by Anne Hampson
Hydee hesitated with her answer, thinking of her newly discovered love for him and feeling it would be humanly impossible for her to continue on for long lonely years, carrying the knowledge that there was no possible chance of her love ever being returned. Carlos was looking at her anxiously, and words left her lips that came unthinkingly, for in her unhappiness she scarcely knew what she was saying. ‘There’s nothing in my life, Carlos. . . .’ She broke off as a sob choked the words. ‘No hope at all.’ She closed her eyes to trap the ready tears that came forth from the heavy cloud at the back of her eyes.
‘The children?’ Carlos’s voice seemed faintly harsh, and yet there was a very odd inflection in it which baffled her and at the same time set her nerves tingling uncontrollably. ‘What about them?’
‘Yes’—she nodded—‘they do fill my daytime hours, and indeed I did assume they’d fill my whole life, but they’re not enough. I didn’t realise at the time I agreed to marry you that I’d need something else to make my life complete. . . .’
As her thoughts began to clear, she knew she could not continue. The possibility of giving herself away was too strong. It would be an unbearable embarrassment for her if he should ever learn that she had been so foolish as to fall in love with him.
‘Something else . . . .’ Carlos was murmuring so strangely that Hydee searched his face, trying to read his thoughts. ‘I ought to have known, to have looked at the situation far more closely, anticipating an eventuality like this.’ His facia! muscles tightened as a sigh escaped him. Bewildered by his manner, Hydee could only stare, fascinated by the sudden pulsing of a nerve in his throat, the sign of a strong emotion within him. His eyes held hers, disturbing in their intent scrutiny. The silence stretched, brooding, oppressive, and Hydee was suddenly impelled to break it, asking him what he had meant. For answer she received a faintly sardonic smile which served only to baffle her even more.
‘Carlos,’ she began huskily, ‘I—’ She stopped abruptly, gasping in surprise as he drew her tightly into his embrace, and before she could even guess at his intention, he was kissing her. For a stunned and disbelieving moment she was robbed of the ability either to move or to think, and she remained passive in his arms while his lips possessed hers, moist and sensuous and thrillingly masterful. It was only when her emotions were stirred that she was galvanised into action, pushing against his chest in an attempt to free herself; but so puny were her efforts against his strength that she gave up, once again passive in his embrace. And soon she found herself reciprocating, her arms sliding up to curl around his neck.
At last he leant away, his eyes inscrutable as they held hers.
‘Carlos,’ she whispered fervently, ‘you kissed me. . . .’
‘Yes, dear.’ A smile softened the hard outline of his mouth. ‘I kissed you because I wanted to.’
‘Because you wanted to. . . .’ Her heart was leaping, blood surging into it from every part of her body. It couldn’t be true, she was telling herself one moment, yet the next moment she was thrilling to the knowledge that it was true. Hydee dared not presume that Carlos had suddenly fallen in love with her, but undoubtedly he found something attractive in her; he must have done, to have held her like that and kissed her so tenderly and yet with an ardour that betrayed his need of her. Dazed, yet with a tentative rapture stealing along her nerves, she waited for him to speak again, but instead he drew her into his arms and sought her lips. He kissed her gently at first but then with an increasing passion that had the instant effect of heightening her own emotions, and she clung to him, all her love pouring out in her reciprocation of his kisses. She parted her lips readily at the insistence of his, thrilling to the male roughness of his tongue against the tender flesh within her mouth.
Her temperature seemed to be rising with the increase of his ardour as his kisses became more sensuous, more passionate, his lips moving from her mouth to the tender curve of her throat, moist and tempting against her soft white skin. His lips found hers again after their explorations, and a spasm of ecstasy shot through her at the sensory effect of his tongue caressing hers. Her strong young arms encircled his neck; she thrilled to the knowledge of his uneven breathing when she caressed his nape, to the little shock he sustained when her fingers played lightly with a sensitive place behind his ear.
