Rebecca Stratton - Castles in Spain

by Rebecca Stratton

  She got to her feet again and hobbled along the passageway, the heavy plaster cast thudding clumsily, hampering her like a shackle, so that by the time she reached the top of the stairs she was feeling ready to collapse again. She stopped, leaning against the wall at the top of the staircase, her head resting against the cool of a green marble urn.

  It was only seconds that she stood there like that, but in that time Marcos had appeared from somewhere, downstairs, she suspected, and she felt a strong, comforting hand slide round her waist from behind, his long fingers almost spanning her slimness.

  'Are you ready to give in?' he murmured against her ear, and Holly nodded. His dark hair brushed against her face when he bent his head, gently brushing aside her hair and pressing his lips to her neck. 'Then let me help you, nina' he whispered. His breath warmed her soft skin as he spoke and without a second thought, Holly reached up and lay her palm to his cheek.

  'Please,' she said.

  He lifted her easily into his arms, as he had done before, and again she was assailed by the warmth and strength of him, of that very masculine scent that reminded her of horses and after-shave, overwhelming when she was held close against the broadness of his chest. Her own arms went instinctively round his neck and she looked for a moment straight into his eyes.

  He stood there at the head of the stairs with her in his arms, his black eyes glittering like jet, then he bent his head and brushed her mouth with his own - a light, gentle kiss that set her pulses racing with its promise. 'Poco sueno,' he whispered softly against her lips. 'Mi bello sueno.'

  His arms tightened around her, holding her so close she could feel the strong muscles that surged under the smooth brown skin, and his mouth took possession of hers completely, depriving her of all sense and feeling, except her desire for him.

  Holly looked up at him at last, through heavy fringed eyes, at the small, throbbing pulse near one corner of his mouth, and she slid her hand under the smooth softness of the silk shirt to the roughness of dark hair on his broad chest. 'Marcos—'

  'Ssh, nina!' He kissed her mouth again, a light teasing kiss. 'I must take you downstairs or someone win come to look for you.' His black eyes glowed with a warmth that turned Holly's willpower to nothing, and her lips parted eagerly under his when he found her mouth again, with a hungry urgency there was no denying.

  It seemed like an eternity until she became conscious of anything else but Marcos and her own quite frightening desire for him. Then she realized that another voice beside her own was speaking his name — a shocked, disapproving voice that she was some time in recognizing as her aunt's.

  'Marcos!'

  Holly turned wide, surprised eyes and saw the group at the bottom of the stairs, and after one brief look, she moaned softly and hid her face against Marcos's should der. It would have been bad enough for Aunt Nan to have seen what she did, but Aunt Nan was not alone. Helena had presumably just arrived and she stood down there in the huge grandeur of the hall.

  Tall and dark, she reminded Holly of an avenging goddess. Outwardly fairly composed, Holly could guess from the tightness of her mouth the tumult that was going on behind that elegant facade. Her black eyes glittered, taking Holly for their target, and glowing with such a chilling intensity that she shivered.

  Worst of all, perhaps, was the presence of Maria, the little maid, who stood beside Aunt Nan with her mouth open and her eyes wide and startled. Both Helena and Aunt Nan would find it even harder to forgive Marcos for behaving as he had in front of one of the servants, and she wished with all her heart that she could go back to her bedroom again and hide herself until the storm was over.

  Marcos looked down at them all, and Holly saw the gleam of defiance that glittered in his black eyes. The arrogant disregard for anyone's opinion but his own, that was a large part of his appeal.

  'Courage, mi pichon,' he whispered in Holly's ear, and started downstairs with her in his arms.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Marcos carried Holly into the big salon and put her down gently into one of the ornate gilt armchairs. She slid her arms from around his neck only very reluctantly, for somehow physical contact with him gave her more courage, and she imagined that she would need all the nerve she could summon when Helena Mendez began taking her revenge.

  Marcos straightened up, standing tall and arrogantly straight beside her for a moment, his feet apart, his hands clasped together behind his back. He looked down his hawklike nose at his father, as if it was to him that he owed an explanation, although Don Jose could not yet be aware that there was anything to explain.

