Dressed as she most often saw him, in slim-fitting light trousers and an open-necked shirt, with the bottoms of the trousers tucked into short leather boots, he was an impressive figure by any standard. And with his broad shoulders pulled back and a dark, menacing look in his eyes when he turned around from the window, he made her feel very small.
His mood was conveyed by the steady tapping of a red leather quirt against one leg, and she eyed it warily. 'Don Miguel.'
He inclined his head in a very formal bow, and it was hard to believe he had held her in his arms and kissed her such a short time ago, for his formality froze her with its chill. She glanced at her grandfather appealingly, but he seemed not to notice, and she wondered just what the two of them had been saying before she came out of her room.
*I have Don Jose's permission to speak with you alone for a few moments,' said Miguel, and it went without
saying that her grandfather had given his permission without hesitation, she thought.
'Abuelor
Don Jose looked at her and shook his head; his eyes were gentle but his manner was unrelenting. 'It's a reasonable request, child,' hh told her quiedy. 'Don Miguel has something he wishes to say to you, and while he does so I shall sit in my bedroom.'
'Please, that won't be necessary, senor,' Miguel assured him, respectful as always to the older man. 'If Senorita Rodriguez will come out on to the patio with me '
What else could she do but agree? Kirstie thought as she nodded consent. Her grandfather was just as much aware of what Miguel was there for as she was herself, and obviously he was going to let her handle the interview as she had said she wanted to. Only then she had been anticipating talking to Luis, not Miguel.
Outside, the scent of oranges was sweet and heady, and Kirstie made directly for the shade of the only tree their tiny patio possessed. She stood under the spread of its branches feeling as she had never felt in her life before, and finding it impossible to decide whether it was anxiety alone that made her heart race the way it did. The way Miguel affected her had always been cause for concern, and it was especially so in the present circumstances.
He stood facing her, and he looked so menacingly dark in the shadows, so gloweringly stem, that she found herself shaking like a leaf. For several moments he did no more than stand and look at her, and eventually the silence became so unbearable that she turned and moved off a pace or two, clasping her hands together in front of her. She spoke in a soft halting voice that must have told him exactly how she was feeling.
Luis's plan had obviously gone wrong and she felt guilty about her own part in it for his sake, because it had been her insistence that had made him do it. She had no doubt he had already felt the full weight of
Miguel's wrath, and now it was her turn; Miguel was too shrewd to attribute the entire blame to his brother.
*I—I was expecting Luis.'
'So I understand,' said Miguel, and something in his voice was as hard as the look in his eyes, sending shivers coursing along her spine like a flurry of icicles. 'Need I say he won't be bringing the mare down here?'
She looked over her shoulder at the open archway into the grove automatically. 'Where—where is he?'
It didn't really make any difference, she thought hazily; Luis would be somewhere nursing his pride, and it would soon be her turn to do the same, if that dark ominous gaze was any guide. 'You'd better consider your own position instead of worrying about my brother,' Miguel told her harshly. 'I'm not exonerating Luis, but I can guess just how much pressure was put on him before he agreed to that stupid trick. He'd promised me that whatever happened he wouldn't let you ride that damned gelding, and I think he would have kept his promise in normal circumstances.'
Kirstie had never seen him in this mood before and there was a harshness about him that touched unexpected depths in her. She was ready to admit her responsibility, but alarmed at the possible outcome once she had admitted it, and she passed a moistening tongue over her lips first. 'I—it was my fault basically, I kept asking Luis to let me ride Suli and '
'And what did you eventually offer him that he found too hard to resist?' he demanded. 'Or am I being indiscreet, Senorita Rodriguez?'
It took a second or two for Kirstie to realise the full import of what he said, and when she did she stared at him in disbelief, the colour burning in her cheeks. And yet in some strange way it hurt much more than it made her angry, and she didn't begin to try and understand that. 'You have no grounds—^you have no—no reason to say anything like that,' she whispered, shaking her head slowly back and forth. 'Luis wouldn't—he had no possible cause to say anything Hke that.'
