With a sigh for her own rashness in coming so far, she crossed to the other side of the road and began her upward climb, feeling the unbearable pressure of the heat almost at once. Downhill she had created a certain amount of breeze, and the sun was at her back, but now she was faced with its full force and even her big hat did not protect her face very much.
She realized, too, that it was getting close to the time that no sensible Spaniard would think of being out, let alone of toiling up a steep hill. It would seem like an awful long way back, and she called herself a fool many times over as she made her way upwards.
Going uphill too, her sandals seemed to gather up small stones along with the inevitable dust, and they wedged themselves uncomfortably between her toes and under the balls of her feet, making walking quite painful unless she stopped every few minutes and removed them.
In the few weeks she had been in Spain, her skin had acquired a certain amount of natural protection against the scorching sun, despite its refusal to tan, but her bare arms now seemed to be affected more than ever before, and she rubbed her hands over them to try and soothe the burning sensation.
She was less than half-way back to the approach road when she heard the sound of an approaching car, and looked around hopefully, not even bothering what kind of an impression she would give to a passing driver. A girl alone on a lonely road and looking round for a lift. She was tired and hot, and she had never felt so thirsty in her life before.
The driver, however, was a woman, she had time to register as much as the big shiny car sped towards her, but it showed no signs of stopping, and it needed only one, quick startled glance for Holly to realize why.
The car had seemed familiar at first glance, now she recognized it as belonging to Helena Mendez. Holly had seen it often enough, parked in front of the Castillo de la Valeroso, and there could be no mistaking the sleek black head of its driver with the traditional chignon in the nape of her neck, nor the arrogant posture of the head.
Those malicious black eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, and she did not even turn her head as she passed, but there was no doubt in Holly's mind that she too had been recognized, for as the big car went past her it cut in so close that Holly gave a cry when the rear wing swept against her, knocking her off her feet.
She went rolling down into a stone gully beside the road, her arms instinctively going up to protect her head as she went, from the punishing chunks of rock that lay in her path. It could have been that she was already dizzy from the intense heat, or the blow from the car's wing might have been harder than she realized, but Holly found herself unable to get up once she had landed in the dusty hard bottom of the gully.
She was aware of a sickening pain in her left leg and a sharper one on the back of her head, and after a moment of staring dazedly at the sun, she sank back again, her head spinning dizzily round and round until she fell into unconsciousness.
Holly was unsure how long she lay there, but something, somewhere stirred in her brain at last, and she sat up, slowly and painfully, a hand to her spinning head, trying to get her bearings. Her arms and legs were grazed from her fall, and her face too, judging by the way it stung, but by far the worst was her left leg, now swollen and red, and the throbbing pain at the back of her head, where her exploring fingers discovered a large bump.
She felt sick and dizzy and horribly like crying when she thought of how far she was from any form of help. Somehow she had to get back on to the road, but how she would fare from then on did not bear thinking about.
Her injured leg proved useless and much too painful to assist in her climb out of the gully, and she was forced to literally drag herself up the sloping bank of rock. It took several tries and many tears of pain before she was at last on the road again, sitting there for a moment to get enough breath to stand up on her one good leg.
Her hat, she realized with a sinking heart, was still down there in the gully, but she simply could not climb down and get it, and more tears flowed as she stood there, balancing on one leg, feeling faint and sick, and wondering what on earth she was going to do to get back.
It was the sun that gave her the first clue as to how long she had been there, for its position was much different now from what she remembered it before she was knocked down, and she immediately thought about Aunt Nan, and how she would be worrying about her being so long.
With Helena's action so fresh in her mind, it gave her cause to wonder if the other girl would even mention having seen her at all, in which case no one would know in which direction she had come, and it could be ages before she was found.
She tried again to walk, but she had no doubt now that her left leg was, if not broken, at least badly sprained, and it was impossible to put any weight on it. She found a stout wooden stump close by, and she leaned against it, her breathing erratic, bordering on panic, her head spinning dizzily again, and crying unrestrainedly.
