Tender Triumph

by Judith McNaught

  The breeze tugged a few silken strands of hair loose from her elegant chignon. Katie lifted her hand to brush them out of her eyes, trying at the same time to brush away the vision of herself stand­ing in this overgrown weed patch, looking as shabby and unkempt as this awful hovel. In a year or two she would become as slovenly as her surroundings, because living like this would corrode anyone's per­sonal pride until they fast didn't care anymore.

  Reluctantly she began picking her way along what was left of a brick walk leading to the door of the cottage. Red tiles had blown off the roof, shattering when they hit the walk, and Katie carefully avoided stepping on them with the thin soles of her expensive Italian sandals.

  She walked hesitantly through the doorway, blinking her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Revulsion swelled in.her throat. The inside of the empty cot­tage was covered in layers of dirt, filth and cobwebs. Where the sun streamed through the broken slats of the shutters dust floated in the air. How could Ra­mon live like this, she wondered in horror. He was always so immaculately well-groomed, she couldn't imagine him existing in this... this squalor.

  With a supreme effort, Katie brought her frantic emotions under control and forced herself to think logically. In the first place, no one had been living here—the dirt1 hadn't been disturbed for years. Or the mice either, she thought with a shudder as scratching sounds emanated from the walls.

  Ramon was standing in the middle of the room, his rigid back to her.

  "Ramon?" Her voice was an apprehensive whis­per.

  "Get out of this place," he gritted in a low voice vibrating with fury. "The filth will cling to you, even if you do not touch anything."

  There was nothing Katie wanted to do more than leave here—unless it was to leave for the airport, then home, then her beautiful modern apartment. She started to go, realized that Ramon wasn't fol­lowing her, stopped and turned toward him again. He was still standing with his back to her, either unwilling—or unable—to turn around and face her.

  With a stab of compassion Katie realized how much he must have been dreading the moment when she would see this place. No wonder he had seemed so tense when they drove up the lane. Now he was angry because he was embarrassed and ashamed that this run-down cottage was the best he could of­fer her. She spoke to break the uneasy silence. "You—you said you were born here."

  Ramon slowly turned and stared through her as if she didn't exist.

  Braving his mood, Katie continued. "I assumed that you meant you had lived here since you were born, but no one has lived here for years, have they?"

  "No," he snapped.

  Katie winced at his tone. "Has it been long since you were here last?"

  "Yes," he bit out.

  "Places—houses that haven't been lived in for a while always seem dreary and ugly, even when they're really nice." She was trying desperately to console him, even though she knew he really ought to be consoling her. "It probably doesn't look the way you remember it."

  "It looks exactly the way I remember it!"

  His scathing sarcasm sliced into Katie's highly sensitized emotions like a razor blade, but still she tried. "If—if it looks exactly as you remember it, why, are you so furio.. .so upset," she amended hastily.

  "Because," he said in a terrible voice, "I sent a telegram four days ago asking that as many men as necessary be sent to clean and make repairs to this place."

  "Oh," Katie breathed in relieved surprise. Her evident relief made Ramon's whole body go rigid. His eyes became twin black daggers that im­paled her. "Do you have such a low opinion of me that you think I would bring you to live in this—this filthy shack? Now that you have seen it like this, I would not permit you to live here. You would never be able to forget the way it looks now."

  Katie stared at him in anger and bewilderment. Only minutes ago she'd been certain of her future and that she was wanted, secure and loved. Now she was certain of nothing, and she was furious with Ramon for unfairly venting his frustration on her.

  A dozen indignant rejoinders sprang to mind, only to lodge in her throat behind a lump of sym­pathetic tenderness that swelled unbearably as she regarded him. Standing there in the middle of the shabby empty house where he was born, Ramon seemed so utterly defeated, and so proudly deter­mined not to show it, that her heart twisted. "I think you have a low opinion of me if you believe that," she said into the charged silence.

  Turning away from his narrowed gaze, Katie walked to the two arched doorways leading off the right side of the living room and peeked inside—two bedrooms, one large one at the front of the house, and a smaller one at the rear. "There's a lovely view from both bedroom windows," she announced.

  "Neither of which have glass in the frames," Ra­mon responded tersely.

