by Anne Mather
Esteban did not appear at dinner either, and there was a curiously expectant atmosphere about the household that Caroline had not noticed before. Maybe they were more concerned about their master's health than she knew, she mused thoughtfully, but they had never previously given her that impression.
She went to bed early, her cold symptoms coalescing to give her a throbbing headache, and slept almost immediately, drugged by the aspirin she had taken in some water.
She awakened to a darkened room, and blinked for a moment, wondering what, or who, had aroused her. Switching on the lamp beside her bed, she examined the hands of her watch. It was only a little after one o'clock, and she had slept for a matter of only three or four hours. She doubted she would have woken without any reason— at least, not for another three or four hours.
Sliding out of bed, she pushed her feet into soft mules and groped for the satin wrapper that matched her nightdress. It was useless to pretend she was not now completely alert, and she decided she would read for a while before attempting to sleep again.
But first she opened the door into the corridor and peered out tentatively, listening for any sound. The lights in the corridor were still on, which was unusual, she thought, and leaving her bedroom door ajar she tiptoed along to Doňa Isabel's room. Perhaps the old lady was sick, she thought. Perhaps she had cried out. Whatever her opinion of Doňa Isabel, she would not like to think of her lying there, helpless, when she was only a few feet away.
She put her ear against the panels, straining to hear any irregular note in her breathing, then almost fell over when the door was suddenly opened, and she was catapulted into the room.
Recovering herself with as much dignity as she could muster, she opened her mouth to apologise to the old lady, sitting up in the square four-poster bed. But then she realised it was not Doňa Isabel who had opened the door, and her eyes darted swiftly to the tall man standing to one side of her.
'Luis!' she breathed, half convinced she really was hallucinating this time, and his dark face convulsed in a spasm of emotion. But before he could say anything Doňa Isabel interposed, her appearance curiously vulnerable, without the elaborate coiffure she usually affected.
'What do you think you are doing, seňorita?' she demanded severely, pointing an imperious finger. 'How dare you stand listening at my door? You told me you had a headache, that you were going to take some medication and have an early night. How long have you been eavesdropping on our conversation?'
'I didn't. I mean—I haven't.' Caroline glanced helplessly at Luis, appealing for his assistance, but he seemed like a stranger to her. 'Doňa Isabel, someone— something—woke me up. I—I thought you might be ill—'
'And you came to find out?' suggested the old lady sceptically.
'Yes.' Caroline sighed. 'I'm sorry if I'm intruding.' Her hand went nervously to the neckline of her robe. 'I—I apologise. If—if you'll excuse me—'
She turned back into the corridor, intent only on putting herself out of their sight, but as if suddenly galvanised, Luis came after her then, excusing himself from his aunt with a gesture, and closing the heavy door behind him. 'Wait!' he said. 'Seňorita, wait!' And then, more heavily: 'Caroline, do not shut your door against me. I must talk to you.'
Caroline halted in the doorway to her room. 'Well?' she said tremulously, viewing his dark-robed figure without approval. 'You don't have to worry, you know. I did not eavesdrop on your conversation. I really did think your aunt might have called out, or I shouldn't have left my room.'
Luis sighed, supporting himself with one hand against the wall beside the door and massaging the back of his neck with the other. 'I have not said I disbelieve you, have I?' he argued, meeting her indignant gaze. 'The door to my aunt's room slammed in the draught. That is probably what disturbed you. I offer an explanation.'
Caroline nodded. 'Very well, you've solved the problem. Now you can go back to your aunt and continue your secret discussions—'
'They are not secret discussions,' Luis interrupted her impatiently, but Caroline would not have that.
'What would you call them then?' she demanded. 'You come here at the dead of night, obviously so that I—so that no one—knows you're here—'
'You do not understand.'
