Island Of Pearls

by Margaret Rome

  Afterwards, heat and contentment took their toll.

  Carmen was first to drop off. Stretched out in the shade of a tree, her eyelashes drooped, then slid down to fan across childishly round cheeks. Hazel watched her smilingly, then turned away and blushed fiercely when she blundered into his quizzical gaze. "There is no sleep like the sleep of the innocent," he quoted softly. "Do you sleep so undisturbed in your coma de matrimonia, nina, or do you feel lost and cry out in the night for a companion to share your dreams?"

  Her body flamed. Such perception was uncanny, how could he know of the many nights she had awakened in that great canopied bridal bed with his name drowned in salt tears upon her lips. He could not know -and must never guess! "I try not to dream, senor" she strove for flippancy. "Reality is so much more satisfying, I've found. Though dreams might make me a princess, beautiful as night, morning comes and daylight does not flatter."

  Her chin was grasped in fingers suddenly rough. "But daylight can flatter, nina ! Not the conventional beauty, perhaps, the kind that needs artifice to enhance, but the beauty of the flower who sleeps away the dark hours and awakes to the kiss of the sun."

  Her pulses were hammering alarmingly; she could not bear his touch, yet could not bear to move away. "Are you likening me to a flower, senor?" the jest rasped her throat. "If so, which one of your exotic tropical species do I resemble?"

  Her eyes were dark with hurt, doubly painful because it was self-inflicted. For long seconds he probed that hurt, unearthing every secret fear, dissecting her scared, lonely heart until he was satisfied that each

  secret corner was bare. Then he sighed, releasing his grip upon the small pointed chin that lifted instinctively as if to weather a blow.

  "I visited your country once," he recalled obliquely, "only to curse the chill of your English climate. But one particular day as I walked through the countryside I discovered a flower of enchantment. A daisy, I later learnt, a tight green bud on a slender stem, with petals of cool white tipped with rose, and in its centre a secret heart that showed golden only when sunwashed with happiness."

  His eyes flicked over her slim body sheathed in green, then travelled to where colour tipped white cheeks to the flush of rose. He stood up quickly, pulling her to her feet beside him. To steady her, his arm looped her waist, then drew her forward until his warm breath stirred the spread of lashes fanning her cheeks. Taut silence stretched into infinity, it was as if the sea had ceased murmuring, birds had folded their wings and the earth paused in revolution, curiosity captured by the tableau.

  "Golden heart," he murmured, "will you sleep more peacefully during the dark hours if I assure you that fulfilment will come with the dawn?"

  Her mind teemed with confusion. She needed to think out his words alone, to savour them, and to sort out truth from attempted reassurance. To procrastinate, she ignored his question to ask one of her own."And what of you, Francisco, do you rest soundly knowing you can manipulate all of us into whatever state of mind you wish ?"

  He laughed without humour, bitterly, with a visual

  twist of his lips.

  "Do I really need to answer that question, nina, when it is well known the wicked can never find rest?" When he released her and walked away the ocean resumed its sighing, the birds stirred, and the earth moved under her feet with a jolt that reached her heart, that cold, empty thing that had lived a lifetime of hope during the seconds the earth stood still.

  Catryn arrived at the Casa that evening. Never one to hesitate to take advantage of a friendship, she had a favour to ask and she barely took time to greet them before launching her project. "Francisco, we have had many requests from tourists anxious to visit a local 'stately home', and I was wondering if you would consider throwing open the Casa for a couple of hours each week. We will ensure the minimum of inconvenience to yourself," she added hastily, "and of course great care will be taken to make sure nothing of value is touched by prying hands."

  They were in the main sola sipping pre-dinner drinks. Tio Garcia had invited himself to dinner and Hazel had anticipated a pleasant evening; Francisco always strove to appear affable whenever his uncle made an appearance. But attention was centred upon Catryn the moment she arrived, flushed and apologetic, looking outstandingly lovely in a filmy outfit of a shade of blue that softened the hardness of her eyes and sighed around her ankles as she walked, giving to her an illusionary appearance of drifting within a soft blue cloud. Francisco's eyes kindled as he relaxed in his chair, twisting a goblet of wine between lean fingers.