  Katie ignored him and went to another doorway. A bathroom, she surmised with a mental grimace at the rusted sink and tub. An unwelcome image of her parents' sunken marble bath paraded across Katie's mind, followed immediately by the memory of her own modern bathroom at the apartment. Bravely, she banished both from her mind and flipped on a light switch. "There's electricity right to the house," she enthused.

  "Which is not turned on," Ramon snapped. Katie knew she was sounding like a real-estate saleswoman trying to make a sale, but she couldn't help herself. "And this must be the kitchen," she said, walking over to an antiquated porcelain sink standing on steel legs. "Which has hot and cold run­ning water." To prove it, she reached for the taps.

  "Do not bother," Ramon said in a tight voice, watching her from the doorway. "They do not work."

  Katie's chin lifted as she tried to summon the courage to turn around and face him. In the process she found herself staring out a wide grimy window above the sink. "Ramon," she breathed, "whoever built this house must have loved a view as much as I do." Verdant green hills spread out in a panorama in front of her, their slopes covered in blooming yellow and pink blossoms.

  When she swung away from the sink there was genuine pleasure in her expression. "It's beautiful, absolutely beautiful! I would wash dishes for a liv­ing if I could look out at that while I washed them." Eagerly, her gaze moved over the large rectangular kitchen. At the opposite end, one entire wall of win­dows was joined at the corner with another large ex­panse of windows. Situated in front of them was a crude wooden table and chairs. "It would be like eating on a terrace—you can see for miles in two dif­ferent directions," she announced, watching a slight uncertainty flicker across Ramon's frozen features. "Why, this kitchen could be made to look bright and spacious!"

  Studiously avoiding looking at the peeling linole­um on the uneven floor, Katie turned and marched back into the living room. She walked over to the large panes of glass that extended across two walls and rubbed away a bit of the grime. Peering out through the patch she had cleared, she gazed at the view. "I can see the village!" she exclaimed in awe. "I can even pick out the church. From up here it's like a little white toy village with green hills all round it. Ramon, it's like looking at a—a picture postcard. These windows must have been placed so that no matter where you look there will always be some­thing beautiful to see. Do you know what—?" Un­aware that Ramon had walked up behind her, Katie whirled around and collided with his tall, powerful body. "This house has real possibilities!" She met his cynical expression with a bright smile. "All it needs is a fresh coat of paint and some new cur­tains."

  "And an exterminator and an army of carpen­ters," Ramon replied acidly. "Or better yet, a com­petent arsonist."

  "All right—fresh paint, new curtains, an exterminator and you with a hammer and nails." She bit her lip as a disquieting thought occured to her. "You do know about carpentry, don't you?"

  For the first time since they had arrived at the house, Katie saw a glimmer of humor touch his handsome face. "I imagine that I know as much about carpentry as you know about making cur­tains, Katie."

  "Wonderful!" bluffed Katie who hadn't the fog­giest notion how to make a curtain. "Then you won't have any troubl
e fixing things here, will you?"

  He seemed to waver, then he swept the shabby room with a contemptuous glance. His features hardened until his face seemed to be carved out of stone. Katie, realizing that he was about to refuse, put her hand on his arm. "This could be a cozy, cheerful home. I know you're embarrassed because I've seen it looking this way, but that will only make it more rewarding and exciting when it finally looks the way it should. I'll really enjoy helping you restore it—honestly I will. Ramon," she whispered beseechingly when he simply stared at her, "please, please don't spoil it for me like this."

  "Spoil it for you?!" he exploded, raking his hand through the side of his hair. "Spoil it for you?" Without warning he reached for her, and Katie found herself crushed against him, his arms wrapped tightly around her. "I knew I should not have brought you to Puerto Rico, Katie," he said in an agonized whisper. "I knew it was selfish of me, but I did it anyway. Now that I have, I know I should send you back home, where you belong. I know it," he said, drawing a ragged breath. "But— God forgive me—I cannot bear to do it!"

  Katie wound her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against the solid hardness of his chest. "I don't want to go home; I want to stay here with you.'' And—at least for the moment—she was certain she did.

