The Sanchez Tradition

by Anne Mather

  Rachel clenched her teeth. ‘Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,’ she replied tightly, and turned round in her seat so that she was not looking at him.

  André made no reply to this, and she knew he would do exactly as he thought fit, whatever she might say. She sighed, and fumbled in her purse for cigarettes, extracting a packet and lighting one with hands that were not quite steady. Then, inhaling deeply, she tried to take an interest in her surroundings. To reach Juanastra, they passed through a narrow gorge where a waterfall tumbled continuously down the mountainside into a narrow stream that disappeared through the rocks on its way to the sea. It was a beautiful spot and it wasn’t difficult to feel her tension leaving her in such surroundings. Evening was drawing in, and it would be dark soon, and the sound of the night creatures stirring mingled with the sounds of the dying day. It was not a place to wish to get lost, despite its beauty, and while the more primitive of Brazil’s wildlife might exist in remoter surroundings, nevertheless, it was easy to imagine the prowling step of the mountain lion penetrating the hidden reaches of the gorge.

  André spoke, breaking the uneasy silence which had fallen. ‘Tell me, Rachel,’ he said quietly, ‘have you made any plans to return to England?’

  Rachel’s stomach muscles tightened. ‘No,’ she replied shortly.

  André nodded. ‘That is good,’ he commented, with satisfaction.

  Rachel frowned. ‘Why do you say that? Surely it’s of no importance to you what I plan to do!’

  ‘On the contrary, as Marcus pointed out when I arrived here, it would please me to know you were not moving out of my sphere.’

  Rachel gave a gasp of surprise. ‘Obviously, I shall return to England eventually,’ she said coolly.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s my home! Besides, there’s the shop…’

  ‘The shop can be sold. I do not care for the thought of you living at the shop alone.’

  Rachel gave an involuntary gesture. ‘You will have to begin to accept that after the divorce, I shall no longer be under your jurisdiction!’ she exclaimed.

  André chewed his lower lip. ‘And you know I shall not be able to accept that!’ he bit out roughly, and she began to realise he was not as calm and composed as he would have her believe.

  Running her tongue over her lips, she said: ‘We’re—we’re being very intense tonight, aren’t we? Perhaps we’d better change the subject!’

  ‘No!’ André was sharp. ‘That is—well, I don’t know whether you are aware of this or not, Rachel, but I’ve been here more than two weeks already and I must return to Palmerina!’

  Rachel felt the blood drain out of her face and was glad of the encroaching dusk to hide her expression. ‘I see,’ she said, rather tautly. ‘I—I suppose Leonie is due back.’

  ‘Leonie got back three days ago!’ replied André, his fingers tightening convulsively round the wheel.

  ‘I see,’ repeated Rachel, but she could think of nothing else to say. ‘When—when do you leave?’

  ‘In the morning,’ replied André bleakly. ‘I must confess, I shall be sorry to go. I have—enjoyed our—time together.’

  Rachel’s chest felt tight. ‘Yes, so have I,’ she managed chokily. ‘At least it’s given me a chance to behave like a tourist for a change.’ She bit her lip to prevent it from trembling. ‘I—I wish you’d told me earlier. Then I could have asked Olivia to prepare some kind of send-off party—–’ Her voice broke ignominiously, and with a muffled exclamation André brought the car to a halt.

  ‘For God’s sake, Rachel,’ he muttered, continuing to grip the wheel tightly. ‘I deliberately didn’t tell you because I wanted you to enjoy our last day together.’

  The compassion in his voice caught Rachel on the raw, temporarily banishing the desperation which had gripped her when he told her he was leaving. Instead, she felt anger at the pitying regret in his tone. ‘Please, don’t alarm yourself, André,’ she retorted, rather spitefully. ‘If you are afraid I’m going to make a scene, don’t be. I should imagine I can leave that kind of reaction to Leonie when she discovers where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing!’

  André’s knuckles showed white through the skin of his hand. ‘I am not in the habit of detailing my movements for any woman,’ he replied coldly. ‘So far as Leonie is concerned, I am away on business, and my whereabouts are my own concern.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Rachel managed to infuse the right amount of mockery into her tones. ‘How convenient for you! Do I take it you often take time off in this underhand manner?’

