All afternoon Rafael hacked and chopped until the Tudors' woodstore was overflowing. Judith took him a tankard of beer halfway through and looked at him anxiously.
'Aren't you overdoing it a bit, Rafael?'
'No. In fact I'm rather enjoying it.' He was stripped to the waist by this time, his bronzed torso glistening with sweat and the curls of dark hair on his chest tangled with moisture. He drained the tankard gratefully and handed it back. 'Muchas gracias, señorita.'
'A pleasure.' Judith frowned a little. 'I do wish you'd let me help.'
Rafael shook his head emphatically and picked up the axe. 'You may practice your equality elsewhere. This is one job I firmly believe should be left to a man.'
Judith left him to it, privately considering him way over the top to attempt the whole lot in one day. He was certain to feel very stiff and sore afterwards, but she knew it was pointless to argue. When he eventually called it a day Rafael looked utterly exhausted when he came in.
'You are pig-headed,' said Judith severely, as he closed the kitchen door behind him. Rafael yawned mightily and stretched, his face contorting as his muscles protested.
'Pig-headed? Ugh!'
'It means you're very obstinate,' she said impatiently. 'You must be worn out-—anyone would be. Have a really hot bath and stay soaking in it for a while.'
'A seductive suggestion.' He made for the door, patting her cheek as he passed. 'What's for dinner?'
'Is eating all you think about—began Judith.
'No, chica,' he said at once, with an evil leer. 'I think of other things too. But you know about that already, no?' With an outrageous wink he left the room and went upstairs, whistling again. Judith listened carefully; not the Flower Song this time, too catchy to be opera, but nothing she knew.
Later, as Judith was putting the steaks under the grill, Rafael sauntered into the kitchen with a decanter and two glasses and filled one with sherry for her before sitting at the kitchen table to watch her. She was wearing a shiny plastic apron discovered in one of the drawers, bright red with a huge green apple painted on the bib, and Rafael examined it with amusement as she laid a yellow linen cloth on the table, and gave him a handful of cutlery to set out.
'If I was Otello earlier, Judith, is your role Eve?'
'And if it were,' she countered with a sparkling look, 'who would you be? Adam or the serpent?'
Rafael laughed, then sniffed ecstatically as the scent of grilling steak and mushrooms filled the kitchen. He eyed the crusty loaf and salty Welsh butter on the table beside him.
'May I have some of this, Judith? I am ravenous!'
'As long as it doesn't spoil your appetite; I'd hate my efforts to be in vain.'
'Nothing could spoil my appetite—I could eat a horse, saddle and all.' He seized the loaf and hacked off a thick slice, buttering it liberally. 'Let me fill your glass, Judith—or shall I open some wine to eat with the meal?'
'Not for me, the sherry's fine.' Judith accepted a refill, turned the heat down above the steaks and filled two pottery bowls with thick vegetable soup. She put them on the table and sat down.
'How's that? I thought you might like something filling tonight after your marathon lumberjack act,' she announced, smiling at him.
Rafael gave a sigh of pure pleasure after the first savoury mouthful.
'Judith, this is superb!'
'Hunger's the best sauce, my mother says.'
'What is your mother like?' asked Rafael with interest.
Judith laughed, and told him about her parents and their household, her mother's crime novels. 'I was with them just recently, actually. I went down for a weekend after—after—'
Rafael bent his head to look into her face.
'After what, Judith?'
She looked up at him without evasion.
'After your memorable visit to Hardwick.'
'Was it so memorable?' he asked softly, his eyes holding hers.
'I think you know very well that it was—one way and another.' Judith collected their empty bowls and took them away. it was while I was with my parents that I read about your operation. It was quite a shock to see it in black and white in the Sunday papers, coming so soon after—'
'After our time together in Martin's garden?'
Judith nodded, keeping her back. to him, and he sprang up to help her, choking back a groan as he moved too suddenly. She handed him a sauceboat and the dish of savoury rice, then slid the steaks on to hot plates, garnished them with the mushrooms and followed him to the table. Rafael waited for Judith to serve herself, then took liberal portions of rice and fragrant tomato sauce, his appreciation highly gratifying to Judith.
