by James, Dana
'That was years ago,' Teresa said impatiently. 'You were only a boy. Now you are an important and wealthy businessman.'
'And as such I should forget my past?' Beneath Miguel's quiet enquiry was an irony that brought Cass's head up in a swift, startled movement. Her eyes met Miguel's in an instant of total accord.
Aware of Derek's moody gaze on her, she began to fold her napkin, recognising another truth. Teresa was a snob, and wanted no reminders of anything Miguel had done before reaching his present position. Did her reluctance to accept all that had made him the man he now was extend to his more distant past? His Aztec blood?
Cass had her answer as Teresa shrugged her shoulders impatiently.
'Well, none of it is relevant any more. It is not healthy always to be looking back,' she stated. 'Do you not agree, Derek?'
Derek hesitated, clearly torn between ingratiating himself with Teresa and further antagonising Miguel.
'If a man has a fiancée as beautiful as you,' he managed at last with heavy gallantry, 'I cannot imagine why he would ever wish to look at anything else.'
Teresa laughed delightedly and caressed Derek's arm, her long, perfectly painted nails grazing the back of his hand in a deliberately provocative gesture. 'You must accompany us today,' she decided. 'Miguel is taking us in the helicopter to Mexico City. Papa is fighting a takeover bid for our textile mills so he and Miguel have meetings all
day. But Mama and I are going shopping. You and Cass could see some of the city and meet us for lunch.'
'Wonderful!' Derek agreed with enthusiasm, then turned to Cass. 'It won't take you long to change, will it?'
Cass pushed her empty plate carefully to one side. 'I'm sure you'll have a marvellous time.'
'Of course we will,' Derek nodded, then his smile faded. 'What d'you mean? You're coming as well.'
'No, I'd rather stay here and do some sketching.' Cass was quiet but firm.
Derek looked furious and was about to argue but Teresa forestalled him.
'I'm sure the rest will do you good, though of course we shall miss you.' Her smile was dazzling and totally insincere. 'You do look tired, and so thin. Maybe you should forget this work of yours and spend a few days in bed to recover your strength.'
Bitch, Cass thought with uncharacteristic vehemence. The back of her neck prickled with a mixture of anger and amusement. 'Thank you for your concern,' she said sweetly, 'but I am perfectly well. However, as I explained, this is a working holiday for me and I intend to make a start while the ideas are still fresh in my mind.'
Teresa's delicate shrug indicated that, as far as she was concerned, the matter was closed.
But Derek was a different proposition.
'I didn't invite you to come in,' Cass pointed out when he threw open the door to her room a few minutes later. The calmness of her tone was belied by the immediate tension knotting her stomach.
Ignoring her remark he went straight into action. 'Why won't you come?'
Cass finished repairing her lipstick with a hand that had grown faintly unsteady, and began putting her make-up away. 'I told you, I have my own plans.'
Derek clenched his fists. 'I'm not putting up with this. We're engaged, for God's sake, You've got to come.'
Cass turned to face him. 'You're mistaken,' she said coldly. 'I haven't got to do anything.'
'You're going back on your word.' He was deliberately working himself up into a frenzy of righteous indignation. 'You're trying to make me look a fool.'
'If you look a fool Derek, that's entirely your own doing,' Cass snapped, 'and as for my word, I never gave it. You made all the announcements without consulting me at all. Then you tried to pressure me into going along with each devious new scheme. Well, forget it, Derek. I am not going to marry you. I never had any intention of doing so.' She walked over to the window and pushed the curtains further back, trying to stifle the upsurge of anger. She turned to him once more. 'It's as much my fault as yours. I should have told you sooner, made it absolutely clear from the moment we arrived and you told Miguel that we were unofficially engaged.'
'Why didn't you then?' he snarled. 'Why let me go on thinking—hoping—'
Cass hung on to her temper. 'Because I didn't want to embarrass you in front of everyone else. I was trying to spare your feelings.' There was an
edge of bitterness to her wry laugh. 'You didn't give a thought to mine though, did you? I was under the plainly ridiculous impression that we were friends. But since we got on that plane to come out here, it's been all too obvious that you and I have entirely different concepts of friendship.'
