The kisses and the wine

by Violet Winspear

  Lise could feel herself staring, for when Leandro had mentioned that his grandmother was old-fashioned, a picture of her in dark Victorian clothes had sprung to mind, with severity written all over a handsome but unpowdered face.

  Instead Lise saw a woman clad in a lace bed jacket of deep mauve, huge silk pillows behind her shoulders, the rose-pink silken cover of her huge bed strewn with magazines, letters, combs, mirrors, sweet boxes and jewellery boxes.

  It was like walking into the glamorous boudoir of a very great actress ... or an empress, and Lise had the rather hysterical feeling that she ought to curtsy or something.

  Instead she watched wide-eyed as Leandro approached the Condesa and stood looking down at her with a quizzical expression on his face. When he spoke he used English words so Lise would understand him with greater ease.

  `Here we are, Madrecita, at your command. Manuela informs me that you have an insatiable curiosity to meet my novia pronto.' He turned to Lise and beckoned her to the

  bedside. He stood below the three steps of the dais, tall enough to meet his grandmother's eyes, but Lise saw at once that ,she would have to mount them, and as she did so, she was acutely aware of the Condesa taking her in from top to toe. At once she felt untidy, at a disadvantage, and a terrible fraud. She could hardly believe that she had allowed herself to get into such a bogus situation, yet here she was, under scrutiny by a proud and alarming member of the Latin aristocracy, who was meant to believe that her equally proud and alarming grandson had chosen for his bride-to-be a girl with tousled fair hair, a face that could never be called anything more than youthfully charming, and a figure that was more sleek than curvaceous.

  The Condesa was bound to see through the farce, and even as Lise felt certain that she saw a flicker of derision in the fine, painted eyes, the grandmother of Leandro put out her ringed hands to Lise and said warmly:

  'Welcome to El Serafin, my child. Leandro has told me about you, of course, but seeing a man's intended bride in person is different from making an image of her in one's mind.' The fingers glittering with jewels caught at Lise's hands with surprising strength and closed about them with a sort of tenacity. For a panicky moment Lise almost pulled away, and very nearly cried out that she wasn't the figment of the imagination dreamed up by Leandro in order to protect him against the arranged marriage . . . the sort of marriage which had made much of his mother's life unhappy.

  Panic almost won, and then was defeated as the Condesa pulled Lise right down to her and with a dominating look in her eyes, said sweetly but firmly: 'You may kiss me, child. You have an interesting young face, and I welcome you as a future member of the Marcos Reyes family, which I am sure you realize is an old and powerful one despite the fact that it has been reduced to one old lady and one virile young man,

  who I am glad to see is at last facing up to his responsibilities with regard to the continuation of our line.'

  So saying the Condesa presented her cheek and Lise placed her lips against the perfumed skin. 'Thank you, señora, for your kind welcome,' she said, like a polite child who had been tutored by a firm adult.

  `You may call me Madrecita, but tell me, child, do you wear male nether garments all the time? I hope you won't mind if I say that I disapprove of them? If the legs of women had been meant to be concealed, I am sure Mother Nature would not have wasted time giving more shape to them than she has given to masculine legs. I fail to understand the modern girl. In my youth skirts were long and even if one had shapely legs they were not allowed to show above the ankle. Now it is permissible to show the leg, young women prefer to hide it in the garment of the man. The long skirt has a certain mystery, but the trousers worn by women only create an effect of stumpiness. The long skirt can add grace, but trousers — never!'

  `I'm sorry,' Lise flushed, and would not have dared to rebel against the Condesa's tirade as she had rebelled with Leandro. He had merely been sarcastically amused by her appearance, but it was very plain that the Condesa had always been an elegant woman herself and she wasn't being unkind for the sake of hurting Lise but for the sake of fashion itself.

  `I — I would have changed before coming to see you, but your duenna said it was urgent that we come, and — and Leandro said there was no time for primping.' Lise bit her lip as she felt him stir behind her and stand tall beside her on the steps of the dais. And she felt as if every separate nerve in her body had a barb in it has his arm slid around her; it was almost as if the skin of her waist was bare, so acute was his touch.

