by Anne Mather
'You—you shouldn't do this,' she protested huskily, but her shoulders were yielding against his chest, her head tipping to one side to accommodate his probing lips. She could feel every hard muscle of his body, and for a few moments it was enough to know that he had forgiven her.
'I know what I should or should not do,' he contradicted her huskily. 'And I do not think my soul will be eternally damned for just holding you in my arms.'
Caroline stiffened at his words, but he would not let her go, and her resistance melted again when his strong hands slid up over her rib-cage to find the rounded fullness of her breasts. They swelled to his touch, the nipples hardening and surging against the thin cotton, and the groan he uttered was one of anguished submission.
'This—I should not do,' he muttered, twisting her round in her arms. 'But I have to,' and before she could make any protest, his mouth sought the trembling sweetness of hers.
Caroline's lips parted beneath the sensuous invasion of his touch, and her conscience was submerged beneath the urgent tide of emotion that swept through her at that moment. Luis's mouth was firm and insistent, hungry in its possession, promoting an intimacy between them that would not be denied. It was a breathtaking, suffocating sublimation of her identity, and her hands groped for him almost blindly. Almost without her volition, her arms were around his neck, her fingers twining in his hair, her nails raking his scalp as she sought to hold him closer. Her whole body was flooded with a feverish excitement, and the intoxicating scents of the garden around them mingled with the musky male scent of his skin, to sensitise her awareness.
It was Luis who eventually pulled away, leaving her with an empty distraught feeling, that threatened to overwhelm her. She felt sick and giddy, seduced by her emotions into a state of complete submission, and his withdrawal left her feeling weak and disorientated.
'So—what do I say now?' he muttered harshly, thrusting savage fingers through his hair. He looked grimly into her drugged features. 'Do I apologise? Do I beg your forgiveness? Or is it too late to pretend I did not want to make love to you?'
Caroline moved her head bemusedly. 'Don't say any-thing,' she ventured faintly, struggling to regain her own composure, but the angry expletive he used abused her attempt at understanding.
'No?' He spoke violently, and she realised how disgusted he was with himself for allowing this to happen. 'We just forget all about it, is that it?' His face twisted. 'Of course, I forgot. You are an emancipated English girl. You are used to men making love to you. It means nothing to you!'
'That's not true!' Caroline was stung into retaliation. 'I am not used to men making love to me!'
'Your lover, then. This man who cares so much about you that he is prepared to allow you to travel half across the world without his protection?'
'Andrew is married!' declared Caroline tremulously, wanting to hurt him as he was deliberately hurting her. 'That's why I'm here. That's why he didn't try to stop me!'
Luis's features froze. 'You are in love with a married man?'
Caroline didn't know any more, but she couldn't tell him that. 'What—what if I am?' she countered, and then knew a moment's agony when she saw the real torment in his face.
Shaking her head, she turned away from him, and heard the sound of his footsteps retreating from her. She guessed her words had destroyed any lingering feeling he might have felt for her, and while that knowledge was painful, Luis might take some comfort from it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The day after Luis's departure, Don Esteban came to the library while Caroline was giving Emilia her lessons.
It was a day of rain, a steady driving downpour, that ran in rivulets across the windows, and reduced visibility beyond them to nil. It was much different from the rain Caroline was used to, and when it had awakened her that morning, pattering against the window pane, she had lain for several minutes considering how it reflected her mood.
She supposed after every bereavement there was a period of time when one was too numb to really understand the inevitability of what had happened, and Luis's departure was like a bereavement. The knowledge that she might never see him again was too painful to contemplate, and she was living in a state of bemused insensibility, immune to the pangs of physical deprivation.
She had not seen him again after that disastrous scene by the lily pond. As he had predicted, he had been absent for dinner that evening, and the following day at lunch Don Esteban had taken much pleasure and satisfaction in announcing his brother's departure.
'We will all miss him, will we not, seňorita?' he had remarked, as they took the midday meal together as usual on the terrace, and if there had been any hidden meaning behind his suavely-spoken words, Caroline had been too distraught to notice it.
