by Flora Kidd
'Will you please take me to meet this someone?' she asked at last, hesitantly.
'Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day,' he replied with a shrug. 'But I'll only do it if you'll do something for me, by way of paying off the debt you owe me, you know the big one which puts you in such a great obligation to me and which you'd like so much to clear?' The dryness in his voice mocked her.
'You mean you'd want me to be your… your companion?' she whispered, not looking at him, plucking nervously at the silk which covered her knees. He covered her nervous fiddling fingers with his hand, as he had done once before, and held them in his warm comforting grasp.
'I want you to be more than that,' he said softly, and she glanced up to find he was leaning close to her, so close she could smell the subtle tangy fragrance of his skin and when he spoke again his lips almost touched hers, but not quite. 'I want you to be my wife,' he whispered.
Shock jarred through her and she jerked back from the temptation of those bold lips which given half a chance would possess hers. If she could have jumped up from the couch she would have done, but she was trapped in the corner. Her eyes were wide with disbelief as she searched the lean dark face poised above hers for any sign of mockery. There was none. His eyes were clear and coldly calculating and once again she thought of an eagle watching its prey, calmly waiting for it to run in panic before swooping down on it. If she tried to run now he would swoop, and once she felt his arms around her… ?
Shaken suddenly by a sick surge of excitement at the memory of the way his hard arms had held her and the way his lips had lit a flame in her, she looked down again.
'You don't know what you're saying, she accused, hoping to divert him by implying that he was unstable, and from under her lashes she watched the slow mocking smile she was beginning to like curve his mouth.
'But I do, chiquita. I know very well. I would like to marry and I am asking you if you would like to marry me. I realise it is rather sudden, this proposal of mine, but circumstances have dictated that I move more quickly than I had intended. Now tell me, what do you think of the idea?'
'I think it's crazy,' she spluttered.
'So you have doubts about my sanity, do you?' he said with a self-mocking grin. 'Why is it crazy?'
'We hardly know each other.'
'For that I'm glad,' he retorted. 'To marry someone one has known for a long time must be infinitely boring.'
'And we come from different cultures. We have different attitudes to many things,' she continued. 'We would quarrel.'
'You think so? Why?'
'Well, for instance, you believe in machismo, in the superiority of the male, and I believe women to be equal to men.' She felt his thumb caress the inside of her wrist and the delicious tingle raced along her nerves. She glanced up to object and met the glinting mocking gaze of his black-lashed eyes. He knew what effect that subtle caress had on her. 'Please don't do that,' she said sharply, and tried to free her hand. When his fingers tightened she gave him a glare designed to shrivel him. 'You see, you regard me as a plaything,' she accused.
'No, not a plaything, but a playmate, with emphasis on the word mate,' he replied smoothly, with a wicked grin. 'I told you how I feel about you last Monday, that I would like you to stay and be my companion, but you didn't care for my arrangement. My feelings haven't changed. I still want you, so I'm offering a more legal arrangement. As for the machismo,' he shrugged his broad shoulders, 'it isn't important to me. I believe only that I'm superior to you in physical strength and right now in my ability to protect you, and I'm offering to use that strength and that ability on your behalf if you will marry me.'
'But… we're not in love,' she protested.
His thumb stopped caressing her wrist and he gave her a narrow-eyed sceptical glance.
'What do you know about love?' he jeered. 'Very little, I suspect. Do you imagine yourself to be in love with this Farley you talk about? Is he the one who turns you on, lights up your life?'
'No, he doesn't,' she admitted, and gave him another apprehensive glance, thinking of the effect he had on her, the way the nerves of her stomach fluttered at the sight of him. With one kiss he had turned her on, made her come alive in a way she had never felt before. But surely that didn't mean she was in love with him. Surely that was only physical desire which he had admitted, honestly enough, was what he felt for her.
'Is there someone else, then? Someone in Canada?' he asked.
'No.'