As his ardour grew, his lean hands caressed; he managed somehow to reach her breast in spite of the protection of the nightdress, gently cupping it as if enjoying its weight within his palm. As quivers of longing rippled through Hydee’s whole body, she heard him whisper hoarsely, ‘Hydee . . . my wife. . . .’ That was all. She submitted without protest when he took the nightdress away, colouring delicately yet moving close to find comfort against him. He laid her on the bed and went out, returning ten minutes later clad in a dressing gown. Hydee lay supine and content, watching him take it off.
‘I love you, Carlos,’ she said, but it was a whisper not meant for her husband’s hearing.
Chapter Nine
It was a soft and gentle morning with not a cloud to stain the ice-blue crystal of the sky. The sun’s slanting rays were already diffusing an autumnal warmth and brilliance over the drowsy landscape.
Hydee had been up since first light and was wandering about the now familiar grounds, stopping every so often to admire a dew-flushed rose or other exotic, sweetly perfumed flower. The fountain shot its spray into the air, snatching colour from the sun. Beside an ornamental pool two white marble statues of Greek gods looked down enigmatically from their high pedestals, at the foot of which three peacocks preened themselves. Hydee took this stroll every morning, savouring the solitude, the peace and purity of the dawn. Her thoughts would wander always, flitting about from one thing to another, but now she was recalling vividly the events of last night. They had come so unexpectedly. Had he felt sorry for her? she had asked herself after it was all over and she was lying by his side, content to be there even though she knew he did not love her. She decided that it was not pity that had led him to make love to her, but desire pure and simple. And he had derived such pleasure from her body that she had no doubts about his wanting to come to her again. That he might be in love with Arminda was a possibility looming large on her horizon, but Hydee did not intend to let it trouble her. She was happier than she had been this time yesterday; she had the children in the daytime and the fulfilment of her love to look forward to at night. Added to this was the cherished hope that, one day—perhaps in the far distant future—Carlos would come to love her as deeply as she loved him. Inevitably she pondered about her love for Noel, and realised that what she had felt for him was weak and insipid in comparison to the depth of her love for her husband.
Her thoughts reverting to last night, she wondered why she’d had no instinct to resist, aware as she was that Carlos did not love her. She ought to have had a feeling of shame, of being unclean, almost, because she had such high ideals about love and marriage and the spiritual oneness of a union based on love. She’d had no doubts about being swept to the realms of rapture, because she knew instinctively that Carlos would prove to be the perfect lover, experienced, skilled in the art of lovemaking. But how long would physical pleasure satisfy her if there were no subsequent feeling of permanency and depth, of absolute confidence and the tender warmth of love’s afterplay?
None of this had come to her as Carlos prepared to lie down beside her. On the contrary, she had wanted him desperately, and in the craving for the fulfilment of her own love there had been no place for doubts and questions and the conjectures that were now running through her mind. She threw them off, remembering that whatever the circumstances created by this new and unexpected relationship, she was far happier than she had been before.
And with this in mind she wandered on, stopping by a scented bush to stare back at the Palacio, occupying its dramatic setting on the spur of the hill overlooking the Douro Valley, its glorious and extensive grounds alive with colour from geraniums and lilies and pink-flushed roses. Magnolias an
d bougainvillaeas grew parallel to a hedge of brilliant red hibiscus, and in another part of the garden a bed of dahlias shone like purest gold in the morning sunshine. From this vantage point Hydee could see the extensive vinyards of the quinta, terraces cut into the steep sides of the valley, but all was silent now, for the vintage was over, the vines resting, the whole aspect a little lost and forlorn after the tremendous activity of the vintage.
Glancing at her watch, Hydee gave a little start of disbelief and hurried back to the house. Ramos and Luisa were having a tussle in the nursery when she entered, and she stood for a moment watching them.
‘Mama!’ exclaimed Ramos, running to her; he grasped her hand, putting it to his cheek in a gesture of affection. ‘Where have you been? We’re hungry!’
Within half an hour she had them both washed and dressed and entering the breakfast salon, where their father was already waiting.
It was natural that Hydee should expect to experience some embarrassment on meeting Carlos, but she scarcely felt it because the presence of the children diverted her husband’s thoughts from last night and the only sign that he remembered was an inquiry, spoken in a casual tone, as to how she had slept.