A variety of expressions had crossed Derek's face while she was speaking. There was a brief silence while she watched him visibly struggling to come to terms with what she had said.
He sank down on the edge of the bed, spreading his hands, palms up, in a gesture of utter helplessness. Then, to her horrified amazement, tears gathered in his pale eyes and rolled down his cheeks to drip from his freshly shaved chin.
'Cass, I'm sorry,' he whispered huskily, and leaning forward, elbows resting on his widespread knees, his hands hanging loosely between them, he lowered his head. 'I've been a complete bastard.'
She stared at him, unable to move, her thoughts racing, doubt uppermost in her mind.
'You've never understood what it's like for me,' he muttered, staring at the beige, carpet. 'The only son being groomed to take over the family business. So much expected yet so many bloody constrictions. I got a degree in Economics and a diploma in Business Studies. But whenever I try to put what I've learned into practice, I run into walls at every turn.' He made a face and mimicked, 'This is the way it's always been. That is how we've always done it. It's always worked before so why change now. New is not necessarily right, nor is forward always progress!' His voice reverted to
normal, tinged with disgust. 'I've heard them all, every reason and excuse for not doing anything. But when I wanted out, the roof fell in! How could I even think of leaving? This was my legacy, my responsibility, the whole purpose of my life.' He broke off, shaking his head despairingly.
Cass was appalled as she realised the kind of pressure he must have been under. She began to feel guilty.
'I'm not the world's strongest character, Cass.' He gazed up at her, his eyes full of suffering, his cheeks wet. 'I've never pretended to be. When it all got too much and the frustration was unbearable, I took a drink or two, or three. It was the only way I could cope. It took the edge off a bit. I thought you understood. You used to.' There was a note of complaint in his voice.
Cass recalled the countless times she had forgiven him, glossed over his drunken behaviour and its resulting embarrassment and unpleasantness. Doubt reared its head again. He had always blamed her for his drinking. He had claimed it was due to frustration over her refusal to sleep with him. Never before had he ever mentioned other pressures. In fact, he had usually appeared to get the better of his father in their business discussions, steamrollering his way over Matthew Prentice's
quietly voiced objections.
It dawned on her that he was doing what he had always done, playing on her sympathy and good nature, quite clearly expecting her once again to forgive and forget.
At last she saw him for what he was, and this
new lucidity, springing as it did from the changes in herself, dissolved her anger into pity.
'It's no good, Derek,' she said softly, sadly. 'It's not going to work.' Seeing his expression harden and his mouth compress into a thin line, she stopped. She had made her point. It would be unkind to rub salt in the wound.
He sat up and took a handkerchief from his trouser pocket. Cass looked tactfully away as he wiped his eyes. His snort of laughter startled her.
'Oh well,' he said blithely, as he stood up, rubbing his hands together, 'it was worth a try. You've always swallowed my abject apologies before.'
She gazed at him, wide-eyed. He couldn't mean that the way it sounded, that it had all been an act. He had let h
is guard down, revealing some of the pressures that drove him. He must be trying, all too clumsily, to cover his embarrassment. His next words proved her totally wrong.
'I thought the tears were an inspired touch, quite heart-rending really.' He sounded as objective as a critic reviewing a play. 'I was sure they'd get to you.' The only emotion in his voice was injured pride. Cass was incapable of speech.
'The problem is,' Derek continued, talking as much to himself as her, 'what do we do now? You see, I'm not prepared to accept that our engagement is broken.'
Exasperation freed Cass's tongue. 'There was no engagement,' she exploded.
'Don't be silly.' Tone and expression held the pained irritation of a parent to a recalcitrant child.
'You didn't contradict me when I told Ibarra as we were getting into the helicopter, or when I made the announcement last night.'
