by Hilary Wilde
Startled, Penny stared up at him. He was looking across the room, his face stiff and as pale as it could ever be. He was staring at someone . . . someone whose appearance had shocked him.
It was strange to think that such a man could be affected by anyone, so Penny looked across the room, too, to see what it could be.
The first person she saw was the Señora Dominguez herself, elegantly dressed but in an old-fashioned way with a full pleated skirt of cream chiffon and a sleeveless blouse of pale pink satin, her hair curled high up under the cream mantilla. By her side was . . .
Was the most beautiful person Penny had ever seen. Tall, slim, dark hair, dark eyes—a typical Spanish girl, but infinitely more lovely than the average girl, though she was usually lovely, too. This girl was staring across the room at Juan del Riego, lifting her hand and waving it.
The Señora and her companion began to walk across the room towards them.
`I must go,' said Juan del Riego, for the first time showing dismay, Penny thought. 'Trent, can I leave Miss Trecannon with you?'
`Gladly, sir,' Mike said with a chuckle. 'I'll bring her back later. Okay?'
`Okay.' Juan del Riego was speaking as if in a trance. His voice was slow, as if it was an effort to speak. 'Take her out to dinner, and it can go on the expense account. I don't know when I'll be back.'
He walked away slowly, his movement unlike his usual quick graceful movements, towards the two walking towards him.
Mike took Penny's arm. 'We'd better get out. We don't want to get mixed up in this affair, and the less you know the better,' he said to Penny, and almost hustled her out of the pavilion into the crowded streets, Valentin close behind.
`There is a corrida. Coming?' Valentin asked.
Penny shivered. 'No, thank you very much. Not for me.'
`It isn't cruel, you know,' Valentin assured her. 'The bulls love it.'
Penny stared at him. 'You must be joking! Who'd enjoy being teased and taunted and having darts stuck in his back?'
`You go off on your own, Valentin,' Mike said quickly. 'We'll meet later.' He named some restaurant and took Penny's arm. 'Come and watch the dancing, Penny. I know how you feel about it. What shocks me is that I've been told it's the tourists that keep the bullfights going in Spain. Here it's just an old tradition that a man has to prove himself at it.'
Relieved that Mike felt as she did, Penny went with him to watch the dancers, Mike explaining the different dances.
`That's a fandango,' he said as the girls and men danced. It was very colourful, for the girls' poppy-red frills whirled against their partners' dark suits. Penny found herself soon shouting `Ole Ole!' with the rest of the crowd. Later Mike took her round the stalls and they ended up at a very pleasant restaurant, built out over the sea.
Afterwards she danced with Mike and Valentin in turn and was pleasantly sleepy by the time the carriage had taken them back to the house.
Mike walked with her to the door and knocked on it. 'That was a good day,' he said. `Made much nicer for having you. I feel like giving Nurse a tip.' He smiled.
`Do you think the nurse had been told by . . . ?' She paused.
`I don't think—I'm sure. She wouldn't have wanted the kids around when she'd planned such a dramatic scene.' The door opened and Jose was there. 'Goodnight,' said Mike. 'See you.'
`Goodnight, Mike, thanks for the fun,' said Penny, wishing the butler had not chosen that moment to open the door, for what had Mike meant when he said, 'she had planned such a dramatic scene'?
What had he meant, too, when he said as Juan del Riego had walked to meet the girl who had made him behave so strangely—'we don't want to get mixed up in this affair, and the less you know the better.'
Odd things to say. And why had Juan del Riego looked so surprised, so shocked . . . you could hardly say delighted. He had walked to meet the girl slowly, surely it had been a reluctant walk?
If only she knew, Penny thought, as she undressed and went to bed.
In the morning it was just like any other morning. Juan del Riego came to see the children soon after the nurse had brought them along to the day nursery and Juan had done his usual drawings, asking Catalina if she
knew the English words for what he had drawn. Sometimes Catalina drew and asked him. It was always a pleasant interlude, for even Abilio was enjoying himself, on the rocking-horse. He called it his ` oss', which, Juan said, was a good step forward.
