'I would be working for you, wouldn't I, Sefior Montaiies?' she asked, and noticed the way he looked quickly in his nephew's direction before he replied.
Tor the most part, senorita, yes.'
*Seiiorita Rodriguez merely wishes to be sure that she will not be called upon to work for me, that's all, Tio Enrique.' Miguel's smooth deep voice forestalled her reply, and Kirstie coloured furiously at being so precisely interpreted yet again.
'Is that right, sefioritaT
Both men were watching her with such intentness that she found it embarrassing, and she looked down at the hands in her lap because she did not know what to say. Heaven knew why Miguel Montanes was still there, but his presence made it impossible for her to appear at her best, and she did not see how she could deny her reluctance to work for him when he at least must be perfectly well aware of it.
That's right, sefior,' she agreed in a huskily unsteady voice. *I—I couldn't work for Sefior Montanes.'
'I see.'
She quite expected that Miguel would condemn her for her prejudice, but for the moment he was saying
nothing, he merely lingered there in the background as if he waited to see what the eventual outcome would be. On the other hand her insistence obviously troubled the older man, for he was frowning uneasily, and tapping the fingers of one hand on his desk.
*I don't know, Senorita Rodriguez,* he said. 'Perhaps in view of your strong feelings we should reconsider the advisability of employing you.'
Kirstie heard him with dismay, and none the less so because she realised how much she had contributed to the decision, by taking such an obvious stand against having anything to do with Miguel Montanes. She sat for a moment with her hands clasped tightly on her lap and tried to think of a way to escape without letting them see just how disappointed she was.
In the event she had no time to think of anything before Miguel came across to his uncle's desk with long, impatient strides and rested one hand on the edge of it whale the other was used to emphasise what he was saying. Leaning down so that his face was close to hers, he spoke to Kirstie with the same brusque impatience he had shown so often before.
*Don't be a Uttle fool,' he told her shortly. 'Why lose an opportunity like this simply because you can't resist showing your dislike of me? If it concerns you to such an extent, I'll guarantee that you^on't see any more of me than is absolutely necessary; there's little reason why we should meet anyway in the normal course of things. In the name of heaven, child, be sensible!'
Kirstie's colour was high as she glared into the dark face so close that she could see the fine lines at the comers of his eyes, and it was debatable that what she said would have improved matters at all. In the event it was Enrique Montanes who took a hand. 'Miguel, there's no reason for you to make such a promise—if Senorita Rodriguez doesn't feel she can fit in, then it's best that she doesn't take the job.'
'She can fit in,' Miguel insisted stubbornly. Straightening up, he ran a hand through his thick black hair
and looked down at Kirstie in a way that challenged her to deny what he was saying. 'She's capable of doing the work and she wants the job, so why in heaven's name all this quibbling? I spend so little time here, at least during the hours Senorita Rodriguez will be here, that it doesn't really matter; settle it now so that she can begin in the morning and you can get some of that backlog of work cleared that's been worrying you for so long.'
There was obviously still some doubt in the older man's mind, but the forceful argument put forward by his nephew was bound to have an effect, and Kirstie doubted if anyone bothered denying him for very long. She hadn't said another word, either in her own defence, or in agreement with his very logical argument, but she waited anxiously while Enrique Montanes made up his mind.
The situation is rather desperate, Senorita Rodriguez,' he admitted. 'Do you feel you could be happy here in the circumstances?'
Kirstie was sure she could, even allowing for an occasional encounter with Miguel Montanes, and she was almost eager now to take the job. 'I'm sure I could, sefior,' she assured him, trying to ignore the disturbing
proximity of his nephew. 'And ' she glanced briefly
up at the face that still seemed to hover over her even now he was standing upright, 'I'm sorry I spoke so hastily.' *
For a moment Enrique Montanes' gaze switched rapidly from Kirstie's flushed face to his nephew's dark and broodingly implacable one, then he smiled faintly and shook his head. 'You're very young and very— impulsive, I think, my dear senorita,' he said. 'But if you would like to work for us—for me, will you please be here by nine o'clock tomorrow morning? Can you manage that?'