  André stared at her for a moment with angry, narrowed eyes, and then tearing his gaze away, he slammed the powerful car into gear and sent it hurtling off down the track. Thereafter they did not speak, until they arrived back at the villa.

  During the evening that followed, Rachel was overwhelmingly conscious that in some way she had got under André’s skin with her final words that afternoon. He was cold and withdrawn, not only with her but with Olivia and Marcus as well, and she realised that they had guessed, too, that something was wrong. It was a wonderful evening, a faint breeze bringing the salty tang of the sea into the lounge as they sat having coffee after dinner. But Rachel was oblivious of her surroundings and although she endeavoured to avoid André’s eyes she felt them upon her and their intensity was chilling.

  Marcus brought up the subject of André’s departure, saying: ‘Did you finalise the arrangements with Hemming?’

  André inclined his head. ‘By telephone, this morning,’ he agreed. ‘However, if anything further develops you can let me know.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Marcus nodded. ‘Are Gilroy and Sheridan leaving with you?’

  ‘Of course. We take off at nine-thirty.’

  ‘You’re using your own plane?’

  ‘That’s right.’ André sounded bored, getting up from his seat and wandering over to the open french doors. ‘I just want to say thank you for making me feel so welcome here, Olivia. I’ve enjoyed it, very much.’

  Olivia coloured prettily. ‘Why, thank you, André,’ she replied, smiling. ‘You must come and stay again. Overnight accommodation is not the same as actually visiting with us.’

  André turned and gave her a gentle look. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  Rachel moved uncomfortably. She hoped after André was gone that Olivia would not question her too closely on his reasons for being here for so long. Obviously both Marcus and Olivia had been surprised at the length of his stay, and if the days had gone fast that did not reduce their quantity. She would not have believed that sixteen days could pass so swiftly.

  André’s gaze flickered over her now, and then he walked decisively towards the door. ‘I think, if you will excuse me, I will retire,’ he said, rather broodingly. ‘Goodnight.’

  Marcus and Olivia answered him, but Rachel chose to ignore the moment and when she looked up again he was gone. There was a tight knot of misery in her stomach and she felt slightly sick at the knowledge that she might not see him again before he left. But in fact, she thought wearily, it might be as well if she made a point of not seeing him again. Their association could only cause friction now and surely he must have realised that if he came to Juanastra to punish her then he had succeeded admirably. For the first time she contemplated returning to England with real consideration. After all, sooner or later André would obtain his divorce and the next time he came to Rio he might bring Leonie with him and that would be more than Rachel could stand. She would stay for the stipulated three months, of course. It was the least she could do when Olivia and Marcus had made her so welcome, but there was no question now of her remaining until Olivia had the baby even though the possibility had previously appealed to her. Recalling Olivia’s pregnancy, she wondered whether she had told Marcus yet. During the two weeks since Marcus’s return with André, Rachel had had little private conversation with her. Now Marcus began to talk about the redecoration of the lounge, and as Rachel felt no involvement she excused herself
and went out on to the veranda.

  She leant on the rail staring out to sea rather blindly, wondering for the hundredth time why André had chosen to come to Brazil and spend these two weeks with her. That he had enjoyed her company, she had no doubt, but there seemed no point in it all. Unless…

  Her pulses raced at the thought that perhaps André still found himself attracted to her in spite of himself. It was possible; physically she did attract him, but at no time during his stay had he made any attempt to touch her and even this afternoon when she had aroused him so badly, he had refrained from wreaking any revenge upon her. It was a strange and disturbing situation. André was completely in control of himself and she was foolish to imagine he felt anything more than contempt for her. Maybe some innate sense of cruelty had compelled him to come here and destroy what little peace of mind she had achieved.

  She compressed her lips and breathed deeply. Either way, it didn’t matter now what his motives had been. He was leaving in the morning and she might never see him again. Indeed, if she left for England within the next couple of months there was absolutely no reason why she should ever see him again.

  Later, when she had composed herself, she returned to the lounge, but she found Marcus was alone. ‘Olivia has gone to bed,’ he said apologetically. ‘She’s been rather off colour all day, and she hoped you wouldn’t mind.’