Yet, for all that, life went on, and although at times the hopelessness of her feelings for Luis and the permanence of their separation was like a massive weight bearing down upon her, she forced herself to behave as she had always done, continually keeping all futile thoughts at bay.
The question of whether or not she would remain at San Luis after her probationary month was up was still far enough distant not to be of any immediate threat, but sooner or later it too would have to be faced. There were times when desperation drove her to think longingly of home, and others, when the thought of leaving Mexico— and putting thousands of miles between her and Luis— filled her with despair. The likelihood that Don Esteban might find her work unsatisfactory was always a possibility, but at least with Emilia she found some measure of relief.
'Tio Vincente is gone,' she said, the morning after Luis's departure, and burst into tears, and comforting the child, Caroline had found comfort herself.
'Why do you call him Tio Vincente?' she asked, after Emilia had dried her tears, and the little girl's chin quivered.
'My mother used to call him Vincente,' she said simply, picking up her pencil again, and Caroline applied herself to the textbooks with a gladiatorial determination.
The advent of Don Esteban was an unexpected diversion. Apart from assuring himself of his daughter's application to work, he had shown little interest in her progress, and Emilia herself looked apprehensive when he stepped into the library. He himself had been absent at dinner the night before, and Caroline had nervously shared the meal with Doňa Isabel, but this morning he was as immaculately dressed as usual, only the pouches beneath his eyes bearing witness to a possible over-indulgence.
'Good morning, Miss Leyton, good morning, Emilia,' he greeted them silkily, closing the door behind him and advancing into the room! 'But not such a good morning weatherwise, is it, much more the sort of weather Miss Leyton is used to, I fear.'
Caroline looked up from her books. 'Can I help you, seňor?' she asked politely. 'Would you like to see how Emilia's work is proceeding? Her English essays are really very good.'
'I am sure I shall have no complaints of your work with Emilia, seňorita,' her employer assured her smoothly. 'In all honesty, books, and learning, were always a source of boredom for me. I find the practical applications of experience far outweigh the knowledge acquired from books, and while it is important that Emilia should learn these things, they are not the whole meaning of existence, would you not agree?'
Caroline made a helpless gesture. 'If you say so, seňor.'
'If I say so?' he questioned, coming to stand beside the desk, the pungent fragrance of his after-shaving lotion a sharp assault on her nostrils. 'My dear Miss Leyton, you must agree with me. Why else did you leave the familiarity—the security—of your home in England, if not to gain practical experience?'
Caroline put down her pen and linked her fingers together. 'She was aware of Emilia, listening to their exchange with an intent expression upon her face, and although Don Esteban's words seemed innocent enough, she mistrusted his bland assertions.
'In what way can we help you, then, seňor?' she ventured, endeavouring to appear cool and relaxed. 'If you wish to speak with Emilia, I can easily prepare this le
sson elsewhere.'
Don Esteban made a soothing movement, his plump fingers spreading over the desk. 'It is you with whom I wish to speak, seňorita,' he replied, moistening his thick lips. 'It is a privilege of which I have denied myself, but which I am told has not been denied to others.'
A faint colour invaded Caroline's cheeks. 'What did you want to say, seňor?' she asked stiffly. 'Naturally, as my employer, you have first call on my time.'
Don Esteban expelled his breath half impatiently. 'Do not be so—touchy, seňorita! I was not criticising you. I appreciate that while Luis was here your loyalties were divided.'
Caroline froze. 'I don't know what you mean, seňor.'
'Of course you do.' Don Esteban sighed. 'It was perhaps unfortunate that I was—indisposed on the day of your arrival. Luis's deputation on my behalf enabled him to influence your thinking, and it was natural that you should regard him as your—how shall I put it?—protector?'
'Don Esteban—'
'Seňorita, I understand. My brother has always had this effect on women. They like him. They trust him. And he always lets them down.'
Caroline drew an unsteady breath. Emilia's eyes were wide now, and the curiosity in their depths was vaguely hostile. She was unlikely to understand what was going on, Caroline guessed, but any criticism of Luis was bound to create antagonism.
