The Abducted Heart (Sweetly Contemporary Collection)

by Blake, Jennifer

  Blindly she turned toward the stairs. Her foot was on the bottom step when he called after her.

  “You have something for your headache?”

  “Yes, the doctor left a few capsules,” she managed, and then because her voice was treacherously near to breaking, she fled.

  In her room, she took off the turquoise and laid it carefully on the dressing table, removed her dress and hung it away, then slipped into her gown. She removed the light makeup she had applied, brushed her hair, and swallowed one of the capsules left on the table beside her bed before sliding between the covers. Only then did she allow the threatening tears to trickle from her eyes. They slid hot and salty into her hairline. But before the first had dried, she was asleep.

  On Ramón’s orders, breakfast was brought to her in bed. The tray was set with a delicate china patterned with small pink roses which she had not seen before, and adorned with a single pink rosebud in a crystal vase. Two notes lay folded on a tiny silver salver. The first, from Ramón, contained only the suggestion that she spend the morning in bed and the offer of books and magazines from his study to entertain her. The second in the spidery handwriting of Doña Isabel held out the inducement of luncheon in town and an afternoon of shopping. Listless from a night of overheavy slumber, it seemed too much trouble to do anything other than fall in with their wishes. She had the nagging feeling that she should be doing something constructive to earn her salary, but as she had no idea what the duties of a fiancée consisted of, she could not bring herself to move.

  Thinking of the salary reminded her that Ramón had not mentioned the amount she was to be paid for this unusual employment. She must remember to tell him to deduct the amount of the clothing he had supplied from the total, though she had the melancholy suspicion that if she was to be paid an amount equal to two week’s salary at Metcalf’s there would be nothing left when the price of the dresses was subtracted. No matter. She could not and would not accept them from him, especially after last night. An orphan she might be; still, she had no need of his charity.

  Her suspicions were amply proved that afternoon. As she followed Doña lsabel in and out of the smart shops of the “pink zone,” the most cosmopolitan area in the city bounded by Avenida Insurgentes, Avenida Chapultepec, Florencia Street, and the Paseo de la Reforma, she grew more and more certain that she had been wrong to accept so much from Ramón. Even after she had mentally translated pesos into dollars, nothing was cheap. Further along some of the streets she saw the signs of smaller, less-expensive-looking boutiques that looked as if she might have been able to afford their wares, but Doña Isabel had no interest in such places. She unerringly chose the most exclusive establishments and marched in, her bearing so regal that she commanded instant service. In one or two of the shops she was recognized by the more mature salesladies and greeted like a long-lost friend. Each time this happened, she introduced Anne as her future granddaughter-in-law, with the subtle insinuation that it would be well to treat her with the deference due a prospective customer. If the proper show of interest was forthcoming, the old lady allowed herself to be persuaded to recount the story, slightly altered to fit the circumstances, of how her grandson, an impetuous lover unable to face the thought of leaving his new fiancée behind in Dallas, had practically kidnapped her. According to Doña Isabel, he had swept her off her feet and carried her on board his plane in the most romantic abduction ever dreamed of by woman. Being a man, he had counted as unimportant the fact that Anne had no clothing or personal effects, not even a lipstick. When Anne tried to protest that Ramón had seen to her more pressing needs, it only appeared that she was trying to defend him, at which the older women had exchanged knowing smiles. After that it did no good for her to insist she needed nothing. Doña Isabel, ignoring her objections, ordered sets of casual clothes in delicious shades of green and pink and sherbet orange. It had to be admitted, however, that these appeared as insignificant as Doña Isabel pretended beside the dozens of suits, dresses, and evening gowns she pointed out to be delivered to the house for herself.

  They did not wait to be fitted. Doña Isabel declared they did not have the time. They would make their decisions at home in privacy and simply return what they did not like. Anne said nothing, finding it more than useless. But she vowed she would return everything the old lady had bought her later. Somehow she would make her understand how she felt. She would not be indebted to either her or her grandson for another penny. It left her in much too vulnerable a position for her peace of mind.

