Rebecca Stratton - Castles in Spain

by Rebecca Stratton

  'If I have it's your fault,' Holly said, her mouth pouting softly in reproach. 'You shouldn't talk as if you'd rather be with Helena!' She tiptoed and kissed him lingeringly on his mouth, then shook her head, a small frown between her brows. 'What will you say to her, Marcos?'

  He looked down at her steadily for a moment, and something in the black eyes made her put her hands to his chest and lean away from him, a sudden coldness in her heart. 'I shall say nothing to Helena, nina, and neither will you. It would be most unwise.'

  'But - Marcos!'

  She knew, of course. She had known at the back of her mind, all the time he was kissing her like that, that he would never want Helena Mendez to know about it. Whatever happened, he would marry Helena because it had all been arranged years before, and Helena was a suitable bride for Don Jose's only son - the last of the autocratic Delgaros. She was a fool to have supposed it could ever be any different.

  'You will not do anything foolish, mi pequena?' He spoke softly, but there was more than a hint of warning in the words, and his black eyes hinted at that ruthless look again.

  'Like telling Senorita Mendez about this - this little episode?' She sounded bitter, and she knew it, but she had never before felt so utterly let down in her life. Of course it was ridiculous to suppose that anyone could fall in love in the few weeks that she and Marcos Delgaro had known one another, but she had thought herself very close to it, and even now she could feel her heart beat responding to the touch of those strong brown hands that still encircled her arms, and the dark, almost sensuous look of his wide mouth. She laughed shortly, easing herself out of his grasp, her eyes carefully concealed by long, dark lashes. 'Oh, don't worry, senor,' she told him. 'I won't give you away!'

  'Holly!'

  Take me home,' Holly said in a shaking voice. 'Or at least take me back to your castle, Don Marcos, but don't ever - don't ever touch me again!'

  He swore softly in Spanish, and Holly, despite her own anger and misery, shrank before the glitter in hose fierce black eyes, then he opened the car door and bobbed his head in a mock bow as he saw her into the car. 'I cannot promise that, senorita,' he told her harshly as he slammed the door on her. 'You are very beautiful, and very provocative, and since I am a man as sensitive to encouragement as any other, I cannot guarantee that you will be safe from my attentions.'

  'You're—' Holly's eyes widened in disbelief and she stared at him for a moment .as he stood there with one hand on the door, the knuckles tight and white-boned as if he contained temper, or some other equally harrowing emotion, only with difficulty. 'You can't blame me for what happened,' she said. 'How could you say it was my fault?'

  He said nothing for a moment, then he shook his head. 'It was no one's - fault, Holly,' he said quietly. 'It was just one of those things that happen, and one is not meant to take them so-so seriously.'

  'I see.'

  She sat with her hands in her lap, holding the small camera tightly, barely controlling the wild and quite unreasonable instinct that wanted her to fling the camera at him. One large hand reached out and touched her cheek lightly, and she shied away as if he had struck her.

  'You are more a baby than I thought,' he said softly. 'I shall have to treat you more kindly, nina.'

  He walked round and got into the driving seat and started up the engine in one swift lithe movement, while Holly coped with anger, tears and a dozen other emotions that she did not attempt to interpret. There was one certain way of avoiding any further complications of this kind, and that was to leave the castle and go elsewhere for the remainder of her holiday. Only, she told herself, she hated to disappoint Aunt Nan.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Helena Mendez, now that she was back from Paris, made no secret of the fact that she intended Marcos to have as little time as possible free for Holly, and she had been to the castle several times during the week since her return. Holly avoided her whenever she could, partly because she felt a certain sense of guilt when she remembered how she had responded to Marcos's advances and partly because she frankly admitted to disliking the other girl. A dislike that she felt was reciprocated in full.

  Helena certainly took little pains to hide how she felt about Holly being there still, and more than once Holly had seen the way her aunt frowned when the Spanish girl made some scarcely veiled jibe. Quite often she made remarks about Holly's less than aristocratic background, and on such occasions Don Jose was vocal in his objections, for remarks of that kind could apply equally well to his wife, and that he would not tolerate.