'I explained all that,' Cass protested.
'Oh yes. You were waiting for the right moment.' Sarcasm twisted his mouth. 'However, that's beside the point.'
'Just what is the point?' Cass demanded, desperately trying to regain some control of the situation, infuriated by a flutter of fear she could not entirely ignore.
'Come on,' he sneered. 'You and that imperious so and so. Don't bother to deny it.' He held up his hands as she opened her mouth to protest. 'If you are determined to make our little disagreement public, there are one or two matters I shall have to bring to our host's attention.'
'Such as?' Cass's throat was paper-dry.
'Such as you destroying the letters Jorge Ibarra sent asking us to postpone our visit for three months.'
'But why should I do that?' Cass challenged him. 'So that Miguel would be forced by the laws of
hospitality to put us up and you could use your—' he ran his eyes lewdly down her body, '—charm to get our company a special deal.'
Cass gritted her teeth. The. first part at least was so plausible. Miguel had said he was obliged to follow his father's wishes and put them up. And there had been open doubt in his eyes when she had said she never received his father's letter. 'But I didn't even know Miguel existed until he met us at the airport,' she cried.
'Do you think he’ll believe that when I've finished?'
Suddenly Cass stiffened. 'Three months you said. How did you know Jorge Ibarra wanted our visit postponed for three months?' She gasped. 'You destroyed those letters.'
'God, you're quick,' he sneered. Cass was stunned. It shook her deeply to hear him admit it. A thought struck her. 'Derek, about the alarm—'
His eyes narrowed and his expression was suddenly guarded. 'That was an accident.' He must have recognised the doubt on her face. 'You'll never prove anything,' he blustered. 'Ibarra can count those stones till he's blue in the face. There are none missing.'
'Why, Derek?' Cass was utterly bewildered. 'Why are you doing this?'
His expression grew pinched and tight. 'I've got him over a barrel and he knows it.'
'I don't understand.' Cass shook her head violently. 'What are you talking about?'
Derek thrust his hand into his pockets, hunching his shoulders. 'You.'
Cass tensed. 'What about me?'
He began to pace up and down the room. 'Before we came here things were going along pretty well. You were getting more—friendly. I figured a holiday, preferably somewhere exotic, would loosen you up a bit. Let me past the Keep Off signs. That's why I fixed to come with you on this trip. You've given me a hard time, Cass. I've put up with more and hung about longer for you than any other woman. You've really had me going with this
hands-off-don't-touch routine.'
Cass bit her tongue hard. If she interrupted him now she might never get to the bottom of it.
'Then Jorge's letter arrived. As soon as I'd read mine, I got yours off your desk before you came in, and burned them both. I wasn't having anything mess up all my plans. I know I shouldn't have drunk so much on the plane, but I was nervous. I'd waited and planned so long and I was nearly home and dry.'
Cass could hardly believe her ears. Had she, even without meaning to, given him any encouragement to believe she felt that way about him? Her certainty reasserted itself. No, she had not. He had spun his own fantasy and such was his self-centredness that without any thought for her he had contrived to turn it into reality.
'But the moment Ibarra arrived in his bloody helicopter and walked into the airport building, so damned proud and arrogant, I sensed trouble. And I was right.' He stopped pacing and faced her, his mouth twisted in a bitter smile. 'So I decided I'd make you both pay, one way or another.'
Teresa's voice floated up the stairs. 'Derek, you must come now. We're leaving.'
He opened the door and called, 'I'll be right with you,' then turned back to Cass, his grin as cold and humourless as a shark's. 'Why hasn't he thrown me out? I've deliberately needled him, yet not once has he reacted with anything but that damned high-and- mighty courtesy. He's put up with stuff from me he'd have killed anyone else for. Why, Cass? I'll tell you. Because if I go, you have to go. After all, he's
engaged, isn't he, and it wouldn't do in this country to have a young, attractive, unattached woman staying in his house alone. So to keep you here he'll put up with anything I dish out.'