  `Yes, why the urgency, Madrecita?' he asked. 'What caused you to change your mind about meeting Lise later today — when I am sure she would have been looking her most attractive?'

  His grandmother studied his face intently, and it seemed to Lise that she was looking for some small sign of guilt; some rift in his suave mask. It was as if she sensed that he was playing a game with her, and she in turn would play a game with him. Lise felt like the innocent pawn between them . . . and was too fascinated by the pair of them to really mind.

  For the briefest moment the Condesa hesitated in her reply to him, and then her jewelled fingers gleamed as she gestured at a letter which looked as if it had been thrust with anger into its blue envelope. That it was written on coloured paper indicated that it had been sent by a woman, and Lise watched as a long fingernail stabbed at the letter.

  `As you are aware, Leandro, I still have old friends in 'Madrid, and now that I do not go there quite so much they write to regale me with the latest gossip.' The Condesa glanced from his face to Lise's. Now I have actually met this young girl, whom you have spoken about but never produced before, I imagine I can discard the information contained in this letter from Tereseta Delmonde, who, as you know, has an apartment in the centre of Madrid so she can be near the fashion shops and the theatres and restaurants.'

  The Condesa paused and fixed her eyes so intently upon the face of her grandson that it was as if she tried to read his_ mind. 'Do I now understand that your various meetings with that notorious South American woman were for business purposes only? My friend Tereseta has seen you together at the smart restaurants of Madrid, and at the Opera House and the corrida. It would be like that creature to enjoy the

  bullfight, but you know my feelings, Leandro. Despite the fact that I am Latin, I deplore the excessive callousness of the bullring, and I have said many times that any woman who enjoys seeing a man ravished by sharp horns, or a bull barbed and stabbed to death, is a woman who lives for passion and not for love. I say nothing to your affairs, if you must have them, but I hope and pray I can be assured you mean to marry this girl you bring here today. She has innocence even if she lacks seduction, and I warn you—'

  `Madrecita, he held up a warning hand, 'I have told you often enough before that I won't be dictated to. I promised I would bring to you an English girl of unimpeachable character, did I not? Well, here she is, she stands at my side, and is real enough for you to have felt her kiss, and possibly her trembling. She comes of a family who have guarded her well, and if you give her the impression I am a man of affairs, she will thrust back at me the ring she wears for me.'

  With that deep laugh of his, in which mockery seemed to have a permanent place, he lifted Lise's left hand and showed it to the Condesa. 'See, she wears the family sapphire. It is on the hand of an innocent girl, so you can relax and forget the gossip of your friend Tereseta. You know as well as I that for business purposes I must meet all kinds of men and women, and if it is entertaining for them to visit the corrida, then must I, like a callow boy, say that my grandmother disapproves?'

  Abruptly he broke into a smile. 'You are like most beautiful women, Madrecita. You like your own way most of the time, and consider your views of life as impeccable as your own face in a mirror. When you speak of love I wonder if you mistake the word for duty.'

  Her eyes flashed when he said this. 'Be in no doubt, Leandro, that you owe duty to your name and your position, but I

  think I have demonstrated o
ver the years that I have great love for you, and that is why I wish you to have a girl for your wife who will continue with the love after I am gone. You are much of a man, Leandro. Easy for a woman to look at and desire, but not so easy for a woman to live with you in harmony — unless she has a warm, receptive, tolerant nature. I admit now that your mother was the wrong choice for your father, that she had a withdrawn nature, to be cloistered rather than exposed to the natural demands of a strong and virile man. But that does not mean that you must go to the opposite extreme in order to find your married happiness, and I am glad that you have seen wisdom and placed your ring upon the hand of this English girl. Naturally enough I had hopes that you would turn to — well, to a young Latin girl, but this one is bonita, as you said, and she will do better than that other.' There was such sudden venom in the Con desa's voice, such a flash of indignation in her eyes, that Lise could understand fully Leandro's unhappy dilemma in loving and wanting this victim of his grandmother's actue displeasure. How could he bring Franquista here? How could he admit that 'the notorious South American woman' was the woman he desired to marry? Unable to stay away from Franquista in Madrid, the fact of their meetings had already found their way to the Condesa, and now it occurred to Lise that she must have appeared to him, on that lonely road in a broken-down car, like a blessing dropped into his hands out of the blue.

