Fallen Angel

by Anne Mather

  Alexandra was unreasonably irritated by what she considered Manuel’s carelessness, and his casual comment that the stallion was a nervous brute caught her on the raw.

  ‘You should be so nervous!’ she retorted, tossing her head. ‘He’s beautiful! The most beautiful animal I’ve ever seen.’

  Manuel shrugged, and infuriated by his indifference, Alexandra urged the mare forward, plunging down the slope towards the river with more enthusiasm than common sense. She guessed what was about to happen almost before disaster overtook her, but that didn’t prevent the mare from putting its head down so that Alexandra went hurtling head over heels into a bank of lush grass.

  She wasn’t really hurt, only stunned, the breath knocked out of her, but Manuel scrambling down the slope after her wore an expression of such anxiety that she was tempted to pretend she had been knocked out. However, her innate sense of fair play would not allow her to tease him in that way, particularly when she had been to blame, and his hoarse; ‘Alexandra?’ as he hovered over her, brought a smile of reassurance to her lips.

  ‘I’m all right,’ she said softly, and he wrenched off his hat to twist it tortuously between his fingers.

  ‘A Dios gracias,’ he muttered, his face as pale as hers had become, and she rolled on to her knees to stretch a hand towards him apologetically.

  ‘You called me Alexandra,’ she said, squeezing his forearm which was agreeably muscular. ‘I wish you would use my name. Señorita is so—formal!’

  Manuel closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them again to wipe the sweat from his brow with the brim of his hat. ‘I was so worried!’ he confessed. ‘You are sure you are not hurt?’

  Alexandra withdrew her hand to spread her arms expressively. ‘Do I look hurt?’ she demanded, and his handsome features suffused with colour.

  ‘No,’ he conceded softly. ‘You look—muy hermosa.’

  Alexandra’s lips parted. ‘I know what that means.’

  ‘Do you?’ He got to his feet, holding out a hand to assist her, and as she put her hand into his she said: ‘You’re very gallant, particularly after what happened.’

  Manuel grinned. ‘A beautiful girl always deserves gallantry.’ Then he added: ‘The mare has gone. I think we should make haste to the stables before Jave thinks I have lost you.’

  Getting to her feet, Alexandra winced a little as the sudden action reminded her she had hit her head as well as other parts of her body. She allowed Manuel to help her up the slope to where the patient palomino waited, and then said:

  ‘I can’t take your horse! That wouldn’t be fair!’

  ‘I did not intend that you should,’ retorted Manuel dryly. ‘Piso can carry both of us, if you permit?’

  Alexandra hesitated only a moment before swinging herself up on to the palomino’s back. Why not? she thought recklessly. If Jason didn’t like it, he had only himself to blame. She comfortably forgot that if she hadn’t lost her temper and been thrown, the situation would not have occurred.

  Miss Holland was waiting by the boundary fence when they rode back to the hacienda. Her anxious face was evidence of the agonising few minutes she had spent, but relief quickly gave way to disapproval when she realised Alexandra was all right. She looked askance at the way her charge had been returned to her, secure within Manuel’s controlling arms, and hurried the girl down from the horse as soon as they reached her.

  ‘It was my fault,’ declared Alexandra at once, as Miss Holland began to remonstrate with her escort, and smiling up at Manuel, added quickly: ‘It was all my fault. I was careless—showing off! I’m sorry the mare came back alone to worry you.’

  Miss Holland pursed her lips. ‘Being sorry is hardly compensation for my feelings when I saw that chestnut mare!’ she exclaimed. ‘Dear heaven, what have you been doing? There’s grass all over your hair.’

  Alexandra grimaced, pulling green strands out of the silky curtain about her shoulders. ‘Manuel tumbled me in the hay,’ she offered wickedly, but Manuel’s mortified expression more than convinced Miss Holland that she was not telling the truth.

  ‘You can tell me what happened later,’ she told the girl shortly. ‘Now I suggest you go and wash for lunch, and thank your lucky stars Mr Tarrant wasn’t around when your mount came back!’

  Alexandra’s brief moment of exhilaration fled. ‘I doubt if he would have noticed,’ she stated tautly, before glancing up at Manuel again. ‘Will I see you tomorrow?’ she asked, horrifying Miss Holland still further by her presumption, and Manuel made a helpless gesture.

