"I'm getting a hot drink. Do you want one?" she asked abruptly, and he smiled tiredly, turning with her as she walked towards the kitchen.
"That would be nice, I think." He glanced at his watch. "I had forgotten the hour. We will perhaps not leave so early in the morning. We will stay overnight in Caracas instead."
"Thank you for consulting me," she murmured sarcastically, flicking on the light in the gleaming modern kitchen. "That means that I'll have to pack a bag for Manolito and myself. Still, it means more shopping time."
She busied herself with heating milk and getting cups from the high cupboards as Ramon perched on the edge of the table, watching and saying nothing.
"You realise," she said at last into the tightening silence, "that the probable reason for the renewed nightmares is the idea of flying tomorrow!"
"I know it," he said quietly. "It is, however, necessary."
"It could have waited, I think," she suggested tartly, her eyes flashing to his. "A few more weeks would have made all the difference to him."
"When you were learning to ride and fell with frustrating frequency from your mount," he reminded her, "I put you back at once into the saddle. Do you not remember why?"
"Yes," she sighed, giving him best as usual.
"A fear can only grow," he stated, "and it is worse to imagine than to face. Manuel must fly otherwise he is here like a person marooned in a sea of tall grass. The journeys are too long without a plane and one day he will run the hacienda and all the business of the Ortigas. He will run it alone if I do not marry. There is not the time for long and tiresome journeys by road."
She nodded. She didn't want to think about the time when Ramon would marry. For almost seven years she had pushed him out of her mind, but within one day the old magic, the old yearning had started to eat into her again and she was trapped securely. She could not leave Manolito, and to stay would only weaken her resolve to treat Ramon as a cold, uncaring stranger.
The flight to Caracas the following day was after all uneventful. Ramon flew the plane himself and Meriel sat in the back with Manuel, his fingers tightly grasping hers, leaving Carmen to sit beside Ramon. Gradually, the tight grip had slackened and she saw her brother looking more and more out of the window, his interest growing as his fear lessened, and once again, she bowed to Ramon's superior knowledge and common sense.
Today, she was the one who felt marooned, trapped by Manuel's need and the promise she had made. It was odd that from being so locked out and forlorn, the demands on her were now demands of love. There was Manolito who wished her to stay here for ever, there was her father who had not remarried although he was only in his late forties and who cherished every moment with her, and then there was Stewart Mackensie who wanted to marry her.
Her eyes ran over Ramon who sat in front of her, flying the light plane with the competence he showed in everything, and she realised with a sinking, sickening feeling that she was secretly feasting her eyes on him, as drawn to him now as she had ever been, her yearning more painful now that it was the desire of a grown woman.
She forced her eyes away and looked across the llanos. What was Dona Barbara like now—almost seven years later? She had always been uncompromisingly straight and stiff, sternly unbending in her superior glances. Had she softened ? Meriel doubted it, Carmen had grown more unspeakable with the passing of the years.
And what had become of Consuelo Sandoval? She had been in no doubt when Ramon had rejected her that he had intended to marry the Venezuelan girl, that his desire for her had been only a moment of moonlit madness. Still, he had said that there had been plenty of women in his life while she had been away. Her hands clenched and she dragged her thoughts free of him, realising only too well that she didn't want to imagine other women in his arms, welcoming his kisses.
She was afraid, as fearful as she had ever been in this land. She needed to draw on her years in England and her independence to strengthen her resolve to dislike Ramon and somehow take Manolito away from here. The time could not come soon enough.
As they drove along the Avenida Libertador towards the Caracas Hilton, Meriel found that in spite of her many worries and growing misery a sort of bubbling excitement was growing inside her. For the rest of the day and for much of the next day she would be here in Caracas, in the thriving dynamic city that lifted the spirits, its streets wide and splendid, filled with irrepressible Venezuelans and tourists from all over the world. Carmen had gone, reluctantly and with many uneasy backward glances, but nevertheless she had gone, and as they sat in the car that Ramon had hired, Meriel saw Manolito's spirits rising to meet the occasion, his eyes like saucers as he twisted his head from side to side, trying to see everything at once, questions and comments pouring from him in never-ending streams.