Penny sat, as usual, in the background, drawing a scene with several things Catalina knew in it, such as a ship, the sea, the waves, a house, but she kept glancing at Juan. The tall arrogant man who had seemed so dismayed the day before now showed no signs of it, except that his mouth was like a thin line. Only once did he look at her.
`Enjoy yourself last night?' he asked.
`Yes, thank you.'
`I thought you would. By the way,' he added, `you haven't forgotten you said you'd stay here for a year, so there can be no question of marriage.'
Penny looked puzzled. 'There is no question of marriage.'
`Isn't there? I have an idea that Trent . . .'
`Mike is a good friend, that's all. A very good friend, too,' Penny said. 'Just because we're good friends and enjoy being together it doesn't mean that we . . .'
`Love one another?' Juan asked. 'How do you know? You admitted that you did not know what love was.'
Something stung her—perhaps his amused sarcastic voice. 'Do you know what love is?'
she asked angrily, and was wholly unprepared for the way his face changed.
`I thought I knew,' he said as he stood up. `Once,' he added, and left the room, saying no more, leaving Penny feeling she shouldn't have said that—obviously it had hurt him. Was it to do with the girl yesterday? Was it perhaps also to do with the time he had said he should have rebelled but hadn't, and that it had been the mistake of his life?
CHAPTER NINE
That afternoon Penny went for her usual siesta walk, going down the lane that led towards the group of rocks that formed a seat for her. She enoyed sitting in the sunshine while she looked down the sloping side of the mountain to the white sandy coves. She always enjoyed the walk, for part of it was an avenue of palm trees swaying in the breeze from the Mediterranean while the cicadas were chirping gaily and the little brightly coloured birds fluttering and singing, yet it was so peaceful. The quiet house made her shiver, but out in the sunshine, admiring the lovely pink and yellow roses, the sweet-scented camellias, the gorgeous purple of the bougainvilleas was like a tonic so that when she walked back to the children she felt strong again, even eager to help them learn to speak one of the hardest languages in the world.
Wearing a pale blue cotton dress, her red hair tied back with a matching ribbon, Penny sat on the warm rocks and lifted her face to the delight of the hot sun shine coming from the incredibly beautiful blue sky. She had had a letter from her father, and one from Fiona, too. The first was an anxious letter: was Penny all right, the food didn't upset her? Were the children well-behaved—how did Señor del
Riego behave? Fiona's letter was quite different. Fiona admitted that she was bored to tears. 'I daren't tell your father that because he'd be hurt, but I can't just sit at home all day doing nothing. He's on an interesting job, but it means he's away a lot, and with you away, too—! I'll have to find a hobby—perhaps painting. I just can't sit around doing nothing. We do miss you, Penny, and I hope the job isn't proving too difficult.'
Was it proving too difficult? Penny asked herself as she watched the huge waves come pounding in to hit the rocks below. Surely the beauty of it all and . . .
The children weren't easy—not even Catalina, who was sometimes eager to learn, but at others she would retreat and sit silently, her mouth tightly closed. Even little Abilio was sweet when he forgot to scream and stroked the rocking-horse, and Techa, though she was a real little madam when she wanted attention and could scream and start off Abilio, there was something very dear about her.
B
ut there was still a hesitation in her thoughts as she thought of Fiona's words: 'I hope you don't find the job too difficult.'
It was difficult in many ways. The Serior's strange bursts of temper, his arrogant manner of giving orders was suddenly contradicted by his amazing tenderness for the children. Yet his different kinds of behaviour meant that Penny was never at ease when she was with
him. She was taut and prepared for a burst of temper—and also had to control her own.
`Dreaming, as usual,' Juan del Riego commented. Penny jumped; she had not heard him come up quietly behind her.
`I .' she began.
Juan leapt over the rocks and came to sit by her side. He gazed at her and she caught her breath. Never had she seen such questioning eyes as his.
`Is this your favourite walk?' he asked, and she felt herself relax. 'Why?' he added.
`It's so beautiful.' Penny waved her hand expressively towards the sea, such a wonderful blue—and then to the groups of little white houses and farms in the shelter of the cliffs. `So different from home.'