  Helena took a seat as near to Marcos as she could get, one elegant leg crossed over the other, her dark face set and brooding, ready to do her virulent worst, Holly guessed. She looked up at Marcos, but he was paying her no heed, his gaze still on his father.

  He looked as if he would have said something to him, but his stepmother caught his eye and she shook her head very slightly. Enough to make him pause before he spoke, then, after looking at her curiously for a moment or two, he gave a resigned shrug and walked across to sit on the other side of his father.

  If Don Jose suspected anything was amiss, he gave no sign, but looked across at Holly with his almost sightless eyes. 'It is you, Holly, si?' he asked, and Holly nodded, not immediately realizing that he could not see her very clearly.

  'Yes, Don Jose.' She would like to have been near enough to touch his hand, let him know where she was, but she was still shaking a little so she did not attempt to get to her feet yet.

  'Ah!' His pleasure was obvious. 'You are pleased to be with us again, si, cara?'

  'It's nice to be able to move about again,' Holly agreed cautiously. 'Although I'm rather clumsy at the moment with this cast on my leg.'

  Don Jose nodded understanding and like that, with his face turned sideways on to her, she was reminded of how much like him his son was. The same proud posture of the head and the strong hawklike profile, and her heart played her tricks when she imagined Marcos ever being like this.

  'It was because of your difficulty in moving about, and because you have been inactive for so long,' Don Jose told her, as if his son's action needed explanation, that we thought it permissible for Marcos to come to your room and help you. I trust, in the circumstances, you did not consider it too—' His long thin hands lent delicate meaning to the pause, and Holly sighed her relief that he had not learned of Marcos's earlier visits to her room.

  'It was very thoughtful of you,' she said, and felt Helena's virulent gaze on her again. 'Thank you, Don Jose.'

  Don Jose shook his head slowly, smiling. "Before your accident,' he told her, 'you called me Tio Jose, Holly. I hope I have done nothing since, that you should wish to treat me with more formality, now that you are well again.'

  'Oh no, of course you haven't,' Holly said hastily. I just didn't think, that's all. I only wish I had time to get to know you better, Tio Jose.'

  'Ah!' The old man shook his head regretfully. 'Soon you will be leaving us, hmm?' He held out his hands, and Holly could not resist responding to the rather touching gesture. She got to her feet and came to stand beside him, taking the proffered hands in her own.

  From the corner of her eye she saw Marcos move swiftly, and a moment later he set down a velvet-seated gilt stool beside his father's chair, then he put his hands on her shoulders, exerting gentle pressure, urging her to sit down. She smiled up at him gratefully, aware of Helena's black eyes glittering across at her. Sooner or later, she thought, Helena was going to say something to precipitate a scene that the rest of them would go to almost any lengths to avoid.

  'We shall miss you very much when you go,' Don Jose said, in his quiet voice, and looked across to where he knew his wife to be. 'Shall we not, Ana mi amada?'

  'We shall indeed,' Aunt Nan agreed. 'It's been such a long time since I saw Holly, and now she's off again.'

  'Then why do you not persuade her to stay, en-amorada?' Don Jose asked with a smile. 'I am sure you could, if
you tried.'

  It was obvious that the request put her aunt in something of a quandary, and Holly felt deeply for her. She wanted her niece to stay, and she knew Holly wanted to. She would not have hesitated in other circumstances, but there were things she could not face, like explaining to him that his long-laid plans for his son and the girl he looked upon as his future daughter- in-law were in danger if Holly stayed. She must have realized it even more surely, after witnessing that scene at the top of the stairs just now

  'It isn't possible for me to stay any longer, Tio Jose,' Holly told him gently, taking the onus of explaining from her aunt. 'I've had my allotted holiday time now. I have to go back, I'm afraid.'

  'To England?'

  To England,' she agreed. 'It's been almost two months, Tio Jose, and you've been very kind to have me for so long, especially when I've been such a nuisance for the last two weeks.'

