by Anne Mather
Looking into his grim face, Caroline wondered how she had had the nerve to say what she had. But it was said now, and she could not retract it. So she stood her ground, facing him a little uncertainly, and summoning her courage to go on.
'But you didn't warn me what to expect, did you?' she accused him recklessly. 'You didn't tell me that your brother liked inflicting pain, or that your aunt was likely to insult me—'
'Tia Isabel insulted you? How did she do that?'
Caroline shook her head. 'She—she accused me of being one of—one of your father's—'
'I understand.' Luis held up his hand to silence her, his face twisting impatiently. 'Did you tell Esteban?'
'He knew,' said Caroline dully, feeling a headache beginning to probe at her temples. 'He was there.' She sighed. 'Oh, what does it matter? You don't really care about me. Just so long as Emilia doesn't suffer.'
Luis watched her as she walked away from him, her head bent, her silky hair falling at either side of her face, exposing the vulnerable nape of her neck. Then he muttered angrily to himself, before going after her.
'Tomorrow morning,' he said harshly as he passed her, scarcely slowing his stride. 'At six o'clock, seňorita. I shall be waiting in the hall.'
CHAPTER FOUR
Perhaps because she had slept during the heat of the day, Caroline found it hard to sleep that night. Although her room was dark and cool, her thoughts were hot and excited, and she tossed about restlessly on the softly-sprung mattress, unable to find a comfortable place to relax. Even without the restricting influence of the sheet, her skin felt moist and prickly, and her heart seemed to be beating unnaturally loud.
She determinedly turned her mind to thoughts of home, realising that apart from a card from Merida, she had not yet written to her parents. Tomorrow she would have to try and find the time to compose a letter, and hope that the strangeness of her surroundings would not be discernible from her descriptions. In spite of her own misgivings, she didn't want her parents to worry, and her mother surely would, if she suspected the situation at San Luis.
It was harder to think of Andrew, but she did it, realising with a pang that she had scarcely thought of him all day. His image had receded, to be replaced by a darker, harder profile, with the long straight nose and finely moulded lips of the ascetic. Luis de Montejo! A man different from other men, yet just as disturbing to her peace of mind.
Thrusting his image aside also, she recalled Don Esteban's conversation that evening. Luis had not joined them for dinner, but Doňa Isabel had, and Caroline had been uneasy, until it became apparent that the old lady was quite lucid this evening. Dressed in the inevitable black, but with a fine lace mantilla about her shoulders, and caught at the throat with an enormous diamond pin, she presided over the table with her nephew, occasionally subjecting Caroline to a not-unfriendly appraisal.
'Esteban tells me you are from London, seňorita,' she observed, her somewhat clawlike fingers crumbling the roll on her plate. 'I went to London once, in 1946. I thought it was an ugly place, and it rained—all the time.'
'Tia Isabel, London was subjected to saturation bombing during the war,' Esteban inserted patiently. 'What you saw was the result of that desecration. I myself have been there since, and I can assure you it is not ugly.'
'Were you born in London, seňorita?' Doňa Isabel persisted, undaunted by her nephew's interruption, and Caroline shook her head.
'My family used to live just outside London, seňora, in Buckinghamshire. But I attended university in London, and I know it very well.'
'Hah!' Doňa Isabel nodded. 'And did your parents approve of this?'
Caroline frowned. 'Approve of what, seňora?'
'Approve of you attending university, of course.' Doňa Isabel shook her head. 'And travelling so far, without a dueňa,' she added. 'When I was a girl, such things would never have been permitted.'
'Miss Leyton is a product of the twentieth century, tia,' Don Esteban interposed smoothly. 'And we should be grateful that she has chosen to come to San Luis, and be the companion Emilia needs.'
Doňa Isabel pursed her lips. 'Emilia needs a mother's care,' she declared, nibbling at the tips of her fingers. 'Brother and sisters to bring her companionship.' She sighed. 'But with you a viudo, Esteban, and your brother destined for la iglesia, how can we hope for miracles?'
'I do not think Miss Leyton would agree with you,' Esteban retorted now. 'Emilia is not so unique.' He smiled at Caroline, his dark eyes warmly approving. 'And with the seňorita's assistance, we may all prosper.'