  With an indulgent smile he declined. "I'm sure you

  must be aware that what you ask is impossible -nevertheless, I'm pleased you have come if only to give us the pleasure of your company while you accept a refusal."

  Her mouth wavered, but she did not quite manage to return his smile. "Is that your final word ?" she husked, projecting hurt far in excess of the importance of the request.

  Tio Garcia fiddled impatiently with his glass, annoyed as always by the way Catryn monopolized Francisco's attention.

  "Certainly it is," he snapped, reminding Hazel of an aggravated terrier. "The family of Drach does not parade its possessions for the entertainment of the public!"

  Catryn sent him a look of dislike. He had become expendable, his usefulness had been proved as a means of introduction, but now, squeezed like a lemon, she was happy to discard him in favour of his nephew. Concentrating solely upon Francisco, she sighed. "I suppose you're right," her lovely shoulders drooped beneath a burden of worry. "I had an awful cheek to even suggest such a scheme. It's just that . . ." She hesitated when a tremble broke into her voice, then swept a finger across lashes sparkling with tears. "Excuse me." She jumped to her feet, poised to run rather than allow them to witness her distress.

  Francisco was on his feet in an instant. "What's wrong, mi car a, what causes you such distress?"

  Hazel was fascinated by the performance Catryn carried out to perfection. She watched her sway where she stood, saw his arm go around her waist to steady

  her, and almost applauded the pathos of her words when she looked into his concerned face and murmured:

  "I've been very foolish, Francisco, punishment is no more than I deserve." Her fingers raked through thick golden hair, disarranging its neatness so that she appeared innocently vulnerable. "I'm finding my job so very tiring, you see, demanding of me more energy than I possess. Perhaps I'm not yet acclimatized to the heat, or maybe I'm not as strong as I thought - anyway, last week I felt so dreadfully ill I simply had to take a few hours off work and when my boss found out he was extremely angry. He said that if I was not capable of doing my work I should leave, but I need my job, Francisco," she began to sob, "that's why I dared to ask you this favour! I thought if I could go to my boss with such a concession he'd be bound to offer me my job back and allow me to stay ..."

  "Por dios!" His chivalrous instincts were fully aroused. With a glint of arrogant displeasure that boded ill for Catryn's unfortunate employer, he snapped his fingers and decreed, "I will speak to this man who dares to treat you with such callousness. He shall be run off the island!"

  "No, Francisco, you mustn't interfere, he has great influence - a word from him and I could find myself outlawed by every travel agency in the business! You must promise not to breathe a word of what I've said!" Catryn really did seem distraught; even Hazel's doubts were not proof against her show of distress. Realizing she had overplayed her hand and fearful of the grumbling of an enraged monster she suspected

  might not be easily appeased, Catryn admitted with reluctant good sense, "My boss is not so harsh as perhaps I've implied - some of the fault may be mine for attempting to do a job which at times is beyond my capabilities."

  "Poor child!" The realization that Tio Garcia had been completely hoodwinked hit Hazel like a blow. But, struggling to be fair, she had to admit that his defection was in some ways justified. The men of his race derived great satisfaction from cosseting their womenfolk even to the
extent of accepting responsibilities of a relationship umpteen times removed. Catryn swung towards him, eager to enlist any ally sympathetic to her cause. "Is there no one in your family who will make himself responsible for your wellbeing?" Tio Garcia asked delicately.

  "How I wish I could answer yes to that question, senor, unfortunately I can lay claim to no one," she husked, portraying heartbreak touching to all but Hazel, who had often envied Catryn the love of adoring parents whose spoiling had laid the foundations of selfishness in their only child. Her scandalized eyes mirrored her thoughts, and Catryn's hard glance dared her to reveal the deliberate lie.