  After a little more than three hours Anne thought Doña Isabel began to flag. Her spirits and enthusiasm remained high and her back was as straight as when she had set out, but she looked a little pale, a little blue around the mouth, under her dusting of face powder, and she had begun to look around unconsciously for a chair each time they entered a new shop. She was no longer young, after all, and was unaccustomed to so much activity. It would not have been very tactful to say so, however.

  “Doña Isabel, is there a coffee shop somewhere near?” Anne asked as they emerged from the cool dimness of yet another shop in the fading light of late afternoon.

  “I’m not certain, but I feel sure there is. You feel the need of refreshment, my dear?”

  “Yes, please. I hate to be a nuisance. I’m afraid that ridiculous bump on the head took more out of me than I can realize.”

  “Why didn’t you say something sooner? I’m a thoughtless old woman. We will go home at once,” Doña Isabel said, turning toward where the chauffeur waited beside the long black limousine not far away.

  “I’m sorry that you had to cut short your shopping because of me,” Anne said when they were seated and the long car had glided out into the breakneck flow of traffic at that time of day.

  “Not at all. In truth, I was beginning to be a little tired myself. Does your head ache?”

  “A bit,” Anne replied. It was no more than the truth. The slanting rays of the sun reflecting from the gleaming chrome and the waxed finish of the car seemed to stab into her eyes.

  A tiny frown between her eyes, the old lady surveyed her face. “We’ll have you home presently. Just sit back and relax.”

  Anne gave her a faint smile before turning away. She felt such a fraud. To change the subject and indicate to Doña Isabel that she was still well enough to take an interest in her surroundings, she pointed toward a statue they were passing, one of many along this wide, modem street, forming an interesting contrast with the glass and steel skyscrapers that backed them.

  “Is that an Indian?” she asked.

  “Indeed yes. That is Cuauhtémoc, the last of the Aztec emperors. He stands as a monument to the Aztec heritage of Mexico. As a people we are proud of this part of our past. Many of the best families of the city have the blood of the Aztec Indians in their veins, including the Castillo family. You were aware of this, were you not?”

  “I suspected it, yes,” Anne admitted.

  “Ramón’s ancestors were traditionally warriors instead of farmers or artisans, knights of the ocelot — or the tigre, as they were named by the Spanish who tried to conquer them. It troubles you that Ramón has this blood?”

  “Troubles me?” Anne turned to face her, puzzled.

  “You do not feel it is a taint? For it is not so, I assure you. To be descended of the Aztecs is a thing of pride in Mexico, as much so as being linked to a race of kings.”

  “No, of course I don’t consider it a taint,” Anne exclaimed. “Such a thing never crossed my mind.”

  Doña Isabel gave a satisfied nod. “It is good. You will find such a heritage of great value to your children and your children’s children.”

  The implication of the old lady’s words took Anne’s breath for an instant. “Doña Isabel,” she said at last in a low voice. “You know that will never be. You must not—”

  The old lady lifted her hand in a commanding gesture, indicating the chauffeur in front of them with a tilt of her head. Anne fell silent, oppressed suddenly
by the falseness of her position. The chauffeur, so far as she knew, understood little English. Why should she have to pretend for his sake? And though she tried to tell herself that Doña Isabel was right in being so cautious, the words she had used, the vision she had conjured up of beautiful dark-eyed, straight-limbed children with Aztec blood in their veins would not be banished from Anne’s mind, nor would the odd hurt that thinking of them caused.

  Five

  Doña Isabel did not come down for dinner. An hour before time, she sent word by Carmelita that she was more tired than she had realized and intended to have a tray in her room, adding the request that Anne keep Ramón company downstairs. Left to herself, Anne might have taken the coward’s way and asked for a tray also, but Doña Isabel had neatly circumvented that. With a sigh, she asked Carmelita if she would be expected to dress for dinner.