  Marcos had not so far made any verbal objection, but had left it to his father to defend his guest. Once or twice, however, he had managed to catch Holly's eye and she could have sworn that there was a hint of apology in the black-eyed gaze, although she seldom held it long enough to be sure.

  It was a week since Helena's return and after a particularly trying evening in her company, Holly was thankful to see the Spanish girl depart quite early, giving her ample time to go for a short walk before she went to bed. It would help to blow the cobwebs away and also help her to throw off the annoying sense of inferiority that Helena always gave her.

  She smiled at her aunt when she announced her intention of going for a walk, letting her know the reason. 'I'm sorry about Helena, baby,' Aunt Nan said softly as they stood together in the vast grandeur of the great hall. She put a hand on her arm consolingly and shook her head. 'I wish there was something I could do about her, but - you see how it is, and I'm sure she doesn't really mean half of it. She—' She shrugged uneasily. 'I suppose she wouldn't have to resort to such - such cattiness if she was more sure of Marcos.'

  'More sure of him?' Holly looked puzzled. 'I wouldn't have thought she had any fears in that direction, Aunt Nan.'

  'I'm afraid she does,' her aunt said. 'I know the marriage is all arranged and has been for years, but it's been a very long wait and Helena's a - a very passionate woman, like most Spaniards, and I'm not sure she finds Marcos quite as - well, as loving as he might be.'

  'I see.' It surprised her, when she remembered her own experience with Marcos; she would have expected him to be a very satisfactory lover, especially with a girl he was going to marry. 'Well, she need not be afraid of me getting in her way, Aunt Nan. Marcos is very single-minded when it comes to the subject of marrying Helena Mendez, I can assure you - and I can't believe she finds him all that disappointing as a lover, either!'

  'Holly!' Her aunt put out a hand, touching her face lightly, her blue eyes searching and a little anxious. 'I don't want to pry, darling, but if you—'

  'Oh yes, I did, Aunt Nan!' Holly said quickly and with a short laugh that sounded much too harsh. 'I am speaking from experience. Believe me, Marcos Delgaro's no novice when it comes to making love, only you just don't have to take him seriously. Unless you happen to be going to marry him, of course, which Helena is, as he left me in no doubt!'

  'Oh, Holly dear!' The gentle arms enfolded her as they had done when she was a little girl, and, for a moment only, Holly allowed herself the comfort of burying her face against that ample shoulder and closing her eyes, then she raised her head, smiling determinedly, her deep blue eyes bright and shining.

  'Don't worry, dear Aunt Nan, I won't be swept off my feet by your dashing stepson! I've got more sense than that, although he is rather potent, as I'm sure you'll have guessed!'

  Aunt Nan looked at her for a long moment in silence, her brow wrinkled worriedly, then she shook her head, as if she was still very uncertain. 'I hope you won't allow yourself to be swept off your feet, baby,' she said gently. 'I know Marcos is very much a man, but I thought - I hoped, that in your case he would— She shrugged her plump shoulders expressively, in a way that Holly was beginning to look upon as typically Spanish, so that she could not restrain a smile as she kissed her aunt lightly on her forehead.

  'Aunt Nan, you're becoming a real dyed-in-the-wool Spaniard,' she teased her. 'That shrug is pure Latin - that's what comes of spending ten years in Spain!'
r />   'I suppose so,' her aunt allowed, still looking uncertain. She took Holly by her arms and smiled at her anxiously. 'You will tell me if - if anything happens to make you unhappy, won't you, baby?'

  "Yes, of course I will, Aunt Nan!' She hugged her affectionately and smiled. 'Now I'm going for a walk to blow the cobwebs away before I go to bed, it's a lovely night, with a huge Spanish moon and everything.'

  'Well, don't go too far, darling,' her aunt said, then shook her head in self-admonishment. 'I must stop thinking of you as still a little girl,' she apologized. 'Enjoy your walk, Holly dear.'