  She heard his breath catch and felt the sudden tens­ing of his muscles. He drew back slightly and tenderly cradled her face between his hands. "Why?" he whispered, his black eyes intently searching hers. " Why do you want to stay here with me?''

  A beaming smile lit Katie's features. "So that I can prove to you that this house can become the home of your dreams!"

  Her answer caused an unexplainable sadness to shadow his eyes. It lingered there as Ramon slowly bent his head to her. "This is the real reason you want to stay with me, Katie." His lips brushed over hers, warm and tantalizing, while his hands drifted down her shoulders and over her back in an enticing, ever-changing caress.

  Every nerve in Katie's body began to quiver in anti­cipation. It seemed like weeks, not days, since Ramon had kissed and caressed her with stormy pas­sion. Now he was intentionally taking his time, mak­ing her wait, teasing her. Katie did not want to be teased and tantalized. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed herself into his muscular body. She kissed him deeply, trying to break his iron control. Against her, she felt the rising hardness tightening his thighs, but as if to retaliate for her having deliber­ately aroused him, Ramon slid his lips from hers and began kissing the corner of her mouth, trailing his lips over her cheek, down the sensitive column of her neck, then up again to her ear, his tongue sen­suously exploring each curve, each crevice.

  "Don't!" Katie pleaded with a throbbing ache in her voice. "Don't tease me, Ramon. Not now." She half-expected him to ignore her. Instead, his mouth claimed hers with a fierce hunger and raw urgency that surpassed her own. His hands rushed over her, sliding up her nape and over her shoulders, posses­sively cupping her aching breasts, then sweeping low to press her tightly against his rigid, pulsing thighs.

  Shuddering with pleasure, Katie dug her fingers into the bunched muscles of his shoulders and back, joyously fed the insatiable hunger of his mouth, willingly arched herself against the demanding, rhythmic thrusts of his hardened, aroused man­hood.

  An eternity later, the pressure of his lips lessened and then was gone as Ramon slowly raised his head. Even in her dazed state, Katie recognized the pas­sion blazing in his eyes and knew he saw it in hers, too. Still shaking with quick, piercing stabs of desire, she watched his sultry gaze dip to her softly parted lips. His arms tightened convulsively as he started to bend his head to her, then hesitated, try­ing to fight the temptation. "Oh, God!" he groaned, and his mouth hungrily covered hers once more.

  Time after time he began to pull away, only to change his mind and bury his lips in hers for another series of long drugging kisses.

  When they finally stopped, Katie was shattered. Helplessly, mindlessly, joyously shattered by the combined force of their exchanged passion and plea­sure. He rested his cheek against her bright head, his hands gently caressing her back, holding her close against the violent hammering of his heart, while Katie leaned weakly against him, her arms still around his neck.

  Several minutes had passed when Katie thought she heard Ramon murmur something. She managed to lift her head, open her languorous blue eyes and look at him. Lost in her dreamy euphoria, she ad­mired the masculine face looking back at her. He really was incredibly handsome, she thought; so ut­terly masculine with those hard, sculpted features. She liked his firm jawline, his determined chin with its attractive cleft, and the sensuality in the mold of his mouth. And he had the most compelling, rivet­ing eyes—eyes that could melt her or freeze her. His hair was so thick and glossy black, beautifully styled and shaped to lie flat at the sides, yet just long enough for her to run her fingers through it at the nape.

  Katie reached up and smoothed the hair at his temple, then rested her hand against his cheek, her thumb idly tracing the cleft in his chin.

  Ramon's dark eyes had been watching her. They captured her gaze, holding it, while he turned his head and slid his lips back and forth against her sensitive palm. He spoke, and his deep voice was raw, hoarse with an intense emotion that wasn't pas­sion. "You make me very happy, Katie."

  Katie tried to smile, but the painful quality she heard in his voice made her eyes burn with tears. And after three days of emotional turmoil culminat­ing in the last tumultuous hour, she was too weak­ened to stop them. "You make me happy, too," she whispered, as two tears spilled over her lashes.

  "Yes," Ramon said with solemn amusement as he watched the shimmering tears. "I can see that."