Kirstie hastily came to terms with the fact that her working life was to begin almost immediately, and she took a moment or two to adjust to the idea while the two men watched her closely. Looking across the desk,
she gave Enrique Montanes a faint but definite smile and nodded. 'I can manage that, senor," she said. Thank you.'
Then I shall see you in the morning.' A kindly smile encouraged her as she got to her feet, and she grasped the hand he proffered a little dazedly. 'I'm sure we shall we get along together very well, my dear senorita. Adiosr
She was shaking like a leaf, she realised as she walked across the room, and it was a moment or two before she registered the fact that Miguel Montanes had accompanied her out of the room and was walking out into the garden with her. It was as they crossed the cool, tiled verandah that she turned and looked up at him, and surprised a faint smile on that usually stern face.
*You like my uncle?' he asked, and Kirstie had no need to think before she answered.
'Very much; I shall like working for him.'
'And yet you almost put an end to the whole thing by making your dislike of me so obvious that even Tio Enrique couldn't overlook it!' Hej:ame with her as she followed the path to the gateway, and she wondered why he was bothering, in view of her behaviour a few minutes ago. 'We're nothing alike, you see,' he remarked, and it was a second or two before Kirstie remembered the promise he had made to that effect.
When she answered as she did it was a dehberate misunderstanding and she pursed her lips in consideration. 'Oh, I don't know, I think you look quite a lot alike.'
'Not so alike as we once were,' Miguel remarked, and something in his voice made her look up again so that she noticed a tightness about his mouth, and a kind of drawn look that suggested feelings held firmly under control. 'Three years ago my uncle's legs were shattered in a car crash. It was the same crash that killed both my parents and my cousin Juan, his son, but I sometimes think that for an active man such as my uncle was, being crippled for life is an almost greater tragedy.'
It was the closest she had yet come to the private
man, and Kirstie felt touched in a way she had never expected to be by him. It was a curiously disturbing experience, and when she replied it was in a small and somewhat husky voice. Tm very sorry,' she said. 'I had no idea.'
'Of course you hadn't.' He said no more for a moment and Kirstie suspected it was a subject he didn't often mention. Why he had seen fit to tell her she could not imagine, but she began to suspect that he was a man who was full of surprises. It was also unexpected to realise that the silence between them as they walked through the gardens was an oddly companionable one. 'You're a very small family, aren't you?' he asked after a moment or two. 'Just you and your grandfather, I understand.'
Matters of family Kirstie always approached with caution, because it usually meant that sooner or later it led to the subject of her mother's remarriage, and that too in its time had been another cause for bitter un-happiness. She seldom spoke of it to anyone and did so only reluctantly now. 'My mother's still alive,' she said, 'but she remarried and lives in South America.'
'While you chose to come and live in Spain with your grandfather, eh?'
Again Kirstie hesitated before she answered. She wouldn't deliberately seek his sympathy but there was something about his present
mood that encouraged confidence. 'It wasn't really a matter*of choice,' she told him quietly, 'although I've never regretted it for a moment; I love being with Abuelo.' She pulled a rose from one of the bushes as she passed? and held it to her nose for a moment. 'My mother's new husband wasn't very keen on having a fourteen-year-old stepdaughter around so, as I wasn't really old enough to be left entirely to my own devices, Abuelo asked if I'd like to come and live with him, and of course I did.'
'Ah!' He sounded as if he understood exactly how she felt, and once again Kirstie wondered at his capacity for understanding. 'You hke Spain?'
'I love Spain,' she told him with absolute certainty. Tm half Spanish, of course, and when I was a child we spent six months of every year here at Casa de Rodriguez, and the rest in Scotland where my father had a business. It's nearly seven years since I came to live here for good, and I feel as if I've always been here.'
