Sweet Promise

by Janet Dailey

  ‘I will be in San Antonio for several weeks — with the exhibition. We will go through the motions of a courtship. People have fallen in love in less than a few weeks. Another wedding ceremony can be arranged for the benefit of your father and you can return with me when I leave for Mexico,’ Rafael stated.

  ‘But I’m not in love with you,’ Erica repeated again. ‘I love Forest.’

  ‘In time you will forget him,’ he declared arrogantly. ‘This is not the type of marriage I would prefer either, but we must deal with reality. Perhaps one day we both may derive some measure of satisfaction from it.’

  ‘No,’ she protested weakly. He was asking her to commit herself to a life sentence with him. Blackmailing her not for money, but for her life, her happiness.

  ‘There is no alternative, Erica. If you are so foolish as to fight me in this, I will go to your father and tell him of our marriage. I do not think he will understand your motives for marrying me nor your actions on our wedding night. A messy divorce would not be to his liking, I think.’

  Erica knew her father too well not to admit that much of what Rafael said was true. Yet surely there must be another way. She hugged her arms about her to ward off the cold chill of inevitability.

  ‘I can hear your mind racing,’ Rafael mocked. ‘I don’t ask you to agree with me today. I will give you a week to think over what I have said. You will see that to become my wife is the only amiable solution.’

  ‘I must have sold my soul to the devil when I married you,’ Erica murmured hoarsely. ‘Or else I married the devil.’

  ‘Perhaps it is a marriage made in hell.’ His derisive jeer disturbed the bronze mask. ‘But it is no less legal and binding. That is what you must remember.’

  His words echoed in her mind all the way back to the boutique. Erica had escaped from him once, but it had never really been an escape, merely a postponement. If she ran this time, Rafael would unhesitatingly go to her father and they would both hunt her down. Her anger had not moved him. Her appeals for his understanding, his pity, or his mercy had not touched him. Rafael wanted her as his wife to keep his family tradition unblemished and to bear him a child. He did not care that she didn’t love him. Her wishes or desires mattered not at all to him.

  As she pushed open the shop door, Erica knew she would never be able to get through the afternoon pretending that nothing was wrong. The throbbing pain in her temples was nearly blinding her. Her statement to Donna that she wasn’t feeling well was barely out of her mouth before her assistant was agreeing with her.

  ‘Go on home, Erica. I didn’t think you were feeling well this morning. Now there’s hardly any colour at all in your face. I’ll take care of everything.’

  For the rest of the afternoon and all of Sunday, Erica shut herself in her room, using the pretence of illness to break her date with Forest. Each passing hour made her realise there were only two choices, as Rafael had said. And she rebelled against both of them.

  She alternately pounded her pillow in anger and sobbed into it from frustration. Restlessly she paced the floor like a frightened and disorientated caged animal. Her only choice was which of the two evils would she choose. Did her father’s love and respect matter more to her than her own future? A messy divorce might even lose her Forest’s love and hence her future. His career was only now bringing him fame and success. The publicity and notoriety that Rafael promised would accompany any divorce action she started, could destroy Forest’s career should he stay involved with her. How long would Forest love her when he saw every one of his ambitions dashed to the ground because of her?

  Yet Erica couldn’t conceive of actually becoming Rafael’s wife. Undoubtedly he was handsome and obviously the head of a very respectable family. But she had always wanted her husband to cherish and adore her, to give her all the affection that her father had not been able to demonstrate. Was she fated to spend the rest of her life never feeling loved? Rafael did not love her. He wanted a wife. It wouldn’t have made any difference if he had loved her. She still loved someone else.

  Monday morning arrived and she was no closer to a decision. But Erica knew she couldn’t keep hiding in her room. Besides, Rafael had given her a week to make up her mind. Perhaps a miracle would happen. Maybe her uncle Jules would have a suggestion to make when he returned. With that slightly encouraging thought, Erica allowed herself to become absorbed in the work at the boutique.

  Forest had a meeting to attend on Monday evening, so it wasn’t until Tuesday noon that she saw him. He took her to lunch at one of the sidewalk cafés on the riverwalk. They sat in the shade of an umbrella, a tenderly possessive light in his eyes whenever he looked at her.