  ‘If you wish…’ he began, and Alexandra nodded.

  ‘I wish,’ she said, and sauntered away towards the house before Miss Holland could attempt to alter the arrangement.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘THERE was absolutely no need to behave so recklessly,’ declared Miss Holland later that day, as she and Alexandra ate lunch together. ‘You could have been killed! Don’t you know you could have broken your neck!’

  Alexandra pushed the delicious Spanish omelette round her plate, and chewed absently on a lettuce leaf. ‘I didn’t fall deliberately,’ she protested, unable to deny the anxiety of not knowing where Jason was or what he was doing. ‘It was just an accident, that’s all. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘I’m sure it won’t,’ Miss Holland affirmed grimly. ‘In future, I shall go with you, and I shall ensure you don’t do anything foolish.’

  Alexandra was too distraite to argue with her. Instead, she pushed her plate aside and said: ‘What range does a rifle have?’

  ‘A rifle!’

  Miss Holland was clearly taken aback, and Alexandra pressed the advantage. ‘A rifle, yes,’ she said. ‘I want to know how near a man has to be to a lion to be sure of killing it.’

  Miss Holland stared at her bewilderedly. ‘Really, Alexandra, you are the most perplexing child!’

  ‘I’m not a child!’

  ‘All right—girl, then.’ The older woman sighed. ‘What has the range of a rifle to do with our conversation?’

  ‘Jason carries a rifle,’ replied Alexandra idly. ‘I’m—interested, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid that’s a question you’ll have to ask him,’ said Miss Holland, getting up to clear the plates. ‘I know nothing about firearms. Horrible things!’

  ‘Didn’t Lord Carleon ever go shooting?’

  Miss Holland frowned, obviously puzzled at this turn of the conversation. ‘Well—yes,’ she admitted at last. ‘But that was different. He used a shotgun, not a rifle.’

  Alexandra traced the grain in the wooden surface of the table with a fingernail. ‘Shotguns aren’t like rifles, I agree. With a rifle, you must be accurate. Shotguns spray pellets in all directions.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t say that,’ retorted Miss Holland indignantly. ‘Besides, they’re two entirely different weapons.’ She shook her head impatiently. ‘That young man—Manuel—hasn’t been filling your head with ideas of a hunting expedition, has he? Because I warn you—’

  ‘No!’ Alexandra hunched her shoulders. ‘It’s el patrón who’s gone hunting!’

  ‘El patrón? You mean—Mr Tarrant?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Alexandra looked challengingly up at her. ‘Didn’t you know?’

  Miss Holland made a confused gesture. ‘Know? What could I know? Alexandra, what are you talking about?’

  Alexandra looked down again. ‘Perhaps I oughtn’t to tell you,’ she murmured infuriatingly. ‘After all, I wasn’t supposed to know myself.’

  ‘Alexandra!’

  ‘Oh, all right…’ The brief stimulation she had derived from teasing the other woman quickly dissipated as the seriousness of Jason’s mission swept over her again in chilling perspective. ‘Some mountain lion’s been raiding the estancia,’ she admitted, the tremor in her voice belying her offhanded tones. ‘Manuel told me.’

  Miss Holland’s reactions were less emotional than Alexandra’s had been, but her lips were perceptibly tighter as she said: ‘I ga
ther he didn’t have Mr Tarrant’s permission to do so. He should have had more sense.’

  ‘Why?’ Alexandra was indignant. ‘Why shouldn’t we be told? We’re not children!’

  ‘No. But probably Mr Tarrant didn’t want to alarm you unnecessarily. I shall speak to Ricardo about that young man—’

  ‘No! No, don’t.’ Alexandra sprang to her feet. ‘He didn’t mean to tell me. It—it was just something he said. It slipped out.’

  ‘Nevertheless, he should be taught to guard his tongue.’

  Alexandra sighed. ‘Oh, honestly…’ She moved restlessly towards the windows. ‘What does it matter? It’s Jason who’s out there looking for the creature, not us. We’re safe enough, aren’t we?’

