The Black Invader

by Rebecca Stratton

  despite its contrast to the elegant limousine they had once owned, her grandfather still managed to endow it with a certain air of luxury.

  He drove with his head held high as if oblivious of the vehicle's shortcomings. Neatly dressed and well-groomed, Don Jose proclaimed his breeding to the world, and endowed the decrepit old car with something of his own elegance. When Kirstie looked at him her eyes were suspiciously hazy for, poor or not, however proud and arrogant the Montaiies might be, Don Jose Rodriguez could match them any day, and she was proud of him.

  Kirstie had tried not to let herself become agitated, but the longer it was the more worried she became. They always had lunch about two o'clock and her grandfather had been so sure he would be back well before that; it was now after three and he still hadn't arrived. Don Jose was a man who seldom deviated from his set course, and it was that which troubled Kirstie most, for he was now two hours beyond the time he had set himself.

  She had made herself sit down at the table and eat, but she had eaten very little in fact, and at a time when she should have been back in the office she had still not left the house. It was silly to fret so much, yet she couldn't help it, and when she heard the tread of booted feet her head came up swiftly and she went hurrying across the patio to the gate. Her grandfather wore shoes, not boots, but she recognised the new arrival easily enough; if Miguel Montaiies was there then perhaps there was a message, the little barraca had no telephone.

  She met him in the gateway and the first thing she noticed about him was the absence of any sign of concern. Whatever her opinion of him, she couldn't believe that had there been a message from the hospital or the police concerning her grandfather, he would be so completely unmoved and just for a moment she felt a sense of relief.

  'I saw you through the gateway,' he said. 'Have you

  given up working, or have you decided to give yourself the afternoon off? It's gone three o'clock.'

  It occurred to her then that he was making for the house, not coming away from it, and if there was any message for her, he probably wouldn't know about it. In the meantime he obviously expected some kind of explanation for her being so late going back to the office, and Kirstie hastily gathered her wits about her.

  'Yes, I know,' she said. 'I'm just coming.'

  It was just possible that her grandfather had met someone he knew and was having lunch with him, she supposed, although she thought it unlikely and she toyed with the idea of confiding her fears to Miguel. She might have done too if he hadn't looked at her so impatiently, as if her lingering there still annoyed him^ When she got back to the office she'd tell Senor Montaiies and see what he had to suggest.

  'I'll just get my handbag and lock up,' she said, making a determined effort to pull herself together, and Miguel looked vaguely surprised.

  'Isn't Don Jose home?'

  Again she was tempted to confide in him, but instead she merely shook her head as she turned back into the cottage. 'He went to the oculist,' was all she said.

  It was apparently enough to satisfy him, for by the time she had fetched her bag and locked up the cottage he was already back in the saddle and moving off. Kirstie followed, but several times as she walked between the rows of orange trees to the house, she glanced back over her shoulder. There was still no sign of the Httle car, and as she passed through into the gardens her heart was pumping anxiously and she had decided that she definitely must do something about it.

  So convinced was she that something had happened to her grandfather that her eyes were hazy with tears and she didn't see Miguel until she was virtually on top of him. He had just come out of the house and he stood for a moment regarding her curiously. 'Kirstie?'

  When she looked at him and he saw the tears in her

  eyes, compassion overcame impatience and he moved a little closer, his attitude suggesting that he wanted to reach out and pat her hand consolingly. The gesture she made of drawing a hand across her eyes was quite automatic, but it had an irresistible appeal, and she had no idea how thin and uncertain her voice would sound.

  'I—I came as fast as I could; it isn't very much after three.'

  'Oh, for heaven's sake!' She swallowed hard and caught her bottom lip between her teeth because she was about to make a fool of herself by crying if she wasn't very careful, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Then two strong and undeniably comforting hands curved about her upper arms and his voice was suddenly much more gentle as he drew her towards him and looked down into her face. 'What on earth is the matter, child? Are you ill?'