Ramon too was all Venezuelan today, his expression amused as he listened to Manuel, his eyes softly mocking when they fell on Meriel, and once more she found herself going under in the tide of feeling that swept over her whenever she was close to her stepbrother.
"How soon can we shop?" she asked as breathlessly as Manuel, both anxious to know and anxious too to have the dark eyes a little more cool. She needed all the help she could get.
"When we are settled if you feel up to it," he said easily. "This afternoon I have an appointment that cannot be put off as it is the reason for this visit, but later, or tomorrow, I can take you wherever you wish to go."
"No!" She felt a hot burst of colour when his eyes momentarily left the busy highway and glanced in astonishment at her sharp refusal. "I—I mean you don't have to bother. Leave Manolito to me and then you'll be free to get on without too much strain."
"How very kind," he said softly. "I have arranged to meet my visitor in the suite that we have booked at the hotel. You are suggesting then that afterwards I lie back on the settee and put my feet up while you brave the traffic of this teeming metropolis?"
"Why not? I'm sure you work too hard. You—you could perhaps get a little sleep in. You looked really tired last night."
"I do not know whether to be touched by your kindness to me or deeply suspicious," he said, bursting into quiet laughter. "I cannot think offhand what mischief you could be planning. I think I have covered all exigencies in that direction, having seen the sort of wilful person you have become, but even so, you do not know Caracas and I would hate to lose you both."
"I live in one of the biggest and busiest cities in the world!" Meriel retorted. "In any case, I can take a taxi wherever I want to go and I assume that the taxi drivers know Caracas."
He nodded, still amused and thoughtful. "Very well, I will take your advice. After my meeting I will rest. I only hope that you will not be falling asleep in my arms tonight when we dine. The dancing here is good," he added as he pulled into the hotel car park. "We will make the most of it while we are here."
"Oh, I don't think…' Meriel began anxiously, the thought of being in Ramon's arms for any reason at all, not to her liking.
"Thinking will not be necessary," he assured her firmly. "I have already done the thinking. I have agreed to your suggestion, I hope that you will also agree to my plans."
"Will I be allowed to watch television in my room as usual, Ramon?" Manuel put in excitedly. "I normally do when you come here and go downstairs to dinner and to dance."
"Naturally, everyone to his own pleasure," Ramon assured him reasonably. "You think that you are up to it? You seem to be earmarked for an afternoon's shopping."
"I'll be fine! I'll not be tired. You promised, Ramon!"
"I did, and promises must be kept," Ramon answered, his eyes darting a glance of pure mischief at Meriel.
She was still worriedly mulling that over in her mind when later she pushed her way through the crowds with Manuel's hand firmly in her own, her bag seemingly full of money that Ramon had quietly but insistently pressed on her. She too had made a promise to Manolito and she was as incapable of breaking her promises as was Ramon, he had trained her too well for that.
Also she had been quietly but startlingly shocked to find that Ramon and Manuel had a life together that she knew nothing of. They came to Caracas together, it seemed. She had never thought of that, had never thought that they would have any common ground, that Ramon would have either the time or the inclination to drag a boy with him to the city. He had protected her because she was an outsider and lonely but it seemed that after all, in spite of her thoughts to the contrary, Ramon treated Manuel as his brother and cared about him, was lenient with him.
The thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind as she took Manuel from shop to shop, modernising his wardrobe and gleefully smartening him in a way that would be anathema to Dona Barbara and Carmen. A young man of the world.
She said this to him when they had at last finished and Manuel grinned widely, pleased with the purchases and still filled with energy. On the way too, she had bought herself a gown for the evening. Her clothes were not suitable for any dinner and dance at this de-luxe hotel where world-famous artistes entertained guests in the rooftop supper club, and Ramon had made no mention of their hotel when they had left the hacienda. Spending some of his money didn't trouble her at all, curiously enough; she would have been more troubled if she had been forced to appear beside him looking shabby.