'I know Luis,' Miguel told her in the same flat, cold voice. 'He'd have to have some very strong inducement to take the risk of causing a family quarrel, and you're defiant and wilful enough to promise anything as long as you get your own way!'
'No!' She was desperate to convince him and alarmingly close to tears; still more hurt than angry, although her emotions were so tangled it was difficult to know exactly what she felt. 'You—you don't know me at all if you can think—what you're thinking, and I thought '
'I know that you've never been ready to accept the inevitable,' Miguel insisted relentlessly, 'but this time you're going to, or by God you're going to be sorry!'
'You can't ' she began, but he cut her short ruthlessly.
'I can do whatever I think fit,' he told her, 'and somehow or other you're going to have to learn that you can't go your own sweet way whatever the circumstances!'
He hadn't mentioned the fact, but on more than one occasion her grandfather had reminded her how dependent they were on the good will of the Montanes, and she looked up at him anxiously. 'You wouldn't—you wouldn't put us out?' she ventured, and told herself she couldn't beHeve it of him even in this toweringly angry mood.
For a long moment Miguel said nothing, but the quirt still tapped against his boot and the glowing blackness of his eyes burned her like fire. 'Your opinion of me never changes, does it?' he asked. 'I have too much respect for Don Jose and, I hope, too much humanity to put you both out of your home, but your own position '
He didn't finish the sentence, but he had no need to, and Kirstie hadn't meant to let him see how close to tears she was. Now it was too late for there was nothing she could do to stop them and she hastily used her fingertips to brush them away. 'Is Senor Montanes going
to dismiss me?' she ventured in such a small voice that it was barely audible, and for a moment Miguel regarded her narrowly, almost as if he suspected her of trying to play on his sympathy.
'So far no one knows about this but you and Luis and myself, and Don Jose, I understand. You should be thankful that Rosa knows nothing or my uncle would have had no choice this time but to get rid of you. You stay away from the stables and the horses, is that clear?'
'Yes.'
'And you do not pressure Luis into lending you the gelding.' She nodded, brushing the tears away with her fingertips again. 'Give me your word that you won't indulge in any more stupid tricks like this and no one else need know.'
'I promise!' She wondered how far he would believe her now, but his manner had softened slightly, she thought as she looked up at him from the thickness of her lashes. 'I—I'd already promised Abuelo that I'd tell Luis when he came that I'd changed my mind.'
'I know, Don Jose told me.' Yet he had still turned the full fury of his anger on her, Kirstie thought hazily, and again brushed at her misty eyes. Miguel took a large white handkerchief from a pocket and thrust it into her hand. 'Dry your eyes,' he instructed in a voice that was much more like normal.
With the handkerchief to her eyes, she used its cover to look up at him. 'I changed my mind about going when Luis told me about Rosa—Seiiora Montanes,' she told him.
'I haven't the remotest idea what you're talking about,' Miguel informed her brusquely, but although he professed ignorance Kirstie believed he knew perfectly well what she referred to.
'I'm talking abo
ut the fact that you—worked on your cousin until she told the truth about the attack I'm supposed to have made on her,' Kirstie insisted, and hurried on when he looked as if he might interrupt. 'Luis told me how you made her tell what really happened, and it
was such a relief to know that you really did believe my version after all.'
'Believe you?' He frowned at her curiously. 'Of course I believed you, you little fool. However many shortcomings you might have, I don't count attempted murder among them.' He eyed her narrowly for a moment. 'What other possible reason could you think I had for persuading Rosa not to call in the guardia right at the beginning?' he demanded, and Kirstie shrugged uneasily. 'Well?'
She hesitated, carefully avoiding his eyes while she tried to explain how she had been prepared to believe he was more interested in guarding his family's name than in clearing hers. 'You—you could have been concerned with preventing a scandal,' she said.
'Luis's suggestion?'
He was shrewd enough to see his brother's hand behind it, and Kirstie saw little point in denying it.
