Marriage in Mexico

by Flora Kidd

  'Que pasa, chiquita?' He had come into the room again without her hearing him, but she knew he was near this time because she could smell the sea on his skin. He had been out surfing while she had slept. But she didn't move her hands in case he saw the tears which had begun to brim in her eyes. 'Dawn, querida, look at me and tell me what is wrong?' he asked.

  Then his strong fingers were round her wrists and he was forcing her hands away from her face. He was kneeling on the floor before her. His bare suntanned shoulders were damp and glittered here and there with drops of sea-water which dripped from his wet hair. The expression of tender mockery in his eyes as they looked right into hers made her long to fling herself against him and weep into his shoulder.

  'Were you missing me a little?' he taunted softly, wiping a tear from her eyelashes with a gentle forefinger. 'Were you worried when you awoke and found I had gone? I'm sorry I couldn't stay to kiss you awake. I had to go and answer the phone and then the sea and the surf called to me. But you see, I've come back to have breakfast with you and afterwards…' He broke off and leaned forward, his eyes darkening with passion, his lips parting as they came closer to hers, his hands on her knees sliding up her thighs, slowly, suggestively.

  'No, no!' she cried, turning her head away from him. 'I can't. I don't want to. Please, please don't make me!'

  Sebastian's hands were suddenly still and she heard him draw his breath in sharply.

  'This time it will be different, querida, I promise you. Last night was only the beginning. If I was a little rough it was because I wanted you so much. Te quiero muchisimo. I love and want you very much,' he whispered.

  I love you. The words she, no better and no worse than any other young woman, had always hoped and longed to hear one day, and now she was hearing them and was finding it impossible to believe them.

  'I wonder how often you've said that to a woman,' she said, and even to her own ears her voice sounded cold and light, almost mocking, and she felt a little surprised she had actually said them.

  'Como dice? What did you say?' he demanded, his voice husky with disbelief.

  She turned to look at him. He was still on his knees, but he wasn't touching her any more and had raised a hand to his forehead to wipe away some sea-water drips. From beneath the shadow of his hand his eyes regarded her warily.

  'I asked you how often you have told a woman you love her and want her very much,' she repeated, and now her voice was hard and brittle. Sliding along the edge of the bed, she stood up and walked away from him to look out of the window at the blue, sun-dazzled sky arching above.

  The silence lasted so long that for a while she believed he wasn't going to answer her question and she wondered where she was going to find the confidence to repeat it. When he did speak she jumped a little because he was much nearer to her than she had expected. In bare feet he could move without sound and he was standing right behind her.

  'All I can say is that I've never said it before to the woman I've chosen to be my wife. Surely you can infer correctly from that,' he said with a quiet bitter edge to his voice. 'I admit there have been other women before you, but my relationships with them are not your concern. They are over and done with, belong in the past, and… '

  'Are you sure?' she asked, turning on him. 'What about the affair you're having with the wife of one of your political colleagues?'

  Sebastian couldn't have looked more astounded if she had slapped him across the face. His eyes blazed with a wicked yellow light and his tanned face lost some of its colour.

  'What the hell are you talking about?' he grated.

  'Your affair with Micaela Gonzalez.'

  Frowning, he stared at her for a moment, then with a violent expletive he turned away from her, thrust the fingers of one hand through his hair, made a few paces towards the archway as if he intended to walk out on her, then swung round to stare at her again before striding back to stand in front of her, hands on his hips just where the white swimming briefs he was wearing contrasted starkly with the sun-dark skin of his torso.

  'Raquel,' he said tautly. 'I should have known better than to leave you alone with her. She's a garrulous old fool.'

  'No, you mustn't call her names. She didn't want to tell me. I made her,' Dawn said urgently.

  'But she must have said something to upset you so that you wanted to make her tell you,' he argued coldly.

  'It wasn't only Raquel. It was also your good friend and colleague Armando,' she retorted. 'He told me that to get married was a clever move on your part, politically speaking, and then Micaela came and told me that… that…' She whirled away from him to look out of the window again, only she couldn't see anything because those stupid tears would keep misting her eyes.

