Sweet Promise

by Janet Dailey

  The traffic was heavy with people on their way to work. It was seven o’clock before Erica had parked her car and hurried into the hotel where Rafael was staying. The light of certain victory was in her eyes as she started for the lift doors. Then she changed her mind. She would ring Rafael’s suite first and let him wonder why she had come to see him at this hour of the morning. She wanted him to feel the uncomfortable prickles of apprehension before she had the satisfaction of telling him how completely his plan had failed.

  She picked up the white house phone, and a wide smile brightened her face as she remembered how childishly frightened she had been the first time she had gone to his room. This time it would be entirely different. She would be the one issuing ultimatums, not Rafael.

  On the other end the unanswered ring sounded again and again. Erica nibbled impatiently on her lower lip. She hadn’t imagined that Rafael would not be in his room. With a sigh of exasperation, she hung up and dialled the front desk.

  ‘Would you please page Don Rafael de la Torres?’ she requested. ‘I didn’t get any response when I dialled his room.’

  ‘One moment, please,’ the courteous voice on the other end replied.

  Seconds later she heard his name called over the public address system. Interminable minutes later, the operator came back on the line.

  ‘I’m sorry, he doesn’t answer the page.’

  ‘Would you try his room again for me?’ Erica asked testily.

  ‘What room, please?’

  Quickly she gave the operator the number of Rafael’s suite. There was a slight pause before the voice responded. ‘I’m sorry, that suite is not occupied.’

  Erica frowned. ‘But I know he’s staying here.’

  There was another request for her to wait and more seconds ticked by slowly. ‘Señor de la Torres checked out a week ago, miss,’ the operator told her.

  ‘Checked out? That’s impossible!’

  ‘He left a forwarding address here in the city,’ Erica was informed.

  ‘May I have it, please?’ she asked as she rummaged hurriedly through her bag for a paper and pen.

  With the address in hand, it wasn’t until Erica was back in her car that she realised the address the hotel had given her would take her to the house Rafael had purchased. He had obviously been living there for the past week and she wondered rather curiously why he hadn’t mentioned it. Of course, she hadn’t evinced the slightest bit of interest in what he did, so she supposed he simply hadn’t bothered to tell her.

  When she parked her car in front of the house, she was surprised at the transformation that had taken place in such a short time. The riotous foliage was still tropically abundant in front of the house, only now there was a semblance of control. The stone fountain had been scrubbed clean of the grimy moss and ensnarling vines so that water sparkled clearly in its basin.

  The scrolled iron gate had a fresh coat of black paint and the thick walls of the courtyard were firmly solid once more. The shaded walkways of the courtyards were no longer losing the battle with the foliage, and the view of the freshly painted gazebo wasn’t obscured by the previous overgrowth. With an excited quickness to her step, Erica hurried towards the door, eager to see what had been accomplished with the interior of the stately house.

  Only when she rang the doorbell did she remember that her reason for coming had nothing to do with the renovation of the house. In fact it didn’t concern her at all since she would never be living here. As footsteps approached the door from the other side, she tilted her head to its haughtiest angle.

  This forthcoming moment was one she was going to enjoy tremendously. Rafael had been too arrogantly sure of himself. What satisfaction there was going to be in putting him in his place!

  A cool smile teased her lips as the door swung open and she was surveyed by a curious pair of dark eyes belonging to an unknown Mexican-American. She guessed that he was a servant of some type, although he wasn’t in uniform.

  ‘I would like to see Don Rafael. Is he in?’ she asked, making her voice deceptively pleasant.

  ‘Yes, he is in, but’ — the man hesitated — ‘I don’t believe he is seeing anyone yet this morning.’

  ‘I’m Erica Wakefield. Would you tell Don Rafael that I’d like to see him?’

  Her clipped request brought an expressive lift of the man’s shoulders that seemed to doubt her name would impress Rafael, but he nodded. ‘Si, I will tell him.’

  There was another instant of hesitation when the man debated whether to let her wait outside or invite her into the foyer. He evidently decided that she might be someone of importance and politely asked her to step inside.

