his face. Immediately she regretted her mistake in arousing his anger. She saw the unsteady leer of white teeth in the shadowed face. His voice was slurred as he spoke.
In Portugal, when a woman strikes a man, it is open invitation for him to subdue her with kisses.' Roughly he pulled her further into the dark alley—she was powerless to stop him.
' A rare prize.' His unsteady tone warned her that he was considerably the worse for drink. There was no use reasoning with him. As his head came down, clumsily groping for her mouth, she sank her teeth
hard into his face in desperation. He swore with pain and anger, but as his grip slackened she gasped with horror as he clawed at her thin blouse.
' Don't touch me or I'll-I'll--'
What will you do?' he drawled scornfully.
' Help!' she screamed, her voice brittle with terror as she struggled in a last frantic effort to escape from this nightmare. She was afraid that for the second time that day she was going to faint, when she felt herself torn suddenly from the Portuguese's arms and pushed roughly against the wall. Wild hope surged up in her as an unmistakable tall figure seized the Portuguese by the throat and gave him an unexpected blow that sent him crashing to the floor, then stepping over the unconscious form, eyes blazing, he swept Coralie back the way she had come, without a word until they reached the Taberna Bravo.
He hadn't once glanced in Coralie's direction, this total stranger that was Dom Ricardo. She thought she had seen all aspects of him, but never had she encountered this quelling man, his black eyes visibly leashing an elemental anger. She tried to steady her voice as she addressed him; she was almost too afraid of him to speak.
' I'm sorry,' she murmured miserably, wishing she were dead rather than have to face the white-hot fury graven in each line of his hard face.
' You will go straight up to your room.' His curt order and the very lack of intonation shocked her into immobility. ' Do as I tell you! ' He was curiously pale beneath his dark tan, as if every nerve were strained to breaking-point with an all-consuming temper. This was the second time tonight he had ordered her to bed like an unruly child, she thought rebelliously.
' Well, let go, then—you're hurting me!' She winced sharply and blinked back the tears as strange lights of rage flashed in his eyes. It was only when she reached the safety of her bedroom that she knew how terrified she had been. and how indebted she was once more to Ricardo; but she could not still the trem-
bling which took hold of her as she sank down upon the bed, too exhausted to undress. She was still lying tearful and dishevelled when the door opened and Dom Ricardo strode in, closing it deliberately behind him. Their eyes met and Coralie gasped a little at the violent, angry emotions still powerfully registered in his face, then he was striding across the room to her.
Drink this,' he ordered. ' It will help to calm you.'
Her hands shook as she sipped the contents of the glass, choking a little at its fire in her throat. He was watching her as she pushed back her tumbled hair from her fragile temples, his gaze on the torn lace of her blouse, and his nostrils flared dangerously as if all his male instinct cried out to give her the beating she deserved.
Instinctively she flinched. The atmosphere held the tension which brews before the onslaught of a storm, yet even this fact seemed insignificant beside her nerve-racking awareness of his physical presence in her room, unchaperoned and entirely at his mercy. His saturnine expression viewed the situation with the scorn of uncaring. Her breath came rapidly.
' How much longer do you think I can stand your scrutiny—you are not my inquisitor.' The words broke from her low and desperate. His face wore a frightening aspect.
' Be quiet, you crazy child! Do you want to rouse the entire establishment?' His voice was harsh and unrelenting, but Coralie did not heed the warning signs. It was hard to believe that this was the same man who only last night had appeared so romantic under a blue moon. Now he stood towering over her in anger rather than concern, his usually impeccable. appearance showing dishevelment, and the sight of him was like a blade in her heart. Her throat tightened and she felt utterly dejected and miserable, like a small trapped animal in the clutches of a jaguar.
' Deus! What in the world induced you to go prowling the streets on your own, you obstinate little idiot? There has to be some explanation to your actions tonight. Did you want to be assaulted? Good-
ness knows, I had warned you often enough.' His eyes blazed like black diamonds.
' How dare you ! Coralie threw up her chin. His words had brought her right out of the well of her misery. His cruel insinuations had hit her like a physical blow. She moved off the bed in one furious movement. He appeared to derive a savage satisfaction from her display of injured pride.
Don't tell me you were running away again.'
You must be joking, senhor. Where could I run that you would not hunt me down? You are a master at wearing down the resistance of innocent victims, as if you are still in the arena.'