It was with a sudden jolt of hope that she heard the sound of another car coming. Even though it was coming from the other direction, the driver might be prepared to stop and help her, and she waited for it to appear, clinging to the old stump with anxious hands.
At last the car swept round the bend just ahead of her, going recklessly fast, but in one sudden flash of giddying joy, Holly realized that it was Marcos's car. He saw her and braked hard, sending up a cloud of dust on the narrow road, and, incredibly, he managed to turn the long vehicle in a matter of seconds and draw up beside her, a dark angry look on his face.
He kept his head averted and without a word opened the passenger door, and Holly grabbed at its hot, shiny edge thankfully. 'Get in!' Even then he did not turn and she shook her head slowly. Her leg was too painful and too stiff for her to lift it even the few inches into the car.
Her slowness to obey brought his head round sharply, ready to reprimand her, but his expression changed in an instant when he saw her for the first time. It was obvious that he had not realized she had been hurt, and in a moment he was out of the car and round beside her, his strong arms supporting her, lifting her into the seat with a gentleness that brought a fresh flow of tears to her eyes.
Holly closed her eyes gratefully as she leaned her head back against the seat, although the leather upholstery smelled hot and pungent in the sun, and burned her neck even through the thickness of her hair. She felt a hand on her forehead, and another on her left cheek, gentle, anxious and almost sensual in their touch.
'Holly?' Her eyelids fluttered in response to the anxious query, but she felt too spent to open them. 'Holly, what on earth have you been doing, pequena?' he asked. His voice was comfortingly soft, and his warm breath wafted against her face.
'I-I fell.'
It was as much as Holly could manage at the moment, and her throat felt unbearably dry. She felt drowsy and oddly floaty, for all the pain from her leg and her head, but if Marcos was going to be so sweet and gentle to her, she was going to try and open her eyes and talk as best she could.
She raised incredibly heavy lids and found his face so close to hers that she could see how his black eyes looked anxious, and the small black frown of his drawn brows. One gentle hand touched the grazes on her face again, in a gesture that was unbelievably soothing and his wide, straight mouth curved into an understanding smile.
'You will not wear your hat, will you?' he asked, but much less harshly than he would normally have done. 'Why, nina?'
'I - I lost it,' Holly explained, trying hard to stop herself from drifting off into unconsciousness again. It would be such a pity not to make the most of Marcos in this new, solicitous mood. 'I - I was—' Her head rolled sideways suddenly, and she did not even see the stark look of dismay that crossed Marcos's face before he eased her more securely into her seat, then closed the door and went round quickly to his own seat.
It was cool and shaded and that hot dusty road must surely have been a mirage, Holly thought, when she looked around at the now familiar comfort of her bedroom. The shutters were closed, b
ut she could see through the slats that it was still bright and sunny outside, and the shadows of bougainvillea were drawn in silhouette against them.
Her head throbbed, but oddly enough her leg pained her less now, and it took her a moment to realize that it was held stiffly in a splint. The throbbing in her head became worse when she tried to turn and see what time it was by the clock beside her bed, and she abandoned the attempt as not worthwhile.
Her movement, however, stirred into action a figure sitting on the other side of her. 'Senorita?'
It was Maria, one of the maids, and Holly turned her head slowly to look at her, smiling when she saw the anxious expression on the girl's face. 'Hello, Maria,' she said shakily.
The girl got to her feet hastily. 'I will fetch Dona Ana, senorita' she said in a whisper, her huge dark eyes wide and a little scared. 'Excusa, por favor, senorita'
After she had gone Holly closed her eyes again. It was all too easy to drift back into sleep, or unconsciousness, again and she was not really anxious to talk to anyone yet, even Aunt Nan. She had to consider Helena's part in her mishap, for one thing.
Telling of Helena's deliberately dangerous driving was not a prospect she relished, and especially when it came to Marcos's ears. Probably no one else would believe her either, but certainly Marcos would consider she was just getting back at Helena for past injustices, and dismiss the idea out of hand.
