by Anne Mather
Even so, she did not draw back. She was irresponsible and foolish, unworthy of anyone's regard, but she wanted to be in this man's arms, feeling the heavy beat of his heart beneath her fingers, able to slide her fingers up his chest to the curve of his jaw where long sideburns grew down his cheeks. She wanted to be closer to him still, much closer, and with a sigh she allowed her body to rest against his.
Suddenly, his control snapped and his hands slid down her back to her waist, pressing her strongly against him whilst his mouth sought the creamy flesh of her neck. His hands moved caressingly over her hips, and with a groan, he said huskily: “Deus, Morgana, I want you.”
Morgana wound her bare arms about his neck, uncaring for anything in the incoherency of her emotions and forcing her head back his mouth sought and found hers, parting her lips with urgent devastation. Morgana was drowning in sensual sensation and nothing mattered but that he should go on making love to her.
But even as his mouth sought the warm swell of her breasts, the door behind them opened without warning and a man entered the room. Immediately Luis seemed to come to his senses, for with a groan he thrust her away from him, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth as though to rid himself of the taste of her. Morgana stood swaying in the fading light wondering who would dare to walk unannounced into O Halcão's room. She didn't have to wait long. The man uttered a brief derisive laugh and laid a comradely arm across Luis's shoulders.
“So!” he said, mockingly, “the little English flower is not so innocent after all. Deus, Luis, I would not have interrupted you had I known!” He turned to Morgana with mock deference. “Bom dia, senhorita, you see, we have met again as I said we would!”
CHAPTER V
MORGANA felt a terrible sense of shame sweep over her as she confronted Ricardo Salvador. What must he be thinking of her? And what had she been thinking of? What was she doing here allowing this man – this stranger – to make violent love to her? Had she no self-respect, no sense of decency? Whatever had happened here today she had only herself to blame and from Luis's expression she could see that he now regarded her with contempt and himself with disgust.
Ricardo Salvador considered them both with mocking eyes, taking one of the armchairs by the fire and stretching out his booted legs to rest them on the arm of another. “I appear to have intruded at precisely the wrong moment,” he remarked, lazily. “Or maybe it was psychologically the right moment.”
“Silencio!” Luis raked a hand through his hair angrily. “Whatever comments you have to make keep them to yourself, Ricardo!”
Ricardo's eyebrows lifted sardonically. “Sim, excelencia, will you let me know when I am permitted to speak?”
Luis uttered an expletive in his own language, and glared at Ricardo. “What do you want? Why are you here? I do not recall inviting you?”
Ricardo drew out a pack of cheroots and placed one between his teeth. “Do I need an invitation to visit with my own brother?” he enquired, mildly. “Our mother sent me, if I must give a reason.”
Luis looked at him sombrely. “So” he said sharply. “Why was that?”
Ricardo studied his cheroot annoyingly before replying. “Cannot you guess?” he queried mockingly.
Luis compressed his lips impatiently. “Must you always speak in innuendoes, Ricardo” he snapped. “Can you give a straight answer or can you not?”
Ricardo clicked his tongue. “Dear me, Luis,” he murmured, glancing at Morgana who stood very still and silent, “I do seem to have found you in a foul mood. I wonder why?”
Luis's face was menacing. “Ricardo!”
“Oh, very well,” Ricardo put out a placatory hand. “I will stop tormenting you. Our dear mother has found out about your house guest.”
Luis gave Morgana an enigmatic frown, and then nodded his head several times. “You don't know who told her, of course.” His tone was scathing.
Ricardo raised his shoulders innocently. “How could I?”
Luis turned away from both of them, striding across to the tray of drinks and pouring himself a stiff whisky. He swallowed half of it at a gulp and Ricardo watched him through narrowed eyes.
“I would like a drink, Luis,” he remarked, lighting his cheroot. “That is the usual mode of hospitality, you know. And from the paleness of Senhorita Mallory's cheeks I should hazard a guess that she would appreciate something a little more fortifying than water.”
Luis disregarded him completely, finishing his whisky and pouring himself another. Ricardo sighed resignedly and got to his feet to get a drink for himself. As he passed Morgana he lifted her chin with a critical hand, regarding her intently. Flicking his fingers at the dark bruise high on her cheek bone, he said: “I would not have believed my brother capable of such brutality.”
Luis swung round. “Take your hands off her,” he commanded roughly.
Ricardo shrugged, his hand dropping obediently to his side. “O Halcão has spoken!” he observed dryly, his eyes lingering on Morgana's. “You look tired, little one. Have the last twenty-four hours been so exhausting?”
Morgana responded to his gentleness like a wounded creature responds to kindness, but she did not trust herself to answer him. In any case, his concern was laced with the desire to annoy Luis, and there was no doubt that he was using her for this purpose right now.
Ricardo looked across at Luis suddenly. “Why did you take her off the plane?” he asked, pointedly.
Luis finished his second drink and replaced his glass on the tray. “That's my business!” he retorted, abruptly.
Ricardo frowned. “You intrigue me, brother mine. You must know I expected to find her on the plane when I arrived.”