  She could forgive him calling her child, Kirstie decided, but her carefully nurtured self-control crumbled in the face of his gentleness. 'It—it's Abuelo '

  'Don Jose?' His hands squeezed her arms lightly in encouragement. 'What's wrong, Kirstie? Has something happened to him?'

  In the event it proved much more easy to confide in him than she had thought, and she did so in a huskily unsteady voice that she did her best to control. 'He—he left quite early this morning and he said he'd be back about one, in plenty of time for lunch.' The tears flowed, despite her efforts and she shook her head. 'Something must have happened or he'd never have stayed so long without letting me know.'

  'No,' Miguel agreed with a confirming nod. 'No, he wouldn't.'

  The look in her eyes appealed for his understanding, although she couldn't doubt now that he did understand. He looked down at her for a moment, then stroked one hand lightly over her silky hair, and she could not in all fairness blame him for the reproach in his voice. 'Oh, Kirstie, why didn't you tell me this when I

  spoke to you back there?' he asked softly. But he knew, Kirstie thought; he knew why she hadn't confided in him, and she regretted it as much as he seemed to. 'We'll go and make some telephone calls,' he told her, taking her arm and turning her into the house. *Come on, little one, you have no reason yet to think the worst, so dry your tears, eh?'

  Together they went through into the cool familiarity of the hall, and while Kirstie stood anxiously by, Miguel made the promised calls. He rang the oculist first, who confirmed that Don Jose had kept his appointment and left to do some shopping. Kirstie wasn't certain whether she should be reassured or not by the fact that there had been no accident reported involving anyone of Don Jose's description; nor had the hospital any new admission that filled the bill.

  She stood beside Miguel with her hands clasped tightly together while he dialled another number, and looked up at him enquiringly. Seeing how tense she was, he pressed one of his own big hands over hers and smiled. It was the first time she remembered seeing him smile as he did then, and it made an unbelievable difference to that stem face, giving her a glimpse of another man behind the autocratic fa9ade.

  That car of your grandfather's is much more likely to be the victim than he is himself,' he suggested with an attempt at lightness, *so I'm trying the garage. It's just a chance, but one worth taking.'

  'Oh, but of course, I hadn't thought of it being just the car broken down.'

  In fact she had been so certain that something had happened to her grandfather that she hadn't given a thought to it being nothing more serious than that ramshackle old car giving out, and while Miguel listened to someone at the other end of the line, she watched him hopefully. Then he was describing her grandfather's car with surprising accuracy, and looking at her only occasionally to confirm some detail.

  She waited, holding her breath and trying to still the

  urgent thudding of her heart. Confirmation wasn't long in coming, and she perked up visibly when Miguel nodded, obviously satisfied with what he heard, so that by the time he put down the receiver her hand was curled tightly over his arm and she looked up at him anxiously.

  *It's all right, Kirstie.' His eyes glowed with satisfaction and filled her with a warm comforting feeling. 'It wasn't an accident, the car simply broke down and had to be towed to the garage. It happened right in the busiest part of town and there was some difficulty getting the towing van th
ere. Why you've heard nothing is because Don Jose has been trying for the last couple of hours to get through to this number and found it engaged each time. It was probably my cousin making some of her interminable calls to her friends. Eventually he gave up and he's now on his way home by bus.'

  Her throat was so constricted that her words were barely audible, and the relief she felt was much more emotional than her rather formal words suggested. Thank—thank you, Don Miguel.'

  In fact her relief was indescribable, and Kirstie felt a sudden need to hold on to something or someone, because it left her feeling strangely weak and unsteady. She might have instinctively leaned towards him, she couldn't honestly have said for certain, but it was completely unexpected when a hand slipped across her shoulders and she was drawn into Miguel's enfolding arms.

  Her face burrowed against the broad comfort of his chest, and she closed her eyes for a moment, while the tears she had done her best to prevent squeezed from beneath the lids and made small damp patches on his shirt. The irony of it being Miguel to whom she turned for support did not yet strike her, and she was conscious only of the infinite pleasure of being in his arms.

  There's no more to cry about.'