'I am running out of English adjectives,' he declared, waving his fork. 'I thought youngsters like you lived off hamburgers and kebabs.'
'I'm hardly a teenager, Grandpa,' said Judith drily. 'And I ate my share of junk food during my training to vary the stodge dished out to us. I put on about twenty pounds in the first few months. It took an awful lot of will-power and teeth-gritting to get rid of them, I assure you.'
'You cannot feel regret for the effort when the result is so spectacular,' said Rafael, a light in his eye that brought the warmth to Judith's face. She went on with her dinner, keeping her eyes on her plate as she hurriedly went on with the conversation.
'I share the cooking with Honor at the cottage, of course.'
'My mother liked to cook also.' Rafael helped himself to more rice and sauce. 'Not as much as she liked because of her profession, and of course there was not the necessity. We lived in my grandparents' house, where there were servants. But after her retirement, when I was at home she would make paella as no one has ever made it for me since.'
'You loved your mother very much, Rafael?'
'Very much,' he said simply. 'She was a beautiful lady, both spiritually and physically. I have a photograph of her upstairs; I will show it to you later.'
Judith felt both guilty and relieved. So the portrait had been of Carmelita, not Lucia.
'She was one of the greatest Carmens ever heard in the role,' went on Rafael a fond, distant look in his translucent eyes. 'The stiletto you saw was hers. She always wore it to play Carmen, and the first time I sang Don José she gave it to me for luck and I never sing— sang the role without it.'
Judith stilled as he changed the verb to the past tense, but he appeared to take it in his stride, finishing the last of the food on his plate and putting down his knife and fork with a sigh of repletion.
'I didn't make a pudding tonight,' she said apologetically.
'How lazy!' He grinned at her boyishly. is there possibly some cheese?'
Judith smiled back, a dimple showing in one cheek. He leaned forward and touched a finger to it gently. 'I very much like your dimple.'
'I'm pleased you're pleased,' she said demurely and went to fetch a bowl of apples and some Cambozola, the creamy, blue-veined Brie-type cheese she had found in the refrigerator, to her delight. 'I adore this stuff, Rafael. I can get frankly greedy about it.'
His eyes travelled over her with slow appreciation.
'I would never guess, chica. Your body is beautiful.'
Judith frowned as she spread cheese on a wholewheat biscuit. 'You should say "figure". "Body" sounds a trifle personal.'
'English is not my first language,' he reminded her. 'Nor my second, to be accurate.'
'Which is your second one, then?' Judith's interest was immediate.
'Italian, of course. The language of the opera.'
'How many languages do you speak?'
'I speak Italian, English and French, and less fluently German. But I can sing in a few other tongues also— sufficiently well to interpret the roles, at least.'
'You've left out Spanish.'
'I wished to impress.'
'You succeeded.'
Their eyes held for a moment before Judith's dropped. If Rafael were allowed to look into them for too long she had the feeling he might see right through into
her mind, discover just exactly what was going on in her head, which would be disastrous. Increasingly she was aware that her inner defences were a shaky, crumbling edifice, with no proof against the strength of the feelings battering against them, a fact it seemed preferable to conceal from him at all costs. At the mere thought of what might happen if Rafael suspected the truth Judith swallowed hard and jumped to her feet precipitately.
'I shall help you to clear up,' said Rafael with determination.
'No! No—really.' Judith shooed him towards the door. 'You've been working hard all day. Go and watch some television or listen to music. I'll be no time at all.'
Which proved rather an optimistic estimate. Even with Rafael out, of the way Judith was uncharacteristically clumsy, all thumbs; quite the reverse of her usual efficient self. It was half an hour or more before she finally carried the coffee tray into the other room, feeling distinctly weary. Rafael switched off the symphony concert he was listening to and put a cassette of light, lilting music on Bryn's stereo system.