  Erica toyed with the guacamole salad she had ordered. ‘Are you very ambitious, Forest?’ she asked lightly.

  ‘Of course I am,’ he replied. His gaze was speculating as it touched her downcast face. ‘There was something behind that question, wasn’t there?’

  She tried to shrug it off, wishing she hadn’t tried to find out what his reaction would be. But Forest didn’t accept her easy dismissal of the subject.

  ‘Honey, are you afraid I’m marrying you because I think your father can further my career?’ he asked softly, a teasing note of reproval in his voice.

  ‘No,’ Erica assured him quickly, gazing into the ruggedly attractive square-jawed face. ‘I know how very much it means to you that you’ve achieved the success you have because of your own ability.’

  ‘Then why the question?’ An amused frown creased his brow.

  ‘I was . . . only wondering how important your work was to you,’ she hedged.

  ‘A man’s work is his life.’ There was still a puzzled gleam in his velvet brown eyes. ‘I know how much you resented the demands your father’s empire made on him. You aren’t asking me to give up my career, are you?’

  ‘Would you if I did?’ Erica tried to make it sound like a joke, as if his answer didn’t matter.

  ‘No,’ Forest stated unequivocally. ‘I love you very much, but you’ll have to marry me the way I am.’

  ‘Oh, darling, I do love you the way you are,’ she whispered, sorry she had ever made him doubt it.

  The dimple on his chin deepened as he smiled. ‘Then you’d better hurry up and say “yes” so I can put that ring on your finger.’

  A noncommittal statement sprang to her mouth, but it never got beyond her parted lips. An ashen pallor stole over her face as she saw Rafael approaching their table in the company of another man.

  ‘What a pleasant surprise to see the two of you again!’ he greeted them when Forest glanced away from Erica’s face.

  ’don Rafael,’ Forest acknowledged, rising to his feet.

  Rafael’s eyes were mockingly amused when he saw Erica hide her shaking hands beneath the table.

  ‘I’d like you to meet Señor Esteban Rivera, a noted archaeologist of my country,’ he said, introducing the man standing beside him. His identification of Erica and Forest to Señor Rivera was done in Spanish.

  ‘Buenos dias, señorita, señor,’ the man nodded graciously to them both.

  ‘It’s a pleasure, Señor Rivera,’ Forest smiled.

  Accustomed now to conversing with Mexican-American customers in her shop, Erica automatically replied in the man’s native language, adding that she hoped he was enjoying the beauties of San Antonio. She thought nothing of it until she encountered the piercing intentness of Rafael’s gaze.

  In deliberately rapid Spanish, he demanded, ‘How long have you been fluent in my language?’

  Erica glanced hesitantly at Forest, whose grasp of Spanish was very limited. He was quite plainly curious at what was said and a little suspicious of the tone.

  ‘I have only recently learned Spanish,’ she answered Rafael in English, her tone stiff and defiant. ‘It is useful in my shop.’

  ‘Of course,’ Rafael nodded.

  ‘Would you care to join us for coffee?’ Forest offered.

  ‘I’m sorry. Señor Rivera a
nd I have another engagement. Perhaps another time,’ deferring the invitation with a patronising tilt of his black head.

  ‘Why do you suppose he stopped?’ Forest mused thoughtfully after the two men had disappeared.

  Erica shifted uncomfortably. ‘I imagine he was just being polite.’

  ‘Maybe.’ But Forest wasn’t convinced and neither was Erica.

  Jules Blackwell called her at the boutique the following morning, before she had an opportunity to see if he had returned from his trip.

  ‘I have made some discoveries, Erica. Some of them may surprise you,’ he told her, continuing before she had a chance to tell him of Rafael’s presence in San Antonio. ‘Your husband is not a fortune-hunter. Far from it. My dear girl, you married into a very old Mexican family that has holdings in Central and South America.’

  ‘I know. Uncle Jules, he’s here — in San Antonio,’ she said.

  There was a moment of startled silence. ‘Have you talked to him?’

  Erica sighed heavily and proceeded to tell Jules of what had transpired while he was gone. When she concluded, it was he who sighed.

