Marriage in Mexico

by Flora Kidd

  'Yes, I have, but if you've changed your mind there's no point in my telling you about it, is there?' she retorted, doing her best to keep her voice cool and light although her emotions were swirling about like a whirlpool, hate and desire, hope and disappointment all curdling within her making her feel very bewildered. Never had anyone been able to torment her as this man was doing!

  'Yet, I think I would like to hear what it is,' he murmured, and setting his half-empty glass down on the table came towards her slowly. A few feet away from her he stopped, tipped his head to one side and considered her, his glance going over her in a cool assessing way which brought the red flags of rebellion flaring into her cheeks. How she hated being looked over!

  'The gown becomes you as I guessed it might,' he drawled, and moved towards her again.

  'I wish you wouldn't look at me like that,' she seethed.

  'Like what?' The note of surprise in his voice sounded genuine.

  'As if… as if…' She broke off to swallow, then blurted, 'I'm not a possession of yours!'

  'You believe I look at you as if you are?' he queried, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. 'But you're mistaken. I was looking at the dress only, admiring my own good taste… '

  'Oh, you…' she gasped, driven beyond endurance by his taunting, and raising her glass she threw its contents in the direction of his dark derisive face. Lemonade and ice cubes spattered him. She saw his eyes blaze at her, realised what she had done and tossing the glass aside, not caring where it fell, she ran across the hall to the front door, wrenched it open and stepped out into the balmy night air.

  The door closed behind her and she ran down the steps. Along the driveway towards the road she hurried instinctively, stopped to catch her breath and looked back. No one was following her. Above her in the black velvet tropical sky the stars glittered like huge yellow diamonds and all about her in the darkness of the garden cicadas were singing their night song. But someone else was singing too. A pleasant tenor voice was raised in a haunting romantic song and it was accompanied by the passionate throbbing of guitars.

  For a few moments Dawn stood still, held spellbound by the song of love. The singer's voice seemed to be coming from the opposite direction and in the warm starlit night his message was clear even though he was singing in a language of which she had only the slightest knowledge. He was enticing his lady to come out and make love with him.

  Curiosity to see who was singing overcame her initial instinct to run away while the going was good. She followed the driveway past the front of the house and round to the wing where she guessed Manuela and Carlos lived above the kitchen and the storage rooms. At the corner of the house where trees cast a shadow she paused and peeped round. In the light shafting from a window on to the lawn she could see three men standing. All of them were wearing wide-brimmed, conical-crowned Mexican hats, short jackets over white shirts and trousers which had decorative glittering stripes down the outside seams, and all of them were playing guitars.

  While Dawn watched in amazement the song came to an end. The three men consulted with each other, came to some decision and began to play their guitars again, strumming an introduction to yet another song. The singer's voice, sad and sweet, soared up in a heart-stealing serenade.

  As she stood there listening Dawn felt unbearable longings stir within her. If only the sort of love which the music expressed really existed! If only that was how Sebastian Suarez felt about her it would be so easy for her to tell him she would marry him. But he didn't. He wouldn't torment her if he loved her. And anyway, she could hardly expect him to have fallen in love with her in such a short time. After all, she hadn't fallen in love with him and she had only decided to accept his proposal because marriage to him would apparently provide her with the means to an end: the means for finding Judy.

  The second song ended on a note of passionate entreaty. Sighing to herself, pawn turned away and found Carlos standing behind her.

  'The dinner is ready to be served, seňorita,' he said in his inscrutable way. 'You come now?'

  'Si. I like this singing,' she said, falling into step beside him, wondering vaguely why all her desire to run away had gone. 'Who are those men?'

  'They are troubadors, seňorita. This State of Jalisco is the home of the mariachi music. For a few pesos a young man can hire a group to serenade the girl he is going to marry. It is an old custom which some people like to keep.'

  'It is a very nice custom,' she said. 'Do you know who hired them to come here?'

  'Si.' Carlos sighed rather impatiently. 'It is Paco Colomo. He is going to be my son-in-law. I wish he had more care for his money.'