'I think this discussion could be concluded at another time, seňor,' she declared now, casting a meaningful glance in his daughter's direction. 'Perhaps over dinner this evening.' Emilia was always in bed before dinner. 'But now, if you don't mind, we really should get on.'
A brief shadow of impatience crossed Don Esteban's face at her words, but it was quickly dispersed. 'Of course, of course,' he averred placatingly. 'But I think you misunderstand me, seňorita. I did not come here to discuss my brother. On the contrary, Luis is of no further concern to any of us.' He smiled, his lips curling back with a smugness she only faintly comprehended. 'As it happens, I am driving into Las Estadas this morning, and I wondered if you and Emilia would care to accompany me. As it is such a miserable day, I thought the outing might—divert us.'
Caroline caught her breath. It was the last thing she had expected, and observing Emilia's astonishment, she guessed the suggestion had surprised her, too.
'As it is almost a week since you arrived at San Luis, seňorita, I thought you might welcome the opportunity of visiting a supermarket, or posting some letters,' her employer continued affably. 'We are so remote here, and it is fitting that you should have some free time.'
'I have plenty of free time, seňor,' Caroline told him uneasily. 'Emilia and I only work in the mornings, and the rest of the day is my own.'
'But even schoolteachers must have a morning off sometimes,' Don Esteban insisted. 'So? Will you come?'
Caroline looked doubtfully at Emilia. Obviously the child would welcome the outing, and it was true she had written to her parents the night before, but spending several hours in her employer's undiluted company was something else.
'Perhaps—perhaps Emilia would like to accompany you, seňor,' she faltered tentatively. 'I—er—I have these lessons to prepare—'
Don Esteban's expression hardened. 'Is not my company to your liking, seňorita?'
'Of course not. I mean—of course it is.' Caroline flushed in embarrassment. 'I just thought—'
'I shall be leaving in fifteen minutes, seňorita. I suggest you wear waterproof clothing. As you are probably aware, the amenities at Las Estadas leave a lot to be desired!' and without giving her a further chance to protest, he strode arrogantly out of the room.
'You had better get ready, seňorita,' Emilia remarked, after the door had closed behind him. 'Don Esteban does not like being kept waiting.'
Caroline, whose nerves were feeling decidedly strained, cast her pupil an irritated look. 'Must you call him that?' she exclaimed, shuffling the textbooks together. 'He is your father, Emilia, whether you like it or not. And no amount of wishful thinking will make it otherwise.'
'No, he's not.' Emilia's chin jutted. 'And don't you talk to me in that tone of voice. I know why you are upset. Because Tio Vincente has gone away. But like Don Esteban says, Tio Vincente cares nothing for any woman, since my mother died.'
Caroline felt the first twinges of a headache probing at her forehead. 'You imagine things, Emilia,' she declared, striving desperately for a way to avoid spending the day in her employer's presence. 'And perhaps you should go and change, too. That dress is scarcely suitable for tramping round Las Estadas.'
Emilia shrugged. 'I don't care.'
Caroline sighed. 'Don't you want to go?'
'With Don Esteban? No.'
Caroline shook her head. 'We don't have a choice, do we? Go and get ready. You heard what your father said.'
Emilia gave her a mutinous look as she left the room, but Caroline was too distraught to notice. It was obvious that she would have to go, and after closing Emilia's exercise books, she went to change her shoes.
She was hurrying back along the corridor when Doňa Isabel's door opened, and her heart sank when the old lady emerged and spoke to her.
'You are going out, seňorita? Is that not rather foolish on such a day?'
Relieved to find the old lady was lucid, Caroline forced a smile to her lips. 'Emilia and I are going to Las Estadas with Don Esteban,' she explained. 'Let's hope it may have stopped raining by the time we get there.'
Doňa Isabel frowned. 'You are going with Esteban?'
Caroline sighed, hoping this was not going to cause problems. 'Yes.'