  ‘This puts an entirely different complexion on things, doesn’t it?’ Erica could visualise the frown of concentration. ‘I guess I could go to see him at his hotel. At this point, it certainly can’t do any harm.’

  ‘Would you, Uncle Jules?’ Emotion choked her throat.

  ‘We can’t give up without a fight, can we?’ he asked, back to his usual jovial voice. ‘I’ll call right after I see him.’

  Then he rang off.

  ‘You’re awfully quiet tonight, Erica,’ Forest commented, trailing his fingertip over the pensive line around her mouth. ‘Is something troubling you?’

  ‘I was thinking.’ Erica breathed in deeply and glanced about the intimate lounge.

  ‘About me, I hope,’ he smiled. His arm tightened affectionately around her shoulder.

  ‘Actually about the shop,’ she laughed. In truth, it had been about her conversation with Jules Blackwell. He had called back the following afternoon after having met Rafael. He had been unable to persuade Rafael to revise his stand. When she had asked his advice, Jules had hesitated, then insisted that this was a decision only she could make. He refused to advise her one way or the other.

  ‘Having problems at the boutique?’ Forest asked.

  ‘Nothing important,’ Erica shrugged.

  ‘Then let’s talk about us instead of the shop,’ he murmured.

  ‘N-not yet,’ she swallowed nervously, knowing there was no way she could tell him that there might never be an ‘us’.

  He sighed impatiently and moved away from her, darting her an angry glance that couldn’t be mistaken even in the dim light of the room.

  ‘I’m sorry, Forest,’ Erica apologised. ‘I don’t have an answer for you and it isn’t fair to lead you on. I’m trying to be honest with you.’ As honest as she could be in the circumstances.

  ‘Thanks.’ Caustic bitterness ate into the edges of the word. He stared at his drink for an uncomfortable moment. Then his gaze slid to her face. ‘You didn’t deserve that. It’s my turn to apologise, honey.’

  ‘I understand,’ she nodded.

  ‘Well, well, well. Will you look at who just walked in?’ he murmured cynically. ‘I wonder if it’s another coincidence.’

  Erica glanced towards the entrance and immediately averted her head when she recognised the tall dark figure just entering the lounge. Her heart skittered wildly along her ribs. Nervously she clutched her glass, wishing she could make herself small so that Rafael wouldn’t see her.

  ‘Is he coming here?’ she asked tautly.

  ‘He’s with some other people,’ Forest replied, watching with undisguised speculation. ‘They’re taking a table on the other side. I don’t think he’s even seen us. I guess I was wrong.’

  A nervous laugh of relief bubbled from her throat. ‘What ever made you think Don Rafael was following us in the first place?’ she chided.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he shrugged, glancing at Erica, then back to the table where Rafael was seated. ‘I had a hazy impression at the dinner party the other night that he was interested in you. He always seemed to know where you were and who was with you.’

  Her cheeks flushed hotly. ‘You must have been mistaken. I didn’t notice that he paid any special attention to me,’ she protested with false lightness.

  ‘It was just an impression. I didn’t say it was right,’ he smiled a crooked smile. ‘Tell me, did you notice him?’

  ‘Oh, Forest!’ Erica tilted her head to one side in simulated amusement while her mouth felt unnaturally parched. ‘He’s an imposing man. A woman would have to be blind not to notice him, and even then she would probably pick up his vibrations.’

  ’do you know, I’ve never been jealous before?’ he chuckled. ’dance with me, Erica. I have this terrible need to hold you in my arms.’

  His arms held sweet torment. She felt that she had to savour every moment they were together in case it was their last. She might never again be able to know this sense of security and well-being. The song ended much too soon, forcing her to open her eyes and move away from Forest’s broad chest.

  Her gaze focused immediately on Rafael sitting at a table on the edge of the dance floor. Sardonic amusement etched the blackness of his eyes as they shifted their glance to Forest. It was impossible for her not to acknowledge his presence without being blatantly rude. She tried to force polite words of greeting from her trembling mouth, but Forest was already filling the void.

  ‘We meet again, Don Rafael,’ he nodded politely.