A few moments later she heard the bedroom door open after a light knock, and slowly and rather reluctantly Holly opened her eyes again. She expected to see Aunt Nan and for a moment she blinked unbelievingly when she saw Marcos's tall figure blocking the doorway. His black eyes looked across the room at her, warily, as if he was not sure what kind of a welcome he could expect, and such uncertainty in Marcos was unusual enough to make her smile, however she felt.
'So! You can still smile!' He came across the room, striding swiftly on long legs and having the inevitable effect on her, despite her drowsiness and the pain in her head. He wore slim-fitting grey trousers, and a pale blue shirt made him look even darker as he came and rested one hand on the tall corner post of the bed, looking down at her.
'Dona Ana is with the doctor and my father,' he explained in a quiet, soothing voice. 'Both are coming in a moment. It was fortunate that the doctor was here to see my father, was it not?' He looked at her intently, his gaze lingering for a moment on her mouth in a way that set her heart racing wildly and making her throbbing head feel worse than ever. 'What happened to you, nina mia?' he asked softly.
'I - I walked too far.' Her voice sounded horribly hoarse and dry.
'And without your hat, huh?'
'I - I did have my hat,' she told him. 'But I lost it in - in the gully.'
'Gully?' He looked puzzled, as if the word was new to him. 'What gully, pequena?'
'Beside the road,' Holly explained, and put a hand to her throat as her voice threatened to break at any moment.
'And you fell into this - gully?' Holly nodded. 'Is that how you broke your leg?' She nodded again, it hurt a little less than trying to speak. 'Well—' He shrugged his expressive shoulders, 'the doctor has cleaned up your scratches and put your leg into a splint, but you still have that chichon which is like an
egg?'
Holly recognized the description of the bump on her head and she put up a tentative hand to it. 'It hurts,' the said plaintively, and Marcos smiled as he shook his head.
'Poor nina' he said softly, and set her pulses racing again at the tone of his voice.
'You're - you're not blaming me?' Holly asked, her eyes appealing, hardly believing he would not sooner or later decide it was her own fault she was hurt.
He shrugged again. 'How do I know?' he asked. 'Always you are involved in things you cannot cope with, nina, and I cannot think what you have done this time to be so badly hurt.'
'But this time I—' She put a hand to her throat again. It felt so dry and hoarse and she could not speak without it hurting. 'My throat,' she whispered huskily, and reached for a glass of lemonade that stood on the table beside the bed.
Marcos anticipated her, however, and his fingers took the long cool glass from the table, while with his other arm he raised her gently from the pillows and supported her while he held the glass to her lips. Holly drank gratefully, but most of her attention was trying to cope with the renewed wild and dizzying effect he was having on her senses, responding as they always did to the strong support of his arm about her shoulders, and the warm touch of his hand on her arm.
'Thank you.' She pushed the glass away and rubbed her fingers on the hot tightness of her throat.
'Perhaps you should not talk,' Marcos suggested, but Holly shook her head, despite the pain it cost her.
'I - I might as well get it over with,' she told him, hiding her eyes with the thickness of her lashes. She lay back, reluctantly, on the pillows again when his arm was withdrawn and wondered how swiftly his mood would change if she told him about Helena. She had almost come out with it, impulsively, but already she was wishing she had not been so rash.
'Perdone?' He still stood beside the bed, but where he stood by the top corner post, his face was in the shadows, and looked dark and inscrutable. Almost as if he guessed that what she was about to say would not be to his liking.
'I-I said-'
'I heard what you said,' he interrupted quietly. 'I was merely questioning your choice of phrase. What is it that you might as well get over, Holly?'
Holly bit her lip anxiously. If she told him about Helena it would, without doubt, break this new and exciting rapport between them, and she was reluctant to have that broken after so short a time. The black eyes, however, were showing signs of impatience, and she bit her lip again anxiously, then took a deep breath.
