Forbidden Flame

by Anne Mather

  Caroline expelled her breath unsteadily, aware that she had been expecting something more than this, but his question demanded an answer, and she strove to give it composedly.

  'I—I am aware of it, senior,' she said, endeavouring to hide her stammer. 'It—it's been on my mind, as a matter of fact. The decision I have to make.'

  'The decision?' Esteban regarded her intently. 'What decision do you have to make, seňorita? Surely the decision is mine.'

  Caroline cleared her throat. 'Well, yes. Yes, it is. But it's mine, too, seňor. The—the probationary period is on both sides.'

  Esteban's dark brows descended. 'You are not serious, seňorita?'

  'Oh, but I am.' Caroline licked her lips. 'It—it was a big decision for me to make, seňor, coming out here, leaving my home and my family. I—I had to try it, to see if I was happy here. There was no other way.'

  'And?' Esteban waited grimly for her answer.

  'And—well—' Caroline was finding it increasingly difficult to go on. An image of Emilia's small face was imprinted on her mind, appealing to her, reproaching her, and although she told herself that if she was not there Esteban would have to consider the convent school, she dreaded the retribution he might take on the child.

  'And what if I do not accept your decision?' Esteban suggested suddenly, interrupting her troubled thoughts.

  'You—want me to leave, seňor?' Caroline held herself tensely.

  'No.' His response was what she had been afraid of. 'No, I do not wish you to leave—Caroline.' His use of her name made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle now. 'I want you to stay. For always.'

  Caroline's lungs felt constricted, and she gazed at him disbelievingly. 'I—beg your pardon—'

  'You heard what I said, querida.' He took a step towards her, which she quickly nullified by taking a step backward. 'I want you to remain at San Luis. Not just as Emilia's governess, but as my wife!'

  'You—you don't mean that!'

  Caroline turned her back on him in an effort to gain some time, but Esteban was adamant.

  'I do mean it. I mean every word of it.' His knuckles traced the paling hollow of her cheek. 'Do not look so alarmed. It is quite a compliment I am paying you.'

  Caroline shook her head, flinching away from his touch as if it repelled her. Which it did—just as he did. Like a snake! She fought for reason, trying to think coherently through the haze of disbelief and blind panic that fogged her brain. But all she could think of was her helplessness and her vulnerability, and the isolation of her situation here at the hacienda.

  'What is the matter, querida?' Esteban was not blind, and her reaction to his proposal was all too evident. 'Surely Luis warned you of my determination to have a son? I cannot believe that during those—intimate conversations you had with him, he did not confess his hope that one day San Luis de Merced might be his!'

  'No!' Caroline was appalled. 'No, he has never—'

  'But you did realise that if I could not provide an heir, the estate would revert to my brother?'

  'I never thought about it.' Caroline made a frustrated gesture. 'It has nothing to do with me.'

  'Oh, but it does.' Esteban stepped towards her again, and this time his hands on her shoulders prevented her from backing away from him. 'Caroline, do not look so anxious. I am not threatening you. And naturally, I realise you need time to think it over.' He drew her inexorably towards him, his dark eyes hypnotic in their intensity. 'But do not take too long. I am not a patient man, and you must understand, I am eager to tell the world of my good fortune.'

  His words brought her to her senses. With a determined jerk she was free and facing him bravely. 'I can't,' she said, and there was a desperate note in her voice. 'I can't marry you, seňor. I don't love you, and although I realise that isn't a necessary attribute in your country, it generally is in mine.' She took a deep breath. 'I—er—naturally, I'm flattered.' She swallowed the lie with some effort. 'But I'm afraid I have to refuse.'

  Esteban made no immediate response, and as they stood there, facing one another, the rain began to come down. It fell heavily, huge globules of water that could soak a man in seconds, pattering noisily on the seats in the carriage, whispering in the grass about their feet.

  It quickly soaked Esteban's dark hair, running in rivulets down his forehead and into his eyes. He cursed irritably, raking back his hair with a careless hand, then glanced angrily round at the carriage.