'No, I don't. And I don't want to. If you'll let me close my door—'
'Caroline, stop this!' His expression had hardened into a taut mask. 'You have no right to behave as if I had committed some crime! I am here at my aunt's invitation—'
'I don't want to know why you're here,' she retorted, too hurt and too confused to care what she said. 'Go back to your seminary. I'm leaving anyway. In a few days I'll be back home in England, among people who live simple, ordinary lives—'
'And with this man who already has one wife?' enquired Luis grimly, and the small spurt of resistance went out of her. With her lips pressed tightly together she turned away, shaking her head as she did so, and after a swift confirmation that the corridor behind him was empty, Luis stepped into the room after her and closed the door.
Caroline turned as the latch clicked into place, and caught her breath in disbelief when she saw Luis just inside the door. 'What do you think you're doing?' she exclaimed, half troubled by his strained expression, and he rested back against the panels, probing his temples with finger and thumb.
'We have to talk,' he got out harshly, closing his eyes for a moment, as though the knowledge pained him. 'There are things you must understand, before you judge me so uncharitably.'
Caroline drew a deep breath, feeling the need to justify herself. 'I—I'm not judging you,' she said, 'I just don't want to be involved!'
'Is that true?'
He looked at her then, the grey eyes bleak with some dark emotion, and her lids fell before his. 'You know—it's nothing to do with me,' she said, choosing her words with care. 'This—this family is not my concern—'
'And hasn't my brother made it so?' demanded Luis roughly, straightening away from the door, so that he towered over her like some avenging spirit. 'Is it not true that Esteban has asked you to be his wife?'
Caroline looked up. 'Well, yes. But I refused—'
'And you think that will be the end of it? Your refusal?' he sneered. 'You are so innocent in some ways, seňorita!'
Caroline stiffened her spine. 'I don't know what you mean.'
'I think you do.' Luis drew an impatient breath. 'Oh, Caroline, I know my brother. He is sick at present, but when he gets better—'
'—I shall be gone,' said Caroline, with trembling dignity. 'Are you trying to frighten me, seňor? Because I should tell you, I do not scare so easily.'
Luis sighed, shaking his head. 'As when you walked home through the cattle?' he suggested. 'That was brave, si. But human beings are not so predictable as cattle.'
Caroline sought the bedpost, clinging to it with both hands. 'What are you trying to tell me, seňor? What do you want to say? It's late, and—and I'm tired. And I know you didn't come here to see me!'
'You do not know anything,' responded Luis tightly. 'However, you are right, this is not the time or the place to go into such things. Why I am here is of more immediate importance at this time.'
'Why you're here?' Caroline's fingers massaged the carved wood in her grasp. 'But why you're here has nothing to do with me.'
'You are wrong,' he retorted grimly. 'It has much to do with you. Unfortunately, that is why it must be kept— confidential.'
Caroline was more confuted than ever. 'Why?'
Luis expelled his breath heavily. 'Tia Isabel sent for me. My brother is ill—'
'You mean—he's dying?' Caroline was appalled, but Luis quickly shook his head.
'No,' he said flatly, fingering the crucifix at his belt. 'I was not brought here to administer to him. He has merely developed a fever, as the result of exposure, and with bed rest he should recover completely.'
'Then what—'
'It is the state of his mind which concerns Tia Isabel,' declared Lu
is quietly. 'He has been—how do you say it?—making certain wild statements concerning your relationship.'
'O-our relationship?' Caroline's lips parted. 'I don't understand.'
Luis moistened his lips. 'He seems to be of the opinion that you—will change your mind.'
'No!'
'But yes. And Tia Isabel thought I should be informed.' His twisted smile was wry. 'Not because she has any liking for you, seňorita, it must be said, but because she does not wish the name of Montejo to once again suffer the blight of another scandal.'
'An-another scandal?'
Luis bent his head. 'You told me Esteban had explained our relationship.'
'Well, yes.' Caroline licked her lips. 'You mean—'
Luis sighed. 'Esteban's mother killed herself. She was the victim of our father's intrinsic indifference to anyone's interests but his own.' He paused. 'My mother suffered some guilt, I know, but she was as helpless to resist his charm and attentions as anyone else.' He shrugged. 'He was that kind of man. He inspired affection in both men and women alike.