And even then her brief reply was interrupted by Ramos and Luisa saying in unison, ‘Good morning, Papa! Is breakfast ready? Because we’re hungry,’ added Ramos, hitching himself up into a chair.
His father regarded him sternly. ‘Have you forgotten your manners, Ramos?’ he inquired with a slight inclination of his head towards where Luisa was standing, looking rather superior as she waited to see what her brother would do.
‘She can get up by herself,’ growled Ramos, sending her a frowning look.
‘Undoubtedly she can,’ agreed Carlos. ‘Nevertheless, you will use your manners and see her to her chair.’
Drawing a long loud breath, Ramos obeyed, bringing out a chair for his sister and waiting until she was seated in it before returning to his own. How very nicely they were being brought up, thought Hydee, feeling proud and privileged to be their stepmother.
After Carlos had performed a similar courtesy for his wife, they all had breakfast, a happy, normal family, the children being allowed a certain amount of freedom to talk, both to each other and to their parents.
‘Casco will be ready to take you to school,’ Hydee 103prompted when Luisa began to dally with her food. ‘Don’t you want any more?’
‘Yes, I want it all.’
Another wait and then, from Carlos, ‘I’m sure, Luisa, that you’ve had enough. Come on—move, or you’ll be late for school.’
Hydee stood on the Palacio steps and waved to them as the car moved off the forecourt, leaving the impressive precincts of the Palacio as it rolled down the mile-long drive towards the road.
Carlos had already gone off, saying he would not be home until late in the afternoon, and Hydee went to the nursery to pick up the children’s dirty clothes in readiness for Ana, who would be coming to collect them. Less than half an hour later she heard Gasper’s car crunch to a stop on the gravel; going to the window, she waved and smiled, calling down to him that she would be there directly.
He drove her along leafy lanes for less than five miles before turning into an entrance equally as imposing as that of the Palacio de Manrique.
‘Do all Carlos’s relatives live in palaces like this?’ she inquired when, through the trees, she saw the eighteenth-century country palace with its tall Moorish-type pillars supporting a high balcony that ran the entire length of the front façade of the house.
‘Not all,’ he laughed, ‘but most of us do. The aunts are rather impoverished, being widows, but although they might be reduced in circumstances, it’s certainly not affected their arrogance.’
So I noticed, thought Hydee silently.
Gasper was speaking again, this time about the house. ‘It occupies an ancient river terrace,’ he explained, and as they got out of the car he pointed to the river, which flowed slowly beside the palacio.
‘It gives it extraordinary charm,’ enthused Hydee, standing motionless in appreciation as her eyes wandered all around the formal gardens with their statuary and azulejos, their several waterfalls and boundless expanses of smooth green lawn and shrubberies and parterres. ‘It’s really lovely, Gasper.’ She turned to look up at him with that limpid quality in her eyes that had attracted him from the first, although of course Hydee did not know it. ‘You’re the owner? You have no parents?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve been the owner since I was twelve.’
‘Twelve?’ Her lovely eyes were pained as she asked how that came to be.
‘Mother died when I was three and Father when I was twelve. Carlos kept an eye on the estate until I came of age—he’s ten years older than I, and even at the age of twenty-two he was businesslike and capable. His estate came to him when he was twenty-five.’ They were standing close together on the white marble forecourt; he looked down at her with a rueful expression on his handsome face. ‘Thank your lucky stars that his mother is no more. She was worse than her daughter; she considered the family of Manrique to be so exalted that she expected everyone to bow down to her.’
Hydee stared. ‘You’re not serious?’
‘Every servant had to incline his or her head when meeting up with the marquesa. Yet her husband was so different—proud and arrogant, of course, but certainly not bloated with his own superiority in the way his wife was. I hated her and she me.’
‘What about Carlos?’ began Hydee curiously. ‘How did he get along with her?’
‘Not very well. However, she was very taken with his wife—thought the sun shone out of her, which only goes to show, because Eunice was not only unfaithful, but she turned out to be a bad mother.’