Luis made an indifferent gesture. “You were disappointed.”
“Yes, and what were your reactions, I wonder?”
“Your sense of the dramatic never appealed to me, Ricardo. Whatever machinations motivate your actions you cannot always be certain of the result.”
Ricardo walked indolently over to the tray of drinks and poured himself one lazily. “On the contrary, Luis, in this particular instance I think you must agree, the results of my machinations were very satisfying –”
Luis grasped Ricardo's shirt front in his clenched fist and Morgana drew in her breath sharply, sure he was about to strike him. “Luis!” she exclaimed, in horror, and with a furious ejaculation Luis thrust his brother away, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his pants. Ricardo, who had clearly been shaken by that touch of violence, recovered himself with alacrity, and resumed his mocking expression. Swallowing the remains of the drink in his glass, he said: “Do you think I should thank the senhorita, Luis? Our mother wants to see you and if you had not changed your mind just now I wonder how agreeable she would have found the sight of my bruised face!”
Luis turned brooding eyes in his brother's direction. “You think you have won, don't you, Ricardo” he asked bitterly.
Ricardo widened his dark eyes. “Won, Luis? Are we engaged upon a battle?”
Luis was obviously finding it difficult to control himself, and Morgana wondered what was between them that should arouse such antagonism.
Now Luis came across to her, surveying her dispassionately. She was amazed at his detached manner; it seemed impossible to imagine that this cold, reserved man could have held her in his arms only minutes ago and professed an urgent desire to possess her body. Now there was only contempt in his eyes, and dislike marred his disturbingly attractive features.
“I must go with Ricardo,” he said, bleakly. “You will stay here, is this understood?”
Morgana felt a rising sense of resentment. “Exactly what am I doing here?” she exclaimed. “You did not answer your brother's question. Why did you have me removed from the plane? I'd be interested to hear.”
Luis narrowed his eyes, his long lashes veiling their tawny depths. “As I told Ricardo, I do not have to explain myself to either of you. Let it suffice that I considered it the most satisfactory course in the cir
cumstances.” Ricardo made a derisive sound and Luis turned to him. “Our mother would perhaps be interested to hear how Senhorita Mallory came to be on that particular flight,” he remarked, grimly.
Ricardo looked slightly disconcerted. Then he said defensively : “A coincidence, no more.”
“And do you think she will believe that? Do you think anyone will believe that.”
Ricardo shrugged with assumed bravado. “It doesn't much matter now what she may believe or not believe. I have the evidence of my own eyes which is infinitely more important.”
Luis's face twisted contemptuously and he turned back to Morgana. “I must go with my brother. Lucia will provide you with an evening meal. Afterwards, I would advise you to retire. It has been an exhausting day for you, I am sure.”
“Your solicitude comes a little late,” retorted Morgana, stung by his disregard for her feelings. “I don't want a meal. I couldn't eat anything. It would choke me. And I certainly don't want to go to bed.”
Luis controlled his anger. “What would you have me do? Place a guard, Manoel perhaps, with you? Make you a prisoner you so obviously desire to be?”
Morgana sighed defeatedly. “Oh, go with your brother!” she said, frustratedly. “I'll do as you – command!”
Luis clenched his fists. “You are making things extremely difficult for yourself,” he said sharply. “My demands are not unreasonable and believe me they are for your own good.”
Ricardo's eyes were mocking behind his brother's back and Morgana knew he was finding this whole situation decidedly enjoyable. With a brief shrug of her shoulders she moved to the armchairs by the fire and turned her back on both of them.
There was a moment's silence when she thought Luis intended saying something else, but then with a stifled curse he strode across to the door flinging it open, and with an impatient gesture indicated that Ricardo should precede him from the room. The door slammed behind them and as their footsteps faded along the passage Morgana sank down weakly into one of the chairs. Luis had been right, she was exhausted, but much of the exhaustion stemmed from the devastating few minutes she had spent in his arms.
Darkness fell as she sat there, and Lucia came to rekindle the fire. She showed no surprise when she saw Morgana crouching there in the gloom and presently she returned with a tray on which was some fresh meat and salad and fruit. With the lamps lit and the curtains drawn, Morgana could gain some measure of comfort from her surroundings, and as the meal compelled energy back into her system, she moved about the room, reading the titles of some of the books, touching the mapping equipment, and taking a surreptitious look into the drawers of the desk. She was not consciously prying but merely trying to find something, some indication of the true nature of the man she was dealing with.
She found little of value. The books on the shelves were too various to be of any use. There were biographies and text books, books dealing with the problems of social democracy, others on economics, translated into Portuguese from English publications that Morgana had seen in her father's collection. There were educational manuals dealing with the rotation of crops and the breeding of livestock and others that dealt with the lives of famous revolutionaries, most particularly those who had found power in the southern region of America.
The maps were mostly of Monteraverde itself. Morgana was amazed to see how large the country actually was. Not all of it was mountainous, for it threaded down in a narrow lip of land that had access to the Pacific and there were coastal plains where the temperature was similar to that of England without the chilling snows of winter. The capital, Quera Nova, was on this coastal plain and seemed to be a sprawling city inhabited by two-thirds of the whole population.