As you do! thought Caroline urgently; but she said nothing.
'So you see, Tia Isabel is concerned about what may happen when Esteban is well again. She wishes you should leave as soon as possible. And I endorse that view.'
Caroline's lips quivered. Of course. He would, she thought bitterly. So long as she was here at San Luis, she was both a threat and a temptation.
'I see,' she said now, looking down at the soft folds of apple-green satin that clothed her body so closely. 'So what have you decided?'
'You will leave tomorrow,' said Luis expressionlessly. 'Tomas will drive you to Las Estadas, and from there you can pick, up the bus to Merida.' He shook his head. 'The arrangements are not entirely to my satisfaction, I will admit, but it is the way you came, and it is the best I can offer. Tomas will see you safely aboard the interstate transport, and once in Merida you should have no difficulty in booking a flight to London.'
'Thank you.'
Caroline tried to speak composedly, but the words were husky, and Luis noticed.
'You will be happier in England, as you say,' he intoned heavily. 'With your own family and—friends.' He paused. 'Tell me, this man you had an affair with—you will meet with him again?'
His voice had harshened, and Caroline glanced at him a little apprehensively, suddenly aware of the lateness of the hour, and their unwilling isolation in this quiet room.
'Andrew?' she ventured carefully. 'Well, yes. I may see him. He—he and his wife live quite near us. He—he's a lecturer at the same university as—as my father.'
Luis's face was a graven mask. 'And he is the kind of man you most admire,' he continued, in the same tormented tone. 'A man of culture and sophistication, who treats you as his intellectual equal, and can sustain your interest?'
Caroline swallowed rather convulsively. 'He—he is an intelligent man, yes,' she admitted, and then: 'Luis, why are you telling me this? What does it matter to you how I intend to live my life? You don't want me—'
'Do not be a fool!' With a muttered curse Luis stretched out a hand, and in a swift sure movement grasped her arm and drew her closely against him. Through the rough wool of his gown, and the thin transparency of hers, the hard muscles of his body bit into her, the male scent of his skin invading every corner of her nasal passages. Her face was scraped by the coarse fibres of his robe, her lips parted, but suffocatingly deprived of air, her hands curling against him impotently, yet clutching the cloth where it came within her reach. 'Of a surety, I want you,' he grated, his mouth against the silky softness of her hair. 'And not even my mother, and the humiliations heaped upon her, can prevent me from admitting that I am as weak as my father was—'
Caroline's murmur of protest was stifled against his lips', breathed into his mouth, and melted by the heat of his passion. No gentleness this, but the eager hungry urgency that demanded complete surrender. One hand was gripping her nape, holding her still for his possession, the other loosening the cord of her negligee, sliding beneath over the smooth sensuous down of the satin. Her nightgown was low at the back, and his fingers found the deep vee and caressed the sensitive curve of her spine. She arched against him involuntarily, and a mindless sweetness invaded her senses. She had hardly known what it was to want a man, to feel the need that tore away inside her, like a living thing, fighting for survival. She wanted to feel him close to her, without the restricting confines of their clothes. Almost blindly, she pressed herself against him, eager for whatever he cared to do with her.
'Por Dios, Luis!'
The choked exclamation came from the open doorway. Doňa Isabel stood in the aperture, a brocade robe concealing her nightgown, her dark hair two stubby plaits on either side of her appalled face. That Luis turned at once from Caroline in no way seemed to appease her. Her wild eyes glittered with a malevolent fire, and Caroline, frantically drawing the folds of her negligee around her, knew a moment's terror that the old lady might indeed have lost her reason.
Luis went towards her, his shoulders expressing the grim contrition that had twisted his face as he turned away. Caroline, still at the mercy of her emotions, admired his repossession of control, even while she ached with the. awareness of its finality. Whatever happened, they would never have another chance of being alone together, Doňa Isabel would see to that, and while she knew she should despise herself for promoting his self-contempt, she couldn't. Deep inside her, she knew that had Doňa Isabel not interrupted them, Luis would not have been capable of denying her, and once they had been lovers, surely he could not then have turned away? He was not meant for a life of celibacy. Whatever promises his mother had dragged from him, he was a man first, not a priest, and her nails dug into her palms as his aunt delivered her incomprehensible tirade.