  'Then they're serenading your daughter!' exclaimed Dawn. She felt disappointment wash over her and was at once irritated with herself. Why should she wish that the mariachi group had been hired to serenade herself?

  'But of course, seňorita. You know of someone else here who is getting married?' said Carlos dryly, and swung open the front door for her to enter, and after a brief hesitation she entered once again the cool airiness of the hallway. 'Seňor Suarez says for you to wait here. He will not be long,' said Carlos. 'Please take your seat at the table.'

  He led the way round the pool to the end of the hall where a small table was set with glinting silver ware. He pulled out a chair for her.

  'Thank you, but I won't sit down yet,' said Dawn.

  'As you wish, seňorita,' he said politely. 'You would like another drink while you wait?'

  Did he know what had happened to her first drink? Had he been watching through the curving leaves of the palm trees? Perhaps he had had to collect up broken glass. His dark eyes told her nothing as usual.

  'No, thanks,' she muttered, and he nodded and went away through the usual archway.

  Alone, Dawn wandered towards the pool again. She supposed Sebastian had gone upstairs to change his shirt. Standing on the edge of the pool watching the reflections of light dapple its green darkness, she recalled her recent behaviour with regret. She wouldn't be at all surprised if he withdrew his offer to marry her now and showed her the door. And who could blame him? No man would willingly marry a woman who appeared to be so shrewish.

  But she wasn't normally like that. She had never deliberately hurt anyone in her life, had tended to be more gentle than tough. Then why did she react so violently to Sebastian? What made her so vulnerable to everything he did and said?

  The sound of footsteps on the spiral staircase made her turn round. He came down into the hall, saw her and stopped. Across the winking pool they stared at each other. He had changed into a more conventional shirt, still white and still open at the neck, but somehow its businesslike plainness after the other more flamboyant one seemed an expression of a severe, cold mood.

  Impulsively she moved towards him, walking swiftly round the pool until she was right up to him, not knowing what she was going to say but wanting to show him in some way that she regretted what she had done.

  'I… I… hope the lemonade didn't damage your beautiful shirt,' she managed to say at last, although she couldn't look up and meet his eyes.

  'I thought you'd gone for good that time,' he replied dryly. 'No, the shirt isn't damaged, but I am.'

  She looked up then in surprise and gasped in consternation when she saw a strip of sticking plaster slanting across his left cheek.

  'Oh, what happened?' she whispered. Her hand went up of its own accord as if to touch his cheek, then she withdrew it quickly when she saw the cold hostility in his eyes.

  'Ice sometimes has sharp corners,' he remarked. 'At least, I think it was ice and not glass which cut my face.'

  Glass? She remembered tossing her lemonade glass aside. Surely she hadn't thrown it at him? But suddenly strange feelings were welling up inside her which couldn't be controlled. Her legs went shaky and she swayed towards him, her hands going out to grasp his arms. Her eyes closed and she leaned her head against his chest.

  'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,' she whispered. 'I
didn't mean to hurt you.'

  She waited for his arms to come round her and hold her close. She ached for them to hold her and was no longer afraid of the effect a close embrace might have on her just as long as he showed her he had forgiven her.

  But instead of that warmth and comfort she felt his hands hard on her shoulders, pushing her away from him. He held her at arm's length and studied her with cold eyes.

  'I accept your apology,' he said coolly. 'But would you please sit down to eat now? Manuela gets very temperamental if the food she prepares is ruined because it can't be served as soon as it's ready.'

  He stepped past her to the table and held out a chair for her. She had guessed he could be haughty when he wanted to be, but she hadn't reckoned on his cool indifference having such a shattering effect on herself. Nervously, like a schoolgirl who has been caught breaking a school rule, she took her seat. Sebastian waited politely behind her until she was settled and then walked round to sit opposite to her. By the steady mellow light of the tall candles on the table his face looked proud and inscrutable and for once, without humour, and she felt her heart sink.

