Fallen Angel

by Anne Mather

  ‘Now,’ he said, when she raised inquisitive eyebrows, ‘tell me a little about what happened to your father—after he returned from Mexico.’

  ‘Oh…’ Alexandra frowned. ‘Well, that isn’t too easy. I didn’t always know where he was or what he was doing. I think he financed an expedition to Egypt, but I’m not sure.’

  ‘But the institute,’ said Jason patiently. ‘What about the research institute?’ The girl looked puzzled now, and his own frown returned. ‘Your father intended to use the money he gained from our successful excavation at Los Lobos to create a research institute,’ he explained, but Alexandra clearly had no knowledge of this.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘If—if you think my father died a wealthy man—’

  ‘I didn’t say that!’ retorted Jason shortly, stung by the implication, and she went on:

  ‘Every penny he had went to finance his last expedition. It was to Turkey—a remote valley in the Taurus mountains. That was where he was taken ill, you see. A chill, followed by a lung infection. They’d been living in tents at the dig, and by the time they got him down to the hospital in Maras it had developed into pneumonia. He recovered, of course, but he wasn’t strong enough to go on, and he was flown back to London. That was when he sent for me.’

  ‘And how long ago was that?’ asked Jason, watching the play of emotions across her expressive features.

  ‘Six months, I guess,’ she answered at once. ‘Perhaps he realised the lung infection had weakened the muscles of his heart, and that he hadn’t long to live. Or maybe he just wanted to get to know his daughter…’ The words trailed away as a trace of emotion brought a slightly higher note to her voice, but she controlled it. ‘I didn’t know he’d written to the solicitor—until after—after he was dead. He knew I wouldn’t have wanted him to. I mean—I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, you know.’

  ‘Are you?’ Jason’s tone was dry, but inwardly he admired her spirit. It could not have been an easy six months, whatever way you looked at it.

  ‘Yes.’ She squared her shoulders now and looked at him. ‘Well? Are you going to disown me?’

  ‘No!’ Jason’s denial was abrupt, and pushing himself up with his hands, he stood over her, tall and dark and slightly menacing, although he was unaware of it. ‘I just need some time to—to revise my plans.’

  She rose too, then, and the scent of some perfume she was wearing rose disturbingly to his nostrils. It was fresh and slightly heady, like the lemon groves back home, and for a moment he looked down at her, his dark eyes mirroring the gentler shade of hers. Unwillingly, his senses stirred at the unconscious allure of those gold-fringed irises, pansy-soft as she gazed up at him.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, and quite unselfconsciously pressed two fingers against her lips before transferring them to his mouth. ‘Daddy was right about you. You are a good man.’

  What Jason would have replied to this totally unexpected provocation he hardly knew, but a sudden knocking at the door to the suite provided a welcome distraction. Of course, he thought abstractedly, it would be the governess, the woman he had been waiting to interview when this frustrating creature erupted into his life. At least the interruption would give him a breathing space, he thought savagely, furious with himself for allowing a girl—little more than a schoolgirl—to disrupt his normally controlled emotions.

  ‘This is going to be awkward,’ he said, putting some space between them as he spoke. ‘I imagine this is the woman I intended interviewing for the post of—of governess.’

  ‘Governess!’ Alexandra echoed, the violet eyes dancing now. ‘For me?’ She gurgled with laughter. ‘Oh, Jason, did you really think I would need a governess?’

  Jason’s thinning mouth sobered her however. ‘It may surprise you to know that as your father never mentioned your existence, I assumed he had married since our expedition to Los Lobos. Naturally, therefore, I expected a younger child.’

  ‘I’m not a child,’ she pointed out, unable to let that go, but he had already turned away to open the door.

  The woman who was waiting outside was reassuringly middle-aged. Jason guessed her age to be somewhere between forty-five and fifty, and her dress and appearance were in keeping with her profession. If only she had arrived first, he found himself thinking impatiently. Then perhaps he would have been more prepared to deal with his unexpectedly female ward.

  ‘Mr Tarrant?’ the woman was asking politely, and Jason nodded shortly, offering his hand in greeting and gesturing for the woman to come in.

  ‘You are Miss Holland, I take it?’ he enquired brusquely, and that lady agreed with his admission.

  ‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ she apologised, as he closed the door behind them, and her eyes alighted questioningly on Alexandra. ‘I—er—I couldn’t get a cab, and then the traffic…’

  ‘That’s quite all right, Miss Holland,’ Jason assured her curtly, his eyes flickering briefly over the slender figure by the hearth. ‘As it happens, your being late has precipitated a situation which I’m afraid alters matters considerably.’

  ‘Oh?’ Miss Holland’s glance lingered once more on Alexandra’s slim youthfulness, and a rather worried look crossed her homely features. It occurred to Jason that perhaps getting the job had meant a lot to this rather anxious-looking woman, and his deepening interest observed the faintly worn sleeves of her navy-blue uniform coat, and the neat but unmistakable dams in her woollen gloves.

  Now he offered her a chair and after she was seated, he explained: ‘I’m afraid the post I advertised no longer exists. The—er—the boy turns out to be a girl, and she—’ he turned abruptly and indicated Alexandra, ‘as you can see, is too old to require a governess.’

  Miss Holland’s worn features mirrored her disappointment. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I see.’

  ‘I’m sorry…’ And he was. Jason cast another impatient glance in Alexandra’s direction. Why couldn’t she have been the child he expected? Why hadn’t Durham told him the truth? He knew instinctively that Miss Holland would have taken the post, wherever it was. She had that sort of defeated air about her that smacked of too many interviews and too many disappointments. Nowadays, people wanted modern young governessess for their children, not middle-aged women, however well qualified. Miss Holland just wanted to work, and he wondered how long it was since she had done so. Still, he reflected wryly, he had enough problems of his own right now. He couldn’t be blamed for what was indisputably evident.

  The woman rose to her feet again now and faced him with a touching air of confidence. ‘I’ll be going then, Mr Tarrant. Thank you for seeing me. And I’m sorry things haven’t worked out as—as you expected.’ Faint colour ran up her cheeks as she realised what she was implying, and she added hastily: ‘I mean, of course, I’m sorry. You—er—you may not be. I’m sure you’re not. That is—’

  ‘That’s quite all right, Miss Holland,’ Jason intervened smoothly, halting her embarrassed flow, and smiling to remove any sharpness from his words. ‘I know exactly what you mean.’

  Miss Holland nodded, compressed her lips, offered a half smile of apology to Alexandra, and moved towards the door. Jason strode ahead of her, swinging open the door as she approached, and taking the hand she tentatively offered him in farewell.

  ‘Good luck,’ he said, as she pulled on her shabby glove, and her smile was more eloquent than any words.

  With the door closed behind her, Jason leant against it almost wearily. What now? What was he going to do with the girl? One thing was certain, he could not take her back to San Gabriel with him. Apart from Estelita, his was a masculine household, and there was no place in it for a provocative teenager just waiting to try her claws. Besides, there was nothing for a girl at his estancia. The life he led was almost spartan in its simplicity, and remote from any kind of social gathering. With a boy, it would have been different. He could have shown him the ranch, taught him to ride and rope a steer, taught him to break horses and sleep out under the stars when
the yearly round-up was made; treated him like a son, in fact, the son he was never likely to have now. But a girl…In God’s name, what could he do for her?

  As if aware of the turmoil inside him, Alexandra left her place by the hearth to approach him, and he stiffened as she halted some few feet away from him.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, and her eyes were guarded now. ‘What are you thinking? Do you want to change your mind about me?’

  ‘Change my mind?’ Jason frowned. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  Alexandra’s long lashes swept her cheeks. ‘I think you do. You’re wishing I was a boy, too, aren’t you? Just like Daddy.’ Her chin lifted, and her eyes were defiant as they sought his. ‘What is it with you two? What’s wrong with being a woman? Don’t they have their uses, too?’

  Jason straightened away from the door. ‘All right,’ he admitted abruptly. ‘I don’t deny it. I was thinking along those lines. But only because your being a girl makes everything that much more complicated.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why?’ A faintly mocking gleam invaded his eyes. ‘Oh, come on, Miss Durham, I don’t believe you’re that unsophisticated.’