  'So. Now I begin to understand a little your strange behaviour,' he said. 'This is what you had to say to me last night, hmm? This is what sent you rushing up here after you had been talking to Armando. This is what kept you dallying in the bathroom. You've found out that I've been thinking for some time that politically speaking a wife would be an asset and you couldn't swallow and accept that truth. Right?'

  'Then it is true?' she cried, swinging back and staring at him as if he was something particularly loathsome.

  'Si, it is true, but… '

  'Oh, how vile you are!' she said in a low accusing voice. 'Vile and cunning and hypocritical. I suppose anyone would have done, any young innocent, gullible girl, and it didn't take you long to find out I'm all of those. The fact that I was in need of help gave you the means to blackmail me into doing what you wanted.'

  'Blackmail is a harsh word,' Sebastian countered, his face stiffening with pride.

  'I can't think of any other to describe what you've done,' she replied stormily. 'And I hate you for it. I hate you for thinking you could use me to screen from gossip-mongers the illicit affair you're having with Micaela Gonzalez!'

  Under the tan he went very pale. A muscle tensed in his cheek and anger flared yellow in his wide open eyes. Then he muttered something virulent in Spanish and again his hand went to his forehead, long fingers stroking across it as if to ease some pain as he closed his eyes.

  'Dios!' He spoke hoarsely. 'What can I say to make you understand? I thought you would realise…' He broke off, opened his eyes and looked at her directly, no longer angry. 'The problem has been to find someone suitable,' he began slowly. 'Someone who… '

  'Someone who could be easily deceived, I've no doubt,' she interrupted him wildly, her voice splintering with the pain of disappointment. Someone you could coax and seduce with your kisses and caresses, deceive into believing you want her for herself and not because she would be an asset, politically speaking, of course.' Her voice broke and she turned away from him so that he wouldn't see the tears which had brimmed over and were running down her cheeks.

  'Dawn, querida, listen to me.' He spoke softly and persuasively and she knew he was very near to her because she could feel his warmth. Then his hand was on her shoulder, lightly.

  'Don't touch me!' she cried, flinging round and striking at his arm. 'I can't bear you to touch me!'

  Again the yellow blaze in his eyes, and she cringed back, suddenly afraid. But he didn't move towards her. His face was set in harsh, bitter lines and when he folded his arms across his chest she saw the knuckles of his fingers show white through the tanned skin as they gripped his elbows.

  'All right, I won't,' he said coldly. 'Not again, not ever unless you come to me and ask me. But I'd like to remind you that you didn't have to marry me. You could have turned down my offer, but you didn't. You decided it was worthwhile going through with the marriage to get what you wanted, to make sure I'd help you find your sister.'

  The quiet viciousness of his voice flicked like a whip and her hand went to her mouth in a gesture of dismay as she recognised the truth of his accusation.

  'Even when I had doubts about marrying you and withdrew my offer,' he went on, 'you persisted. That was a good act you put on when you came to my r
oom the other night to persuade me to change my mind. Yet you say you're no good at pretending.' His mouth twisted into a sneer and his glance raked her from head to foot. 'No, you aren't any better than I am when it comes to blackmail. You're not above using your feminine wiles and charms to get what you want, and you did want my help to find your sister, remember?'

  Before the icy blast of his irony she trembled like a leaf, but his reminder was timely, for she had been so swamped by her own jealous feelings concerning Micaela that she had forgotten Judy.

  'So you see there's nothing much to choose between us, is there?' Sebastian drawled rather wearily, and turned away from her to go over to the breakfast tray and test the coffee pot. 'And I suppose in spite of all the accusations you've flung at me this morning you're still hoping I'll fulfil my side of the bargain we made. You'd still like me to take you to Roberto. Right?' He slanted her an ironic glance.

  She could only nod, silenced by what she had done with a few angry, unthinking words.

  'And in return?' Coldly and sharply his question prodded her and she gave him a quick wary glance. He was standing by the archway now, a tall sturdy man with a beautifully proportioned body shown off by the brevity of the swimming briefs, and he was watching her with haughty eyes. 'You will keep your side of it, even though you hate me? You will continue to be married to me?'