  His voice was quietly reassuring but slightly muffled, as if his face was smothered by her hair, and the hand

  that rubbed back and forth across her shoulders aroused those same dangerously exciting sensations again. The strong steady beat of his heart thudded against her cheek, and the hands that lay flat-palmed on his back touched warm flesh through his shirt. She was trembling, but she told herself it was only relief, yet did not for a moment believe it.

  *Kirstie?' A big hand cradled the back of her head, the thumb moving back and forth on her nape. 'It's all over, so dry your eyes, hmm?'

  'I— Vm sorry.'

  Her voice was muffled, but she stirred and lifted her head. She was incredibly reluctant to move, although she wouldn't like Miguel to reaHse it, and she shook back her hair from her face but didn't raise her eyes. Then he slid a hand under her chin and raised it so that he looked directly down into the hazy blueness of her eyes for a moment.

  'Are you O.K.?' he asked, and Kirstie nodded. Then you'd better go and give your grandfather his lunch while I explain to my uncle what's been happening. Right?'

  Briefly she looked up at him. 'You don't mind?'

  'I don't mind,' Miguel assured her quietly, then once more slid his hand under her chin. 'You were going to ask my uncle to help you, weren't you, Kirstie?' She hesitated, then nodded, knowing he wouldn't believe a denial, and he sighed, shaking his head slowly. 'Well, at least you eventually trusted me,' he remarked, and Kirstie looked up.

  'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

  He made no reply, but after a second or two he bent his head and touched his lips to hers, so lightly at first that she sensed only the warmth of his breath; then suddenly more firmly. An encircling arm pressed her close to the compelling strength of his body until she felt herself yield and flex towards him, and she clung as long as she could to the lingering excitement of his mouth.

  He gazed down at her for a moment and a hand

  cradled the back of her head still, his eyes glowing darkly in a way that sent shivers through her whole body. 'You'd better go and see your grandfather,' he told her, 'and I'll pacify my uncle; he probably thinks by now that you've deserted him.' The arms were withdrawn, leaving her with a strange sense of loss, and he lightly brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek with one fingertip. 'Adios, Kirstie.'

  'Adios!'

  He was gone with his usual swiftness and she answered him automatically as she watched him go striding across to the office to tell Enrique Montaiies why she was going to be so late. It was only when she turned to go that she realised she in turn was being watched, and something in the way the woman looked at her brought swift colour to her cheeks, for she suspected she had been there for long enough to have seen Miguel kiss her.

  The woman stood in the doorway of what Kirstie remembered as the dining salon, and she looked to be about thirty years old. She was fairly tall with slender rounded hips and a full bosom, and her hair was gleaming black. She had broodingly dramatic good looks and near-black eyes that were narrowed and glittering as she fixed them on Kirstie; so sharp with dislike that Kirstie knew without doubt that she was looking at Senora Rosa Montaiies. Her employer's daughter-in-law, and the woman who, according to Luis, had designs on Miguel.

  If Miguel had noticed her there, he had given no sign of it, and while Kirstie was instinctively glancing across at the office door she heard another door slam violently. The woman was gone, but that glittering black look of dislike was not easy to forget, and Kirstie wondered if Miguel had any idea of the violent passions he had aroused when he kissed her.

  Heaven forbid that Rosa Montanes should take it into her head to extract revenge for what had surely been meant as no more than an added reassurance after the

  shock of her grandfather. Luis had promised her fireworks during his cousin's stay, but she hadn't anticipated anything Hke Miguel's kiss, or the fact that there would be a witness to it. And just for a moment she admitted to feeling afraid.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Luis Montanes was not the type to be deprived of his riding simply because his brother had prior claim to the only horse, and within a couple of weeks of his arrival he had bought himself a beautiful dark Arab gelding. It was a typically extravagant gesture, Kirstie suspected, for Luis as the youngest of the Montanes brothers was used to getting what he wanted, and he enjoyed his riding.