'But Abuelo said it was a reasonable thing for you to be more concerned with your family's good name,' she told him, and glanced up at him again briefly. 'Of course Abuelo approves of almost anything you do.'
'Unlike his granddaughter!' The quirt was laid across the palm of his other hand and no longer tapped impatiently, but while he spoke he poked with a booted foot at the edge of the flower border. 'I understand that Don Jose disapproves of the way Luis behaves with you, taking into account the fact that Luis has made it quite clear he isn't going to marry you.' He turned and looked directly at her, and his eyes were slightly narrowed and questioning. 'Do you have any complaints about the way Luis behaves, Kirstie?'
It wasn't an easy question to answer in the circumstances, and her heart was beating alarmingly hard and fast. Keeping her eyes downcast, she hoped she sounded unsurprised by the fact that he had been discussing her affairs with her grandfather. 'I've nothing to complain at>out,' she told him, her voice slightly husky. 'Luis does—take things for granted sometimes, but as I've
told Abuelo, that's the way things are these days, it doesn't have to be taken too seriously and I can cope. He—he was so sure Luis was going to marry me, although Vd told him from the start that he wouldn't.'
*You don't want to marry Luis?'
It seemed scarcely credible that she was standing there discussing her relationship with Luis, with Miguel of all people, but the softness that was now in his voice made it hard to take offence and she merely shook her head. 'I'm not as concerned with marriage as Abuelo is. It was a silly, old-fashioned idea to want to marry me off Uke that, and I told him I wouldn't even consider it.'
Miguel was regarding her with his deep, dark eyes, and little shivers slipped along her spine. *You never will accept the inevitable, will you, Kirstie?'
*Being forced into marriage isn't inevitable,' she argued.
'Not being forced against your will, I agree,' Miguel conceded quietly, 'but it is inevitable that you'll marry sooner or later, you must realise that, surely.' A hand slipped beneath her chin and he looked down into her face for a long moment, searching every feature as if he sought some indication to her innermost feelings. 'Any man who marries you will need to be very strong-willed,' he went on, still in the same quietly affecting voice. 'You're wilful, disobedient and discontented, and you need a much firmer hand than Luis could provide.'
It was some wild, irresistible impulse that made her react as she did, and the urgency of her heartbeat drove her on. Looking up at him, at the dark, implacable face with its depthless eyes, she met his gaze boldly and directly for a moment. 'Like you?' she suggested huskily, and Miguel's hand tightened about her chin until his fingers dug bruisingly hard into her skin.
Then he bent his head and touched his mouth to hers, just lightly at first, until passion flared suddenly and consumed her. His mouth was hard and fierce, just as she remembered it, and it ravished her senses, while a hand slid down to her throat and the thumb moved in a
light, sensual caress over the throbbing pulse at its base.
He held her close, so close that the sheer bold male-ness of him touched every nerve in her body, and she responded to it with an abandon she had never known she possessed. Her whole body pulsed with a wild, irresistible desire and it was as if she had left the world for a place so much more thrilling that she had no wish ever to leave it.
When he eventually released her mouth it was very, very slowly and with obvious reluctance, and his lips were pursed slightly to prolong the contact as long as possible. 'You could always get under my skin,' he murmured in a smokily husky voice that was warm against her mouth, and his eyes had the depth and blackness of jet when he looked down at her. 'I believe you'd marry me, and I know I could cope with you; also I have it on his own word that Don Jose would rather have me than Luis!'
Kirstie gazed up at him, her eyes hazy with disbelief for a moment before she shook her head. She recalled the buzz of voices in the salon, but not for a moment had it occurred to her what they were discussing, and when the full implication of his words finally came home to her she struggled frantically to be free of him.
It was all too easy to imagine her grandfather, disappointed at Luis's adamant decision not to marry, approaching Miguel instead, and she realised that she was shaking like a leaf. Her breathing was deep and exaggerated and must have shown him exactly how deeply she was affected. She hadn't much to bring him in the way of worldly goods, but she was pretty enough and her pedigree was impeccable, something that would be important to someone like Miguel with his family pride; she imagined it all.