  Rafael rose and extended a hand to Forest in greeting, leaving him with no choice except to cross the few feet to accept it. Introductions were quickly made of the two couples accompanying Rafael before he insisted that Forest and Erica allow him to buy them a drink.

  Erica silently raged at the way Rafael was manoeuvring events. She had wanted this evening with Forest to be special. She wished she could have had the courage to persuade Forest to leave when Rafael had arrived at the club, but she hadn’t wanted to arouse his curiosity. Now she was seated between Rafael and Forest, feeling stiff and uncomfortable, knowing that Rafael had arranged it this way deliberately.

  Her skin went hot as Forest rested his arm along the back of her chair as if staking his proprietorial rights to her. Her violet eyes darkened with resentment that she couldn’t respond as she wanted to Forest’s touch. Rafael’s presence was an all too potent reminder that she wasn’t free. As if feeling her censure, Rafael glanced at her, a mocking awareness of her thoughts in his eyes.

  The conversation had been following an impersonal line until Forest suddenly asked, ‘I don’t believe you have mentioned whether you were married or not, Don Rafael?’

  The colour drained with sickening rapidity from Erica’s face. One corner of Rafael’s mouth lifted in a humourless smile as he pointedly stared at her.

  ‘The woman I have chosen has not yet consented to be my wife,’ he stated ambiguously, letting his indolent gaze slide back to Forest’s tightened jaw, ‘but I have no doubt that she will soon make her decision.’

  Forest glanced quickly at Erica, a suspicious jealousy darkening his usually soft brown eyes. Her hands were rigidly clasped in her lap, trying to ignore the crackling electricity in the air.

  ‘Perhaps, Don Rafael,’ she murmured in an even voice, ‘she needs more time.’ Deliberately she looked at Forest. ‘Marriage requires the commitment of the rest of a girl’s life.’

  ‘I agree, Miss Wakefield,’ his seductive voice mocked her. ‘To leap into it hastily could have disastrous results. A life of repentance would not be pleasant for either party.’

  One of the other members of his group spoke up and the subject was gratefully changed. Erica knew that she had sidetracked Forest’s suspicions by looking at him when she had made her comment to Rafael, but she despised herself for tricking him that way, just as she despised Rafael for putting her i
n the position where she was forced to do it. She wondered what form of retribution he would extract, then his next words to Forest left her in no doubt.

  ’do I have your permission to claim this dance with Miss Wakefield?’ he asked.

  To refuse would make Forest appear churlish. In the next instant, Erica found herself accepting Rafael’s guiding hand as he led her on to the dance floor.

  When he turned her into his arms, Erica wondered how she could have forgotten how very powerful his physical attraction was. Her senses vibrated with the provocative nearness of his thighs and the spread of his lean fingers on her back. She hated this awareness of a man she didn’t love.

  ‘Why can’t you leave me alone?’ she whispered tautly, staring at the whiteness of his shirt collar and idly wondering if he still wore the gold medallion.

  ‘I thought women liked to have their husbands pay attention to them,’ Rafael mocked.

  ‘You may not be my husband for long,’ was her tart reply.

  He laughed softly, his warm breath stirring the hair near her face. ‘Your threat does not convince me, Erica. Your tongue has the boldness of a hawk, but your heart belongs to the dove,’ he murmured. ‘With your tongue, you start tempests while your heart seeks the tranquillity of the storm’s eye. I know you better than you know yourself.’

  ‘You can’t be sure I’ll agree to be your wife,’ Erica declared with stiff defiance.

  ‘Can’t I?’ His mouth curved into a cruel smile. ‘If your sensitive heart did not seek peace at any cost, our marriage would not be a secret today.’

  She closed her eyes against the frightening truth of his words. When Rafael returned her to Forest at the end of the song, his eyes taunted her with his knowledge. And Erica was still searching for a way to deny it when Forest took her home. She tried to find it in his embrace and failed.

  Seven

  * * *

  Erica snapped open her evening bag to make certain she had transferred the house key from her other handbag. The gold key winked reassuringly back at her. She glanced at her petite watch as she stepped into the hallway from her room. Forest would be arriving at any minute.