  ‘Will you please stop calling me Miss Durham! My name’s Alex—Alexandra, if you like, or perhaps not, as you seem to prefer the masculine gender!’

  Jason’s mouth tightened at the deliberately insolent intonation, but he let it go, saying quietly: ‘I was merely going to explain that had you been a boy, you could have accompanied me back to Santa Vittoria, and made your home with me at San Gabriel.’

  ‘San Gabriel?’ For a moment, she was diverted. ‘What’s that? Your house?’

  ‘My ranch, yes.’

  ‘How super!’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘Oh, yes, Jason, I’d like to do that.’

  ‘Now wait a minute…’ Jason was finding it increasingly difficult to control this conversation. ‘I said—had you been a boy—’

  ‘But what does it matter?’ she exclaimed. ‘So long as I want to go?’

  ‘So long as you want to go!’ Jason raised his eyes heavenward for a moment in a gesture of frustration. ‘My dear Miss—Alexandra! You know perfectly well I can’t take you to San Gabriel.’

  Her dark brows arched. ‘Your wife would object?’

  ‘I don’t have a wife.’

  ‘Ah, no…’ She rubbed her nose thoughtfully with her finger. ‘You wouldn’t.’

  ‘What the hell do you mean?’

  Jason spoke angrily, and her lips twitched. ‘Why, nothing. Only that—you’re a misogynist, aren’t you?’

  ‘No, damn you, I’m not!’ Jason found he was unaccountably furious. ‘I enjoy a woman’s company as well as the next man. I just don’t intend taking a promiscuous schoolgirl back to a ranch where the men don’t see a white woman from one year’s end to the next!’

  A gurgle of laughter escaped her at this. ‘Make up your mind,’ she taunted him. ‘Either I’m a schoolgirl or a woman—which?’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ he grated severely. ‘Now, I suggest we discuss what it is you want to do with your life.’

  ‘I want to stay with you. Either here or at San Gabriel.’ She sighed. ‘Hmm, that’s a beautiful name, isn’t it? Is the ranch as beautiful as its name? Or is it an estancia? Isn’t that what they call ranches in South America?’

  ‘Alexandra!’

  The warning note in his voice went unheeded as she smiled impishly up at him. ‘That’s better,’ she approved. ‘I like the way you say my name. What sort of accent would you say you have? I think it’s a sort of mid-Atlantic accent, isn’t it? Neither one thing nor the other.’

  Jason turned from her to pace tensely towards the window. This was hopeless. He was getting absolutely nowhere. He half wished he had asked Miss Holland to remain during the course of this interview. Maybe she would have been able to make some constructive suggestion, explain to the girl that what she was asking was impossible. God, why had Charles done this to him? Surely he must have known the complications it would bring. What had been his intention? What had he expected Jason to do with her? Surely he could not have wanted him to take her back with him to South America. Hadn’t he cared about the dangers—the obvious temptation a girl like her would present to men starved of the company of women? And what of his erstwhile colleague? What had he really known of him, that he should feel able to entrust his daughter to his care?

  ‘Jason…’ Alexandra’s husky voice right behind him made him aware she had moved to join him by the window. ‘Jason, please—can’t we talk about this? I know I must have been a great shock to you, and I admit, I did leave you in ignorance deliberately, but only because—well, because I was afraid you might—you might not come…’

  ‘And what kind of a swine would I have been if I hadn’t?’ Jason demanded, glancing at her broodingly. ‘My God, whatever his reasons, your father has left you in my care, at least until you’re eighteen, and I should not have shirked that responsibility.’

  ‘Oh, responsibility…’ She scuffed her toe against the expensive rug with ill grace. ‘I don’t want to be a responsibility! I’m a person, a human being; a living entity in my own right. I don’t want to be anyone’s responsibility. I just want to be—to be a part of your life, part of someone’s life anyway,’ she finished a trifle wistfully.

  Jason’s teeth grated. ‘You won’t try and understand, will you?’

  ‘What’s to understand?’ She held his gaze deliberately. ‘Are you afraid of me, Mr Tarrant? Are you afraid you might be as—tempted as the next man—’

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ Jason’s rejection of her taunting statement was violent, but she stood her ground. ‘I’m simply trying to explain to you that my gauchos are not the fanciful gallants you’ve probably seen on the screen. They’re rough men, mestizos and Indians for the most part, for whom an unattached white girl is fair game. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Perfectly,’ she conceded, without flinching. ‘But surely as your—ward, I would merit some respect.’