  While Erica waited in the entryway, she listened to the click of the man’s heels on the polished tile floors as he carried her message to Rafael. Her view of the other rooms of the house was limited, but she could see it was now sparsely furnished. The Mediterranean style was the one she would have chosen to match the house’s character. She longed for a peep at the breakfast nook, but her curiosity was set aside as she heard the footsteps approaching the entryway.

  She stepped forward expectantly as the man reappeared. His dark head inclined graciously towards her, then he smiled with decided apology.

  ‘I am sorry, señorita. Don Rafael is unable to see you. He asks that you return in an hour.’

  Her eyes snapped with amethyst sparks. ‘The arrogance of that man!’ she muttered beneath her breath. She checked her temper, saving it for Rafael. ‘I will not return in an hour,’ she said firmly. ‘You will go back and tell Don Rafael that I want to see him now!’

  The man’s head tilted to the side as if he was about to refuse, then he decided against it. Again he left her standing in the foyer and disappeared down the cool hallway. His eyes were dancing with secret amusement when he returned a few minutes later. Furiously Erica wondered what Rafael had said.

  ’don Rafael will see you now. This way, please,’ the man invited with only a suggestion of a smile.

  The servant walked rapidly back the way he had come and Erica had to hurry her steps to keep up. They passed the living room and the library, and Erica couldn’t help blinking in surprise when the man started up the staircase to the second floor.

  When Rafael had shown her the house, the staircase was being repaired and she hadn’t been able to go through the rooms up above. He had said at the time that there were only bedrooms on the second floor. She realised it was early, but she hadn’t dreamed that Rafael would not be up. The anger that had built receded rather sharply at this possibility.

  As the servant opened one of the doors at the top of the stairs, she found herself nervously clutching the strap of her bag as though it were a weapon. She almost wished she had waited the hour Rafael had suggested, especially when she saw the ornately carved wooden bed that was still unmade. Thank goodness it was empty.

  Her heart was thumping unevenly as she stepped farther into the room. The French doors to the balcony were standing open and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee was in the air. It was in the direction of the balcony that the man was leading her.

  Rafael glanced up as she hovered between the French doors. ‘Bring Miss Wakefield a chair and some coffee, Carlos,’ he instructed calmly.

  A large wicker chair was immediately pushed up to the round table where Rafael was seated. Erica was uncomfortably aware of the black dressing robe that Rafael wore, tied at the waist, and revealing the bareness of his legs. As she walked towards the empty chair, she caught the scent of soap and shaving lotion. Her gaze bounced off the glistening wetness of his black hair as she realised that Rafael must have only recently stepped from the shower.

  A plate of sweet bread sat in the centre of the table and a bowl of fresh chunked pineapple was in front of Rafael. Erica shifted uneasily in the cushions of the winged wicker chair. The man called Carlos reappeared with a steaming cup of coffee and sat it in front of her.

  ‘Would you like something to eat, Erica?’ Rafael inquired. />
  She had difficulty looking into the smoothly bland mask, so she addressed her denial to Carlos. ‘No, thank you,’ she refused. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the nod of dismissal that Rafael gave Carlos.

  At the soft click of the closing bedroom door, she felt the penetrating darkness of Rafael’s gaze directed at her. He always succeeded in putting her off balance. Her chin lifted in challenge, determined that it wouldn’t happen this time.

  ‘You will forgive me, Erica. I have not yet had my breakfast and I am ravenous.’ There was little apology in his low voice. ‘This discussion must be quite serious if it brings you here at this hour of the day. I hope you don’t object if we postpone it until after my meal.’

  She exhaled an angry breath. He seemed not the least bit concerned about what she wanted to discuss, she thought savagely. He was probably quite certain there was no way out for her.

  ‘I don’t object,’ she assured him, thinking silently that he was entitled to his last meal.