  'We'd better go back,' suggested Caroline cautiously, half relieved by the advent of the storm. At least, it had cut short Esteban's protests, she thought, and leaving him, she stepped tentatively across the grass towards the carriage.

  Esteban overtook her before she had taken half a dozen steps, passing her aggressively, climbing into the two-wheeled vehicle, and releasing the mare's reins. The little carriage lurched forwards, as the first clap of thunder reverberated ominously across the plain, and Caroline started to run as she realised what he was about to do.

  'Wait!' she exclaimed, stumbling as she ran, wiping the blinding torrent out of her eyes, but Esteban ignored her. With reckless abandon he whipped up the mare, setting her at a gallop, leaving Caroline to gaze after him with a sickening sense of disbelief.

  The carriage soon disappeared into the mist that shrouded the plain, and hid the hacienda from her sight. Even the herd of cattle was invisible, somewhere between her and safety. She was at least two miles from her destination, rapidly getting soaked to the skin, with the certain knowledge that Esteban would send no search party out to look for her.

  Panic threatened to overwhelm her. It would be so easy to give in to the tears that were pricking the backs of her eyes, and succumb to a sense of despair. But she knew, if she allowed herself to give up, if she stayed where she was, and waited until someone came to find her, she could well die of pneumonia or exposure or both, and although she felt desperate, she was also furiously angry.

  Feeding this anger, realising it was the only thing likely to keep her going, she set off across the plain, in the direction from which she thought they had come. The ground, already spongy before the downpour, was a quagmire, but although her legs ached with every step she took, she persevered.

  It was the smell of the cattle that alerted her to their proximity, and her nerve almost gave out on her when a group of the beasts loomed up in front of her. She realised how helpless she was, without even a mount to save herself on, and she wondered if she had any chance of coming through them unscathed. What if she missed her way? What if she trudged round in circles, unable to find her way back until the rain stopped? It was frightening how unfamiliar things could seem when there was no landmark to cling to.

  The thunder rumbled again, accompanied by a searing flash of lightning, and the cattle stirred in protest. Caroline was terrified. She knew storms had been known to stampede a herd, and her own position among them was hopelessly reckless. But this was the way they had come. She knew of no other way. And did she really have any choice?

  Ignoring her fears, she pressed on, avoiding the brooding brown eyes raised to watch her passage and praying that the animals would pay her no heed. It seemed hours since she left the knoll beside the river, and the rain just kept on coming down and down. Her trousers were soaked, her boots squelched with water, and the shoulders of her jacket were heavy with moisture. Her hair was plastered to her head, and although she was sure it was dripping down her neck, it was all one with the drenching cascade of the storm.

  The ferocity of another flash of lightning caused her to make a little sound of alarm, and the cattle nearest to her shifted restlessly. Caroline clapped her hand over her mouth, silencing any further sound she might make, and stumbled on tearfully, her legs weak and unsteady. She was not going to make it, a small voice inside her taunted, and in all honesty she was beginning to wonder if she could.

  The low murmur of voices when it came to her seemed like an extension of her own inner protest. It came to her ears through the steady tumult of the r
ain, mingling with the movements of the cattle, the lowing sounds they made as they shifted from one grazing spot to another.

  She halted uncertainly, half afraid she was having hallucinations, but there was definitely someone within calling distance. The trouble was, she was afraid to call for fear of alarming the cattle, and straining her ears, she endeavoured to move in the direction from which the voices had come.

  The sound receded, and devastation gripped her. Was she going in the wrong direction? Had she somehow missed her way in her haste to make contact with another human being? Were sounds distorted by water, deflected by so many solid objects?

  She realised she was moving with more confidence through the cattle, actually forgetting her fear of them as she strove to reach her goal. She no longer started every time a horned head was turned in her direction, and she told herself with determination that she was going to make it.

  When the flash of lightning illuminated the bivouac beneath the trees, she could hardly believe it. Someone had stretched a waterproof sheet between two' branches, and beneath its improvised shelter she stood, shaking with reaction.