  ‘Perhaps. But I don’t feel like being nursemaid!’

  ‘And that’s the truth, isn’t it?’ she declared bitterly. ‘Oh, you’re just like my father!’

  She presented her back to him then, groping in the bag that hung from one shoulder for the handkerchief she couldn’t find. Jason watched her helpless fumblings for several minutes, and then extracted his own handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

  But instead of thanking him, as he had expected, she snatched the pristine square of white linen and threw it on the floor, deliberately grinding the heel of her boot upon it. Jason’ stared, bleak-eyed, as she kicked the now soiled handkerchief aside, and rubbed her nose unhygienically on the back of her hand.

  ‘Why, you—’

  ‘Go on!’ she encouraged him, chancing a look at him over her shoulder. ‘Say it! Call me names. Better that than ignoring my existence!’

  Jason allowed his breath to escape on a suppressed oath, then bent and lifted the grubby handkerchief. He regarded it solemnly for several seconds, then he stuffed it back into the pocket of his jacket. Alexandra was sniffing now, her head bent, but he made no attempt to comfort her. Instead, he drew a case of the long narrow cigars he liked from his pocket, and placing one between his teeth, applied the flame of his lighter to it.

  The aromatic flavour was soothing, and he attempted to remain calm. Arguing with the girl was doing no good, he could see that. But somehow he had to make her see reason. A sudden idea occurred to him. What she needed was someone to take care of her, some woman, and almost instantaneously the image of Miss Holland sprang to his mind. If that lady could be persuaded to accept a position as housekeeper-cum-guardian, he could lease a house here in London, and Alexandra could choose whether she wanted to continue with her studies or alternatively find some suitable occupation. He might even permit her to visit him in Santa Vittoria on occasion. If she stayed at the hotel in Valvedra, there was no reason why she shouldn’t travel
if she wanted to.

  ‘Alexandra…’ His own voice was almost persuasive now, and instinctively she responded to the gentler tone.

  ‘Yes?’ She half turned, and he glimpsed the tear-washed brilliance of her eyes, tiny globules glistening like raindrops on her lashes. Unaccountably, he was stirred, and the knowledge brought an impatient hardening in his voice.

  ‘I’ve come to a decision,’ he said, thrusting his balled fists into the pockets of his pants, unaware that the action drew her attention to the powerful muscles of his thighs. ‘I shall lease a house here in London, for you—and for Miss Holland—’

  ‘Miss Holland?’

  ‘That’s right. The woman who was here a few minutes ago. If I’m not mistaken, she needs a job badly. Maybe she will be prepared to act as your guardian in my absence—’

  ‘No!’

  ‘What do you mean—no?’ he demanded ominously. ‘Alexandra, might I remind you that until your eighteenth birthday, I am your guardian. You will do as I say.’

  ‘You can’t make me,’ she retorted, swinging round to face him. ‘Oh, I admit, while you’re here, you can force me to stay with Miss—Miss Holland, but after you’re gone, do you honestly believe she’ll be able to make me do as she says? She can’t lock me in my room, you know. I shall have to go out sometimes. And who says I’ll have to come back?’

  His face was steely hard by the time she had finished. ‘Are you threatening me?’ he demanded, and she sensed the tautening of his body.

  ‘I—why, no. Not—threatening,’ she muttered, resorting to looking for her handkerchief again. ‘But…’ She caught her lower lip between her teeth and looked up at him again, and this time there was only appeal in those drowned violet depths. ‘Oh, Jason, please! Don’t do this. Let me come with you. I’ll be good, I promise. I won’t go near any of your farmhands—gauchos, whatever. I’ll do exactly as you say. I can cook—and clean—and make beds—’

  ‘No, Alexandra!’

  ‘Why not? Why not?’ Instead of spitting at him again as he had half expected, she closed the gap between them and he tore his hands out of his pockets to prevent her from getting too close for comfort. ‘Jason, Daddy respected you so much. He wanted us to be friends. Won’t you at least try to like me?’