He gave a scornful laugh, and Coralie's cheeks burned at the raking look he gave her as she clutched the silver bracelet that he had so recently given her.
That bracelet belonged to my first wife,' he spoke quietly. It was around her wrist when she died. Didn't Elvira tell you? There isn't much she leaves unsaid.'
Coralie shook her head. suddenly hating and fearing him for shaking her with this ornament of possession. She struggled with the clasp.
' I am not your prisoner to be shackled by another woman's chains. I will not wear it—why did you give it to me—to salve your conscience—?' She broke off suddenly as with lightning movement he reached for her. For a wild moment she thought he was going to strike her until she felt the savagery of his mood vented in the painful encircling of her wrist by one powerful hand, and one shoulder crushed by the relentless bruising fingers.
Stop fighting me and listen,' he commanded. I've had about as much as a man can take in one day. You do the craziest things. It was lucky for you that one of the waiters happened to notice your midnight flit down the back stairs, and lost no time in telling me.'
His cruel fingers bit into the slender curve of her shoulders, holding her motionless. She was forcibly reminded of that other time she had been alone with him in an hotel room in Lisbon.
' Why are you trembling, I wonder?' he drawled. ' This is not the first time you have been alone with me in a compromising situation in the middle of the night.'
' No, senhor—but it will be the last,' she breathed, scarcely audible.
' So? I do not begin to understand you.'
I think you do. You know that I would never stay here in Portugal and marry a man who loves another woman.'
' To what man do you refer?' he queried with narrowed eyes.
' You, senhor. You are plainly very much in love with Elvira, and she is obviously expecting you to marry her. What kind of a man could sacrifice a woman's love for the sake of family pride?'
He let out a sharp breath. but his shadowed face was unreadable.
' There is much about me that you do not understand.'
Perhaps I understand better than you think.' His fingers tightened over her delicate shoulder-blades.
And what is that supposed to mean?' His voice was inexpressibly grim.
She hesitated, her mind a whirling chaos.
' I know that you are using me as bait to set a trap for Peter. I know all about his—his carryings on—I've known for some time now, and you can keep your charity, Dom Casimiro Carvalho.'
Against her better judgement. the words came spilling out. It must be the effects of the brandy, she reasoned, her thoughts helplessly out of balance. She tossed her tumbled hair back from her face, and saw the curious wild flames lick up in his eyes. A curious silence followed her outburst. His hands dropped from her abruptly, and he stared out into the night, h
is face dark and withdrawn. His voice when he spoke was without expression.
' Tell me, Coralie, who told you all this?'
' That is my business.' His glance seemed to touch her like an electric current. She turned away, unable
to bear the awful scrutiny of the man she yearned for, and unable to betray to him the confidence of the woman he loved. even if she had not promised Elvira that she would not tell Dom Ricardo who had told her about Peter—not a whisper would pass her lips, she had said too much already. His black brows jerked together threateningly.
' You will tell me if I have to stay here all night.'
' Y-you would never go to such lengths, surely.' She spoke with an assurance that she did not feel, alone in the night with this indomitable Latin.
' Are you challenging me, senhorita?' His expression caused her heart to thud violently.
' N-no!'
He leaned forward, his gaze the spirit of devilment. ' It is as well! You could have found yourself in a dangerous predicament.' His voice was a threatening purr. ' However, you little innocent, I have other means of finding out what you were rambling on about a moment ago, and make no mistake about it, I intend to do so.' He went on relentlessly. Coralie made no reply, still shaken by the turn of events—she stood defenceless against the dark tempestuous moods of this devastating man.
Come along, birthday girl.' His mouth relaxed for the first time that night. ' Get some sleep now. Tomorrow we head back home—early!'
' Home? I have no home,' she said bleakly. For a long, strange moment, their eyes locked, then he was saying quietly,
Home is where the heart is, Miss Grey.'
CHAPTER XII
Coralie was restless and haunted, back at the Quinta das Torres. She was sleeping badly, her mind could not relax, and her dreams tormented her. Jacques had returned to France. and El vira still stayed on at the Quinta, but time seemed to hang heavily on her hands as Dom Ricardo was busy with the spring planting time so that they scarcely ever saw him. It was something intangible, Coralie thought, but things were not as they had been before the Lisbon weekend.
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