'That sounds like the tune you were whistling as you went upstairs,' commented Judith as she handed him his coffee.
Rafael gave her a look of limpid innocence. 'I believe the English translation is something like "Girls were made to love and kiss".'
'Is it really?' said Judith astringently.
'Music is nearly always inspired by love, or conflict of some kind, Judith.'
'Right back with the sex and violence again!'
He shrugged indolently. 'Human nature, querida.' He took a box from the small table beside him. 'I found this while I was looking through Bryn's records, Judith. Do you play backgammon?'
'Do I!' Judith's eyes lit up. it was the in-game when I was at the Nuffield.'
'Martin taught me to play years ago. Would you like to play?'
Judith nodded eagerly. Not only did she enjoy the game, but it seemed like the perfect solution as to how to pass an evening without getting into troubled waters. The memory of the morning's incident still lingered at the back of her mind, and every so often she was obliged to blank out thoughts of a hard, warm body against her own in bed the night before. Playing backgammon for the evening was a safer prospect than that other game for two Rafael had once mentioned with such vehemence.
They proved to be worthy opponents. After an hour or so the honours were even, with one game apiece, and Judith agreed readily when Rafael suggested a final game as decider.
'To make it interesting let us play for some kind of stake,' he said casually. 'If I win what will you give me as a prize?'
Judith stared at him sardonically. 'Had you something in mind?'
'No. Whoever wins can suggest the prize, no?'
'No,' said Judith consideringly. 'I think it would be more fun if whoever loses chooses the prize.'
Which transformed the deciding game into a battle of reversed strategy. At first however hard Judith tried to play badly the dice seemed loaded against her. She threw double sixes with infuriating regularity and found it impossible not to take Rafael's men, then slowly the tide began to turn. The overt triumph on Rafael's face darkened to frowning concentration as he tried in vain to maintain his losing streak. The final result was close, but in the end, after nearly an hour of inspired gamesmanship, he won—and lost. He replaced the counters and dice in the leather box and looked in enquiry at Judith, an expectant gleam in the jewel-like eyes.
'Can you think of anything I would like, querida?'
Judith smiled nastily. 'I think I can, Rafael. By morning I'm certain you'll be in crying need of my professional services, so as your prize you can have a professional massage and…'
The dismay on his face was too much for Judith. She gave way to helpless laughter, tucking her long legs beneath her and turning her head into the sofa cushion in abandon. Rafael's eyes kindled angrily as he watched her.
'And you think I might not enjoy that?' he asked silkily.
Judith recovered herself at once. 'Not as much as you might think, I'm afraid.'
He rose nonchalantly to his feet, only the set of his mouth showing the effort it cost him to do so without wincing. 'Then I shall retire at once so that these delights will come all the sooner—little tease.'
'I am not a tease,' she retorted hotly. 'Nor am I very little, if it comes to that.'
His eyes softened as they rested on her indignant face.
'You are young, querida. To an old warhorse like me you are a mere child.'
Judith jumped up impatiently. 'Honestly, Rafael, you drive me up the wall! You know damn well you're a virile, gorgeous man in his prime—and I'm not little Red Riding Hood—I'm an adult, self-sufficient, self-supporting woman, in case you hadn't noticed.'
'Judith, Judith—do not fly at me.' He backed away, hands up in mock surrender. 'Let us say good night before there is bloodshed.'
'I'm sorry,' she sighed, calming down. 'But stop putting on an act with me, Rafael. I'm not interested in Otello, or the other chap, or even in Don José, no matter how fascinating you made him. It's Rafael David the man who interests me, not because he sings, or because he's famous or rich, but because he's having a rough time and I want to help.'
Rafael's face emptied of animation as he stared at the passionate sincerity in her face.
'I am me, Judith,' he said heavily at last. 'I am what my life has made me. I am too old to change, I think.'
Judith took in a deep breath and let it out very slowly before smiling brightly at him. 'No. Of course not—silly of me. I was over-reacting. Good night. Sleep well.'
'Buenos noches, Judith.'