It was getting late and she glanced at her watch.
"Just time for one more thing before we meet Ramon for tea," she said, briskly darting into a shop beside them and pointing out to Manuel the coloured jeans and T-shirts on display. "One more for the road?"
"Si, if it pleases you, Merry." Manuel took off his tie and prepared once again to try on clothes, his eyes amused when he looked at her.
"Yes—well." She didn't like the way her heart leapt when she saw the likeness between Manuel and Ramon.
When they returned to the hotel in a taxi, their purchases stacked on the seat beside the driver, they had a minute to observe each other's apparel. They had kept on the latest garments, Manuel at last calling a halt to endless dressing and undressing and Meriel because she felt in some queer way defiant, a perverse desire to shock Ramon surging through her.
Manuel was all modern youth, tight blue jeans and a bright yellow T-shirt that contrasted splendidly with his black hair, new sneakers on his feet, but it was the T-shirt that was designed for shock. "Hot shot." The words were emblazoned across his chest and Meriel dissolved into laugher when she thought of the expression on Carmen's face if she should ever see him like this. Manuel too was openly laughing as he gazed at her. In red jeans, equally tight, her feet in red and white trainers, she looked for the first time in her life impish and just slightly outrageous, the four-inch word across the front of her T-shirt holding the eye and drawing attention to her round, high breasts. "Help!" It stood out in stark black against the white and there was no ignoring it.
"I think that help is what we shall both need when Ramon sees these things," Manuel warned, but she was not to be intimidated right now.
"Nonsense!" We'll meet him for tea as arranged. We'll only be a couple of minutes late."
"I think that perhaps you are making a mistake, Meriel," Manuel said, growing a little anxious, but she grinned at him widely, his greatly loved sister, and he smiled the slow smile that Ramon could tear at her heart with and said nothing more.
She did wonder whether or not she should have taken his advice, though, when they presented themselves at the door of the rather splendid tea-room in the hotel and were stopped by as very firm but very polite waiter.
"I regret, senorita, that it is necessary for the young man to be in a little more formal dress to take tea here and also, regrettably, ladies are expected to wear a skirt or dress, or some such thing."
"But we're staying here!"
"Ah! Very good! Then I will see that your order is prepared while you change for tea." The smile was genuine, but firm.
"I'll do no such thing!" Her newer dynamic personality surfaced and Meriel dug in. "We are taking tea with someone and we are already five minutes late!"
"Senorita, I regret but…'
"They are with me, Marcelo, in spite of their odd appearance." Ramon, elegant in grey slacks and grey silk shirt, his cream silk tie a perfection of its own, walked easily towards them and took Meriel's arm. "My brother you surely remember and as to my wife, I am afraid that she is English. The English love to play pranks and I fear that this one is directed at me. There are few guests in the tea-room at this hour. Forgive their unruly appearance on this occasion."
"Senor Ortiga, I understand, I did not know that you… it will be quite all right, Senora Ortiga, my apologies."
Meriel was hustled away with ease in a charming way that looked as if she was being escorted to her table like a queen, but the iron grip on her arm told her that Ramon was not particularly amused. Scenes were not in his line. They were not in her line either and she wondered what had come over her.
"The English also have an overrated opinion of themselves," Ramon added darkly as the waiter departed. "They ignore the customs of others and delight in drawing attention to themselves, which is not a very pleasant way of conducting one's affairs."
His eyes fell on her T-shirt, lingering on the quickening rise and fall of her breasts and the word emblazoned across the front. "I am greatly surprised that you did not also buy a nice hat with "Kiss me quick" written across the front of it. You are surely in an outfit that slightly lacks something."
Manuel smothered a burst of laughter and drank his tea with a solemn dignity that Meriel wished she could copy. She was as shy and red-faced now as she had ever been when Ramon called her to order.