A second later, however, she released the breath as a sigh of relief when the bedroom door was pushed wider to admit her aunt and a short, swarthy-skinned man who she assumed was the doctor. Aunt Nan, Holly thought, had not expected to see Marcos there with her and she frowned her disapproval in a way that quite startled Holly. Ten years in Spain, she thought, had instilled more of Spanish propriety into her aunt than Holly had realized.
'Marcos,' Aunt Nan said to her stepson, 'will you go and join your father and Helena? Doctor Valdare will want to speak to Holly.'
It must have been one of the few times in his life that Marcos had ever been dismissed so summarily, and Holly saw the swift instinctive frown that resented it, but after a second he bobbed his head in brief formality to his stepmother. 'Si, sin duda, Dona Ana,' he said. He looked at Holly for a long moment, and she could see from the expression in his black eyes that he disliked leaving their conversation in that unsatisfactory state of limbo, but there was little he could do about it at the moment. 'Adios, Holly,' he said quietly, and strode out of the room.
'How are you feeling, darling?' her aunt asked, taking her hand and looking down at her anxiously. 'I know your poor leg and your head must be very painful, but I think you look at least a little less pale, doesn't she, Doctor Valdare?'
'You are feeling a little better, senorita?' the doctor asked, and Holly was relieved to note that he spoke excellent English. He took her pulse and looked at the bump on her head, apparently to reassure himself that his first examination had missed nothing. 'Your leg will be painful, of course, but it will feel more comfortable when it has been put into plaster.' His dark, shrewd eyes looked down at her curiously. 'What happened to you, senorita?'
Horribly undecided about how much she should say, Holly glanced at her aunt first, but met with only a look as curious as the doctor's. 'I - I rolled down into a gully at the side of the road,' she said.
Doctor Valdare frowned, obviously not fully satisfied with that explanation. 'There is a mark on your thigh, senorita, that is consistent with your having been struck a blow of some kind. Can you explain that?'
Holly glanced again at Aunt Nan, but received no more encouragement than before. Her aunt was curious, and also a little
suspicious, Holly thought, and bit her lip as she faced the prospect of telling them about Helena's dangerous trick.
Aunt Nan, sensing her reluctance, took her hands again and smiled down at her, but her eyes were even more anxious suddenly, and Holly did not yet realize that her own hesitation was the reason for it. 'Holly dear,' she told her quietly, 'you must tell us what happened, you know. Did someone run into you? Was it a car?'
Holly nodded, still strangely reluctant to name the driver of the car, because she still felt that no one would believe her. The Mendez family were as important in the area as the Delgaros, and probably even the good doctor would not be quite so insistent if he had any idea who had been responsible.
'Please, darling!' Her aunt sat on the side of her bed, both her hands covering Holly's, seeking to persuade her, and to comfort and reassure her at the same time.
She scanned Holly's reluctant face for a long moment, then bit her lip before asking her question. 'Holly dear - was it Marcos?'
'Marcos?' Holly's husky voice echoed the name hoarsely, her eyes huge with shock. So that was what it had all been leading up to! Marcos had brought her home in his car, white-faced and obviously shaken, and they had immediately assumed that he had been the one who had knocked her down. Her own reluctance to name her assailant had only served to foster that wrong impression, she could see that now.
'You can tell me, if it was, darling,' her aunt said gently. 'I must know, dear.'
'Oh no, Aunt Nan, it wasn't Marcos, of course it wasn't! How could you think he'd do such a thing and then not admit to it? No, no, of course it wasn't Marcos!'
Her fervent denial, Holly thought, both puzzled them and came as a relief, and her aunt shook her head at her as she still pressed for an answer. 'Then who was it, my dear?'
'Helena,' Holly said in her dry, husky voice. 'Helena Mendez.'
"Oh, Holly!' Whether her aunt's exclamation was made in surprise or reproach, Holly was uncertain, but Doctor Valdare's reaction was in no doubt.
Rebecca Stratton - Castles in Spain Page 9