  Carlos appeared almost as soon as they had sat down. Firstly they ate ceviche, succulent pieces of seafood marinated in lime juice and seasoned with oil, onions, chilli and tomatoes. It was followed by fillet of beef served with fried beans and strips of green peppers all covered by a rich avocado sauce. Carlos poured a light sparkling wine into elegant silver goblets and Dawn was glad to drink it because it took the edge off her nervousness.

  Sebastian made no effort to talk to her and she was silenced by his unapproachability. Even when Carlos brought a dessert of fresh fruit, dishes of shelled nuts, a pot of coffee and a bottle of liqueur, then left them, the silence between them continued, accentuated by the tinkle of the fountain in the pool and the far-off sound of the mariachi music-makers.

  Dawn nibbled nuts, drank coffee, sipped liqueur and racked her brains for something to say, but couldn't find anything which wouldn't seem like an obvious attempt to remind him of his proposal of marriage.

  'Is your sister like you?' he asked suddenly, startling her, and she looked up. He was leaning back in his chair and watching her.

  'In appearance?' she asked.

  'Si. That will do to start with,' he said, and raised his liqueur glass to his lips.

  'She's taller than I am and her hair is the colour of ripe corn and her eyes are blue,' Dawn replied, an affectionate smile curving her mouth as she thought about Judy. 'When she was eighteen she won a beauty contest. Dad was very proud of her, especially when she went in for acting.'

  'How old is she?'

  'Twenty-four, two years older than I am.' She caught her lower lip between her lip as a longing to see Judy surged up in her. 'I wish I could find her,' she whispered.

  Across the table his eyes met hers. By candlelight they seemed darker than usual.

  'Now that I know what she looks like there does seem to be a strong possibility that she is with Roberto,' he admitted, and his mouth took on a wry twist. 'He's known to have a weakness for blondes. Each of his ex-wives was a blonde.'

  'Wives?' she exclaimed.

  'He has had three. Each one of them was a film starlet trying to make it to the top in films and each time Roberto was deceived, so he says, into believing he was loved for himself and not for what he could do to further their careers.' He gave her another sardonic glance. 'Would your sister try that line if she thought there was a chance? Would she offer herself to him in return for a leading part in one of his films?'

  'I don't know,' Dawn muttered. She fiddled with her liqueur glass not daring to look at him because the question bothered her. It touched so closely on what she was intending to do, agree to marry him if he would help her to find her sister. 'She might if she was attracted to your half-brother,' she added hesitantly. 'What is he like?'

  'Short, inclined to be fat, in his mid-forties and very temperamental, as artistic people often are. But he's a great movie director and that's why he's attractive to young actresses.' He lifted his liqueur glass, drained it and set it down. 'Have you ever wanted to be an actress?'

  'No, never.' She shook her head and smiled in reminiscence of her father's teasing. 'Dad always said that the acting abilities of the Aylwins had been left out of me. I'm no good at pretending.'

  'I see,' he said softly, and pushing back his chair rose to his feet. 'If you've finished eating, perhaps you'd like to sit beside the pool here for a while or go out on the terrace,' he added politely. 'I have some telephoning to do, so please excuse me.'

  'But you said… I mean… don't you want to know what my decision is?' she faltered, also getting to her feet and going towards him.

  'Decision?' he queried, with a lift of his eyebrows. 'What decision is that?'

  'About marrying you. You said before dinner you would like to hear what it is.'

  'And you threw the contents of your glass in my face and ran away,' Sebastian said dryly. 'An unusual way of rejecting a proposal of marriage, I must admit, but no doubt you meant it since you're no good at pretending.'

  'I didn't do it for that reason,' she protested urgently.

  'Then why did you do it?'

  'I… I… oh, I don't know. You were so aggravating. You… you made me feel very confused,' she admitted miserably. 'I'd… decided that I would say yes and agree to marry you and then you seemed to have changed your mind about it and I wasn't sure…' She broke off, unable to explain any further, staring at him with wide glistening grey eyes. Half turned away from him, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets, he was frowning down at the pool. 'You have changed your mind, haven't you?' she whispered.