  Yet it was she who seemed to feel the prickles of apprehension and not Rafael. In an effort towards composure, Erica concentrated on her coffee, trying to ignore the white teeth biting into the juicy pineapple. It was difficult to shake off the sensation of intimacy that sitting across the breakfast table with Rafael created. The gold medallion winked mockingly at her from the vee of his robe.

  Finally the pineapple was gone and Rafael seemed disinclined to have more sweet bread. Her teeth were on edge as he refilled her cup, then his, from the coffee server on the table. Leaning back in his chair, he took a slender cigar from the gold case on the table, placed it in his mouth and snapped a flame to it before he glanced at Erica again.

  ‘Would you care to begin?’ he murmured.

  Erica glared at him, hating the fact that it was he who was so casually relaxed while she sat on the edge of her chair. She folded her trembling hands in her lap.

  ‘I’m not going to go through with your proposal,’ she replied in a voice that was coldly emphatic.

  A dark brow registered amusement instead of surprise. ‘You’re not?’

  ‘No, I am not!’ she declared. ‘I’m going to start the divorce proceedings at once!’

  ‘I see,’ Rafael replied calmly.

  Lazily he rose from the wicker chair and walked over to the balcony railing. Beyond the Spanish lace grille-work was the courtyard, the golden light of the morning sun just beginning to pick its way into the shadows. Erica stared at him in amazement, searching for any sign of anger, any small gesture that would indicate she had thwarted him.

  He glanced over his shoulder. ‘The courtyard is beautiful once again, isn’t it?’

  Erica pushed herself out of her chair. He was deliberately ignoring her announcement as if it were some child’s protest.

  ‘You haven’t believed a word I’ve said,’ she accused.

  Again his gaze swung indolently over her, then returned to the profusion of green below. ‘Of course I believe you. I don’t think you would say what you don’t mean,’ he shrugged. His manner indicated that the matter was unimportant to him. ‘The gardener has suggested planting climbing roses along the wall. What is your opinion?’

  Erica’s mouth opened in disbelief. A confused frown crossed her forehead as she walked the few steps to the iron railing.

  ‘I did not come here to discuss gardening, Rafael,’ she said hotly.

  ‘No?’ His bland gaze studied her through the wispy smoke from his cigar. ‘Is there some uncertainty regarding your decision to file for the divorce?’

  ‘None at all,’ she avowed, lifting her chin defiantly.

  Again there was the expressive lift of his shoulders. ‘Then what is there to discuss? Why are you here?’

  A short, confused laugh came from her throat. She had expected anger, threats, but certainly not indifference, a much more difficult thing to combat.

  ‘I came to tell you I was calling your bluff. Your blackmail isn’t going to work. I’m not going to be forced to become your wife,’ she declared, bewilderedly wondering why she was explaining her reasons.

  ‘That’s what you said earlier. But why come here to tell me?’

  ‘I wanted you to know.’ Her hands raised in confusion.

  ‘Why?’ Rafael countered.

  ‘I — ’ His question baffled her and she groped for an answer. ‘I suppose I thought it was fair.’

  There was a complacent lift of his brow. ‘But according to you, I am a blackmailer as well as your husband. Why should you be fair?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Erica murmured angrily. ‘This isn’t making any sense.’

  ‘I agree,’ he smiled lazily. ‘But I doubt if you have guessed why.’ He turned slightly to face her. ‘May I ask what prompted your decision?’

  This was firmer ground and Erica tilted her head with defiant arrogance. ‘I saw Forest last night.’

  A mocking light entered the dark eyes. ‘And you discovered you couldn’t live without him?’

  ‘No, I discovered that I couldn’t live with you!’ she retorted sharply. ‘I don’t care how much you threaten me. I don’t care if Daddy throws me out of the house. And if Forest finds he doesn’t want to risk his career, that doesn’t matter either. I’m simply not going to be your wife any longer!’ Her violet eyes narrowed shrewdly. ‘Besides, I don’t think you’ll want your precious family name dragged through the mud of a messy divorce.’

  ‘I believe, Erica, that you have finally grown up,’ Rafael murmured.