  It was a beautiful night, with a full moon and so many stars that Holly felt sure there must be more here than she could see in English skies. It was a perfect night for what the books called romance, the air scented with the orange blossom and the cooler breeze drifting down from the hills.

  It was almost without thinking that she found herself walking down towards the stables and the paddock, for she was thinking about nothing in particular and only sought that pleasant state of peaceful tiredness that comes on a quiet evening. It was only when she raised her head suddenly, and listened to the sound of a guitar somewhere not too far away, that she realized how near she was to the stables.

  A voice joined the plucking strings of the instrument and Holly smiled to herself, thinking it could only be Carlos, the stableboy. Stableboy was what she termed his position on the estate, but in fact he was a young man, very near her own age, and swarthily good-looking. She had seen him several times when she had been about near the horses with Marcos, and his dark eyes had left no doubt of his appreciation of her, despite the presence of his employer.

  It might be as well, she thought, in the circumstances, not to go any further, but she was in no mind yet to abandon her walk. Furthermore, coming back to earth from her self-induced reverie had reminded her again of Helena Mendez's scathing remarks, and the scarcely veiled implications that she belonged to the lower orders. In which case she would surely not be out of place talking to the stableboy.

  With only a brief hesitation, and one brief guess at what Marcos Delgaro would have to say about her consorting with his employees, she went on down to where the white stable buildings looked squat and ghostly clear in the brilliant moonlight.

  There was a soft yellow light in the window of one of the smallest buildings, and an open door. Not really a cottage but a one-roomed building with the bare necessities for life, where Carlos lived alone. Unless, of course, he had some bright-eyed senorita in there with him, sharing his softly-lit room and his music.

  But he was alone and sitting outside, she could see when she got nearer, his back leaned against the cottage wall, his knees raised in front of him, cradling the guitar, while he plucked the strings with a skill that told of long practice. He leaned back his head and sang softly in a voice that was inexpert but full and quite sweet to listen to, apparently oblivious of anyone being near until he came to the end of his song. Then he raised his head and looked across at Holly, who had hoped to remain unseen in the shadow of the trees.

  'Buenas noches, senorita,' he called out softly, and Holly stepped, hesitantly, out of the shadows.

  In her short pale yellow dress, she looked small and pale and not quite real as she looked at him uncertainly. Carlos got to his feet, slowly, his dark eyes glittering in the bright moonlight and reminding Holly that she had probably been very rash to have come here at all.

  'Good evening, Carlos, please don't let me interrupt your singing.'

  She tried to sound cool and off-hand, but she stood only a foot or two away from him and her heart was suddenly and warningly tapping at her ribs as she sensed that dark gaze raking over her from head to toe. Without the discouraging presence of his employer Carlos seemed to behave with less reticence, had less need to hide his obvious admiration.

  As she faced him there in the quiet and darkness, with no one else within calling distance, she remembered Marcos's words to her, and wondered if he could possibly be right about her. She had come down here on her own, and she had known that Carlos lived down here alone in the little cottage by the stables. Beautiful and provocative, Marcos had called her, and perhaps Carlos would think she was being provocative, coming down here to the stables alone at this time of night.

  'You find my cancion pleasing, senorita?' He spoke in a low voice and it was obvious what was going through his mind.

  'Your song was very nice,' she said, to let him know she understood at least a word or two of Spanish. 'You have a very good voice, Carlos.'

  'Mtichas gracias, senoritai' There might have been a hint of mockery in his answer, but she was not going to panic for nothing and he had made no move towards her so far.

  'Do you often sing down here where no one can hear you?' she asked, and he laughed softly, his dark eyes glinting at her in the moonlight

  'Ah, but I am heard, senorita,' he said softly. *You heard me, did you not?' She did not answer and he laughed again, plucking the guitar strings gently, his white teeth gleaming in the darkness of his face. 'Always there is a senorita to hear a love song, si?'

  'Perhaps.' She must go, she realized that, before her being there precipitated a scene she was not at all sure she could cope with. She glanced up at the bright moon, intending to make some trite remark about it being a lovely night, and then turn and go back to the castle, but as she took her eyes off him and half turned to look up at the sky, he moved closer and put down the guitar, leaning it against the white wall of the cottage.

