The House of Adriano

by Nerina Hilliard

  “But Bart told me ...” She broke off, realising that Bart had not actually told her Duarte was engaged to Alesandra. She had merely assumed that, and he had allowed her to go on believing it, even to trying to make sure that they left early in the morning before she learned otherwise.

  “So!” It was an explosive little sound this time. “At last I begin to understand. You were not there when the engagement was announced, and Renfrew told you...”

  “It wasn’t entirely Bart’s fault,” Aileen interrupted, although really, in one way, it was. He could quite easily have told her the truth, but he probably had hoped that she would turn to him on the rebound. The moment had been opportune and she had played right into his hands. Not that she would have married him in any case. She was quite sure of that. Now she knew the truth, but it really made little difference. Even if Duarte did not marry Alesandra, he would marry someone very much like her. Why Alesandra should have given up and accepted somebody else she did not try to work out.

  “It seems that your opinion of me is even worse than I had imagined.” Duarte’s voice broke into her thoughts and she looked up again, wondering at the bitterness that had returned to it. “You thought that I could kiss you and go straight away to announce my engagement to Alesandra.” He laughed briefly, the same harsh, unamused sound of a moment ago. “It is pleasant to learn that the girl one loves can hold such an opinion!”

  Sheer incredulous shock ran through her. “You ... you love me?” She shook her head, quite sure that somehow or the other her ears must have twisted up the words and deceived her. “But it’s...”

  She was going to say that it was quite impossible that he should love her, but he cut across her words, his hands tightening their grip on her shoulders.

  “Why is it so very impossible? I am a man like anyone else. Why should I not fall in love, even if it is someone who is so infuriatingly independent and will have nothing of me?”

  “Duarte...”

  Something in her voice or her expression must have given her away, because he suddenly transferred his grip from her shoulders and pulled her completely into his arms, his mouth hard against her own. This time she did not try to control the feelings that rioted through her, answering the hungry demand of the lips and arms of the man who held her. In some bemused corner of her mind she was beginning to realise the depths of emotion in the man she loved, a fire that seemed to be finding its way into her own blood, so that she could answer passion with passion. This was the warmth of Spain that existed beneath the rigid self-control of the aloof Conde de Marindos and the charming Duarte Adriano.

  When at last he lifted his head she was flushed and breathless, yet her eyes were sparkling with a happiness she could still not quite believe in.

  “I can’t quite believe it,” she said aloud.

  Duarte smiled. “Nor can I ... but it is a dream I am going to hold on to all my life.”

  She shook her head, leaning back against his arm so that she could look up into his face.

  “There’s still a lot I don’t understand. Why...” Her voice faltered slightly, remembering. “When you kissed me last night, why did you say it was only an experiment?”

  He drew her close again, resting his head against the platinum fair hair. “I was too tense ... for once in my life I could not find words ... and when I did they were the wrong ones.” He paused and then the long, thin fingers with their hidden strength tipped her head up so that she had to meet the brilliant dark eyes in which little flickering lights still danced. “I should have said that I love you and want you to marry me as soon as it can be arranged. Will you, querida?”

  “I ... oh, Duarte, you know I will!”

  It came out with a rush, and then he was kissing her again, drawing forth the fire that quickly flamed between them. It demanded so much and she was glad that she was able to return it. To a man of his temperament anything else would have meant something missing all their life.

  This was some kind of earthly paradise, and Bart had very nearly caused her to miss it. Looking back, she could see now that he had done his best to keep them apart, even when she had known nothing of Duarte’s feelings for her. She would have considered it quite incredible if anyone had tried to tell her that Duarte was in love with her, but perhaps Bart himself had noticed something. Perhaps even Alesandra had detected some difference in Duarte and had tried to strengthen her position by, in effect, warning Aileen off. Bart of course from the very beginning almost had made a point of remarking on the difference in customs, pointing out Alesandra as the type of girl Duarte would marry.

  “That day he took me to El Escorial - he must have done it deliberately, to make trouble.”

  She did not realise that she had spoken aloud until Duarte nodded in agreement.

  “Yes, I think that is so. You had told him of the way in which we first met. He knew it would be easy to cause misunderstandings.” He paused and then asked somewhat abruptly, “You have forgiven me for that ... for the way I had to act when we first met?”

  “Of course. A long time ago. In any case, you were acting for Peter’s own good.”

  He took her hand, running a thumb gently back and forth over the blue veins in her narrow wrist.

  “It is strange how these things happen. I did not realise at first what was happening to me. We met in the vestibule of the hotel ... and something clashed. I saw antagonism in your eyes even before we knew each other’s names - or did you know my name and feel hostility because of Eric?”

  “No.” She shook her head quite decisively. “It was just something odd that happened. Maybe ... maybe I was afraid somehow ... subconsciously.”

  He smiled at that. “The independence that you valued so much? Is that what became afraid?”

  “I think it might have been that.”

  “And I found it oddly infuriating that you should be so firmly convinced that a career was all that mattered in your life. I soon discovered that my dissatisfaction with that idea was because I wanted to be the most important thing in your life. I wanted to take you in my arms and kiss away those impossible notions of giving your life to something so cold and inhuman as a career.”

  Aileen smiled shyly. “I wish you had.”

  He laughed a little harshly at that. “And risk losing you altogether? You were still disliking me very much. I could see it in your expression ... and I would lie awake at night remembering your voice as you had spoken that night in Melbourne ... saying that I was the most detestable creature you had ever met. I grew jealous of this unknown Paul ... I grew jealous of Renfrew. He had your friendship, perhaps was winning even more ... while I had to go so slowly and carefully ... sometimes making things worse for myself when my jealousy would make me taunt you.”