  Rachel managed a faint smile. ‘Of course not,’ she exclaimed sympathetically. ‘Is she all right? Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘Oh no, I don’t think so,’ Marcus shook his head. ‘She’s rather tired, that’s all. Been overdoing it, I suppose. She told you about the baby, I understand.’

  Rachel nodded, glad that Olivia had told Marcus. ‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘Were you pleased?’

  Marcus shrugged. ‘I guess so. We’ll have to have a permanent nanny now, though. Olivia just can’t cope.’ He frowned. ‘I believe she asked you to stay on. If you agreed to do so, I should be very grateful, but I should insist on putting you on a monthly salary….’

  Rachel sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Marcus, but it’s out of the question,’ she said regretfully.

  Marcus lifted his hands. ‘But why? Your status here wouldn’t change. You’d still be a member of the family, but naturally I couldn’t let you help without—–’

  ‘It’s not that, Marcus, honestly,’ exclaimed Rachel, shaking her head. ‘I’m not proud. I’d accept a salary, although I doubt whether I would need it while André is paying me such an enormous allowance. No, it’s not that—it’s just—well, I really think I will eventually return to London.’

  Marcus sighed heavily. ‘Well, you know best about that, of course, but don’t decide right now. Keep it in your mind! There’s no hurry. It’s seven months before Olivia has the baby.’

  Rachel smiled. ‘All right,’ she agreed quietly. ‘I’ll keep it in mind, and thank you, Marcus.’

  Marcus shook his head. ‘It’s I who should be thanking you,’ he maintained. ‘Since you came you’ve helped Olivia a lot. She’s really taken to you, you know.’

  Rachel bit her lip. ‘And I like her, Marcus, really I do. It’s just—well—things!’

  Marcus bent his head. ‘André.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Rachel twisted her hands awkwardly.

  ‘I see.’ Marcus turned away. ‘Well, if you change your mind….’

  Rachel nodded and then made her way across the room to the door. ‘I—I think I’ll go to bed, too,’ she said self-consciously. ‘Goodnight, Marcus.’

  Marcus looked up from lighting a cigar. ‘Goodnight, Rachel,’ he said gently.

  Rachel made her way upstairs feeling slightly tearful. Marcus and Olivia had been so kind. They had not condemned her for her actions five years ago, even though they did not know the whole truth of that affair, and they had made her feel really as one of the family. She would be sorry to leave them, and there was no doubt that she would miss Maria whom she had sadly neglected since André arrived.

  Reaching her room, she entered and did not immediately switch on the light, walking over to her balcony to lean on the rail dejectedly. But she became conscious of other sounds in the room, and with a feeling akin to panic she moved to the bed and switched on the bedside light, flooding the room with its mellow glow.

  Then she gasped, pressing a hand to her throat nervously. André was seated in the armchair at the foot of her bed. He had discarded his dinner jacket, and tie, and was wearing only the silk evening shirt and dark trousers. He had unbuttoned the shirt as though he was too warm, and from the slightly rumpled state of his hair he seemed to have been running his hands through it pretty frequently.

  As she endeavoured to recover from the shock of seeing him there, she said: ‘What—what do you want?’

  André did not rise but continued to regard her solemnly. ‘I wanted to talk to you,’ he said tautly, ‘and as it was impossible downstairs I decided to wait for you here.’

  ‘I see.’ Rachel pulled her ear-rings from her ears and smoothed her hair in a nervous way. ‘What do you want to talk to me about?’ She was aware of the jerky breathiness of her voice and wished she could sound cool and indifferent, but that was impossible.

  André was sitting with one long leg draped over the arm of the chair and he looked completely at his ease. ‘When your three months here are up, what do you plan to do?’ he asked shortly.

  Rachel lifted her shoulders. ‘I—I haven’t decided yet,’ she replied unevenly. ‘Besides, it’s nothing to do with you, and I don’t think you have the right to ask me.’ She straightened her back rather stiffly.

  André swung his leg to the ground and stood up. ‘Rights,’ he commented tersely, ‘what are rights? Do you know? I doubt it.’