'It is all right, tia,' Luis interrupted her at last, raising his hand in a gesture of defeat. He glanced bleakly towards Caroline, and she saw indeed that what she had feared had happened. 'I lost my head, that is all.' His mouth compressed, and he looked back at his aunt. 'Do not look so shocked, tia. It will never happen again.'
'The girl is leaving?' It was a statement, rather than a question, delivered in English, as her accusations had not been, and Luis inclined his head.
'Tomorrow,' he agreed flatly. 'You will arrange for Tomas to take her?'
Doňa Isabel looked venomously at Caroline. 'I will arrange it,' she agreed, and turning stalked haughtily away.
'Luis—'
Almost as soon as his aunt had disappeared from her sight, Caroline whispered his name, taking a step towards him appealingly and putting out her hands in mute supplication, but Luis's face was stark and cold.
'Goodbye,' he said, and his voice was as chilling as his appearance. 'My aunt is right. You are a danger—to all of us!'
Caroline quivered. 'Is that what' she said?'
'In essence,' he agreed heavily. 'Adios, seňorita. Mucha suerte!'
'Luis!'
She said his name again, but he had gone, and she was left speaking to an empty room. She said his name many times, after she had crawled into the opulent luxury of the bed, but nothing, and no one, could assuage her grief.
She packed her bags before breakfast, and by the time Carmencita brought her tray she had them safely stowed in the bathroom. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to her departure, and knowing how the servants talked, she intended to behave just as if nothing unusual was about to happen.
She had not slept after Luis's departure, and her eyes felt sticky and her head ached, but she managed to drink two cups of coffee as a restorative, and was tense and apprehensive, when a knock came at her door.
It was Doňa Isabel, as she was used to seeing her, bedecked in all her finery, jewels glittering on every finger, her headdress coiled above heavy gold earrings. If her eyes still glittered with the same malevolent light they had shown the night before, Caroline chose not to see them, inclining her head and listening politely to what the old
lady had to say.
'You will conduct lessons with Emilia as usual this morning, seňorita,' she announced bleakly, causing Caroline to look up in surprise. 'Well,' she continued, 'you do not wish for your departure to be made public, do you, seňorita? Is it not simpler to leave this afternoon, while the—household is taking siesta?'
Caroline had to concede that the plan had some merit, after she had recovered from the immediate shock of knowing she was not leaving immediately. 'Will—will you say goodbye to Emilia for me, seňora?' she ventured tautly. 'I—I regret—disappointing her like this. Please ask her to forgive me.'
'Emilia will soon forget you, seňorita,' retorted Doňa Isabel, without sympathy. 'Sooner or later my nephew will marry again, and when he does Emilia will learn to love her stepmother.'
'Yes, seňora.'
Caroline spoke politely, but although she expected the old lady to leave her, Doňa Isabel lingered a little longer.
'Why did you have to corrupt Luis?' she demanded suddenly, staring at the girl with those wild accusing eyes. 'He was a man, not like his brother, but you tried to destroy him!'
'That's not true!' Caroline's face was burning, but she managed to answer her. 'Luis—I—it was inevitable. I didn't cause it to happen. It just did.'
Doňa Isabel snorted contemptuously. 'You expect me to believe that?'
'Yes.' Caroline sought for words to defend herself. 'Why—why, you yourself accused him of having a woman in the village!'
'Quia! What nonsense is this?'
'You did. You did!' Caroline linked and unlinked her fingers. 'That night—at dinner. The night you complained to Don Esteban about the woman using the—the puerta accesoria—'
'Pah! Stupid girl!' Doňa Isabel's lips curled. 'Did you really believe I was accusing Luis?' She shook her head. 'No. No, do you hear me? I pretended, because that was what Esteban wanted me to believe. But I knew the woman came—not to see Luis, but to see him!'