Sweet Promise

by Janet Dailey

  ‘Another date with that Granger fellow?’ her father’s vaguely interested voice asked.

  ‘Yes, the symphony orchestra is giving a concert tonight,’ she smiled.

  ‘I don’t think he’s going to hear much of it,’ Vance Wakefield commented, his gaze running admiringly over the gauzy length of lavender and blue flowered chiffon that covered her azure blue evening gown.

  ‘That’s the idea, Daddy,’ Erica replied, widening her violet eyes with provocative mischief.

  He laughed softly and walked into his study. The corners of her mouth straightened, knowing that as he shut the door, her father also shut out his thoughts of her. Not callously, but simply because there was no reason for him to worry about her.

  The doorbell rang and Erica pushed her self-pity aside. She meant to enjoy herself tonight. It might possibly be the last time that she would. Tilting her head at a happy angle, she opened the front door.

  ‘You!’ she breathed in astonishment.

  Rafael studied her with mocking thoroughness. The black turtleneck beneath his leisure suit emphasised his darkness.

  ‘Yes, Erica, it is I,’ he replied, thinning his lips into a mirthless smile. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

  Her fingers tightened on the edge of the door, but she didn’t step aside to admit him. The paralysis of fear didn’t allow any movement.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Her demand came out in an anxious whisper.

  ‘You are going out this evening?’

  It was a rhetorical question that required no response, but she gave it anyway. ‘Yes, I’m going to a concert,’ she murmured self-consciously, glancing behind him in anticipation of Forest’s arrival. ‘You . . . you haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?’

  His black eyes mocked her persistence, his dark head arrogantly tilted back. ‘Your week has passed,’ Rafael stated.

  ‘I have tonight,’ Erica whispered desperately, bands of fear constricting her throat. Her eyes searched for some sign of compassion in the derisive bronze mask. ‘Is that why you are here? For my answer?’

  ‘I am here to see your father,’ he replied with a complacent lift of his brow. ‘There is something I wish to discuss with him.’

  ‘Have you come to tell him a-about us?’ Panic removed any pretence of demand from her question.

  ‘Should I?’ he parried, the blackness of his gaze burning holes in her despairing hope.

  A car door slammed and Erica saw Forest walking swiftly along the stone walk to the door. Rafael glanced over his shoulder at the approaching man, then brought his gaze back to her face, amusement glittering vibrantly at the dilemma mirrored on Erica’s face.

  ‘You won’t tell Daddy,’ she pleaded in a whisper. He stared at her and smiled. ‘Please, Rafael, don’t!’

  A strange light flickered in his eyes while his lips twisted in irony. ‘I will await your decision, Erica,’ he said harshly.

  With Forest only a few steps away, she was forced to open the door and admit both men. Rafael’s statement should have reassured her, but it didn’t. Forest greeted him naturally enough, but with curious suspicion in his eyes.

  ‘I’ll . . . let Daddy know you’re here, Señor Torres,’ Erica mumbled, turning awkwardly away from his jeering glance.

  Her father evinced no surprise when she announced from his study door that Rafael was here to see him. Deliberately she ignored Rafael’s mocking countenance as he walked by her into the study.

  ‘What does he want?’ Forest asked grimly, taking her arm.

  Erica glanced apprehensively towards the closed study door. ‘To talk business with Daddy, I guess,’ she murmured, but she didn’t believe that.

  There was only one subject that Rafael and Vance Wakefield had in common, and that was herself. Rafael hadn’t exactly said that he wouldn’t tell him, but the implication had been there that he would keep silent. Yet she didn’t trust him.

  The evening was ruined before it had even begun. Halfway through the performance, Erica knew that she had to return home. At this very moment, Rafael might be relating the entire sordid tale to her father. The complete absence of colour in her face and the tightly drawn lines of strain around her mouth convinced Forest more than her words that she wasn’t feeling well. His tenderly solicitous concern made her feel guilty, but not so guilty that she didn’t take advantage of it.

  With the lingering gentleness of Forest’s goodnight kiss still on her lips, Erica rapped lightly on the study door and entered. Angry sparks flashed in her eyes when she saw Rafael sitting in a chair opposite her father, casual lordly grace in every line of his form. She had seen his car parked in the drive, but her expression was one of feigned surprise at seeing Rafael still there.