  Aileen could not help feeling surprise, that somebody who had seemed so composed and self-assured could have gone through the same kind of mental torture she had, and for perhaps even longer. He had said that he had fallen in love with her while she was still disliking him. It was an intriguing thought to wonder what her reactions would have been had he taken her in his arms and kissed her, told her he loved her, at that time. Even while she had been disliking him she had been feeling his attraction as a man.

  “At last we reached some sort of armistice,” he went on. “And even that was something. You wanted friendship, I thought ... and I tried hard to give you only friendship. Gran cielo, how I tried! But it was impossible. I knew it was never friendship alone that I could give you ... and I was fast becoming certain that it was Renfrew who had won your love. Last night, for the first time, I began to feel that there was hope. When we danced together something seemed to be joining us together.”

  “Then you felt it too!”

  He looked down at her, smiling. “I felt it so strongly that it sent me a little crazy. I could wait no longer ... but I used the wrong words,” he added sombrely. “You ran from me. I searched for you in the garden and could not find you. I thought that you might have gone back
to the ballroom ... and when I arrived there Alesandra chose that moment to announce her engagement. I could not leave straight away to look for you. One’s duties as a host sometimes form unpleasant ties. Then Renfrew came to Dona Teresa and myself and said that someone had insulted you ... someone from the village perhaps who had taken too much wine ... but he looked at me as if he knew ... as if you had told him that it was I who had kissed you. And I still could not go to you to explain, because he said that you had taken a sleeping tablet.”

  “I don’t even possess any sleeping tablets.”

  “And you did not tell him that I had kissed you?”

  She looked down, biting her lip. “Yes ... but I didn’t mean to. I’d forgotten he was there ... and I was talking to myself. I was all mixed up ... and miserable.”

  “And so you again ran away.” He drew her close to him again, his lips against her hair. “Will I ever cure you of this habit of running away, I wonder? Perhaps I should warn you that now I know that you love me, I would follow you anywhere if you tried to run away again.”

  She gave a happy little laugh. “I won’t ever do it again, I promise.” Abruptly she became serious, looking up at him with an earnest expression. “Duarte – I really will try to become the sort of wife you want.”

  “The pretty toy in its silk-lined box?” He laughed and shook his head. “I do not want a wife like that. I want one who will be a companion to me as well as fitting so very perfectly into my arms.”

  “But you said...”

  He smiled and brushed her lips lightly with his own. “I could not help teasing you, querida. You were so firm in your statements of a woman’s independence ... but keep that independence. It is one of the things I love. Stand up to me when you think I am wrong. I do not want a wife who obeys everything I say - and I do not think that you will,” he added with another smile.

  Aileen looked up at him almost wonderingly. Somehow he seemed a different person, yet at the same time unbelievably dear and familiar.

  He laughed suddenly, with sheer amusement. “I remember now – I spoke of moonlight and gardens, and when I ask you to marry me I choose the most unromantic surroundings I can find. A garage!”

  She laughed with him. “After this I’ll always love garages.”

  She still did not quite understand who everything had changed so suddenly, brought her such incredible happiness, but it had, and that was all that mattered.

  It was Dona Teresa who added further explanations, when Aileen had taken back her note and was apologising for the way in which she had intended to leave.

  The old lady made a quick gesture, dismissing her apologies. “That is one of the things that will be forgotten. I have done much myself to make things go wrong.”

  “You have?” Aileen looked at her quite startled.

  “Yes.” Dona Teresa shook her head. “I should have known that certain reactions cannot always be guaranteed.”

  “But I still can’t understand how you could have made things go wrong,” Aileen insisted.

  “Nevertheless, I think I had my share in it.” She paused and then went on slowly. “Before I even met you, I thought - who is this girl who stands up to my indomitable Duarte? It would do him good to love a girl like that. Then I met you and became even more convinced that it should be so.”

  “But once you said the idea was absurd ... when we were talking about why Alesandra might dislike me, I mean.”

  “That was one of my mistakes. I wished to pique your interest ... I tried to rouse jealousy by talking always of Alesandra, but instead I only seem to have made you believe that it was almost all arranged, when really nothing had been spoken of. I talked to Duarte of Senor Renfrew’s interest in you, hoping that again it might arouse interest and perhaps jealousy ... and again it went wrong.” She shook her head again. “I should have realised that these things can rebound ... and then there was the coincidence that Alesandra should have an emerald engagement ring.”

  “Then you don’t really mind that I’m going to marry Duarte?”

  That had been the one thing worrying her, remembering those remarks Dona Teresa had once passed.

  The older woman laughed. “My child, I could not have arranged it better had I planned this final scene myself. The only thing I find fault with is that my nephew should have been so unromantic ... so untrue to his Spanish blood ... that he proposed to you in a garage.”

  Aileen laughed. “I wouldn’t have cared where he proposed to me.”

  Duarte came to claim her then and took her into another room. There he slid something cool and heavy on to her finger and she looked down to see a magnificent square emerald with a tiny diamond on each side of it. The Adriano betrothal ring that had a tradition of bringing happiness to whoever wore it. But she did not think she would need its tradition. Whatever ring she wore on her finger, it was the man who put it there who counted, the man who bent his black head to place the final seal on her lips - a seal that was far more binding than any ring ever made.