  "It is diabolical!" Francisco condemned, tight-lipped. "Young girls ought not to be allowed to roam the world unchaperoned!" His look was directed upon Hazel, her face shaded to solemnity by a weight of thoughts, and his voice hardened. "Especially not children barely out of the schoolroom whose knowledge of life is so scanty that one is compelled to introduce them gradually to harsh reality rather than allow them

  to suffer at the hands of some less bound by convention or conscience!" Her head lifted, puzzled by his angry reference, but he had finished with her and was concentrating upon Catryn. He disliked being pressurized, and this fact was responsible for the reluctance with which he offered the suggestion, "Visitors to the Casa cannot be allowed, but in the grounds there are wine cellars where workers on the estate are allowed to hold their fiestas. If you think your tourists would be interested, we could arrange a weekly pageant - my workers will not object to dressing up in appropriate costumes to entertain, provided a small sum is offered as remuneration, and their wives will also be glad to arrange a barbecue meal which could be served outdoors far enough from the Casa to leave us comparatively undisturbed. If this idea should find favour with your employer, let me know and I will begin making the necessary arrangements."

  "Find favour!" Catryn was speechless with delight. "Oh, Francisco, he'll be delighted and my job will be secure again, that's certain!"

  "Good!" He smiled, then unbent enough to offer her his arm. "If that is so, then perhaps we can now go in to dinner?" As was to be expected, for the rest of the evening conversation revolved around the subject of the pageant and as there was much to discuss Hazel and Tio Garcia were each forced to adopt the role of listener, a situation which suited Hazel but which Tio Garcia found so tedious he made his excuses and left much earlier than he had intended. His exit caused so little disturbance Hazel felt she too was superfluous and she was just about to make her way noiselessly

  Upstairs when Francisco looked up in time to catch her creeping from the room. "Where are you going, nina?" he queried, halting her just as she was about to cross the threshold. Child! She wished he would not call her that, especially not in front of Catryn, who seemed to derive much scornful amusement from the description.

  "It's late," she stammered, feeling caught out in some misdemeanour. "I didn't think you'd mind if I went to bed."

  He flicked back his cuff and frowned at his watch. "So it is, I'm sorry to have kept you up so late, will you ring for a servant to fetch Catryn's coat while I get out the car to take her back to her hotel ?"

  "I'll fetch it myself," she offered hastily. "I dismissed the servants hours ago." She hurried out of sight of his raised eyebrows, vexed by his inconsiderate demands upon all who dwelt under his roof.

  Catryn was alone in the room when she returned. She handed over the wrap without a word, but felt a tremor of trepidation when Catryn smiled. "You really must try harder to adapt to your new station, my dear," she smirked. "Servants are employed to work as many hours as might be deemed necessary. Francisco isn't used to doing his own fetching and carrying, and I shouldn't think he'll find himself able to approve such action in his wife." When Hazel coloured, but refused to be drawn, she remarked spitefully, "Rumour has it he was engaged to an English girl who threw him over in favour of his brother - did you know?"

  "Yes, I knew," Hazel answered through stiff lips.

  "He was supposedly demented at the time," Catryn watched shrewdly. "The way I heard it, Francisco

  frightened her rather - he can be overpowering at times - and as the younger brother was his exact opposite in nature, she decided to throw in her lot with him, thinking she might as well have fun as well as money. Unfortunately it was not until after the wedding that she discovered Francisco held the strings of the moneybags and she'd let a fortune slip through her fingers." Strange, isn't it," she mocked, "that he should turn to you of all people for comfort? Or perhaps not," she amended unkindly. "He would be looking for someone completely different - men on the rebound always do -and from all accounts Carmen's mother was a raving beauty."

  "Are you ready?" The smooth question caught Catryn off guard. It was impossible to tell whether or not Francisco had overhead; his expression was completely blank as he waited politely for Catryn. But when she swept past him to go to the car he hesitated before following, seemingly on the brink of words, then he changed his mind and after a piercing look turned away, leaving her free to release a flood of smarting tears.