'So you are not in love with anyone. Bueno' He sounded complacent. 'That is how I hoped it would be.' He looked down at their entwined hands and said quietly, 'I told Sergeant Moreles that you and I are going to be married.'
'Oh, you had no right to do that. I… I… haven't accepted your proposal,' she protested.
'But you're going to, aren't you, querida?' he said, and his glance drifted over her slowly, sensuously enquiring, so that sweet shivers tingled through her as if he had touched her.
'Am I?' she countered shakily. 'What makes you think I am?' Smiling a little, he leaned towards her again until his hard chest was pressing against the sensitive tips of her breasts.
'Because you're not going to be able to help yourself,' he murmured, and then his lips closed over hers.
For a moment she struggled against the surge of wild excitement which beat through her, but his lips grew harder and she felt his teeth crushing her lips. Then came that leaping flame along her nerves and she was lost. Her hands, untutored in the ways of loving, found the opening of his shirt and her fingers strayed shyly against the warm pulsing skin of his throat as she strained against him, giving her mouth to his. More expert than hers, his fingers slid under the edge of the thin silk dressing gown she wore and fanned out tenderly over her breast so that she gasped.
When he withdrew she leaned back against the end of the couch and covered her face with her hands.
'So when shall we be married, hmm?' His voice, slightly breathless, held a soft taunt. 'Tomorrow? Or the next day? The sooner the better, I should think, for that cold northern morality of yours.'
The taunt flicked her on the raw and she moaned a little, then felt his hands on her wrists pulling her hands away from her face.
'Ah, come, chiquita,' he said comfortingly. 'There is nothing to be ashamed of. I don't think any the less of you because you respond to my kisses. Now what do you say? Do you agree? Will you marry me, tomorrow, and then we'll find out where Roberto is so you can ask him about your sister?'
Dawn looked down at the hands holding hers. Why did he want to marry her? There must be another reason than the one he had given her. She looked up into his eyes. They were watching her and he was smiling again as if he knew all about the struggle which was going on within her.
'You see how you bring out the best in me?' he said, his mouth taking on a more ironic curve. 'Never before have I asked a woman to marry me. I have never had any need to.'
She could believe that. He had probably taken what he wanted from a woman when and where he had wanted it, like the bold Spanish Conquistadors had done when they had first come to this country. And since he could employ servants to look after his household affairs he had no need of a housewife. Why then did he want to marry her?
'What will you do if I say no?' she asked.
'Nothing.' He spoke curtly and his face hardened, stiffening with pride.
'You mean… ?'
'I mean what I say. I'll do nothing. I won't help you to find your sister and I won't help you to leave here. But I'll expect you to be gone by tomorrow morning,' he replied in a cool voice. 'Perhaps this will help you to make up your mind. Marry me and you'll have a new identity, a Mexican one, and you'll have a much better chance of finding your sister. Refuse to marry me and you can leave here tomorrow morning, but if you run into trouble with the authorities because you're in this country without a passport, without money and without a tourist card don't appeal to me for help. I'll do nothing.'
'An ultimatum?' she challenged,
her chin up.
'Si, an ultimatum,' he replied, his mouth curving with humour again. 'So what is your answer?'
Dawn looked around the cool silvery green hall, her eyes flickering a little wildly as if she were searching for a way of escape. She felt suddenly very weak and helpless.
'I don't know. I can't think. I must have more time to think,' she muttered, her hand to her head. 'I haven't had anything to eat for days.'
'Then you shall eat now,' he replied practically, letting go of her hands and rising to his feet. 'Manuela will prepare something for you. And you can have more time to think. I'm going surfing now. I'll see you later and at dinner you can give me your answer.'
3
Still sitting on the grey velvet couch beside the shimmering dimpling pool, Dawn ate a taco stuffed with delicious shrimps and covered by a tangy sauce, chose a banana from a dish of fresh fruit and drank cupfuls of smooth cafe con leche, coffee made with freshly boiled milk. Carlos brought the food, setting it out on a round glass-topped table which he had placed close beside her. He left her alone and went through an archway screened by two small palm trees which grew in large earthenware tubs set on the tiled floor, but hardly had she finished eating than he appeared again swinging his tray and she could not help wondering if he had been watching her from behind the palm trees so that he would know exactly when to come and clear away the empty dishes.