  She was alone, but the evidence of recent occupation was all about her. A metal coffee-pot simmered on the ashes of a fire, and there was the smell of fresh meat and cornbread. Obviously the drovers had been having breakfast, and the voices she had heard had come from here.

  Bending down, she groped for a metal cup, and ignoring the dregs in the bottom, poured hot coffee into it. Then, still crouched down, she raised the cup to her lips, shivering as the steaming liquid ran warmly into her stomach.

  'Ola, que quiere usted?'

  The harsh male voice that accosted her brought her head up with a start, and she got unsteadily to her feet. The rainwater had darkened her ash-fair hair, but as the man looked at her, her identity was unmistakable, and his moustachioed lips parted in an expression of ludicrous disbelief.

  'Seňorita!' he exclaimed, and then, as another man followed him into the shelter, he turned to him to speak in a garbled patois.

  Caroline could not understand what they were saying, but she was so relieved to have found shelter, she hardly cared. Her limbs ached, and she was soaked to the skin, and sooner or later she would have to come to terms with Esteban's abandonment of her, but right now she could only be grateful for another human's company.

  The men turned to her then, and spoke in slow careful Spanish. 'Que hay? A donde va usted? Donde esta Don Esteban?'

  Caroline faced them wearily. She guessed, after recognising Esteban's name, that they were asking where he was. Perhaps they thought she had abandoned him, she mused half hysterically, then forced herself to speak calmly as she tried to make them understand.

  'Don Esteban—er—a—hacienda,' she said. 'You—take me—there?'

  She gestured as she spoke, pointing to herself, then out into the rain, she hoped towards her destination.

  The men looked troubled. Obviously they were concerned that Don Esteban was not with her. Maybe they imagined she had thrown him into the river, she thought, feeling weak at the thought of having to go and look for him.

  They held a whispered conference, arguing together, glancing frequently in her direction, evidently deciding whether or not to believe her. Caroline waited heavily, the weariness of reaction coming over her, and she gazed at them bleakly when they eventually touched her arm.

  'Venga, seňorita,' one of them said encouragingly, gesticulating towards where their horses were tethered, and with a sense of inevitability Caroline followed the man outside.

  The rain was lessening slightly, although the thunder still rumbled in the distance. The storm was abating; and with it came the tremulous awareness of having to face her employer with her resignation.

  She was given a mount, a spirited palomino, that was more accustomed to rounding up stray cattle than being bridle-led across the pampas. Caroline clung on tightly, unable to decide in what direction they were going, and wondered rather headily what she would do if the men proved unreliable. If they had recognised her, it was unlikely that anything unpleasant would befall her, she consoled herself. Her own experiences of Don Esteban had proved that he was not a man one crossed lightly.

  When the horses began the ascent to the gates of the hacienda, she could hardly believe it. She was safe, she thought joyfully, then revised that opinion. She was back at the hacienda, that was all. She had still to stomach whatever manner of retribution Esteban might devise for her refusal.

  Gomez opened the gates and gazed at her in astonishment. The words he exchanged with the man accompanying her apparently gave him no satisfaction either, and Caroline's head ached from trying to piece together what was being said. Something about Esteban, she hazarded, feeling totally exhausted, and she could hardly swing her legs across the saddle, when they reached the shallow flight of steps.

  The door was opened almost as soon as she had dismounted, and as on the occasion of her arrival at San Luis, Consuelo appeared at the head of the steps.

  Her shocked exclamation was intelligible in any language, and she hurried down the steps urgently, uncaring of the persistent drizzle. She caught Caroline about her waist, as her legs buckled beneath her, and with the aid of one of the maids she summoned, they half carried Caroline into the house.

  What happened next was just a blur to the exhausted girl. She was aware of hands supporting her as she climbed the stairs to her room, of other hands stripping away her clothes, and the painful protest of chilled limbs suddenly thrust into warm water. No one mentioned Esteban, and she wondered if he knew she was back. But not until she was wrapped in warm towels did Doňa Isabel appear to ask questions.