  'You have been nothing of the sort,' the old man retorted with spirit, and again reminded her of his son. 'I am sure no one has found your presence here a nuisance, although we would far rather that you had been well, of course.'

  'Ah well,' Holly sighed, unwilling to go into what other people's opinions were, 'all good things have to come to an end, and I am a working girl!'

  "Your money has - run out?' It was Helena's harsh voice giving her own interpretation for Holly's departure, and laughing shortly, as if the idea pleased her.

  Holly saw the old man frown, his firm mouth drawn tight in disapproval. He had, Holly thought, only now realized that Helena was there. 'Helena!' he said sharply. 'No es asunto de broma!'

  Helena resented the reprimand, that was obvious from the cold haughtiness of her expression, and Holly saw the old man's defence as another fault chalked up against her. 'I have to go back, Tio Jose,' she said softly. 'I really must.'

  His thin, fine-boned hands curled their long fingers over hers and a small frown appeared between his brows as he turned his failing eyes to try and read her expression. 'Holly—' He hesitated, seeking a cause, a reason for her insistence. 'When one has little use in one's eyes, nina, one's other senses become - enlarged.' The pressure of his fingers increased briefly. 'Something is wrong, I hear it in your voice and in mi cara Ana's too. What is it that troubles you both, pequena?'

  It was purely instinct that made Holly look at Marcos rather than at her aunt before she replied and she found the black eyes watching her with an intense curiosity for a moment, and then suddenly they became warmer, more understanding, and he smiled. The smile had its usual devastating effect on her, but it also gave her a strangely lost feeling.

  Marcos knew at last exactly how she felt about him, exactly why she had to leave the Castillo de la Valeroso, but for her part, Holly was very uncertain just how he had reacted to the knowledge. The realization pleased him, that much was evident from his smile, but whether he also felt compassion for her in her lost cause, she could only guess. She almost hoped he did not, for his pity would be unbearable.

  Holly hastily gave her attention to Don Jose again, her hands small and cool in his grasp. 'Nothing's troubling us, Tio Jose,' she told him softly. 'It's just as Senorita Mendez has said.'

  One greying brow hovered delicately, no doubt finding the subject of finance distasteful in the circumstances. 'If that is your only reason, nina mia,' he told her quietly. 'Please do not concern yourself. Our home is yours for as long as you like to remain here.'

  Holly could feel the prickle of tears in her eyes as she looked up into that drawn, but still autocratic face. Still so bent on persuading her to stay on, when it was even more impossible now. She looked again at his son, from the shadow of her lashes. 'I can't, Tio Jose,' she said in a small, sad voice.' I just can't.'

  After a second or two Don Jose sighed, shrugging his resignation in that very Latin way that her aunt had learned. 'It seems nothing can persuade you, nina,' he said regretfully. 'It is a pity.'

  No one else had said very much during their conversation, but now it seemed that something was needed to break the ensuing rather heavy silence, and

  Aunt Nan turned to Helena, her smile a little strained. 'We did not expect to see you today, Helena,' she said, and the other girl looked at her down the length of her arrogant nose.

  'I do not always give you prior notice of my coming, senora,' she said, a hint of curl to her upper lip. 'I am sorry if it was - inconvenient.' She looked across at Holly as she said that, and the implication was so obvious that Holly felt the colour flood into her cheeks.

  'It is never inconvenient to receive friends, Helena,' Don Jose told her, his manners impeccable, as always. 'I do not think my wife was implying that you were not welcome, only that you were not expected.'

  Marcos seemed to take very little interest in anything to do with Helena; Holly had noticed it before, and it never failed to puzzle her. How a man could be prepared to marry a girl, spend the rest of his life with her, and yet show so little interest in her was past understanding.

  Helena's olive-skinned cheeks flushed faintly when she recognized her second reprimand of the day, no matter how politely it was worded. 'I came only because mi padre has been discussing with me the - the desirability of seeing Monsignor Berado,' she said, and Holly could almost feel the silence that fell on the group in the huge salon.