  ‘Is the concert over already?’ her father frowned as he glanced at the heavy gold watch on his wrist.

  ‘No. Forest received an important phone call that required his immediate attention,’ Erica lied. ‘I decided to come home rather than sit through the concert alone.’

  ‘A business call at this hour?’ Vance questioned.

  ‘You know how that goes, Daddy,’ she shrugged, trying to read through the pensively brooding lines on her father’s face to discern what he and Rafael had been discussing. ‘I’ve become used to it.’

  ‘What a pity,’ Rafael drawled, ‘to become accustomed to such a thing.’

  His sardonic expression was openly laughing at her and Erica knew he had guessed why she had returned. He was not at all surprised by her sudden arrival. She sensed that he had anticipated it.

  ‘I’ve learned to accept it, señor,’ she murmured tautly, putting sarcastic emphasis on the latter word.

  There was a satanic lift of a jet-black eyebrow. Then, aloofly, Rafael turned away from her. ‘It is growing late, Señor Wakefield, and I have taken up too much of your time.’

  ‘Not at all, not at all.’ Her father rose to his feet when Rafael did, waving aside the arrogantly worded apology. ‘I — ’ He cast an oblique glance at Erica. ‘I enjoyed our discussion.’

  ‘I will see Don Rafael to the door, Daddy,’ she offered quickly as her father started around his desk.

  The absently thoughtful look in his blue eyes frightened her a little. Their discussion had to have concerned her or her father wouldn’t be looking at her so strangely.

  ‘Yes, you do that, Erica,’ he agreed soberly, and wished Rafael a hasty goodnight.

  Erica didn’t trust herself to look at Rafael until the study door was closed behind them. Then she whirled around, the delicately flowered chiffon net billowing about her.

  ‘What did you tell him?’ she hissed angrily.

  ‘What do you think I told him?’ Rafael countered, his gaze insolently sweeping her face.

  ‘You told him something about us, didn’t you?’ Erica accused, hating his air of detachment that her anger couldn’t touch.

  ‘I said I would await your decision,’ he reminded her coolly.

  ‘I know what you said,’ she whispered contemptuously. ‘I didn’t believe you then and I don’t now!’

  ’do not push me, Erica.’ The warning was echoed in the clenched line of his lean jaw.

  ‘I want to know what you told him,’ she repeated. ‘What devious and evil thing did you say to prejudice him against me?’

  His gaze narrowed on her upturned face. ‘Your father has his own rigid code that he lives by and expects others to live by. I doubt that anyone could influence that code, least of all a stranger.’

  ’do you honestly expect me to believe that you said nothing about us?’ Erica snapped.

  Her shoulders were seized in a violent grip. The icy glitter in Rafael’s eyes took her breath away as she was vividly reminded of the ruthlessness she associated with him.

  ’do you dare to question my integrity when your lips are still warm from another man’s kisses?’ he demanded harshly, angry forks of lightning darting from the black thunderclouds of his eyes.

  ‘Raf
ael!’ she gasped, helplessly unable to free herself from his iron hold.

  She was pulled roughly against his chest, her head snapping back at the abruptness with which she was crushed against him. The muscular hardness of his body drained what little strength she possessed.

  ‘You use my name only when you want something,’ he growled. ‘But I will teach you not to be so careless with its use!’

  ‘Y-you’re hurting me!’ Erica protested weakly, fighting the waves of awareness that flowed in her veins.

  ‘What is it you seek?’ His teeth flashed in a jeering smile. ‘The gentle touch of your lover? Is it his hands that you wish had touched your nakedness first instead of mine?’

  His fingers dug even deeper into her soft flesh. ‘Rafael!’ she moaned in pain, crystal tears shimmering in her eyes.

  ‘You want to be free, no?’ His nostrils were distended as he crushed her tighter. ‘You want to be free of my touch and my name.’ His silent laughter scorned the futility of such a wish. ‘But I will not let you go, Erica. You will pay for your foolishness.’