  'You are feeling better?' she enquired, waving away the girl who had been towelling Caroline's head with an imperious hand. 'The servants tell me you came back alone. That Esteban was not with you. Would you like to tell me where he is?'

  Caroline gasped. 'He's not back!'

  'That is what I said.' Doňa Isabel arched her thin brows. 'What happened? Was there an accident? Has Esteban been hurt?'

  The dispassionate tone of this enquiry chilled Caroline's blood, and yet remembering how Esteban had tormented his aunt, she could hardly blame the old lady. 'I don't know where he is,' she exclaimed, plucking anxiously at the soft bathsheet. 'He—he—we got separated. I assumed he had come back here,'

  'But now you know he did not,' retorted Doňa Isabel sharply. 'What took place between you? I presume there was some—contretemps?'

  Caroline felt an hysterical desire to laugh. 'You—could put it like that,' she admitted huskily. 'He—he asked me to marry him, seňora.'

  Doňa Isabel showed no surprise, but then why should she? thought Caroline wearily. She had suspected this all along. Instead, she folded her gnarled hands tightly together and walked stiffly across to the windows.

  'You did not accept.' It was a statement, and Caroline conceded the point. 'He was angry.'

  Caroline sighed. 'He drove away and—and left me.'

  Doňa Isabel made a sound of impatience. 'Idiota!' she mouthed grimly. 'You could have been trampled to death!'

  Caroline bent her head. 'You don't think—'

  'No.' Doňa Isabel turned to her. 'Esteban has more sense than that.' But she frowned all the same. 'No obstante, his absence is a cause for concern, and I have instructed a search party to investigate immediately.'

  Caroline acknowledged this silently.

  'So, seňorita?' The old lady was very much in control. 'You will be leaving San Luis?'

  Caroline nodded.

  'It is for the best,' Doňa Isabel agreed. 'Esteban would be better to turn his attentions towards Seňorita Calveiro. She, at least, would know what to expect.'

  It was lunchtime before Esteban was found and brought back to the hacienda. Apparently the carriage had overturned in the mud, and like Caroline, he had been forced to walk back. Unfortunately, it appeared he had walked in the wrong direction, and remembering how angry he had been, Caroline
was not truly surprised. However, he was soaked to the skin, as she had been, and chilled by the length of his ordeal, and she watched through a crack in the library door as he was helped up the stairs.

  Emilia, ever-inquisitive, discovered from Consuelo that the doctor had been sent for, and Caroline was relieved when he did not appear for either lunch or dinner. She herself was still very much shaken by what had happened, and it was enough to have to answer Emilia's questions.

  She dreaded having to tell the child that she was leaving. Although they were not close, a certain rapport had sprung up between them, and given time, she felt sure they would have become firm friends. But that was impossible now, she had to accept it, and she waited apprehensively for the moment when Esteban learned of her decision.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The following morning Caroline awakened with a sore throat and a snuffly nose. She guessed her soaking the previous day had made her susceptible to the virus, and she was unutterably relieved to discover that the previous day's storm had made the roads so bad that Victor and Juanita would not be attending lessons. Emilia was sorry, she was not to see her playmates, but sympathetic to Caroline's condition, and the morning passed without incident within the quiet walls of the library.

  At lunchtime, Caroline steeled herself to face her employer, only to find her efforts had been futile. Esteban was still indisposed, and Doňa Isabel seemed curiously unwilling to discuss his condition.

  'He will send for you when he wishes to see you, seňorita,' she declared, spearing a sweet potato on her fork, and Caroline could only feel relief at this second, unexpected, reprieve.

  'Why did you not come back with him?' Emilia asked again, as she and Caroline were leaving the morning room. 'I thought you had been out alone, but Consuelo said you went out together.'

  Caroline sighed. 'We—we had an argument, and I decided to—to walk back.' She crossed her fingers. 'Then it started to rain.'

  Emilia accepted this without comment, but Caroline could see she was not completely satisfied. However, she did not pursue the subject, and Caroline delivered her into the hands of a nursemaid before making her own way to her bedroom.