  'Senorita!'

  The moist warmth of his hands curled about her arms from behind, and she was pulled roughly against the rather plump softness of his body while his voice, garlic-laden and hoarse with passion, breathed in her ear. Words she could not understand but whose meaning was made only too clear by the accompanying gestures.

  'Let me go!'

  She pulled herself free only with difficulty and spun round to face him, seeing his eyes glittering like coals in the moonlight, his thick throat, revealed by an open- necked shirt, jerking violently as he swallowed. For a moment they faced each other, and then he shook his head and she saw anger replace the desire that had been there only a moment before.

  His large, work-rough hands reached out for her again and she was pulled hard against him until his face was only inches from hers, and his lips drawn back from those excellent teeth in a travesty of a smile. 'So! You are atormentar, senorita! You do not find Carlos to your liking now that you have come to me, huh?'

  'I did not come to you!' Holly denied, struggling against his hold and against a rising nausea brought on by the pungency of garlic at close quarters. 'Let me go, Carlos! Let me go or I'll scream!'

  His smile told her that he was perfectly well aware no one would hear her, no matter how loud she screamed, and he brought his face even closer. Her scream, when it came, was promoted by sheer fright, and it was loud and piercing as she clawed at his face while turning her own away, twisting and pushing at him as she fought to escape.

  Then, without warning, she was free and staring at . him with wide, unbelieving eyes as he staggered back against the wall of the cottage, the guitar falling with a splintering crash under his weight as he fell.

  'Go back to the house!' The order was directed at Holly, and Marcos's curt voice had a coldness that chilled her as he stood over the fallen Carlos like an avenging angel. He looked tall and much darker, somehow menacing, and when she did not immediately obey he turned back to her, his black eyes glittering in the silver light like chips of jet. 'Siga adelante,' he ordered. 'Immediatamente!'

  Her heart was racing so hard that she felt it would burst at any moment, but she could not run off and let him vent his anger on Carlos. Not when she had been at least in part to blame for the situation, so she stood her ground a small, light figure with the starry sky behind her and her hands clasped together appealingly.

  'What - what are you going to do?' she whispered, and he looked at her for a moment as if he doubted he had h
eard her correctly.

  'What do you want me to do, senorita?' he asked in a cold, hard voice, and Holly shook her head, her gaze going to Carlos. He stood wiping one hand across the trickle of dark blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes half wary, half defiant and waiting to see what she would say.

  'You - you can't take it out on Carlos,' she said, in a voice that sounded strangely thin and trembly. 'It - it wasn't altogether his fault.'

  For a moment Marcos said nothing, then he looked down at the stableboy and again at Holly. 'Madre de Dios!' he murmured hoarsely.

  'Sen or—' Carlos was already half on his feet and prepared to put the blame fairly and squarely on to Holly. He looked across at her as she pleaded silently with Marcos, his eyes shifty and malicious, but Marcos would not hear him.

  'Silencio!' he ordered, and turned his back on the man with a deliberate contempt, facing Holly again, his hands tightly clenched. 'You will accompany me, senorita. Immediatamente!' he added sharply when she would have protested.

  Without a word Holly turned and started to walk back the way she had come, her heart rapping wildly at her ribs in an emotion she could not even begin to recognize. In a few seconds Marcos was beside her, striding along, his pace shortened to match hers, tall, silent and coldly angry, so that she dared not look back over her shoulder to see how Carlos was faring.

  They were passing the end of the paddock, in the dark shadow of the fig trees, before she ventured to say anything, and then only nervously, glancing at the stern, dark face, harsh and more unrelenting than ever she had seen it, in the cold white light of the moon.

  'Marcos, I'm—'

  'Please do not apologize,' he interrupted harshly, one hand dismissing her contemptuously. 'You owe me no explanations, senorita. What you do with your own time is your own affair, but please be so kind - when you are having an affair with one of my empleados, tell me before I make the same mistake again. Carlos is very useful to me, I would dislike it if I lost him on your account!'