  Then his mouth claimed hers in a savage possession. Blackness swirled around her. She was incapable of resistance just as she was incapable of responding to his hard, fierce kiss. When he released her mouth, her emotions were as bruised and battered as her swollen lips. His fingers lessened their hold on her shoulders for a second, then let her go altogether. He stepped back, shedding the demon-skin for one of arrogant reserve.

  ‘I will pick you up tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock,’ he told her with autocratic command. ‘I will expect your answer then.’

  ‘Go to hell!’ Erica whispered, pressing the back of her hand to her throbbing mouth.

  A cynical smile twisted his mouth. ‘With you, I am condemned to that.’

  ‘Then why make this demand of me?’ she protested.

  ‘You are my wife,’ Rafael said simply, and turned away.

  Erica hovered for uncertain moments in the hallway, her system recovering from the shock of his brutal touch. Then the door to her father’s study opened and she spun around to gaze blankly at her father.

  ‘Wh-what did Don Rafael want?’ she asked, striving for an air of uninterested curiosity.

  The thoughtful look spread across Vance Wakefield’s stern face. ‘He came to see me about some property I own. At least, he said that was why he had come. He asked for my permission to see you, Erica.’

  ‘He did?’ she breathed. Antagonism surfaced for a brief moment that Rafael should be so certain she would agree to be his wife. ‘What was your answer?’

  ‘I told him . . . well,’ he hesitated, wryly shaking his head, ‘my first instinct was to laugh until I realised he was quite serious. Then I told him that you were seeing Forest Granger, but I told him he had my permission to see you if you were willing.’

  ‘He asked me out tomorrow,’ Erica told him.

  ’did you accept?’

  ‘Yes.’ She couldn’t very well tell him that it had been an ultimatum.

  ‘How serious are you about Granger?’ It was the first time in her memory that Vance Wakefield had ever made a direct inquiry. Usually he had someone else do it for him and relay the answer.

  ‘I’m not sure, Daddy,’ Erica hedged.

  ’do you know, I forget sometimes that I’m your father,’ he commented absently. The statement didn’t surprise her, although it wasn’t meant to be unkind. ‘I’m always too busy, aren’t I?’

  ‘I understand, Daddy, I’m a big girl now,’ she smiled wistfully, wishing they were close enough that she could go into his arms and be hugged.

  ‘Forest is a hard, independent and ambitious young man. He isn’t intimidated by me either,’ Vance Wakefield mused. ‘His career, his business is vitally important to him.’

  ‘Isn’t it to every man?’ Erica returned, swallowing the bitterness in her throat.

  ‘No,’ he sighed heavily. ‘With some men, the family comes first and will always come first. It’s their tradition, their life style.’

  A terrible stillness settled over her. ‘Are you referring to Don Rafael?’

  ‘Not specifically, no,’ her father replied smoothly. ‘Although at a guess, I would say that family would have a priority with him.’

  A priority! Erica thought bitterly. Family and tradition were so important to Rafael that he was determined to keep her as his wife whether she loved him or not. Even he admitted that life would be hell with her, but that didn’t deter him.

  ‘Maybe you should think about how much a family means to you before you make any commitment to Forest,’ Vance Wakefield suggested, running a hand through his thick mane.

  Slow anger burned within her. ’did R — Did Don Rafael make that suggestion?’ Erica accused.

  ‘Of course not!’ His reply was plainly astounded and offended. ‘Whatever made you think that?’

  She shifted self-consciously under his piercing gaze. ‘You don’t normally talk this way.’

  ‘No?’ Once again the withdrawn look set in as his mind began to wander. ‘No, I suppose not. Goodnight, Erica.’

  He was already walking into his study and the door was swinging shut when she added her goodnight. She doubted that he had heard her. That moment of concern about her future had disappeared as rapidly and unexpectedly as it had come.

  The hot October sun blazed down with the heat of a thousand hells. Erica’s teeth grated as she accepted the hand Rafael extended to her as she stepped out of the air-conditioned coolness of his car. She had barely said five words to him since he had picked her up at the house promptly at two o’clock. The cynically amused tilt of his mouth indicated that her freezing tactics had not worked. She had shown no interest in their destination and he had deliberately not enlightened her.