There were detailed maps of Quera Nova itself and others of the valley where she was now. She turned over one of these with interest, tracing with her finger the course of the river and endeavouring to ascertain exactly where O Halcão's hacienda might be. But it was difficult when she knew so little of her surroundings and she half wished she had taken the opportunity to go riding with Luis when he had suggested it.
In the map, too, there were markings she didn't understand and she wondered what they indicated. They were sketched into the lower hillside of the valley and tracks were laid to them. Could these be mines? Luis had said he had been to the mine that morning. But what kind of mine, and why were they mining anything? Morgana shook her head. Since coming to La Nava she seemed to have come up against one difficulty after another without finding solutions to any of them.
She eventually decided that she might as well go to bed as sit here waiting and wondering, not knowing what kind of mood Luis might be in on his return. He was the most perplexing problem of all and she dared not dwell on their relationship. It aroused too many anxieties inside her and an awful sense of futility and desolation….
When she awoke the following morning she knew it was much earlier than on the previous day. The air was still quite chill and as she had shed her dress the night before and slept in her slip she snuggled under the covers for a while before venturing out of bed.
But as her eyes strayed round the room she sat up suddenly, staring in astonishment at her cases which were now standing at the foot of the bed. How had they got there? Someone must have entered her room last night as she slept and deposited them, but who?
The shock of their appearance was sufficient to arouse her completely and she slid out of bed and padded to them eagerly, searching in her handbag for the keys.
It was marvellous later, brushing her hair thoroughly and ridding it of the cotters which had appeared the day before. It was good too to wash herself in the icy water and put on clean clothes, shedding the soiled garments willingly. She dressed in trousers, as they seemed the most suitable attire for her surroundings, and in dark purple pants and a jungle-printed over-blouse that belted at her waist she felt ready for almost anything.
Leaving the rest of her clothes in the suitcases she went downstairs, entering the kitchen with confidence and finding Lucia in the process of taking some hot rolls out of the huge oven. She eyed Morgana unsmilingly and said: “You are early, senhorita. It is not yet seven oclock.'
Morgana decided not to take offence at the older woman's curtness. “Yes,” she said, “I know. But I went to bed quite early last night and I feel quite refreshed this morning. Er – my cases are in my room. Did – did Lu – O Halcão fetch them for me?”
Lucia sniffed and wiped her hands on her capacious apron. “Manoel brought them last evening,” she said. “I put them in your room.”
Morgana felt a mixture of disappointment and relief. “I see.”
“Are you hungry this morning, senhorita?” Lucia placed her hands on her hips regarding her critically.
Morgana made an involuntary gesture. “A little,” she admitted. “Those rolls smell delicious.”
Lucia gave her an uncompromising stare and then turned to put two rolls on a plate and added a generous amount of butter. She held the plate towards Morgana and nodding to a chair at the scrubbed table she said: “Sit down. I will pour you some coffee.”
Morgana accepted her offer and applied herself to the food. It was delicious, the warm rolls melting the butter so that it ran into the bread and down Morgana's fingers. She was in the process of licking her fingers before tasting the mug of coffee Lucia had given her when a man entered the kitchen from the outer door. It was Ricardo Salvador, and he grinned when he saw her.
“Bom, senhorita, I see you got your cases.”
“Yes.” Morgana didn't know whether or not to add “Thank you” so she smiled instead. “It was such a relief to change my clothes.”
Ricardo nodded. “And such pretty clothes, senhorita, or may I call you Morgana as my brother does?”
Morgana coloured. “What has happened to the other passengers? They are not still in the plane?”
Ricardo shook his head, helping himself to coffee under Lucia's indulgent eyes and patting her shoulder as he passed her t
o seat himself at the table near Morgana. “No, they have been moved to other accommodation. Do not concern yourself. Morgana, they are perfectly all right and adequately cared for. Believe me, they do not have the same anxiety where you are concerned.”
Morgana grimaced. “That I can believe. But that is hardly surprising in the circumstances. Someone told them I was not to be trusted.”
“I know. It was me,” replied Ricardo calmly, drinking his coffee.
Morgana's eyes widened incredulously. “You?”
“Yes. I thought it was the most suitable thing to say. After all, my brother is not the kind of man to suffer accusations of the kind that would be levelled at him were it believed his reasons for taking you from the plane were personal ones.”
Morgana shook her head. “I don't understand.”
“Luis – O Halcão – is an honourable man, he must always be an honourable man. Taking you from the plane was out of character.”
“I begin to see.” Morgana sighed. “But why did he?”
Ricardo frowned. “For reasons that are obscure, even to me. My brother is a law unto himself, unfortunately.”
Morgana felt perplexed. “He believes you knew I was to be on that flight.”
“I did.” Ricardo raised his dark eyebrows.
Morgana felt as though she was walking further and further into a dark wood. “You knew?”
“Of course. Oh, do not alarm yourself, you were not the reason for the capture of the plane, that was a necessary evil, but it – how shall I put it – suited my purpose that you were to be on that particular flight.”