  Now he was holding very tightly to her hand, and the blue fire of his ring was burning against the whiteness of her skin, catching and holding the Condesa's gaze.

  'It is the custom for a novia to give to the novio a ring in exchange for his to seal the bond. Has Leandro told you, child?'

  Lise shook her head, and added with an attempt at

  humour: 'I'm afraid I have very little to give him in exchange, not even a dowry or a hope chest. My kind of work doesn't pay high wages, you see, and I just about saved enough to come here.'

  Lise spoke the words in all innocence, and it wasn't until she saw the sharpening of the Condesa's eyes, and heard the quick intake of breath at her side, that she fully realized the slip she had made. Then Leandro spoke into the small breach of silence. 'You see how British and independent is my novice, Madrecita. All she has so far agreed to accept from me is the betrothal ring, and some silks so she can indulge her passion for designing and making dresses. It is very difficult for such a girl to allow herself to be fussed over and spoiled and she cannot comprehend our custom of making much of a future bride. In her country marriage has become a partnership rather than a bonding of two separate lives into one heart, one soul. As you can imagine, I have much to teach her, and she has much to learn, and it is to be hoped that we shall both enjoy the process.'

  As the Condesa slowly relaxed against her mound of silk pillows and smiled a little to herself, Lise wasn't sure whether she was taken in by Leandro, or amused by the idea of a girl standing up to him. 'All the same it is only correct that a ring be given from her hand into yours, Leandro. I have a ring of your grandfather's which would be most suitable and if you will open the small safe behind El Conquistadore and bring to me the gold box which I keep inside, then we will ensure that the exchange of rings takes place as it should. It is not only an attractive custom, but it will convince me, Leandro, that you are sincere at last in your desire to take a wife and start a family. I shall very soon be eighty, and I wish to hold your son in my arms before I pass on to the beloved arms of your grandfather. Now go to my safe and bring the box, Leandro.'

  `At your wish, Madrecita.' He spoke a trifle sardonically, and as he withdrew his arm from around Lise he seemed to let his fingers trail deliberately across her back. She almost jumped, for strangely alarming were the sensations he evoked, as if her skin would have liked him to go on touching her even as her mind rejected him. Her mind knew that he was playing a game, but her unawakened body knew only its own primitive reactions to a practised male touch.

  He would have to stop touching her, she thought wildly. She had never met anyone like him before, and if she hoped to leave the castillo as puritan as she had entered it, then she must put a stop to physical contact with Leandro de Marcos Reyes. There was a sensual magnetism about the man that was as highly dangerous as going too close to a live wire, and though it was true that Lise had been devotedly guarded by a responsible brother, she was not so unworldly that she didn't know there was a hunger in everyone for the sublimation of body and spirit in the arms of another person.

  She knew that it was called total surrender, and she felt herself go weak as water at the thought of such surrender in the strong, dark arms of this Spaniard who was using her to take his grandmother's attention off the woman he really wanted.

  `Are you very much in love with him?' The question came suddenly, and Lise flinched as if from the flick of a whiplash. She had been glad that Leandro had left the bedroom for a few minutes, but now she wanted him to return so that he could stand between her and such searching questions from the Condesa. She cast a quick glance at the door and prayed that he would appear before she had to answer his grandmother's inevitable question.

  `Ah, I see that you are.' Her glance had been taken to mean that she couldn't wait for him to hurry back to her side, and when Lise dared to look at the Condesa she saw

  that she was smiling to herself. 'How could it be otherwise when he has such a vital personality, and you are very obviously a girl who has not had a lot to do with men I am pleased — very pleased indeed.'