  Dawn licked her lips and swallowed an aching rawness in her throat.

  'Yes, I will,' she whispered.

  'I thought you might,' he replied, and again his mouth twisted in that bitter sneer. 'Then we'll fly to Durango after breakfast. No point in delaying the search any longer.' He made a gesture to the tray. 'The coffee is cold and the tortillas are flat and greasy-looking. I'll ask Manuela to make more and we'll eat on the terrace. I'll see you there.'

  He went out, and repressing a desire to burst into tears because she felt as if she had lost someone who had become very dear to her, Dawn went into the bathroom.

  What had she done? Oh, she didn't understand herself any more. Last night, caught up in the magic spell of passion, she had given herself freely to Sebastian and had taken what he had offered. This morning, with wild hot words born of jealousy, she had driven him from her. Now she was wishing she hadn't said anything to him about other women and had pretended she didn't care if Micaela was still his mistress.

  But she had hoped he would deny everything she had accused him of, she thought drearily as she patted her face dry. She had hoped he would tell her his affair with Micaela was over and that she, the pretty bird he had rescued and cared for, came first with him in every way. She had hoped he would have convinced her that she wasn't just a pawn he had chosen to move in some game of chess he was playing with Armando.

  He had denied nothing. He had said it was true he had been thinking that a wife would be a political asset and those suspicions she had felt in Guadalajara that the marriage had been planned for some time had been correct. And he had shown how hard he could be accusing her of putting on an act the other night and now holding her to the bargain they had made.

  Returning to the bedroom, she put on the skirt of the pale green linen suit. There was a short-sleeved flowered blouse to go with it. Draping the long-sleeved jacket over her shoulders, she regarded herself in the mirror and was surprised to see what she saw. She looked quite elegant, suitable to be the wife of a local politician.

  Suitable, suitable. The problem has been to find someone suitable. Sebastian's words pounded through her mind and with an exclamation of anguish she turned away from the pretty, innocent young woman with the waving ash-blonde hair and shining dark-fringed greenish-grey eyes she could see in the mirror.

  She wasn't suitable, that was the trouble. She wasn't the sort of person who could be happy with the occasional night of love, knowing that he lived his real life with another woman, was truly intimate with Micaela. She was too proud and possessive to share him, so she would have to leave him.

  But first she would let him take her to Durango and then she would leave him somehow. Even if Judy wasn't with Roberto there would be other people at the film location she could ask to help her get out of Mexico and back to Los Angeles. And if Judy was there! Dawn's pulses quickened with excitement. How she hoped Judy would be there. Once she found Judy all her problems would be solved.

  On the terrace Sebastian was seated at the table drinking coffee. He was dressed in dark red slacks and a dark red shirt patterned with tiny white flowers. In the sunlight his black hair had the sheen of an eagle's feathers glinting here and there with silver and when he looked up as she took her seat opposite to him his eyes were clear and golden.

  'I've managed to find out exactly where Roberto is filming,' he said, his voice cool and impersonal. Carlos approached to pour coffee and place bowls of cereal in front of them. 'He is in a canyon in the Sierra Madre mountains, north of Durango. We'll fly to Durango airport, then hire a car there and drive out to the canyon. You will not mind flying with me again? It won't make you ill?'

  'No, I won't mind,' she murmured, stirring sugar into her coffee. If only he was less generous, less thoughtful for her welfare, she wouldn't feel as if she were cheating him by planning to leave him.

  But perhaps that was how he wanted her to feel, under an obligation to him all the time, bound to do anything he asked her to do because she owed him so much; the clothes she was wearing, the shelter he had provided for the past few days, the protection he had given her, her life! He had done everything for her a good husband normally did for the woman he had married, even before he had married her, so why shouldn't he demand something in return?