'Which accounts for your fierce resentment of me and my family taking over the estate,' he guessed, and went on before she could confirm it. 'I think perhaps you might be less resentful of my youngest brother, however. He's coming home to join the firm next week and he'll be much more to your taste. He's thirteen years younger than I am and very good-looking; what is termed a romantic, which usually appeals to women, I believe.'
The hint of cynicism was more the kind of thing she was accustomed to from him, but in this instance she found herself regretting it rather than resenting it. It was perhaps because she had quite enjoyed those few unexpected moments of confidence that she spoke up as she did, unmistakably on the defensive.
*I can see nothing wrong with being a romantic,' she said, and as they reached the end of the path and stood looking down the ride through the orange grove, he turned and looked down at her thoughtfully.
The shadows of the trees drew deeper, harsher lines on his face, and cast his eyes in enigmatic blackness between their heavy sable lashes. 'It's simply a matter of character, I suppose,' he mused. 'I hadn't much time for romanticism when I was Luis's age; I learned my lessons in a harder school altogether, and also of course I've been around a lot longer. Luis assumes without question that any lovely young woman he meets is not only in need of his protection, but is just waiting to be swept off her feet.'
'He sounds very charming and—and gallant,' Kirstie declared, firmly in favour of the qualities he seemed to be mocking. 'I look forward to meeting him.'
Miguel's eyes glowed darkly as they looked down at her, and something in their depths was making her
Strangely uneasy suddenly. 'Oh, Vm sure Luis will find you enchanting,' he said in a voice that was noticeably softer and deeper, and she caught her breath when he reached for her left hand and raised it to his lips. It was a light, warm caress that stirred unexpected responses in her and she gazed at him a httle dazedly. 'Adios, Seno-rita Rodriguez,' he said.
With barely time to recover, Kirstie spoke quickly and without thinking. 'Adios, senor, I'll see you tomorrow morning.'
Miguel stopped and turned, and his eyes were gleaming and faintly mocking. 'Not necessarily,' he said. 'Wasn't it one of the conditions of your coming to work for us, that you wouldn't have to see me?'
Without giving her time to reply, he turned again quickly and went striding back along the path towards the house, leaving her wondering why her own objections to working with him should suddenly seem so dismayingly childish and unreasonable.
CHAPTER TWO
Her grandfather declared himself pleased that her interview had been successful, but Kirstie knew him well enough to guess that deep in his heart he did not relish the thought of his granddaughter going out to work to help support him. She had been telling him about Enrique Montafies and had left him in no doubt that there was one member of the Montaiies family at least she was prepared to like.
'He's very nice,' she assured him, 'and nothing like his nephew, except maybe for a certain physical likeness, allowing for about twenty years' difference in age.'
'I understand that the uncle is unable to walk, is that right?' Don Jose asked, and Kirstie looked at him curiously.
'That's right. His legs were shattered in a car crash three years ago; but how did you know that, Abuelo?'
Her grandfather regarded her steadily for a moment, for he knew all about her feelings towards Miguel Montaiies. 'His nephew told me that his uncle was confined to a wheelchair,' he said, 'but naturally I couldn't ask the reason, and he didn't volunteer any.' He looked at her again, and it was obvious that her greater knowledge puzzled him. 'I hope you weren't indiscreet enough to ask,' he said, and Kirstie looked at him reproachfully.
'He mentioned it quite naturally in the course of conversation,' she said as she set the table for their evening meal. Seeing even a glimpse of another side to Miguel had been curiously unsettling, but she was not about to have a complete change of heart on the strength of it. His growing friendship with her grandfather still didn't please her, although she wasn't exactly sure why, and her grandfather was very grateful for his occasional visits. 'You've become very friendly with him, haven't you, Abuelo?' she ventured, and Don Jose acknowled-
ged it with a slight nod.
His face did not change expression, but a glimpse of imperiousness in his eyes reminded her that he was not accustomed to having his actions questioned, even by her. *Don Miguel is a good man, whether or not you happen to like him, my child, and I find him extremely interesting company. I see very few visitors and because he's good enough to call on me when he's in this direction, I appreciate his courtesy in doing so.'