Doňa Isabel looked at her closely. 'You like Esteban, seňorita?' she queried. 'I thought Luis said—but no matter. No doubt you know your own mind best.'
Caroline pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling. 'What—did—Don Luis say?' she asked, but already the old lady's mind was wandering.
'You take care, seňorita,' she warned, and the glitter of her dark eyes caused Caroline's pulse to quicken. 'The Montejos are not to be trusted—as poor Vittoria found out.'
Caroline shook her head. 'Doňa Isabel, Don Esteban's mother is dead—'
'Do you think I do not know that?' The old lady was suddenly very erect. 'I know my mind wanders sometimes, but if I confuse Esteban with his father, that is because they are so alike.'
Caroline nodded. It was easier to agree. 'I must be going, seňora,' she began uncomfortably, and started when the old lady suddenly gripped her wrist with a bony claw.
'Esteban wants you, seňorita,' she hissed, her breath redolent with a sickly scent of Parma violets. 'Do not ask me how I know. I do. And if you think you will have any choice when the time comes, then you are a fool!'
Caroline tore herself away. 'I think you're imagining things, seňora,' she declared, though the hand that massaged the reddened skin of her wrist was not quite steady. 'I must repeat, I am Emilia's governess, that is all. Anything else is pure fantasy on your behalf.'
All the same, as she left the old lady to walk quickly along the corridor, Caroline's legs felt decidedly shaky. It was easy enough to tell herself that the old lady was eccentric, inclined towards the very fantasies she had accused her of, nevertheless it was unnerving to be constantly at the mercy of these unwarranted attacks.
Downstairs, Don Esteban was waiting for her, dark and unfamiliar in an oilskin jacket. He looked with approval at her knee-length boots and dark blue mackintosh, then urged her towards the heavy doors with a careless gesture of his hand.
'Emilia—' she said, glancing round anxiously, but there was no sign of her pupil, and her patience wavered. Where was the child? Surely she would not disobey her father. Remembering the last occasion that had happened, Caroline wished she had been more forceful.
'Emilia is not coming,' Don Esteban informed her carelessly, swinging open the outer door and gazing at the drenching downpour. 'Dios mio, will it never cease?' and without giving her chance to reply, he started down the flight of steps.
'Oh, but—se
ňor—' Caroline hastened after him, pulling up her hood as she emerged from the porch. 'Seňor, what do you mean? Where is Emilia? Why isn't she coming with us? If she's not ready, then surely we can wait.'
The Range Rover stood waiting at the foot of the steps, and Don Esteban gazed up at her impatiently. 'Come, seňorita,' he called, his expression brooking no argument, and with a sigh of puzzled uncertainty Caroline hurried down the steps.
'Emilia—' she said once more, as he bundled her into the front of the Range Rover, and irritation marked the sensual fullness of his lips.
'Emilia is delicate,' he declared, slamming the door and walking round the vehicle to climb in beside her. 'It would not do for her to catch a chill, as she easily might, subjected to the weather. It is better that she remains at home.'
Caroline gazed at him aghast. 'Then isn't it better that I remain here, too?' she protested, as he reached purposefully for the ignition, but Don Esteban merely shrugged his heavy shoulders.
'Just because Emilia is a weakling there is no reason why you should be denied the outing,' he retorted, setting the vehicle into lurching motion, and she realised she had been deliberately tricked into accompanying him.
She stared blindly through the side windows as they drove out of the inner courtyard, then down the drive to the gates. Old Gomez emerged from the lodge to open the gates at Esteban's signal, but although he saluted his employer, there was no sign today of the smile he had reserved for Luis. But then today was hardly a day for smiling, reflected Caroline tautly, unable to forget what Doňa Isabel had said. And although she was not alarmed by Don Esteban's behaviour, she was angry, and she saw no reason why he should think he could treat her in this way.
'You seem upset, seňorita,' he remarked now, as they negotiated the twisting road that led down to the village. 'I thought you would welcome the opportunity to see a little more of my country, in daylight this time, even if the circumstances are not as I could have wished.'