Caroline applied herself to the spicy mixture of rice and chicken on her plate, embarrassed by Don Esteban's unctuousness, and Doňa Isabel shrugged her thin shoulders in dismissal.
'Perhaps,' she murmured, without conviction, and to Caroline's relief the subject was dropped.
No one questioned where Luis was, but while they were taking coffee in the salón later, his name again entered the conversation. It was Doňa Isabel who introduced the subject, and Caroline's cheeks had burned during the old lady's disturbing exchange with her nephew.
'I saw that woman leaving the hacienda again this afternoon,' she announced irritably, clattering the fragile coffee cup in its saucer. 'I saw her leaving by the puerta accesoria. I will not have that woman in this house, Esteban! You must speak to Luis again!'
Her nephew looked slightly disconcerted by this unprovoked outburst, and his words in consequence were persuasively appeasing. 'Tia Isabel, cara, I do not think we need discuss this affair in front of Miss Leyton. I will speak to Luis, as you say, and the matter will be dealt with.'
'You have said that before, Esteban,' declared Doňa Isabel peevishly, not prepared to surrender so easily. 'If Luis has need of a woman of that sort, why can he not arrange to meet her in the village?'
'Tia Isabel, I have told you, I will attend to it.' Don Esteban's eyes glittered ominously. 'What Luis chooses to do in his spare time is not Miss Leyton's concern, and I suggest you restrict your remarks to less personal matters.'
Caroline, in truth, was at a loss to know what to think. Who was this woman Doňa Isabel spoke about? Some penitent of Luis's, here for him to hear her confession? Some poor creature dependent on him for charity? Or, more realistically, judging from the censure in Doňa Isabel's voice, the kind of woman used for only one purpose, the idea of which caused a definitely hollow feeling in the pit of Caroline's stomach.
It was this, as much as anything, that was keeping her awake. She was disturbed by what she had heard, puzzled by the reasons behind it, and troubled by the awareness of her own involvement. Was that who Luis had been with when she saw him that afternoon? Was she the reason for that thoughtful expression he had been wearing? And was she, Caroline, by her persistence, an unwitting accessory to his deception of his brother?
Eventually she slept, only to awaken seemingly minutes later to an impatient tattoo at her door. Someone was knocking, determined to arouse her, and she struggled up on her pillows, groping for her watch.
It was six-fifteen, and scarcely light outside, but her heart pounded in sudden comprehension. It was Luis; it had to be. And scrambling off the bed, she sped across the room to the door.
'Who is it?' she breathed, her throat dry, and the constant tapping ceased.
'Montejo,' he said, with grim inflection. 'Have you changed your mind?'
'No! No!' Caroline spoke without hesitation, glancing behind her helplessly at the tumbled bed. 'Can—can you give me ten minutes? I've overslept. I promise I won't be long.'
'Five minutes,' he declared, delivering one last blow to the panels, and she heard his booted feet as he strode away down the corridor.
She sluiced her face and cleaned her teeth, contenting herself with the briefest of ablutions, and dressed without deliberation in purple jeans and cotton shirt. She wore boots instead of shoes, folding the legs of her jeans inside them, and snatched up a sweater as she went out the door. She didn't bother with make-up. Her skin was naturally pin
k from the haste with which she had readied herself, and her hair swung silkily about her cheeks as she hurried along the lamplit corridor.
Luis was waiting in the hall. She saw him as soon as she reached the landing, pacing restlessly about the black and gold tiling, flicking his knee-length black boots with the long muzzle of a rifle. The gun gave her pause, an unexpected weapon, in the hands of an expert, she was sure, as lean and dangerous as the man himself. Dressed in black, he exuded a lethal magnetism, and she realised how uncomplicated her relationship with Andrew had been, when compared to the feelings this man evoked in her.
He saw her as she started to descend, and his grey eyes narrowed speculatively. She was made uncomfortably aware that he did not consider jeans a suitable accoutrement to riding, but his words to her were impersonal, negating his unspoken reprobation.