'Yes, of course.'
Setting a dish of paella on the table, Kirstie was excused the need to meet his eyes while she served them their meal, but she knew just how closely her grandfather was watching her as she ladled out the steaming food on to their plates. She hoped he wasn't going to question her too closely about her last encounter with Miguel Montaiies, for Don Jose was still very much a supporter of the old virtues of respect and courtesy, no matter how low he might sink financially. He disapproved strongly of her attitude towards Miguel.
Picking up his fork, he sampled the blend of rice, chicken and prawns and his nod of approval pleased her, but not the look in his eyes. 'I hope you've been more polite to him recently, Kirstie. On the few occasions when you've been home and he's called, you've behaved disgracefully. It grieves me that you should be so lacking in good manners towards Don Miguel when he's shown us only courtesy and kindness. Remember he's responsible for you having the position as his uncle's secretary, and I hope you thanked him as you should, by the way.' Kirstie couldn't honestly remember whether she had or not, but she nodded and her grandfather took her word for it. 'Good, I wouldn't like him to think you ungrateful.'
'I'm thankful I'm not working for him,' said Kirstie with a flash of defiance. 'If I'd been reqmred to divide my time between him and his uncle I wouldn't have taken the job, Abuelo; I simply can't—take to him.'
'That's something you've taken no pains to hide,' her
grandfather rebuked her sharply. 'I simply can't imagine why you dishke him so much, Kirstie. He's a very presentable man of good family, and he's no more responsible for the loss of Casa de Rodriguez than anyone else in his family. Less so than I am myself. Why don't you like him, child?'
'I don't know.' It was too hard to explain because she didn't understand it herself, and she speared a prawn with her fork before conveying it to her mouth, her eyes dark and resentful. 'He's always so—so arrogant, for one thing, and he treats me as if I'm still in school! Today, if you please, he actually addressed me as "child". Also he's always so—so tolerant he infuriates me!'
'Kirstie!' Don Jose sighed, shaking his head over her outburst. 'You should be grateful for his tolerance, and as for calling you a child—He's thirty-four years old, and the way you behave must make him think of you as a wilful and badly-behaved child whom he wishes he could take steps to curb in the appropriate manner!'
'Abuelo!' she pouted reproachfully, but she kn
ew her grandfather well enough not to expect him to retract one word of his scolding. 'I suppose you think I should go out of my way to be meekly polite to him because of the—concessions he allows us? Like giving us the freedom of the estate and letting me take out Scheherazade.'
'It would be more appropriate than rudeness,' Don Jose told her.
But not even to please her grandfather could she commit herself to a change of heart towards Miguel Montanes, and instead she passed hopefully on to another subject, though not one entirely unconnected with the man they had been discussing. 'According to him I shall get along much better with his youngest brother,' she said, and her grandfather looked up for a moment.
'The youngest brother?'
Having steered him away from the older man, she nodded hopefully. 'It seems he's due home from univer-
sity next week and he's to join the family firm. I think he must have been something of an afterthought, because according to his big brother, there's thirteen years between them.'
There was a thoughtful look on the old man's face as he gathered up another mouthful of paella, and Kirstie wondered what he was thinking. 'So much younger?' he said. Then I hope you will feel better disposed towards him, child; at twenty-one he's closer to your own age, and equally eligible, one would think.'
'Eligible?' Kirstie looked up sharply and her pulse was suddenly more rapid, she realised, as she stared across the table at him. 'Abuelo, what are you talking about?'
'I know that the middle brother has been married for some time and has a family,' her grandfather stated knowledgeably, and as he took a sip from his glass of wine Kirstie told herself he couldn't possibly be going to say what she feared he was. 'Neither of the other two brothers is married,' the old man went on, 'and it's a situation that has distinct possibilities, my child. I'm almost seventy-one and if I should go tomorrow I'd be happier knowing that there was someone to care for you. A husband with both wealth and breeding is the ideal answer, and here you have a choice of two.'
The Black Invader Page 3