  CHAPTER IX

  The pageant was arranged to take place the following week. Catryn spent many hours with Francisco before the event - with the full approval of her boss, who had pronounced himself delighted with the idea - and her air of suppressed excitement was evidence that plans were shaping well. To launch the project, Francisco had agreed that they would all attend the first evening - even Carmen, to whom the prospect of staying up late was as enthralling as the event itself.

  "We must dress up, Catryn says," she informed Hazel importantly. "The estate workers are to wear medieval costume and we at the Casa must set an example by appearing in the most colourful outfits we can find, so can we sort out our costumes now? Tio Francisco says there are lots of clothes stored in trunks in one of the unused bedrooms. Please, Hazel, say we can look through them and make our choice today?"

  Having suffered previously from Carmen's dogged persistence, Hazel surrendered gracefully. "Very well, dear, you lead the way - I'm sure you've made it your business to discover exactly where the treasure is stored!" When Carmen scampered upstairs she followed thoughtfully after her. She had seen so little of Francisco the past week she had no idea what he might be expecting of her. Somehow she could not imagine his dignified personality accepting easily the frivolity of fancy dress, but then again Catryn seemed capable

  of wheedling him around her little finger, so perhaps it might be as well to check before committing herself to anything drastic.

  She hesitated at the foot of the stairs, the study door was partially open and the sound of rustling papers confirmed his presence behind the desk of hand-carved wood that dominated the room. Her hand lifted, preparatory to rapping for admittance against the panel, but before it could descend the door was jerked open by Francisco, who checked his hurried exit and halted on the threshold. He was carrying a sheaf of papers and seemed immersed in thought, but at the sight of Hazel his eyes sharpened to questioning points.

  "Can you spare me a minute?" she forced out, hating the way her question had unconsciously reverted to a plea.

  "I was just about to look for you,"he admitted, giving rise to a panic-stricken examination of conscience as she strove to remember what wrong she might have done. "The catalogues I sent for have arrived. I'd like you to look through them and order whatever you need." When she looked blank, he jerked her memory. "The new clothes you were promised - I approached a fashion house in Madrid, one of the best, I'm assured - and they obliged by sending details of their stock. How unlike a woman to forget such a promise!" he jested, smiling so that a deep cleft of amusement ridged his cheek.

  Fighting a sudden longing to run her fingers along its path, Hazel gathered her scattered wits and thanked him. "You are very generous, but really there's no need. All my belongings are new and you have have already

  given me so much . . ." As lashes fanned down to hide her shyness she groped with nervous fingers for a non-e
xistent ring on her other hand and a breath died in her throat when she felt his cool grasp.

  "Where is the Ring of Chastity?" he questioned sharply, spreading out her unadorned fingers.

  "I . . . I've put it in a safe place," she confessed, certain of being meted out penance. "It was a little slack, so when you mentioned how revered it is by your family I dared not wear it again. Besides," her sigh was full of tears. "I never felt it belonged with me; its long history of affinity with cherished brides ought not to be marred by its becoming the possession of an impostor."

  She was prepared for anger, but his voice betrayed more savagery than wrath when he bit out, "So that is what you consider yourself to be - an impostor! Small wonder those around you attach so little importance to the fact that you are my wife when you yourself are so reluctant to face that reality."

  His words probed the wound left by Catryn's derogatory remarks, setting her smarting. "A woman doesn't automatically become a wife by the bestowal of a ring and the exchanging of vows!" she retorted harshly. "Robin suspects, just as Catryn must, that our marriage is a sham. Marriage means love, and love is movement . . . things have to keep happening . . ." She faltered, aching to express her feelings but so frustrated by shyness she resorted to taunts. "You are afraid of love, Francisco, afraid of its meaning, unable to relinquish even a small share of yourself to another, which is what love demands! For too long you've been an island, a man apart, cutting yourself off from gossip and from the