"Why—why did you tell that man that I was your wife?" she demanded in a low voice, Manuel trying very hard to look as if he was totally deaf.
"How else do you imagine I was going to get you in here and rescue both you and the waiter from the embarrassing situation that you had created?" he asked coolly.
"There was no need for him to refuse us entry!" she began hotly but he silenced her with cold eyes and a sharp reprimand.
"The rules are not his. He is merely the waiter. The rules are for the comfort and peace of mind of the other guests. I would very much doubt if anyone would think to appear in the public rooms in a bikini but perhaps there are others about with little discrimination. The rules are to keep them on the right tracks. It is very bad form to embarrass a person who is merely doing his job but perhaps you do not know that."
She was trembling now with nerves and her bag fell to the floor, spilling the contents close to the table, and she bent quickly to retrieve it, fumbling in her anxiety. Ramon too bent quickly, his strong capable hands rapidly replacing the make-up, money and sun-glasses that had spread themselves across the floor.
"If you tell me what kind of help you need I will try to oblige," he said quietly, below the hearing of Manuel. "The message is for me, is it not?"
She shot up very rapidly indeed and when next she risked a glance at him he was calmly drinking tea, no expression on his face but deep in his eyes a thoughtful speculation.
"Did you buy anything for yourself?" he asked pleasantly when they were at last back in the luxury of the apartment that he had rented and Manuel had disappeared to his own room to begin the job of unpacking his new clothes.
"Yes, I bought a dress for this evening. As you didn't see fit to point out to me that we would be dining in a splendid place, I brought nothing suitable with me."
"Very good." He leaned against her bedroom door as she strode away from him. "That was very wise thinking. I hope however that the dress is not embroidered with anxious words."
She did not answer and he strolled uninvited into the room as she turned angrily to request that he leave.
"The little scene down there was for my benefit, was it not, Meriel?" he asked quietly, standing near to her. "I was to be put in my place in a defiant and childish manner?"
"No." She looked down her lashes covering her flushed cheeks. "I just didn't think. It was stupid really b
ut when the waiter said we couldn't come in I…'
"You felt once again in your life—excluded—but this time your new-found security and hard-headed salesperson attitude surfaced automatically!"
She stared at him, almost frightened by his astute recognition of her mood when she had confronted the waiter, and he smiled softly.
"You see? I know you. I know you better than anyone in the world knows you." He lifted his hand and began to trace the words across her breasts with one tantalising finger. "An intriguing message. What deep and hidden instinct made you choose this particular word, I wonder?"
Almost unable to breathe as his finger reached the rise of her breast and moved across the swollen mound to the hard tightening centre, she drew back with a gasp of alarm and he smiled slowly, his eyes widening into intent consideration.
"Is there another message on the back?" he enquired softly. "I confess that I have neglected to look, as the front is so absorbing." He reached for her shoulders and turned her easily because she had no resistance in her body and he knew it. "I'm disappointed," he breathed softly, pulling her against him, his breath warm on her face as he bent to whisper to her. "I had hoped that there was another message for me. "I want you, Ramon", because you do, don't you, Meriel?"
"No!" Stung into life, she pulled free, but she could not face him and she heard his soft laughter as he walked out of the room.
"You have never been able either to lie or conceal your feelings," he said with amusement. "You will tell me the words without the aid of a written message before you leave my country."
He closed the door quietly and she pulled off the T-shirt and threw it to the ground. She had been called to order and punished in the most cruel way that he could find, and her fear grew as she realised again that he could almost read her soul.
She dressed for dinner later in a thoughtful mood, trying to be as she had become and not as she had always been in this land. It was no use ducking the issue, hiding from the truth: she was still in love with Ramon, more in love with him than she had been at eighteen. All that six years had done was to heighten her senses, her awareness of him, and she could tell herself any stories she liked, embroider any incident of coldness and cruelty, it made little difference.
The Ortiga Marriage Page 7