Til never forgive him!' she whispered in an agony of humihation, and the tears ran unchecked down her face. 'How could he!'
She broke free of him, half stumbling in her anxiety to get away, and only vaguely heard Miguel's voice as
she ran into the house and straight into her own room where she slammed the door behind her. Nothing—but nothing would induce her to go to Casa de Rodriguez ever again, and she certainly couldn't face Miguel again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was the very first time Kirstie had had angry words with her grandfather, and the exchange had proved almost as upsetting as the reason for her anger. Don Jose had not given her a full explanation, but he had allowed that he and Miguel had discussed the matter of finding her a husband, and that alone had been sufficient to invoke her fury. He acted only with her best interests at heart, her grandfather insisted, and in the circumstances he considered her reaction unreasonable.
^Unreasonable!' Kirstie had echoed bitterly. *It's enough that you think me incapable of running my own life, but to approach Miguel as you did is the last straw! Can you imagine how he must have been feeling when he spoke to me? No wonder he was angry! And then when we—when he—Oh, I could curl up and die when I think about it! How am I ever going to face any of them again?'
Kirstie couldn't honestly have said that he seemed upset by her tirade, but he was surprised by it, and he had not understood the need to give up her job with Enrique. To Kirstie there was no other course, for whether Miguel mentioned her grandfather's proposal to the rest of his family or not she simply couldn't face the embarrassment of seeing him again, so she made no attempt to go to Casa de Rodriguez the following morning.
She supposed she should have given Enrique some kind of explanation, offered an apology for her absence and given him proper notice of her intention to quit. But they had no telephone and except for going to the house, she had no means of communicating with him. Maybe when she had had time to recover her equilibrium she would call and see Enrique, but at the moment she simply couldn't face any of them.
Going for a walk was merely a way of getting away from the cottage and giving herself time to think things over, but she longed for the company of her belovSl Scheherazade. The way things were at the moment it seemed very unlikely she would have the opportunity to ride again, and as she set o
ut Kirstie thought how many things had changed for the worse lately. The sense of insecurity that had begun when they had to leave Casa de Rodriguez seemed overwhelming suddenly, and her eyes filled with tears as she walked along the track between the orange trees.
The irrigation channels that poured life into the fertile huerta did not have the same charm as the country bums she had known as a child in Scotland, but still they gave something of the same sense of coolness and peace that only water can give to a landscape, artificial or not. And it was instinctive when she eventually stopped beside one of them and leaned against a tree, so steeped in her own unhappiness that she was conscious of nothing else.
She had not even heard anyone approaching, and when Rosa Montaiies' sharp voice addressed her she turned swiftly and looked at her with slightly dazed eyes: Mounted on Luis's gelding, she looked a formidable figure, and Kirstie guessed that Miguel's insistence on clearing her name had made the woman's dislike of her more virulent than ever.
It was too late to try and disguise the traces of those self-pitying tears she had shed, and the other woman made no attempt to conceal the satisfaction it gave her to notice them. 'You've been crying,' she said. 'Has someone upset you? Is that why you've decided to give yourself the morning off without saying anything to your employer?'
'I—I couldn't get in touch with him.'
Rosa's dark brows arched quizzically. 'Haven't you a telephone in that primitive little hut?' She laughed shortly, her eyes gleaming with malice. 'No, I suppose you haven't; it's all very basic, isn't it? Not what you're
used to. Giving you that job was an act of charity on my father-in-law's part, of course, he can be foolishly soft-hearted at times. If he wasn't he'd have got rid of you long ago!'
Keeping a tight hold on herself, Kirstie gave her an answer that she doubted would get back to Enrique in the same form as she gave it. 'As it happens I'm giving up my job, senora, for—personal reasons.'
It sounded such a prim and conventional excuse and Rosa's sharp black eyes were watching her suspiciously, for she would suspect any unexpected move on Kirstie's part. Her dislike of her was almost paranoic. 'Personal reasons?'
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