‘Really? I gathered that Ramos and Luisa led rather a restricted life when their mother was alive.’
‘Yes, but strict discipline cannot take the place of love. Luckily, Carlos was always there to provide that. And although he’s less rigid in his discipline than any other parent in our family, there are limits to his tolerence, and Ramos and Luisa know that if they go beyond them they’re in trouble.’
Hydee could well imagine that, and she hoped she would never be a witness to Carlos’ anger if ever it should be directed against one of his children.
To Hydee’s surprise, Carlos was at home when she arrived back after a most pleasant few hours. Gasper had taken her on an extensive tour, first to the gallery of paintings, then from room to room, the entire aspect of the palace giving the impression of wealth and graceful living. They strolled in the garden while waiting for lunch to be served on the terrace, and, profoundly appreciative of a beauty she had never dreamed could exist, Hydee often gasped audibly at what she saw.
When, after dropping her at her home, Gasper invited her to come again, her acceptance came eagerly and naturally as she said she would love to come anytime he wanted her to. ‘And thank you for a lovely few hours today, Gasper.’
‘No need for thanks, my dear.’ Serious and somewhat intense as his eyes met hers, Gasper added softly, ‘I have never had more pleasant company, Hydee. You’re charming and graceful . . . and desirable.’
Colouring delicately, Hydee watched his expression close, yet the next moment he was as carefree as ever as he slid into the car, lifted a hand in salute, then crunched away over the gravel, to gain speed on reaching the smoother surface of the tree-shaded drive leading to the road.
For a long moment Hydee stood there, still and silent as she watched the dust rise in the wake of the car.
It was as she turned to the house that she saw Carlos at the window of the sitting room, and her heart gave a little lurch because she knew full well that he would not be at all pleased that she had been with his cousin. However, deciding there was nothing to be gained by meeting trouble halfway, she greeted him with a happy smile and asked why he was earlier than he had said.
Carlos pointedly ignored her question. ‘You’ve been with Gasper all day?’ he
asked in a voice that chilled her to the bone.
‘Not all day,’ she answered, automatically glancing at the French marble clock on the mantelshelf. ‘Were you home for lunch?’
‘I was’—briefly and with the intention of disconcerting her still more.
‘I’m sorry.’ Her face broke into a difficult smile as instinctively she attempted to assuage his anger. ‘When you went out this morning, you said you wouldn’t be back for lunch.’
Carlos regarded her darkly from his superior height. ‘The arrangement with Gasper was made last night obviously?’
‘Yes; he offered to take me to see his home.’ The colour was swiftly leaving her face. ‘You’re not pleased that I went with him?’
‘You are fully aware that I’m not pleased.’ The wrathful intensity of his stare sent tremors of apprehension running along her spine, and she half-turned, an involuntary movement born of the natural instinct to escape. ‘You know my opinion of him; I’ve mentioned that he’s a flirt, a philanderer.’
‘Yes, but he would never say anything out of place to me, Carlos,’ she said, nervous tension sharpening her tone. ‘After all, he’s my cousin-in-law, so surely you don’t mind our being friends?’
His eyes remained dark and wrathful, and there was no relaxing of the tight uncompromising line of his mouth while she was speaking to him in a pleading voice.
‘You went off with him without even mentioning to me that you’d made this date—’
‘It wasn’t a date,’ she broke in swiftly. ‘It—’
‘What was it, then? Are we to begin splitting hairs?’
‘It . . . it was merely an invitation which he extended from a sense of duty.’
A sneer curled her husband’s mouth. ‘I do not approve of Gasper—or his peculiar sense of “duty,” as you so delicately describe it.’ He paused as if affording her the opportunity to respond, but the little lump that had risen in her throat prevented speech. She was desolate at the change in Carlos after the intimacy of last night. She had not supposed that their new relationship would produce any swift and dramatic change in him, but neither had she envisaged his being like this—standing there in judgement, tall and forbidding and adopting a magisterial attitude, as if she were nothing more than the nanny she had first expected to be.