  She ate without appetite, thinking with regret that it was her fault they were sitting there in silence, poles apart two solitudes who had once or twice come very close to being one. If she had kept her mouth shut instead of sitting here now, out in the open with Carlos waiting on them, they would have been together in the intimacy of her room or his, or perhaps alone beside the pool in the hall learning more about each other, making love…

  Swallowing more hot coffee, she choked and spluttered. The cup shook in her hand and liquid spilt over the table and dripped off it. Carlos was there at once, mopping up, and across the table Sebastian's eyes were hard and bright, watching her.

  'Are you all right?' he asked.

  'Yes, thank you,' she muttered, and pushed back her chair. 'I… I've had enough breakfast. Please excuse me.'

  He rose to his feet as she did and walked beside her towards the house. Already the day was hot and the breeze wafting in from the sea did nothing to alleviate the humidity, so that it was a relief to step into the coolness of the house.

  'Take a change of clothing with you,' said Sebastian coolly.

  'I… I've only got the dress I wore yesterday,' she replied.

  'Then take that, and of course, some nightwear.' Was it her imagination or was there a taunting note in his voice as he said the last few words? 'We'll have to stay the night somewhere. From the canyon we'll go straight to Guadalajara. You'll be able to buy more clothes there.'

  'And then will we come back here?' she asked. Better show an interest in what he planned to do and then he would think she was going to stay.

  'No, we won't be coming back here,' he said crisply. 'I'll go and make sure the plane is ready now. Be prepared to take off in about half an hour.'

  He left her in the hallway and Dawn lingered for a few minutes beside the pool, watching the fish. So they wouldn't be coming back to this gilded cage where so much had happened between them and where so much more might have happened, where a dream of romance might have become reality. If Micaela hadn't come, hadn't said what she had said…

  'Seňora.' Carlos was there with Manuela standing behind him. He was carrying a small leather suitcase. 'Manuela says she pack your clothes now. You show her what you want to take, por favor.'

  'Si, si,' she nodded, glad to have something practical to do to stop the wandering of her thoughts, and went ahead of Manuela up th
e stairs.

  There wasn't much to pack really, for she had decided to leave the green evening gown behind, hanging in the cupboard, as a reminder to Micaela, who no doubt would use the room when she visited la casa chica, that Sebastian had a wife. And by the time Manuela had folded everything neatly and expertly and had packed the small suitcase it was time to go out to the plane.

  This time they followed the coastline northwards and Dawn had a panoramic view of golden and black beaches edged by scrolls of white surf which stretched between the coastal towns of Manzanillo, Puerta Vallarta and Mazatlan. The blue ocean looked like crushed satin stitched with silver sequins and white feathers and behind the beaches and the white sparkle of the buildings in the towns the mountains presented a wall of purple-hazed sand-coloured rock, deeply cleft with the dark shadowy green of gorges and canyons.

  Sebastian spoke only to point out and name the towns they passed over, and Dawn could think of nothing to say to him because once again the hard inscrutability of his dark foreign face and the abrupt way he spoke to her made him seem very remote and aloof.

  After a while he changed course and flew towards the mountains. Slowly a gorge opened up before them and soon they were flying between walls of rock above a glittering river which cascaded down to the sea through the thick green foliage of palms and other trees.

  From the dark narrowness of the gorge the plane burst out into sunshine to fly over sun-baked biscuit-coloured land, scattered with sage bushes and shadowed with the weird shapes of giant cacti. The buildings of a town glinted in the distance and soon the plane was descending towards an airport.

  There was no problem about hiring a car and once again Dawn became aware of how much Sebastian commanded respect wherever he went. Was it because he was known or was it because he was obviously wealthy? A little of both, she suspected, with the addition of his handsome appearance and charm.

  Durango, he told her, had been founded in 1563 and named for Durango in Spain when the Spaniards had searched out valuable mineral deposits, rounded up all the Indians they could, taught them Christianity and had put them to build towns and work in the mines. North of the city, as they sped along a highway towards copper-tinted mountains split by ravines of deep blue shadow he pointed to one of the hills and told her that in it was one of the largest known deposits of iron in the world. In addition there were gold and silver deposits which never seemed to run out in the ore-rich Sierra Madre range.