  Defiantly tossing back her long hair, Erica glanced around the downtown section of San Antonio. The Tower of the Americas loomed benevolently above them. Its feet were firmly planted in the Hemisfair Plaza. Perhaps he intended taking her to the top and throwing her off, thus removing the obstacle of their marriage.

  But it wasn’t towards the Tower of the Americas or Hemisfair Plaza that Rafael led her. Instead he guided her to one of the many sets of steps leading from the street level of San Antonio down some twenty feet to the picturesque walkway along the river banks. He strolled leisurely by the quaint shops, sidewalk cafés, and nightclubs in the commercial area of the riverwalk, indifferent to Erica’s displeasure.

  The cool serenity of the river, the lush tropical foliage of the gardens, and the age-old trees that shielded the walk from the direct rays of the burning sun soon had their effect on Erica. She had never been able to remain unmoved by the quiet splendour.

  Rafael paused to light a thin cheroot, the aromatic blend of burning tobacco strangely fitting the atmosphere. Lean aristocratic fingers hooked themselves in the pocket of his finely tailored trousers as he resumed his leisurely pace.

  ‘It is rare that a man’s dreams come true,’ he commented idly as though voicing his thoughts aloud. For a second Erica thought he was speaking personally and her relaxed expression hardened. ‘To think that it was once proposed to cover this river with concrete and turn it into a sewer! That visionary architect and the conservationists who fought at his side are to be congratulated.’

  Erica smiled in silent agreement, wondering if the architect had ever dreamed back in the thirties and the forties that so many people would come to enjoy the graceful beauty of the arched footbridges and the luxuriant crush of greenery. The natural beauty was enhanced, never overpowered by man’s touch.

  Her glance at Rafael’s profile was cool. ‘I hadn’t realised you were familiar with San Antonio and its history.’

  ‘You have forgotten, Erica,’ he smiled at her absently, ‘that I am a historian. And I think you have forgotten that most of the Southwest was once ruled first by Spain, then by Mexico.’

  ’does it bother you to be here in the city that possesses the “Shrine of Texas Liberty”?’ A
malicious sparkle gleamed in her eyes.

  His regard of her was one of a person overlooking the ineffectual barbs of a child. ‘You are, of course, referring to the thirteen-day siege by the dictator General Santa Ana of the Alamo.’

  ‘And the hundred and eighty-eight men who died there to be free,’ Erica tossed back.

  ‘Are you asserting your right to freedom?’ he inquired lazily. ‘In the background, do you hear the bugles sounding Deguello, the song of no quarter? It was not only Americans who defended the Alamo till death, but Mexicans as well. One of your more famous Texas patriots was Jose Antonio Navarro, who signed the Texas Declaration of Independence. Yet you prefer to look on me as Santa Ana.’

  ‘Then don’t fight me,’ she cried angrily. ‘Let me be free!’

  ‘I am not able to do that.’ His sardonicism was tinged with resignation. ‘I, too, must fight for what I believe.’

  Her hand lifted the heavy weight of her hair and massaged the tense cord in the back of her neck. She had known all along that his stand was adamant, but she had to try.

  ‘Because I will not give in to you,’ Rafael stated with a note of impatience, ‘you look on me as ruthlessly cruel, my demands as unfeeling as those dictated by Santa Ana to the peoples of Texas before the rebellion. Look at the unending string of missions founded by the Spaniards throughout your country, Erica. The streak of cruelty is tempered by kindness and devotion. I will be kind to you. You will not be my slave, but my wife. I do not ask for your love in return, but your loyalty to the vows we took. That is the only demand I make of you.’

  Erica laughed shortly, without humour. ‘What choice have you given me? Why don’t you simply put a gun to my head and shoot me?’ Her voice lacked emotion, her hope slowly dying as she resigned herself to fate.

  ‘You are not a lamb, Erica. Do not act like one!’ he snapped.

  Immediately her temper blazed. ‘No, I’m not a lamb! All along you’ve known what my answer would be, the only answer I could give. Now you’re going to hear me say it!’ she burst out hotly. ‘I will be your wife. Not because I fear you. I am agreeing only because of my father.’