  He turned his head slowly and stared at her with half-closed eyes.

  'You say I make you feel confused,' he exclaimed. 'Por dios, that is nothing compared to what you do to me!'

  In one stride he was in front of her, his whole attitude so threatening that she backed off and collided with the table so that the dishes rattled and the cutlery tinkled.

  'So, you are afraid I might strike you,' he jeered, his eyes narrowing unpleasantly, and then he shook his head slowly from side to side. 'No, I could never hit a woman. If you were a man, I would. I'd half throttle you for some of the things you have said to me. Or I would bloody your nose. Or split your lip,' he snarled softly, leaning towards her until all she could see was the gold-fire of his eyes blazing into hers. 'But you're not a man, you're a young woman, and you believe you can say and do what the hell you like and get away with it by saying you're confused, because I make you confused.'

  'Well, you do… you have,' she retorted defensively. 'By asking me to be your wife after telling someone else we're going to be married.'

  'It was the only way I could think of to protect you,' he replied, then drew a sharp breath, half turned away from her and then swung back. 'Sergeant Moreles came here today to take you away for questioning.'

  'Questioning? What about?'

  'About your association with two young criminals who are wanted in the State of California for being involved in drug-peddling and in this country for smuggling drugs. Si, seňorita, you do well to gasp and hold your hand to your mouth in consternation. You described your friends Farley and Brett very accurately to the Sergeant who took notes as a good policeman should and showed them to his lieutenant, who recognised the men from the descriptions. The names they had given you were aliases and somehow they must have managed to get tourist cards issued in those names to enable them to enter the country again without being spotted at the border. It was clever of them to travel with you in a car hired in your name. You look and behave innocently.' He paused and gave her a hard searching look. 'But the lieutenant of police is suspicious of you. He believes you might be an accomplice and that under a certain sort of questioning you might break down and tell him where the criminals have gone.'

  'But I'm not their accomplice,' she exclaimed. 'I… I know nothing about them.'

  'That is w
hat I told Sergeant Moreles,' he said. 'How could you be without me knowing it, I said to him.' His mouth curved cynically. 'The young policeman is a romantic at heart and he lapped up the story I told him of how we had fallen madly in love with each other and intend to get married tomorrow in Guadalajara, and off he went back to the lieutenant.' He shrugged his shoulders and made a repudiating gesture with his hand. 'I regret that my intervention on your behalf has made you feel confused,' he went on dryly. 'And I have to admit I was in the process of changing my mind and withdrawing my proposal. Why the hell should I offer to bestow my name and worldly goods on an ungrateful, sharp-tongued little bitch just to get her out of the mess she's got herself into? That's what I was thinking while I waited for you to join me for dinner. Then you seemed to take matters into your own hands,' he touched the plaster on his cheek, 'and saved me the trouble. Carlos will drive you into Manzanillo tomorrow morning and leave you there,' he added coldly. 'I'm sure you'll manage very well without my help, since it only confused you.' The words had a sharp edge to them. 'Buenas noches, seňorita.'

  Dawn couldn't have felt more stunned if he had struck her. In stupefied silence she watched him walk away round the pool and disappear through an archway. Then slowly she sank into a chair at the table. Head resting on her hands, she thought back over all that had happened since she had first met Farley at the film studios. In the light of what Sebastian had just told her she could understand now the strange behaviour of Farley and Brett on the beach the other afternoon.

  When she had gone to find Farley to tell him that her sister wasn't in this house she had surprised him and Brett with some of their drug-smuggling, drug-taking friends. They hadn't expected to see her again, would have moved on in the hired car without her while she was being reunited with her sister. But since she had turned up at an awkward moment, in the way of their kind, they had tried to make her one of them by forcing her to take a drug. And when she had refused they had tried to get rid of her. Amoral, utterly unprincipled, they had tried to drown her, and had nearly succeeded.