  She looked at him blankly. His calm acceptance was simply too startling to believe. In a daze, she turned towards the courtyard, her fingers closing over the railing as she tried to fathom the reason for his attitude. The smoke of his cigar drifted closer to her.

  ‘Have you spoken to your father and Forest of our marriage?’ Rafael was standing beside her, the blackness of his robe visible out of the corner of her eye.

  ‘Not yet,’ she sighed, then glanced at him sharply. ‘Why? Do you think you can still talk me out of it?’

  He snubbed the cigar out in the gold pottery ashtray that stood beside her. ‘I can’t do that, can I?’ he replied with that same casualness that she couldn’t understand. ‘It is a pity, though. Our children would have been beautiful and intelligent, although perhaps too impulsive, no?’ he smiled.

  His comment brought an unaccountable flush to her cheeks. ‘And too arrogant,’ she added.

  ‘Si, everyone has faults,’ he agreed with a mocking grin. ‘But even in my arrogance I know that I cannot talk you out of your decision. The only way I could persuade you to change your mind was if you loved me. And of course you don’t, do you?’

  ‘No,’ Erica breathed. A tremor raced down her spine, vibrating her nerve ends as she realised how very close Rafael was to her.

  ‘Have you ever wondered what might have happened if you hadn’t fled from my yacht that night?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Your yacht?’ She turned in surprise.

  ‘You do not still believe it was Helen’s?’ Rafael chuckled. ‘It amused me at the time to let you believe that. However, Helen, who happens to be my uncle’s wife, was actually staying at your hotel. She had decided against accompanying him to South America on family business. He joined her there a few days after you left. A very happy reunion it was, too.’

  ‘But she was an — ’

  ‘An American, yes,’ he supplied. ‘It isn’t uncommon for the Torres family to marry outside their country. My maternal grandmother was French.’

  ‘I know very little about you,’ Erica mused.

  ‘Very little,’ Rafael nodded, his gaze running lightly over her upturned face. ‘I know a great deal more about you, yet there are times when you have puzzled me. For instance, I know that you married me to spite your father.’ The breeze had tossed a lock of her hair across her face and Rafael reached out and tucked it behind her ear, letting his fingers trail down her neck. ‘Why did you not have me take you back to the hotel when I said that I would?�
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  Quickly she lowered her gaze from his face, shifting nervously beneath the touch that vividly reminded her of his caresses. She felt shame and embarrassment towards the permissive curiosity that had directed her actions on their wedding night.

  ‘Please, I . . . I don’t want to discuss that.’

  His fingers stopped on her exposed collarbone. ‘I did not mean to hurt you, Erica.’ The sincere tenderness in his voice brought an aching throb in her chest.

  ‘You didn’t. I mean, you did, but — ’ Embarrassment took over again as she found she couldn’t speak of their intimacy with any degree of objectivity.

  Gently he lifted her chin. ‘In the morning, I intended to tell you that you were a very passionate and satisfying lover. I never guessed that you would run from me after we had shared so much.’

  ‘Rafael, please!’ A weakness descended through her limbs.

  ‘You use my name again.’ A wry curl to his mouth, the hard tantalising mouth that riveted Erica’s gaze. ‘What is it you want of me this time?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered, her lashes closing on the chaotic thoughts in her mind.

  ’do you remember the time in Acapulco when you asked why I didn’t kiss you? Where is your boldness now?’ he chided.

  Desperately Erica reached out for it. ‘Why aren’t you angry? I’m going to divorce you.’

  ‘I know.’ His voice remained softly gentle and subtly seductive. ‘How can I feel anger over that? Perhaps if I believed that you were leaving me for another man, I would.’ Erica gasped sharply, her eyes opening in time to see the half-smile. ‘It is your freedom you want, not Forest.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’ she demanded in protest.

  ‘Have you not yet learned that it isn’t the same when he touches you? The same as it was with us?’ Rafael countered. ‘His caress is pleasant, but not the same.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she denied vigorously. ‘The only reason it’s different is because I was inexperienced before. I do love Forest.’

  ‘A false cloak of love will not protect you.’