'We will need to hurry if you are to see anything of the estate,' he said flatly, and without giving her time to reply he thrust open the door through which she had seen him entering the previous afternoon, and indicated that she should precede him.
Caroline found herself in a small cloakroom, with two further doors opening from it. The first was heavy and studded, with a crucifix nailed to its surface, but the other was the one Luis opened, giving access to the garden outside. Caroline licked her lips. This had to be the side door Doňa Isabel had mentioned the night before. She had looked up puerta accesoria in her dictionary before going to bed, and she swallowed rather convulsively at the confirmation of the old lady's story, and the inevitable conclusions she had reached.
Outside, the air was incredibly fresh and sweet, and for a moment she forgot her apprehensions. Then Luis closed the door behind them and bade her follow him, and she hastened in his footsteps, aware of the sudden weight she felt upon her.
Luis had evidently made all the arrangements earlier, for his own mount and a soft-eyed chestnut mare were already saddled and waiting for them. The old Mexican stable-boy smiled benevolently as Luis took the time to thank him for his trouble, and proffered his hands for Caroline to use as a mounting block. After a brief glance at Luis, Caroline accepted his assistance, and he hoisted her firmly on to the chestnut's back.
It was easily four years since Caroline had ridden a friend's pony, on a farm near her old home in Buckinghamshire, but the lessons she had learnt then still stood her in good stead. The mare was much bigger than the pony had been, of course, but she was docile and amenable, and after assuring himself that Caroline could handle her, Luis swung himself on to the back of a dark red gelding. He tucked the butt of the rifle into a leather pocket attached to the front of his saddle, then said something in Spanish to the grinning old man.
'Desde luego, seňor,' he answered eagerly, and hastened into the stables again, to reappear moments later with a wide-brimmed sombrero. 'Por tu, seňorita,' he said, offering it to Caroline, and meeting Luis's eyes again, she made an involuntary little shrug as she took it.
'Never go riding without a hat,' he advised her softly, and with a helpless gesture she jammed the well-worn crown on to her head.
'Mucha suerte, seňorita, seňor,' exclaimed the old man cheerfully, as they rode out of the yard, and Luis raised his hand in farewell as he urged the horses forward.
Gomez came out to open the gates for them, and Luis had a smile and a friendly word for him, too. Like the stable-boy, Gomez evidently liked the younger Montejo, and Caroline couldn't help wondering whether Esteban inspired the same affection in his employees.
Beyond the gates, the ground sloped away steeply in a series of gullies and shallow ravines, thick with shrubs and trailing creepers. The lush vegetation had a primitive beauty, but Caroline couldn't help remembering what Emilia had said about snakes and spiders, and she felt sure this was exactly the sort of habitat they would frequent. She was relieved, therefore, when Luis did not ride down the track towards the village, but branched off on a circular route, that followed the walls of the hacienda for some way, before giving naturally on to the gentler incline that formed the northern boundary.
Given her head, the mare was quite happy to follow Luis's mount's example, and trotted obediently after the more spirited animal. But, as the shrubby undergrowth gave way to open grassland, the gelding quickened its pace, and Caroline had to concentrate to keep her seat, as the mare broke into a gallop. Yet it was stimulating, after all the tensions of the last couple of days, and she was glad that the cord of her hat was under her chin, when the wind caught the sombrero, tipping in on to her neck.
She was breathless and exhilarated when Luis finally slowed his mount, and the mare caught up with him, jostling its rider. Caroline's knee was pressed for a moment against Luis's booted ankle, and the colour flowered in her cheeks as he propelled the mare away.
'You ride like someone bent on a course to disaster,' he remarked dryly, just when she had been preparing herself for his approval. 'Do you always let your mount run away with you like that? Or were you simply incapable of doing anything about it?'
Caroline gave him an indignant look. 'I was in control,' she exclaimed defensively, patting the mare's neck with a knowledgeable hand. 'I'm sorry if our collision caused you some discomfort, but I wasn't aware your boots were so fragile!'
Luis's mouth drew down at the corners. 'In this terrain, one should always be in control,' he retorted grimly, directing her attention to a spot some four hundred yards away. 'Have you any idea how little time it takes for a herd of cattle to bear down on you, or the kind of injuries that can be sustained by so many plunging hooves?'