  Miss Holland shrugged and moved to lift the coffee pot from the stove. ‘I don’t think you have any need to worry about Mr Tarrant, if that’s what you’re implying.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Alexandra’s throat was dry.

  ‘No.’ Miss Holland was brusque. ‘Now, I suggest you come and finish your lunch. As I’ve sent Luisa and Elena home, I shall want your help with the washing up.’

  * * *

  Alexandra was in her room when Jason and Ricardo returned. She heard their voices in the hall, and her heart beat a little faster with the relief of knowing that they were unharmed. She wondered if they had caught the prowler, and then realised that unless she betrayed Manuel she couldn’t ask them.

  However, with the burden of Jason’s safety removed, there were other emotions to be dealt with. The prospect of facing him after what had happened between them the night before was no mean feat, and remembering her wanton behaviour she felt an overwhelming surge of humiliation. It was no use telling herself that he had been as much to blame. She had gone to his room, and had encouraged him to treat her like a tramp, and she could thank her stars that Miss Holland’s intervention had saved her from herself.

  How did one face a man after such an experience? she fretted. Her resourceful novel told of the cool-eyed captive spuming the advances of the passionate sheik, but not of his spurning her! Her breath caught in her throat. Was she so easy to ignore? Hadn’t the love-making they had shared meant anything to him? And was Manuel really intended to be his replacement?

  Smoothing velvet lounging pants over her hips, she jerked a pleated chiffon smock over her head and surveyed her appearance without appreciation. Was she too slim? she speculated critically. Were her breasts too small? And her hair, presently curling in moist tendrils about her temples, would it look better short? Manuel had not found her unattractive. On the contrary, she had recognised the expression in his eyes very well. Perhaps if she thought about him this evening, she could keep Jason’s insensitivity at bay, and prove that her words spoken in the heat of the moment had meant nothing more to her than they had to him.

  Downstairs, she found Miss Holland setting her delicious steak and kidney pie on the dining room table. Another cord to flay herself with, she thought bitterly, recalling her disastrous efforts of the previous evening. Jason and Ricardo had gone to change, Miss Holland told her, and Alexandra was more than eager to help with the vegetables, dreading that moment when Jason would appear.

  She heard his voice first. He and Ricardo came into the dining room as she was laying serving spoons beside the tureens containing beans and carrots, peas and sweet potatoes.

  ‘Hola, Señorita!’ exclaimed Ricardo at once, as she straightened to face them. ‘You are looking flushed this evening, eh, patrón?’

  It couldn’t have been worse. Alexandra couldn’t meet Jason’s dark eyes, and it was left to him to say evenly: ‘You’re embarrassing her, Ricardo. I’m sure it’s just the heat from the kitchen that has brought the colour to her cheeks.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Ricardo was unrepentant. ‘Or perhaps it is the memory of the ride she took with my son this morning,’ he teased. ‘Manuel also was red-faced when I asked him about it.’

  ‘Oh, yes…’

  Jason sounded uninterested, and inclining his head thoughtfully, he turned away to take his seat at the head of the table. Only then did Alexandra chance a look at him.

  In dark corded pants and a bronze-coloured silk shirt, he was disturbingly masculine, and she found it impossible to dissociate her thoughts from the disruptive memories the sight of him evoked. The thinness of his shirt barely disguised the shadow of the hair that she knew covered his chest in a fine cloud, and arrowed down his stomach to his navel; and the darkness of his wrists, projecting from his cuffs, drew her eyes to the long brown hands that had so urgently taught her the meaning of sensuality.

  Miss Holland, coming into the room at that moment, provided a welcome distraction. She spoke to Jason, asking if he had any objection to her choice of a red burgundy to drink with the meal, and while they discussed the merits of various red and white wines, Alexandra slipped into her own seat beside Ricardo.

  The food became the talking point, much to Alexandra’s relief, although she waited apprehensively for Ricardo to make some joking comment about her disastrous efforts of the previous day. But whether or not Jason had warned him not to say anything, she didn’t know. She only knew that for some reason the subject was taboo, and in that respect at least she was allowed to relax.