'Th-that's ridiculous!' Cass stammered.
Derek continued as though she hadn't spoken. 'Just remember, he might fancy you, and he'll take all he can persuade you to give, but you're nothing more than a diversion, an appetiser before the main course.'
Teresa called again, volubly impatient.
'Coming,' Derek shouted and smirked at Cass over his shoulder. 'And what a succulent dish that is. She's a lot more friendly than some I could mention.'
'Derek, you can't,' Cass was horrified.
'Why not?' he countered. 'Teresa isn't objecting. I've a suspicion she's one neglected girl and not too happy about it. Of course, if you were to start behaving like a fiancée, I wouldn't need to look elsewhere. So,' he shrugged, 'it's all up to you, isn't it?'
With difficulty, Cass kept all expression out of her voice. 'That's blackmail.'
He flushed briefly. 'Just a little friendly persuasion.'
She stared at him for a long moment, fighting the nausea that burned in her throat. She had to swallow hard before she could speak. 'There is not and never has been any engagement between us, Derek. If you don't tell them, I will.'
The smug satisfaction that had begun to settle on his features as the silence grew melted away,
replaced by disbelief. 'Do you realise what you're doing?' His voice cracked.
She didn't reply. She knew only too well what she was doing. What she did not know and could not guess was how far he would go in his lust for revenge. She didn't have to wait long to find out.
His pale eyes seemed suddenly bloodshot, as though his fury was too much to contain. 'You'll regret this,' he hissed.
Still Cass said nothing, aware as never before of being entirely alone in a strange place with no one to turn to.
'I'll seduce Teresa,' he threatened. 'Ibarra will be a laughing stock and I'll make sure he blames you.'
'I am not responsible for Teresa.' Cass forced the words out past sudden, gut-wrenching fear. What had she done? Yet how could she have acted differently and retained any shred of integrity?
His eyes glittering with malice and wounded pride, Derek fired his parting shot. 'As of this moment, you're fired.' He glared at her in savage triumph, waiting, daring her to protest.
They both knew he did not have the power to dismiss her without referring to the other directors. But he could make her working life so difficult and unpleasant if she chose to defy him and stay that, even as the possibility occurred, she discarded it.
'As you like,' she said calmly, managing to hide her shock at this added blow. Yet she should have expected it. No matter what happened now, or to what extent he blackened her character, she knew she had made the only possible choice.
The door slammed, making he
r jump. He had
gone. She heard him hurrying down the stairs, calling out apologies with such charm and sincerity she could almost believe he meant them. She shook her head and drew in a deep, slightly tremulous breath. Now all she could do was wait. It would be a long day.
A momentary dread turned her legs to water and she reached out to the window frame for support. What if Miguel believed the things Derek told him about her?
She would know when next she saw him, in that first instant, before he even spoke.
The helicopter swished overhead with a clattering roar and Cass watched it disappear over the hills. Until Miguel returned she had to keep her mind occupied or she would go mad. For no matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise, his opinion of her mattered more than anything else in the world.
Collecting her sketch pad and pencil, she went downstairs and out of the house. Climbing the paddock fence, she perched on the top bar and surveyed the panorama spread below her.
Maybe losing her job wasn't such a bad thing. She had worked more or less independently anyway. Perhaps she would go freelance. Set up her own workshop and sell direct to the public. Or would it be better to use an agent? She had some money put by so she didn't have to rush into anything, and her name was well known. She would think of it not as a disaster, but an opportunity.
She began to work, her pencil flying over the thick pad, capturing in bold strokes the rolling vista
of dry hills, the arching sky, stunted trees and spiky cacti. She filled page after page, varying her subjects, and spent over an hour on several studies of marigolds, Mexico's favourite flower.
The sun climbed higher. Consuelo called her for a light lunch and afterwards, instead of taking a siesta, Cass sat in the cool shade of the oaks and recreated on paper the glory of the sunrise she had experienced that morning.