  Rachel swallowed hard. ‘This is my bedroom, and I think I have the right to demand that you leave it,’ she exclaimed, and André uttered an exclamation.

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ he commanded angrily. ‘Or do you want the whole household to hear our conversation?’

  ‘There is to be no conversation,’ retorted Rachel, in a low voice. ‘Will you please leave?’

  André turned away, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his trousers. ‘Rachel,’ he said, in a low appealing voice, ‘try and understand my position. For seven years I have been responsible for you, and I am now aware that apart from me you are alone in the world, at least so far as relatives are concerned. I must know what you intend to do so that I may help you if you need help, or offer advice if advice is needed. You know that money is no object. If there is anything you want, anything you need—-’

  The faint strains of some music Marcus was playing downstairs drifted through the balcony doors making a mockery of their argument. It was such a beautiful night, the stars brilliant in a sky of dark blue velvet. There were flowers outside, the perfumes of which wove their own spell of magic, and Rachel wondered how anyone could remain immune to such an onslaught of enchantment. It was a night of enchantment, not a night for arguments or angry words. It was a night made for love and for lovers, and the sweet triumphant satisfaction of surrender. How could André be unaware of such things? She knew an overwhelming desire to move closer to him, to slide her arms around him, and make him aware of her as a woman, and not as some annoying liability.

  Hardly aware that she spoke, she murmured: ‘André!’ achingly, and something in her voice made him turn to look at her.

  His eyes slid over her compulsively appraising the simple white gown edged with red braid which she had bought several weeks ago in Rio. Its plain lines drew attention to the creamy tan of her skin; the low neckline revealed the rounded swell of her breasts, while its ankle length gave her a bridelike elegance. With deliberate movements, she pulled the white band from her hair so that it swung silkily against her cheeks, thick and smooth.

  André shook his head. ‘No,’ he groaned suddenly. ‘No!’

  Rachel watched him with her slanted green eyes for a moment, and then she said: ‘I really think you mu
st go, André. This—this isn’t the time, or the place, to conduct the kind of conversation you seem to want….’

  André took a step towards her compulsively, clenching his fists. ‘You have no conception of what I want!’ he muttered savagely.

  Rachel bent her head. ‘Please, André,’ she began, realising the iron self-control he possessed was slipping badly, ‘there’s nothing more to be said.’

  ‘Damn you, isn’t there?’ he swore violently. ‘Rachel, don’t try me too far!’

  Rachel lifted her head and stared at him. ‘I suggest you leave one of your henchmen behind,’ she said bitterly. ‘Then he can report to you on my movements!’ She turned away abruptly. ‘Oh, go—please go! I can’t stand much more of this!’

  André moved and she felt the heat of his body close behind her. One hand slid across the bare skin of her shoulder and up her neck to her ear, caressing it almost compulsively. ‘Do you think I am so unfeeling?’ he demanded in a tortured voice. ‘Do you imagine that being here alone with you doesn’t put thoughts into my head?’ His other hand slid over her waist and Rachel began to find it difficult to get her breath.

  ‘What—what thoughts?’ she faltered, running her tongue over lips that were suddenly dry.

  ‘Thoughts of making love to you,’ he murmured huskily, catching the tip of her ear between his teeth and biting gently. ‘This is really the whole trouble, isn’t it?’ he groaned, breathing swiftly and unsteadily. ‘I want you, Rachel, just like you said, and dear God, I think I’ve got to take you!’

  Rachel twisted round in his arms, her eyes wide. ‘André…’ she whispered questioningly.

  ‘Yes,’ he said roughly, pressing her body close against his. ‘Yes, Rachel.’ His mouth caressed her neck, and as it sought her mouth, he murmured, ‘Oh, God, just let me love you…’ and then he kissed her with demanding intensity.

  Rachel was unable to resist the inevitable. His touch sent the blood singing in her ears and she wound her arms round his neck and trembled as his hands caressed her body. Presently, he picked her up bodily into his arms, and carried her to the bed, sliding down beside her and extinguishing the light before his mouth covered hers. There was no thought of whether it was right or wrong, just the overpowering urgency of their need for one another….