  And the Condesa was looking pleased when her grandson came back into the room carrying in his hands the gold box she had asked for. He placed it on the bed, and Lise felt the flickering look which he cast at her face, as if wondering what had been said to her during his short absence. She felt the turbulence of her own emotions, the pull against him, and the pull towards him, and it was infuriating, as if she were no longer in control of her own destiny while she remained within the radius of this man's personality. She was caught, held, twirled like a pin on a magnet, and because she felt a prisoner of his steel and velvet she cast him a resentful look, steeling her grey eyes to look cool and hostile.

  He met her look and his brows joined in a black straight line, giving him a look of threat. Defiance thrilled through Lise and she stormily told herself that she would not be treated as if she were really bound to this — this imperious devil who didn't care if she got hurt so long as the Condesa and his darling Franquista emerged unscathed from his reckless game of chance.

  `Here, child, take this ring and place it on the hand of Leandro!'

  It was a most definite order, and short of an outright refusal, which would seem very odd, Lise could do nothing else but take the carved gold ring and avoid a direct meeting with Leandro's eyes as held out his hand so that she might slip the ring on the fourth finger. It glinted against his dark skin, and was set at its centre with a gleaming ruby.

  Now you will give your two hands to me.' The Condesa spoke with a very satisfied note in her voice. 'I wish to give my blessing to this engagement, for which an old woman

  like me should not have had to wait so long. Your hand, Leandro! And now yours, my child!'

  With a fuming reluctance Lise extended her left hand, adorned by the sapphire that was meant for someone who knew herself passionately loved, and she gave an uncontrollable shiver as the Condesa took her hand and placed it in that of her grandson His lean, strong fingers dosed about hers, holding them like a manacle, while his grandmother murmured some words in Spanish, and then crossed herself. Lise could feel her legs shaking, and her heart pounding. She almost felt that she would faint unless she escaped from this room, from these two people who were really strangers to her, and yet who seemed to be taking control of her life.

  She had to be dreaming . . . but the fingers holding hers were too real and warm to be part of a dream

  'Go now, the two of you,' said the Condesa, and suddenly her face had a look of weariness, so that the paint on her cheeks seemed to take on the look of shrivelled petals. have had much excit
ement this morning and must now take a little rest. Send Manuela to me so she can tidy up my bed, and put my jewel box back in the safe, Leandro. Es bueno, mi novillo, that you do this thing to please me.'

  'What, put away your jewel box?' he said dryly.

  At once the Condesa looked at him with a pair of flashing eyes. 'You know well enough what I mean. Now take the box and the girl, and leave me in peace.'

  `Lo que tu quieras, madrecita mia.' He bent his tall head and kissed the temple of his grandmother. I am honoured to

  wear the ring of the man you greatly loved.'

  'The ring is yours, mio. I meant always to give it to you.' She smiled tiredly. 'Today you have made me happy. I hope it is a gift I may hope to keep.'

  And so saying she closed her eyes, and Lise escaped from the room ahead of Leandro, but with long strides he soon

  caught up with her on the bend of the stairs. She hastened, and panic was so blind in her at that moment that she didn't watch her step on the twisting stairs and she felt herself falling even as the man at her heels caught at her and swung her back into his arms to safety.

  Safety? Could such a word be applied to finding herself, shaken and shocked in the arms of Leandro de Marcos Reyes, held close to the hard frame of him and almost on the verge of tears. 'Let me go!' she said, raggedly.

  `So that you might stumble again and next time break your neck.' His arm was locked about her like a thing of steel, and with his left hand he pushed the fair hair back off her brow and held her so that she was forced to look at him. The tears of shock and silent fury were plain in her grey eyes, making them shimmer, making the lashes cling darkly about their wide, furious pleading.

  `How could you let a lie go so far?' she demanded. 'It's devilish of you . . . allowing that exchange of rings, and then that bedside blessing I — I never agreed to anything like that. I just thought I'd have to meet the Condesa, and never dreamed of it becoming so —— so serious. You will have to tell her the truth. You can't allow her to go on thinking that you — you and I are actually engaged. She knows already that you are intimate with Franquista—'