'You have finished, seňorita?' he asked politely.
'Yes, thank you.' She watched his small neat hands moving deftly then looked at his dark olive-skinned face and wondered what he was thinking. Here was another person to whom she owed a debt of gratitude. If he hadn't missed her on Monday afternoon and hadn't followed her she might have been very ill indeed, could even have died out there on the wide road from exposure and thirst.
'I am very grateful,' she began in a sudden burst of speech, and broke off as he raised his head and looked at her, his dark eyes unrevealing as ever.
'Perdonme, no entiende. Pardon me, seňorita, I don't understand this word 'grateful',' he said, with a frown.
'I… I want to say thank you to you… and to Manuela for… for what you have done for me,' she said slowly. 'Muchas gracias.'
A little gleam appeared in the black eyes, but no smile touched his mouth.
'De nada, seňorita,' he said. 'Don't mention it, Manuela and I do what Seňor Suarez tell us to do. He say we must look after you, see that you are comfortable at all times.' A thin vertical line creased his forehead as he frowned. 'You will not try to walk to Manzanillo again, seňorita. It is a long way.'
'How far?' she asked.
'About fifty kilometres.'
'And Guadalajara?'
'Perhaps two hundred.' He shrugged his shoulders. 'I am not sure.'
'How do you get there?'
'Me?' He looked vaguely surprised.
'Si, if you or Manuela want to go to Manzanillo or any other town, how do you go.'
'We go in the car, seňorita, the one I was driving yesterday.'
'You don't use the bus, then?'
'There is no bus from here. To get the bus you have to go to Manzanillo.'
'When will you and Manuela go shopping next?' she asked.
'Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day. Quien sabe?' He lifted his hands in a gesture of fatalism. 'Who knows when we shall go? When Manuela says.'
'If you go tomorrow to Manzanillo will you take me with you?'
The broad dark face became once again as inscrutable as any stone statue's. The dark eyes were blank. He picked up his laden tray and swung it to his shoulder.
'No, seňorita, if we go we will not take you,' he said coolly. 'We do only what Seňor Suarez tells us to do. Excuse me, por favor.'
He went off and Dawn sat staring at the pool with her hands clenching slowly on her knees as frustration boiled within her. So Carlos and Manuela did only what Seňor Suarez told them to do, did they? And presumably he had told them to watch her and see that she didn't leave the house. Carlos hadn't come after her on Monday afternoon and brought her back here because he had been concerned about her walking in the heat. He had followed her and brought her back because if she hadn't been in the house when his employer returned from Guadalajara he would have been reprimanded, might even have been dismissed from his job; a job which no doubt was well paid, easy and comfortable for both him and his wife.
Oh, what was she going to do? How was she going to get away from here? If she refused to marry Sebastian she would have to go tomorrow morning anyway, but how? Elbows on her knees and chin in her hand, she considered his suggestion she should marry him. She still thought it was crazy. Marriages between people who had only just met, who were as different from one another as she and he were, didn't happen, except in romances, when something magical happened and they fell in love, something wonderful and transforming which lit up their lives.
Her fingers uncurled and spread over her face and she closed her eyes with a little groan as the nerves in the pit of her stomach contracted suddenly, sending that sick surge of excitement through her, a tingling which spread upwards to the very tips of her breasts. It seemed she had only to think of him now and it happened. She didn't have to see him or be with him to want him. He had touched her and something wonderful and transforming had happened to her. Her hand moved down to slide under the robe and touch her breast. No one had touched her like he had. No man had made her feel this way. But then she hadn't known a man like him before, strong, autocratic, blatantly sensual yet essentially generous and compassionate, possessing an endearing quality of being able to make fun of himself, a man she could live with and love.