  'Ah si, naturalmente.' His near-sightless eyes turned in the direction of his son. 'Marcos?'

  Marcos said nothing for a moment, but sat looking down at the steepled fingers of his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. There was a dark, unfathomable expression on his face, and Holly, who thought she understood what subject was under discussion, almost held her breath waiting for him to reply.

  He got to his feet after a moment or two, and stood in front of the massive fireplace, in that familiar attitude, his feet apart, his long muscular legs taut, as if he was tensed, ready to walk off at any moment. He put his hands behind his back again and his black head was held well back in that haughty attitude that Holly knew so well and found such an irresistible part of him.

  Having so recently realized just how deeply she felt for him, she found the discussion of his marriage plans with Helena almost unbearable, and she sat with her hands held tightly together in her lap, praying that the subject would not have to be pursued. Helena, she felt sure, had raised it deliberately.

  She would at least have some inkling of Holly's involvement, and she had probably interpreted that regrettably frank look as easily as Marcos had. The subject of her marriage to Marcos was probably meant to deliver the death blow to any hopes Holly might have had.

  'No tengo prisa,' Marcos said quietly at last, and Holly could guess the gist of his reply by the look on Helena's face and the bright flush of anger on her cheeks. It was also evident from the way her black eyes glittered at him.

  'Marcos,' she said slowly, and obviously keeping her temper with great difficulty, 'no es lo suficientemente favorable!'

  But whether Helena thought it good enough or not, Marco seemed to have his mind set firmly against being finally committed and his black eyes had a determined, implacable look as he regarded her for a moment down his proud, hawklike nose.

  'Estricamente hablando—' he began, then suddenly caught Holly's eye and for a moment held her gaze, his own showing a strange, glittering intensity that made her shiver. 'I do not think we need bore Holly any further with our private affairs,' he said. 'I would rather it waited until I can speak with my father alone.'

  His refusal to discuss it further left Holly with rather mixed emotions. It seemed from his words as if he resented making his marriage plans with an outsider present, and yet she would have sworn that it was not resentment for her presence that had shown in his eyes for those few seconds he held her gaze.

  ‘Pero—' Helena began, not ready to relinquish the argument, but Marcos held up one large imperious hand and silenced her.

  'No ahora, Helena, haga usted el favor!' he told her firmly. 'We will discuss the matter later.'

  Aunt
Nan, Holly thought, looked vaguely disturbed at his refusal, as if she feared some resistance to her husband's plans. For the same reason Holly's own reaction was a sudden lifting of her spirits, although she told herself she was being utterly ridiculous to react in that way.

  It was natural enough that a man like Marcos would not want to discuss his private affairs in front of anyone other than his family, especially now that he realized that she was more than a little in love with him. Marcos was not as insensitive as that.

  'Perhaps,' Don Jose said in his quiet gentle voice, 'it would be better to speak of these things privately, at some later time. Do you agree, Helena?'

  Whether Helena agreed or not, her upbringing had taught her to accept the decisions of her male counterparts, and she inclined her black head with gracious compliance. 'Si, naturalmente, Don Jose,' she said with deceptive quietness, but her black eyes were looking across at Holly with such an intense hatred that Holly shivered and hastily lowered her own gaze.

  It was two days since Holly first came downstairs, since Helena had attempted to raise the matter of her marriage to Marcos, and Holly had heard nothing more of the matter since. Presumably the discussions had been held in more privacy, as Don Jose had suggested, and Holly wondered if Marcos had finally consented to change his mind about not being in any hurry. Aunt Nan had said nothing about it, and Holly had not dared question her, in case it gave the wrong impression, although by now she felt sure that her aunt must be well aware of how she felt.

  'Holly!'

  Holly turned swiftly when her aunt called her from the stairs, smiling at the coincidence that had made solid the very person who had been in her mind. 'Yes, Aunt Nan?'

  Her aunt, she thought, looked oddly aloof, almost unfriendly she would have said if she had not thought such a thing impossible. 'Are you going for a walk?'