  Once she encountered Jason’s eyes upon her. It was towards the end of the meal, and he held her gaze for a matter of some five or ten seconds before averting his eyes. Yet for all that, she was left feeling unpleasantly disturbed by his appraisal, and she was glad when she could make the excuse of helping Miss Holland to clear the table. There had been contempt as well as anger in that stare, and she guessed he despised her now for what he considered her promiscuity. As she loaded dishes into the sink, she wondered if he expected her to behave that way with Manuel. It was a bitter indictment, and she half wished she were the kind of person able to indulge in those kind of relationships. It would be a rough sort of revenge if she could make Jason jealous that way, for while he might abhor her behaviour, he could never deny the purely physical needs she aroused in him.

  The next morning Manuel appeared as she was helping Miss Holland collect eggs from the hen-house. It was an undemanding occupation, and she was thinking how hot it was again and how nice it would be to plunge into the cool waters of the river, when he sauntered into the yard.

  ‘Buenos días, señoritas!’ he greeted them gallantly, sweeping off his hat in a theatrical gesture. ‘It is a beautiful morning, is it not?’

  Miss Holland glanced reprovingly at Alexandra, and then said shortly: ‘Did you want something, señor?’

  ‘Of course he did.’ Alexandra stepped between them. ‘You know I asked Manuel to take me riding again today.’

  Miss Holland snorted. ‘To fall off again, I suppose,’ she exclaimed caustically, but Alexandra ignored her, demanding eagerly:

  ‘What happened yesterday, Manuel? Did Jason find the lion? I wanted to ask last night, but I couldn’t.’

  She had forgotten to explain to Manuel that Miss Holland was in her confidence, but his eloquent expression was indication enough. ‘Oh, it’s all right,’ she added apologetically, as he started making frantic gestures, ‘Miss Holland knows. But I haven’t told anyone else. Honestly!’

  Manuel was still very doubtful, but the desire to tell what he knew overcame his scruples. ‘They never even saw her,’ he said. ‘She is a wily old beast, and the rain had obscured her tracks. Maybe today…’ He shrugged expressively.

  In spite of the awful hollowness in the pit of her stomach that his words had evoked, Alexandra had to behave naturally. Besides, she was suddenly eager to get away from the house and its associations, and with a forced smile, she said: ‘Let’s go, shall we? I’ll get my hat.’

  ‘Alexandra!’ Miss Holland’s voice arrested her, and she glanced back reluctantly. ‘Alexandra, where do you think you’re going?’

  ‘Riding. Where else?’ Alexandra was offhand, but the older woman was not reassured.

  ‘You wouldn’t attempt t
o go looking for that—creature yourself, would you, Alexandra?’ she exclaimed, unable to hide the note of anxiety in her voice, but this time it was Manuel who answered for her.

  ‘We have more sense than that, señora,’ he asserted quietly. ‘Besides, if the patrón cannot find the old one, we assuredly will not.’

  ‘We won’t be long,’ Alexandra promised. ‘I’ll be back to help you with lunch.’ Then, her conscience pricking her, she added: ‘Why don’t you come with us?’

  Miss Holland’s homely features broke into a wry smile at this. ‘Wouldn’t you be disappointed if I said yes?’ she countered teasingly. But she shook her head as Alexandra started to protest. ‘No, my dear, not this morning. I’m a little tired. I think I’ll get my book and sit here for a while, in the sun.’

  Because it was so hot, Alexandra unfastened the neck of her shirt and rolled the sleeves above her elbows as the horses followed the track along the riverbank. Her thin jeans were clinging to her slender legs, but without them her skin would have suffered, and the brim of her hat was pulled low to protect her face. With the bees humming in the long grass, and the birds swooping and diving over the water, a reluctant feeling of well-being gripped her, and she determinedly put all thoughts of death and disaster out of her mind.

  But Manuel, riding ahead of her, saw her thoughtful expression and misread it: ‘You do not have to worry about the patrón,’ he declared, and she looked at him in surprise. ‘I know that is why you are so interested in the capture of the prowler,’ he continued, as she made an offhand gesture. ‘But Señor Tarrant has been in much tighter corners, believe me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Alexandra spurred her mount until she was riding along beside him and Manuel explained: ‘Did you not know he was once a soldier?’ And as she shook her head, he went on: ‘He was a—how do you say it?—a mercenary, yes? A soldier who fights for any country who can pay him.’