  Mostly he accompanied Kirstie, but occasionally she went alone and, although she enjoyed Luis's company, she had to confess to enjoying her soHtary moments too. Alone she could imagine that things were as they had been before the advent of the Montaiies, and she still liked to pretend that Casa de Rodriguez was still hers and her grandfather's.

  Her feelings towards the Montanes had begun to change lately, she had to admit, and it was mostly due to Luis's obvious attraction to her, for he made her feel as she hadn't felt for some time. She saw less of Miguel than she did of Luis, although he still called to see her grandfather occasionally, and recently she had got the impression that there might be some kind of business deal going on between them. It was just an impression she got, but if Miguel did put a little profitable speculation her grandfather's way it would be very good for his morale, and she would be grateful to him for it.

  It was sometimes hard to beheve she had been working for Enrique Montanes for nearly three weeks, and hardly less credible that in the several days Rosa Montanes had been there she had seen nothing more of her after that one brief glimpse in the hall. She had seen Enrique's granddaughter a couple of times, but had never actually met her.

  Margarita Montanes was fourteen years old, but al-

  though she was still so young she gave promise of being just as darkly sultry as her mother. Either the girl was very shy or she had no desire to recognise her grandfather's secretary, for when Kirstie had ventured a greeting one day, she had received nothing but a long hard stare in return. In all probability the girl's mother was responsible for her attitude, so that Kirstie made allowances for her on that account.

  The evening meal had taken less time than usual, so Kirstie had decided to fetch Scheherazade and take a leisurely ride through the groves before dark. The mare picked her way over the familiar ground, her hooves clicking flintily on the stones and her ears pricked for whatever sounds invaded the evening stillness.

  It was a soft whinny of warning from the mare that brought to Kirstie's attention the fact that they were not the only ones abroad, and she narrowed her eyes against the lowering sun to try and see who it was. The horse was Luis's handsome gelding, but the rider was unmistakably a woman, and to Kirstie that suggested Rosa Montaiies, and she could think of no one she would rather not meet.

  There was a haughty angle to her head and, as the distance between them lessened, Kirstie was able to notice details of the rathe
r masculine-looking garb she was wearing. Tailored breeches and long boots were worn with a plain fawn shirt and with a flame-coloured bandana flaunting about her throat to give a touch of flamboyance that proclaimed her very feminine despite her costume. And when she saw her, Kirstie wondered if this was the kind of woman that Luis meant when he had described Miguel's taste.

  Her first instinct was to turn aside, but that might have suggested she was nervous of meeting her, and Kirstie had her pride too. In fact they were practically on the perimeter of the Rodriguez estate and she couldn*t go much farther without turning back or aside. Uncertain what to do for the best, she stopped and dismounted in the hope that the other woman

  would simply ride on by.

  But it was obvious that Rosa Montanes had no intention of riding on by. Instead she advanced to where Kirstie had tethered the mare and then sat looking at the animal for a moment while Kirstie stood with her back against a tree and tried to appear nonchalant. When the dark eyes were eventually turned in her direction she noticed that they were heavy-lidded and frankly assessing, and the gelding was moved a pace or two closer, while the haughty scrutiny continued.

  *Good evening, sefiora.'

  She had received no encouragement, but Kirstie was polite from habit, though it seemed the greeting was to be ignored, and the unfriendly eyes continued to watch her. 'So you're the secretary!'

  The harsh voice conveyed unmistakably that secretaries were not a breed she was normally called upon to recognise, and Kirstie felt the colour in her cheeks rise with a curl of anger that churned in her stomach. She kept a firm hold on her temper because she wasn't anxious to quarrel with her employer's daughter-in-law, but it wasn't easy.

  'I'm Seiior Montanes' secretary, senora,' she acknowledged quietly, and the tall figure on the horse seemed to draw itself up even more haughtily.

  'And I am his daughter-in-law,' she was informed, with the obvious expectation of impressing her.

  Kirstie didn't bother to admit that she already knew her identity, but simply introduced herself more fully. 'I'm Kirstie Rodriguez; how do you do, Seiiora Montanes?'