`You're not homesick?'
`No, I'm not homesick,' she said quickly. She wasn't, but she was still Dad-sick, if there could be such an expression.
`Good. I wanted to see you to tell you that tonight we're having a family party to welcome Anita back. She's been away ten years and we never expected to see her again.'
`Anita?' Penny queried.
`Yes. She was in the pavilion yesterday with Magdalena. You must have noticed her. It would be hard not to,' he added.
`Oh, that girl. She's beautiful.'
`Yes. She was beautiful when I first met her. I was twenty and she was seventeen. Fifteen
years ago.' He stood up suddenly. 'You'll meet more of the family tonight.'
Why had he taken the trouble to find her to tell her this? she wondered. Then she thought she knew. 'Look, would you rather I had dinner in my room?' she asked him. 'I mean, if it's a family affair . .
He frowned. 'Certainly not. You are my children's friend, not a servant. I want you to meet the family and them you. It's the best way to crush the scandal.'
`Scandal?' Penny echoed.
He smiled, a twisted ugly smile. 'Of course. A pretty young girl—a so-called Spanish womaniser engaged her to teach his cousin's children how to speak English! You can imagine how the family talk. They say you are my mistress.' He laughed, a curt, surprisingly hurtful laugh. As if that was likely! You're not that kind of girl.'
Not the kind that would attract him? Penny wondered if that was what he meant.
`I'm most certainly not,' she said quickly.
`You don't need to tell me. I want them to see it for themselves, though. So dress up smart —but not too hippy,' he added with a smile, and left her.
She sat very still as she watched him walk away—a tall man with broad shoulders and lean hips, a man with a graceful walk, a man who could hurt and also delight at times. What was there about him that made it impossible
not to like him? For like him she knew she did, even though he could infuriate her at times, but there was a fascination about him. Was it his looks—the strength in his face, those eyes that asked questions, his smile . . .
She glanced at her wrist watch and began to walk home slowly down the avenue of palm trees. Suddenly from behind a huge bush of yeliow Dowers a man came out, catching her by the arm. It was Alfonso Melado.
Ah —the little English miss,' he said, his fingers digging into the flesh of her arm. 'It is good to see you alone.'
`I can't stop,' Penny said quickly, for he was a big man, rather frightening as she had thought before, with that strange look on his handsome face.
`You can surely spare a moment?' Alfonso laughed. 'I see you have been talking with Juan, so why not with me?'
`His conversation was . . . was to do with my job.'
`Your job?' He chuckled. And how is it going? Those children will never speak English. You are wasting your time—or is it, as we think, a mere cover for a more intimate relationship?'
Her spare hand flew fast and he dropped her arm with surprise as his hand went to his cheek. 'Why, you little . .
`How dare you say a thing like that?' Penny was so angry it was hard to speak. 'Señor del
Riego merely came to tell me it would be a family gathering tonight to welcome someone home . .
Anita? Ah, but of course. The beautiful adorable Anita,' Alfonso said with a smile. `She is not my kind. I like little English girls with red hair and green eyes.' He caught hold of her.
Penny had to act fast, but she did, and jerked herself free as she hit him again.
He stood back and smiled. `So you are going to play—how do you say it?—"hard to get"? All right, if that is your line I am agreeable. I will woo you—slowly.' He was laughing as he spoke.
`I don't want you to woo me! I don't want anything to do with you,' Penny snapped, her cheeks red with fury, her eyes shining.
Ah, it is true, then. It is Juan with whom you wish to be? You love him?'
`Juan?' Penny was startled. 'Of course I don't!'
Alfonso laughed. 'A likely story, as they say. You have met Anita? No? We do not know why she has come back, but we can guess.' He laughed again. 'She may be beautiful, but she has never known the meaning of the word diplomacy.'
`Diplomacy?' Penny echoed.
`Yes. When Anita wants something, she must have it, at once. You do not know the story?'
No. Look, I must go . . .'