  A little later, wearing the gold sleeveless knit with the silk-fringed shawl, draped over her elbows in the accepted manner by the admiring little maid, Anne descended to the sala. She had rested briefly after returning from shopping and her headache had receded once more. Carmelita had brushed her hair into a shining bell and, using the cosmetics sent by Ramón, shadowed her eyes lightly with a turquoise powder brushed with gold. She felt confident, even attractive, more so than she had ever felt in her life. She felt, in fact, equal to whatever the occasion might demand.

  Ramón, exotically handsome in a velvet jacket of dark gray worn with black trousers and a gold silk print shirt open at the neck in the continental fashion, turned at her entrance. A fire against the coolness of the evening air burned in the room. Anne could not be certain that the gleam of welcome and approval she thought she saw in Ramón’s eyes was not also a reflection of the fire’s bright warmth.

  “Don’t tell me,” he greeted Anne with wry humor, “let me guess. You had a note from Abuelita also?” Anne had to admit it.

  “You must forgive her. She means to be tactful. I’m sure, at any rate, that she would approve of my arrangements for dinner. I thought we would have it here beside the fire, unless you object?”

  “Not at all,” Anne said. “It should be nicer than at the long table in the dining room.”

  As she seated herself in the chair he held for her, Maria entered the room to announce that dinner was ready to be served. Swinging to Anne, Ramón asked, “You are ready now? Or would you like a glass of wine first?”

  When Anne waved away the offer of an aperitif, he instructed María to begin, then waited until their first course was placed in front of them before he returned to the subject of his grandmother.

  “Tell me, Anne,” he said, his deep, slightly accented voice giving her name a strange sound in her ears, “what do you think of Abuelita’s health? As an impartial observer, does she seem as strong to you as she pretends?”

  Lifting the heavy silver soup spoon beside her plate, Anne answered slowly. “It’s difficult to say. Until this afternoon I would have answered yes, easily, but now I’m not so sure.”

  When she had gone on to explain what she meant, Ramón shook his head. “She is seventy-three years old, a great age, and she will not admit to any infirmity unless it suits her purpose. That’s the trouble, I can never be sure when she feels really ill and when she is shamming in order to have her way.”

  “You worry about her a great deal,” Anne said, a statement rather than a question.

  “Why not? Other than Estela, who is quite naturally involved with her husband and children, she is all I have.”

  That was not strictly true. There was Irene with her small head, slanted eyes, and reptilian grace. At the thought of her the hot soup, so aromatic and delicious a moment before, turned tasteless in Anne’s mouth.

  “The shopping expedition was successful?” Ramón asked.

  “Oh, yes,” she agreed, summoning her wits to describe, since his interest seemed real, some of the many dresses and evening gowns Doña Isabel had ordered. She did not mention the boxes that had been delivered with those of his grandmother and that now reposed on chairs in her own bedroom.

  Slanting her an enigmatic glance, he said, “It begins to look as though Abuelita has not forgotten the party she spoke of last night, or the visits she will have to entertain from her friends afterward.”

  “I believe she plans to lead a more active life from now on," Anne agreed with care.

  “That will be good, so long as she keeps it within reason. I appreciate what you did this afternoon, persuading her to return home. I hope I can depend on you to take as good care of her in the future?”

  Anne looked up at him. “I will do my best, for as long as I am here,” she said, meeting his intent gaze without flinching.

  He did not look away. “I’m sure you will always do your best, which reminds me. I have not expressed my gratitude for the way you played the role of my fiancée last night. You were very convincing.”

  Memory of the night and its aftermath made her voice tight as she answered, “I tried to be.”

  “Estela was quite taken with you. She phoned me this morning to tell me we were perfect for each other. I’m afraid she will be most disappointed when we part.”

  Anne searched his face with its sardonic calm for some hint of his feelings. She found none. “I’m sorry someone as nice as Estela has to be involved.”

  He had been playing idly with his wineglass; now his fingers tightened on it for an instant before he lifted it to his lips. “So am I,” he replied.