  Katie gaped at him, feeling as if she were teetering on the brink of insanity. Ten seconds ago she could have sworn there were tears in his voice, but now he was smiling and she was crying. Except she wasn't crying, she was starting to laugh. "I—I always cry when I'm happy," she explained wiping away the two tears.

  "Surely not!" he exclaimed in mock horror. "Do you then laugh when you are sad?"

  "I probably will," Katie admitted, her face wreathed in a brilliant smile. "I've been all mixed-up ever since I met you." Impulsively, she reached up and pressed a kiss on his warmly responsive lips, then leaned back in his encircling arms. "Garcia will be wondering what we've been doing. I suppose we'd better go."

  She sighed with such regret that Ramon grinned at her. "Garcia is a man of great dignity; he would never stoop to speculating about our activities." Nevertheless, Ramon obligingly released her. With his arm around her waist, they walked through the doorway into the sunlight.

  Katie was about to ask when they could start working on the house, but Ramon's attention was riveted on a man about sixty years old who was walking into the yard.

  When he saw Ramon, his tanned, leathery face broke into a slow smile. "Your telegram only ar­rived an hour ago—just before I saw the Rolls pass through the village. Do these old eyes of mine trick me, Ramon, or is it really you I see standing here?"

  Grinning, Ramon held out his hand. "Your eyes are as sharp as the night you saw smoke coming through a window and caught me in the shed with a pack of cigarettes, Rafael."

  "They were my cigarettes," the man named Rafa­el reminded him, simultaneously shaking Ramon's hand and affectionately clapping him on the arm.

  Ramon winked at Katie. "Unfortunately, I had none of my own to smoke.''

  "Because he was only nine years old, and too young to buy them," Rafael explained, flashing a conspiratorial smile at Katie. "You should have seen him, senorita. He was lying on his back on a bale of hay with his hands behind his head, looking like a very important man who was enjoying his lei­sure. I made him eat three of the cigarettes."

  "Did that cure you?" Katie laughed.

  "It cured me of cigarettes," Ramon admitted. "I switched to cigars after that."

  "And then to girls," Rafael said with humorous severity. He turned to Katie. "When Padre Gregorio rea
d your banns at mass this morning, the senoritas all wept with disappointment, and Padre Gregorio sighed with relief. Praying for Ramon's im­mortal soul had been Padre Gregorio's most time-consuming task." Pausing in this good-natured monologue to enjoy Ramon's visible discomfort, he added, "But you are not to worry, senorita. Now that he is engaged to you, Ramon will no doubt mend his wicked ways and ignore those fast women who have been chasing him all these years.''

  Ramon shot a quelling look at the older man. "If you are through assassinating my character, Rafael, I will introduce you to my fiancée—assuming Katie is still willing to marry me after listening to you."

  Katie was stunned that marriage banns—the for­mal proclamation of an intended marriage—were al­ready being read in church here. How had Ramon accomplished that from St. Louis? Somehow, Katie managed a weak smile while Ramon introduced Rafael Villegas as the man who had been "like a sec­ond father" to him, but it was several minutes before she could pull herself together and pay atten­tion to their conversation.

  "When I saw the car heading in this direction," Rafael was saying, "I was glad that you are not ashamed to bring your novia here and show her where your roots are, even though you now—"

  "Katie," Ramon interrupted abruptly. "You are not accustomed to this sun yet. Perhaps you would rather wait in the car where it is cool.''

  Surprised by this politely worded dismissal, Katie said goodbye to Rafael and obediently returned to the air-conditioned Rolls. Whatever Ramon was telling Senor Villegas had the man looking almost comically bewildered, then stunned, then extremely grim. She was relieved that when they finally shook hands and parted they were both smiling again.

  "Forgive me for asking you to leave like that," Ramon said, sliding into the car. "Among other things, I needed to discuss some work I need done to the cottage, and it would embarrass Rafael if you were present when we talked about money." Press­ing the button that opened the glass between the chauffeur and themselves, Ramon issued instruc­tions in Spanish, then shrugged out of his suit jacket, pulled off his tie, loosened the top buttons of his cream-colored shirt, and stretched his legs out. He looked, Katie thought, like a man who had just been through an ordeal, but was relatively pleased with the outcome.