She turned in the doorway and smiled, catching her breath at the sudden blaze that flared in his eyes as they met hers across the room. Her smile faltered and she left quickly, instinct telling her to get away from there as fast as her legs could carry her.
CHAPTER NINE
The sky was overcast and dull, with a strong wind blustering from the sea when Judith woke early the following morning. The house was very quiet.
She stole down the stairs. There was no sign of Rafael, so Judith made herself toast and sat down at the table to eat it with a mug of tea and a novel she had chosen from the bookshelf in her bedroom. She was not bored, she found—far from it. It surprised her, in actual fact, to find the enforced captivity had failed to give her a longing for escape. She had been ill for a day, admittedly, but even so, spending the hours with Rafael, playing at domesticity, seemed enough to absorb her energies completely for the time being. She wondered how he was this morning. Superb physical specimen though he was, after all the violent exercise of yesterday he might very well be feeling very sorry for himself.
It was some time later when she finally heard movement and water running in the bathroom. Eventually a door closed and there was silence again. What now? Judith remained where she was for a time, but after a while curiosity got the better of her. She ran upstairs and tapped on Rafael's door, opening it when his voice answered hoarsely. He was lying against pillows propped against the headboard of the bed, the duvet over the lower half of his body, his broad, flat-muscled torso bare. His thick hair was wildly tousled, and a dark growth of stubble shadowed his chin below tightly compressed lips, his scar showing redly on his throat.
'Do not be afraid, Red Riding Hood,' he said huskily, his eyes sardonic. 'You may enter without fear—I am barely able to move, so your virtue will go unmolested.'
Judith quelled a smile. 'Good morning, Rafael,' she said briskly, and went over to the bed. 'A bit stiff this morning, are we?'
'I, not we—and you may have the satisfaction of saying you told me so,' he said bitterly.
'But think of the consoling glow, the virtue of knowing you've filled the Tudors' woodstore for them,' she said with sweet malice.
'And virtue must be its own reward, I suppose?' A faint glint showed in his eyes, then dulled as he tried to move. 'The virtue, my dear Miss Russell, was not in the actual deed, but in the motive.'
'To repay the Tudors
for the loan of their house?'
Rafael eyed her with malevolence. 'No! To sublimate those desires that otherwise might have been channelled in your direction.' He shifted his position a little, groaning dramatically. 'I succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. Now I cannot move at all!'
'You will, don't worry. Stay where you are for a moment.'
He snorted. 'I have no choice—even the visit to the bathroom was agony, chica; getting there and back nearly finished me off!'
Judith laughed unkindly, and went to her room to collect a flask of oil. She peeled off her sweater and rolled up sleeves, then tied her hair back with a ribbon and returned to the invalid, her face alight with purpose. Rafael regarded her uneasily.
'What are you going to do to me, Judith?'
'Loosen you up, that's all. First I'm going to remove your pillows. Right, that's it—now lie flat on your stomach.'
He turned over with extreme care, the duvet sliding to the floor. He wore thin white cotton pyjama trousers, and lying face down he looked suddenly vulnerable, for all his magnificent physique. Judith made herself consider him impersonally, to regard the body beneath her hands as just another patient. For the first few moments it was difficult, then automatically her trained fingers took command, moving over his oiled skin, probing the tight-locked muscles, loosening and kneading in smooth, unhurried movements. At first she could hear the occasional catch of breath as she touched some particularly sore spot, but gradually the muscular body began to relax under her touch, the tension gradually easing from his muscles. The task was not easy for Judith, not only because the bed was much lower than the surgical couch the patient normally occupied, but because, try as she might, it was impossible to forget entirely that it was Rafael who lay unresisting beneath her touch. For a while he lay lax beneath her hands, then to her surprise she could feel him tensing again. Judith frowned.
'Turn over,' she ordered. 'I'll just do a quick mobilisation—'
'No,' he burst out, and stayed where he was.
She knelt beside him. 'I won't hurt you, Rafael, I promise. I just cup your chin in one hand—'
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