Caroline looked at the moving blur of darkness on the pale horizon. Until he pointed them out to her, she had been unaware of their presence, but now she quivered in the grip of her imagination. She had seen the frightening results of a stampede in films and on television, and she could certainly picture her terror if the herd turned this way. Even from her window they had seemed thick in number, and slightly menacing, and to be this near to them was itself unnerving.
'I—I didn't know, I didn't realise,' she said now, in futile expiation. 'What do we do now? Do we go back? I've never been this close to a herd of cattle before.'
'I doubt you have,' he conceded wryly, controlling the mettlesome gelding with the ease of long experience. 'And no, we do not go back. We ride through them. So long as we do not startle them, there is no danger.'
Caroline was not entirely convinced. The eyes she turned in Luis's direction then mirrored her indecision, and his stiffness eased as he attempted to reassure her.
'Come,' he said, urging his mount near to hers, and reaching out, he lifted the sombrero back on to her head. 'We will walk the horses for a while. That way, you can be sure we will disturb no one.'
The sun, which had previously been sheltering behind a bank of clouds, cleared then suddenly, and spread fingers of rose-pink and palest orange over the plain. Caroline could hear the birds squawking as they swooped overhead, and as she paced the mare beside the gelding, she had time to look about her and enjoy the increasing warmth upon her shoulders. She had tied the sleeves of her sweater around her shoulders, but she pulled it off now and fastened it to the front of her saddle. She rolled the sleeves of her shirt back to the elbows, exposing her slim arms to the sun, then felt slightly chastened when Luis looked her way. In his black pants and leather jerkin, he didn't seem bothered by the sun as she was, but he refrained from making any comment, and she determined not to let his attitude influence her.
'How far away is the sea?' she asked, shading her eyes, and endeavouring to ignore their approach to the herd, and Luis gave the matter some consideration.
'As the crow flies, some ten miles,' he replied briefly, and Caroline gasped in surprise.
'So far?' she exclaimed, steering the mare round a clump of marsh grasses. 'But I thought—I mean—it seemed so near from the window of my room.'
'Distances can be deceptive,' remarked Luis carelessly, narrowing his eyes against the glare. 'Particularly when the ground is flat. Why?'
He glanced sideways at her. 'Were you planning to dip your toes in the Gulf of Mexico?' He shook his head. 'I regret, you will have to save that doubtful privilege until Esteban chooses to take you in the Rover.'
Caroline sighed. 'I just thought it might have been nice to take Emilia to the beach,' she averred, avoiding his eyes. 'But if we have to go by road, I suppose I could take her myself. I can drive.'
Luis gave her a wry look. 'Do you really think Esteban will let you take Emilia out without his escort?' He shrugged. 'I think not.'
Caroline made an impatient gesture. 'Because I'm a woman alone? Oh, this is ridiculous!'
Luis made no response, and she expelled her breath with evident frustration. 'Do you mean to tell me that even in a car, we have to have a bodyguard?'
'If it pleases you to call it that, then yes.' Luis inclined his head. 'In any case, so far as Emilia is concerned there is always the danger of kidnapping, a common enough occurrence in these times. You would not wish to put her life in danger?'
Caroline pressed her lips together. 'No. No, of course not.'
'Good.' Luis made a dismissing gesture. 'So, you will do as Esteban says, verdad?'
Caroline moved her shoulders slightly resentfully, but she voiced no protest, as Luis took possession of the mare's bridle, to lead it through the grazing ranks of cattle.
Some of the beasts raised their heads to watch their progress, staring at them with wide brooding eyes, but as Luis had said, they were not aggressive. On the outer flanks of the herd they came upon several of the gauchos, whose job it was to guard the cattle, and they called greetings to Luis from their lazy bivouac beneath a clump of stunted cedars. They had lit a fire to make breakfast, and the scent of coffee was appetising, mingling with the inevitable smell of beans, and the thin corn pancakes, that were their staple diet. They offered to share their repast with the patrón and his lady, but although Caroline expected him to accept, Luis refused their generosity with formal politeness.