  When the meal was over and cleared away, they sat on before the replenished fire. Silence stretched between them, silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. Anne fumbled through her mind for something to say and found nothing. She could sense tension in the man lounging in the deep chair beside her, almost as if he placed some form of restraint upon himself in her presence. From where she sat his face was in the shadow, but she could see his right hand resting on the arm of his chair, his fingers curled around the tapestry-covered end. Suddenly her gaze riveted on the gold and black enameled signet ring that he wore as she realized the significance of it. Knights of the tigre, the Spanish had called them, Aztec warriors of the ocelot. In the bold, proud profile of the man seated beside her, it was almost as if one of that breed had come to life. Shivering a little, she looked away into the heart of the fire.

  Disturbed by her movement, he turned his head. “You have plans for tomorrow?” he asked abruptly.

  “Your grandmother didn’t mention any.”

  “You have none of your own?” he insisted, a trace of impatience in his voice.

  She shook her head. “I would like to see something of your country, but I don’t want to be a bother, or to go off on my own when I might be needed.”

  A frown, as if he intended to say something sharp, appeared between his eyes, then faded. When he spoke, his tone was mild. “I would rather you did not go about alone. I have a few business matters to attend to in the morning, but in the afternoon we might drive out to see the pyramids at Teotihuacán.”

  Anne flicked a glance at him. What she had expected she did not know. His face revealed nothing more than calm courtesy. “Are you sure you won’t be bored?”

  “It is some time since I was there, when I was a college student, in fact. People always ignore the attractions on their own doorstep, don’t they? Besides, Estela will expect to hear that you have been sightseeing, becoming more knowledgeable about Mexico than the Mexicans. We wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”

  Stung by such a dutiful attitude, Anne said, “You don’t have to come. I’m sure there is a bus or some other means of transportation I could use.”

  “True,” he replied, his tone tinged with a satirical humor, “but I’m afraid you will have to put up with my company. I am unwilling to have you venturing about the streets of Mexico without protection from the unpleasantness, if not actual danger, that can befall a woman without an attentive escort. No, please,” he went on as she opened her mouth to argue, “I can do no less. E
stela and Abuelita will expect it.”

  Stiffly, Anne agreed and a time was set immediately after luncheon.

  “There will be much walking, and also, it is possible to climb the largest structure, the Pyramid of the Sun. Comfortable shoes are necessary and some form of slacks or a suit with pants.”

  “All right,” she answered.

  “There is a restaurant at the site where we can have dinner. If you would like to try it, I will make reservations.”

  “I would like that very much,” Anne murmured, touched by this example of his thoughtfulness, which seemed to indicate that his offer had not been made on the spur of the moment. She wished she had been more gracious in her acceptance, but the moment was gone. With a satisfied nod, he turned away, back to his contemplation of the fire.

  Not long afterward, Anne, pressed by the growing conviction that Ramón would prefer to be alone, said good night. With the perfect manners she had come to expect from him, he got to his feet to see her to the stairs. Halfway up, she turned to see him standing in the double opening of the sala, with the light from the stained-glass fixture falling on his face. The lozenges of red and amber and black gave him the look of a pensive Satan left alone in Hades. The feeling crept in upon her that she was wrong to go, that if she had stayed there might have been a demand made of her fit to test her newfound confidence. It was not a feeling to encourage sleep.

  The morning brought a special-delivery air-mail letter from Iva containing her salary check as promised, plus two pages filled with anxious questions and warnings. There was no sign of the suitcase she expected from Judy, and Carmelita, on being questioned, denied all knowledge of any such arrival, though she promised to speak to the other servants, especially the chauffeur, who would have had to pick it up at the airport. The results of the inquiry were exactly nil. No one had seen such a thing, nor had there been any calls from the airport concerning anything of that nature. It seemed petty to carry such a problem to Ramón; he had so many things so much more important to occupy his mind. But she did not know what else to do. She did not, however, have the opportunity to put it to him. By the time she descended to the patio he had breakfasted and gone.