`In a moment, but first I must tell you. When Juan was twenty, he came to stay with us. My mother invited him—why, I know not, for Juan and I have never been friends. Juan had been away for ten years, also, so he had not seen Anita grow up from a bad-tempered, skinny child as I had. They fell in love, and Juan asked her to marry him. There was a scene with Anita's father when he told Juan that she was—how do you say it?—bespoken. He had arranged for her to marry a wealthy but elderly man from the mainland. Anita hated Vallora and liked the idea of going to South America with Juan, but it was not to be.' Alfonso laughed. As Anita's father said, he did not want his descendants to blame him for letting them be born in a family of murderers.'
`Murderers?' Penny gasped.
`Yes—the Riego family has much to be ashamed of . . . and Juan is no different from his ancestors.'
A murderer? Juan?' Penny said slowly. She suddenly realised that she was calling the Serior by his Christian name. She could only hope Afonso had not noticed! 'I don't believe it,' she exclaimed. The anger grew inside her. `That's a lie!'
`What's a lie?' Alfonso asked with a smile. `Think twice before you say such a thing. Ask any of the family—they will tell you that Juan murdered my young brother.'
Penny caught her breath. It was like being slapped in the face. It couldn't be true! Then she remembered the moment of fear she had felt as they went across the bridge that had terrified her—she had thought then that Juan was capable . . . which was absolutely absurd, she told herself angrily.
`I don't believe it,' she said to Alfonso. 'He isn't like that.'
`Wishful thinking, is it not?' Alfonso looked amused. 'So ask your good friend and my great enemy, Michael Trent.'
`Your great enemy?' Penny shook her head, her red hair swinging. 'I don't understand.'
`There is much you do not understand, and will not, because you do not wish to believe such things of the man you love.'
`I don't love him!'
`No?' Alfonso looked amused. 'Is that so?' he drawled sarcastically.
Of course she didn't love Juan del Riego, Penny was thinking angrily. He was just not her type. If anyone was, she would say Mike was—easy to talk to, pleasant to be with, sympathetic, good-tempered, but . . . But? But what was there lacking in Mike? For definitely there was something lacking. He was a good friend, but that was all.
`Why did you say Mike was your greatest enemy?' she asked the tall, handsome, amused Spaniard by her side.
He shrugged. 'Because he is. Juan
got him
here in order to get rid of me.'
`Get rid of you?'
He nodded. 'He is trying to prove—or to make it look as if proved —that I have been embezzling money from the estates.'
And have you?' Penny asked without thinking, then wished she hadn't.
Alfonso laughed. And what if I had? Vallora should be mine. My grandfather was a wicked man, without sense or understanding. You have probably heard, but he disinherited my father and handed the island to Pedro's father.' Alfonso's face was dark with anger, his eyes seeming to spit fire. 'When Pedro died, it should have been mine. It will be mine, though,' he added, his voice thick with fury and determination. 'You can tell your lover that—' he added with contempt. 'The island will be mine!'
`He is not my lover,' Penny began, then as she looked at the threatening fury on Alfonso's face, she turned and ran down the lane towards the house, afraid he might chase her, for he was a powerful man. But he didn't.
She was playing a game with Catalina when the day nursery door opened and Juan came in, followed by the beautiful Anita.
`Penny,' Juan said in a friendly voice, 'I thought it would be nice for you to meet
Señora Anita Llobera before the crowd arrives.' He said something in Spanish and left the room.
Anita smiled. 'Well, this must be a heart-breaking job.' She looked round and the two children gazed at her, but she said nothing to them or took any notice, as she sat down and smiled at Penny. 'Whatever made you come to this ghastly island?'
`I don't think it's ghastly,' Penny said with a smile. 'It's beautiful, and . . .'
`Boring and narrow-minded as can be.'
`Then why did you come back?' Penny asked, finding Anita surprisingly easy to talk to.
Anita shrugged her shoulders. She was wearing a white trouser suit that made her olive skin even more beautiful. 'Magdalena wrote that she would like me to visit her and I was bored with being a widow. I plan to marry again, but it is only six months and the family would be horrified. I must wait a year, but the months crawl by, so slowly—' she shrugged with a smile.