Love? What did she know about love, the sort of love which could happen, so she had read and had been told, between a man and a woman? Was this feeling of sick rapture which surged through her part of that sort of love? Or was it just animal desire roused in her by an expert in lovemaking, by a man who had been conceived by a passionate, reckless love?
If only she had some experience or someone of her own to talk to about how she felt. If only she could talk to Judy. Judy! Her dizzy mind groped for and held on to the name. It was because of Judy she was here, washed up on the edge of Sebastian Suarez's life. She must find Judy and he had said he would help her to find her sister if she promised to marry him. So why not marry him? Why hesitate?
'Seňorita?' Manuela's soft slow voice spoke to her and she looked up to find the woman standing there patiently, holding the cotton gown across her held-out arms.
'Oh. Si, muchas gracias.' Dawn got to her feet and took the gown. It had been washed and ironed and the embroidered flowers were shiny and bright. 'I will go and put it on,' she said, futilely because Manuela wouldn't understand a word of what she had said, and the woman nodded and smiled and went away past the palm trees.
Upstairs in the pretty bathroom Dawn washed, cleaned her teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste thoughtfully provided, dressed in the cotton gown again and brushed her hair. Satisfied that she looked as clean and neat as possible, she went down the circular staircase to the hall again. Carlos was there pruning and watering one of the azalea plants, presumably hovering about to see that she didn't leave the house without his knowledge.
'I'm going to the beach,' she said to him, 'to watch Seňor Suarez surfing. I shall use the steps going down from the terrace.'
'Si, seňorita.'
He nearly smiled, she thought, as she went through the salon and stepped out on to the terrace, into the hot humid air, fragrant with the scent of many flowers.
'You wear this, seňorita, por favor,' Carlos was beside her, although she hadn't heard him follow her, and he was handing her a straw hat with a high conical crown and a broad curled over brim.
'Thank you,' she said, and tried smiling at him as she placed it on her head. Somehow she had to break through that tough, morose facade of his. His lips did twitch a little, she thought, and a gleam came and went in his eyes, but all he said was the usual offhand, 'De nada.'
Down the winding steps she went, brushing by the stiff rustling leaves of the palms until she stepped on to the soft golden sand. There she stopped and looked along the beach, half expecting to see the noisy group of scantily-dressed young Americans which had been on it last Sunday afternoon. But there were only a few people, mostly children with parents or baby-sitters sitting under the palms, between which fishing nets were hung to dry, or splashing and shouting in the sea.
Slowly, her feet sinking in the silky glittering sand, Dawn wandered along, turning her head once to look over her shoulder towards the steps. Yes, Carlos was standing there watching her, not trusting her. Her lips tightened. She had a good mind to give him a run for his money, pretend she was leaving again. She glanced round to where the few cars which had brought the families down to the beach were parked. She would make for those, hide behind one of them and watch what he did. She glanced back to see if he was still there watching her. Yes, he was. She turned, began to run and collided head on with a person who was racing down the beach towards the water. Big hands caught her shoulders and steadied her and a young, slightly breathless masculine voice said in English.
'Whew… I'm sorry! Guess I wasn't looking where I was going—I was so keen to get into that surf. You okay, lady?'
For a moment she thought he was Farley with his soft Californian drawl and his untidy floss of light blond hair. But he was shorter than Farley, more stockily built, and he was younger, about seventeen, not twenty-seven.
'I'm afraid I wasn't looking where I was going either,' she said with a smile, and his grey eyes narrowed with interest.
'I haven't seen you around here before,' he remarked, and his glance lifted beyond her briefly, then came back to study her again. 'You staying at the Suarez place?'
'Yes, I am.'
'Friend of Sebastian Suarez?'
'I… er… in a way,' she stammered, saw him grin knowingly, and added in a rush, 'but not in the way you're thinking.' A sudden idea flashed into her mind. 'Did you come here by car?'
