For some reason Francisco became intensely annoyed.
"Shall we return to the Casa and leave the showrooms until another day?" he frowned, making his irritation plain.
"But I want to see the brooches, and the rings and necklaces, so that I can decide which to choose when I'm a grown-up lady!" Carmen wailed, stamping her small foot to emphasize her demands.
"I, too, am looking forward to seeing the finished article, Francisco," Catryn coaxed, confident of being indulged.
He flicked back his cuff to study the slim gold watch shackled to his brown wrist. "I'm sorry," he clipped, "I did not expect the visit to take so long and I have arranged to meet a business acquaintance at the Casa in one hour." Hazel felt his frown as an indictment levelled against her personally for causing the delay, so hastily she sided with him in an attempt to put things right.
"I wouldn't mind leaving now, I have the begin-nings of a headache ... perhaps, Tio, you could return with us another day ?"
"Better than that!" he twinkled, mischief dancing in his eyes. "I will most certainly return with you whenever you wish, but as Catryn and the little one are so anxious to finish the tour, I suggest you go back to the Casa with Francisco while they remain here with me. The car can be sent to pick us up later and that way no one will be disappointed. Are you agreeable?" The silence that followed would have registered upon all but the most obtuse that the suggestion was unaccept-able, but Tio Garcia's artless old eyes roved their faces with such lack of guile that no one felt able to object.
They came to the car to see them off, Carmen a little tearful at being parted for even an hour from her beloved friend, Tio Garcia struggled unsuccessfully to smother a grin of satisfaction, and Catryn visibly and unmistakably furious. Hazel shrank down in her seat, feeling somehow responsible for upsetting everyone's plans, but unable to pinpoint exactly where she had gone wrong. One thing was certain - far from extricating Francisco from an embarrassing situation his lowered brows and the grim contours of his mouth displayed amply his dissatisfaction with the arrangement. He swung the car out of the factory gates with the verve of a charioteer lusting to reach his goal. Chip-pings flew from under the wheels as without thought for the gleaming coachwork he sped along poorly surfaced roads hooting impatiently at any driver unfortunate enough to cross his path.
Hazel shrank back in her seat, wishing the copious upholstery would engulf her, thereby completely ridding him of the source of his annoyance. As a rule, when driving through the heart of the island, she enjoyed peeping into the dim interior of village homes through ever-open doorways, loved the spread of ancient olive trees with their suede-textured fruit and trunks curiously twisted to resemble gnarled fingers groping upwards into the branches, and the sight of glowing globules of citrus fruit hanging over garden walls was always freshly surprising. But today they were mere blurs of colour flashing past the window as he gave vent to the devil that drove him into mad outbursts of speed.
Gradually as his temper became spent, their progress
slowed. They were travelling along a coastal road, ascending steep hills with pine forests to their right and a dazzling vista of blue sea far below to the left. Hazel sat erect, craning her neck to observe as much as possible of the beauty that had beckoned her initially to the island. But travel posters could not do justice to reality, and around each twisted corner, every outcrop of rock, was scenery as disturbing as a sob. She did not notice the car had stopped until Francisco applied the handbrake with a sudden jerk. There were no signs of temper when he met her enquiring look, but puzzlement riddled his brow and more than a hint of resignation coloured the words that were wrung from him.
"I owe you an apology. I must beg you to excuse my unspeakable temper."
"I wasn't afraid," she assured him, misunderstanding completely. "I like speed, it gives me a glorious feeling of freedom - as if I were a bird, an eagle perhaps, roaming the heavens ...!"
His eyebrows drew together, about to contradict, then when he suddenly smiled she really did feel like a bird - a small, captured fledgling with heart flutter-ing as rapidly as agitated wings. "No, not a bird," he corrected slowly, "an ardilla, a timid, dainty squirrel searching to establish itself upon alien ground - and I must suppose I am the monster who has brought to your great reproachful eyes a reflection of the fear felt by the gentle in the presence of the ruthless." It was said wryly, projecting an unspoken admission of the loneliness which so often plagues the aloof and the misunderstood. It wrung her heart, that infinitesimal glimpse into the forbidden territory of his mind, and propelled
the impulsive denial.
"I'm not afraid of you, Francisco," she assured him shyly, realizing the instant she spoke the truth of her words. She had been afraid many times, but only of the unyielding shell with which he was surrounded. Never again would she feel quite so vulnerable to his various acts of cruelty.
His profile lifted, etched with pride, as if aware that she had sensed a weakness, but when she continued to regard him steadily, refusing to capitulate, the first sign of melting coldness showed itself in a cleft running down his cheek which, when it appeared, left her breathlessly weak. "I believe you, amada" the cleft deepened into a smile. "Perhaps if ever again I feel the need to vent my temper upon you I will not be left feeling I have unjustly thrashed a child."
A spurt of laughter was released on a pent-up breath.
"Did I really make you feel that way?" she gurgled, lightheaded with happiness. "Poor Francisco!" Laughter died when he reached out to trace the soft curve of her cheek. His touch barely traced her skin, but left a scorching trail of havoc across her heart.
"You are a forgiving child," he mused. "Few women would overlook the insults I heaped upon you last night. It was for those insults that I was apologizing earlier -do you think that if I were to try again you would feel able to forgive completely ?"
The surrounding intimacy was unbearable. Something deep inside her told it could not last, this magical moment of minds sympathetically attuned, the precious feeling that for once he was aware of her as a woman and not just as a child.
"What do you really want of me, Francisco?" she forced through a constricted throat. Then in a rush she clarified, "It's just that I don't wish to offend, to ... to encroach further than you wish to allow. It would help if you could set a guideline so that my position may be made clear."
For once he seemed uncertain. A few minutes ago, she knew, he could have made plain immediately what her duties were to be, but an undefinable change had taken place, surprising to them both, and she sensed he was striving to be fair when he outlined slowly, "In the first instance my objective was solely to relieve myself of the burden Carmen had become. But now," he hesitated, tapping lean fingers thoughtfully upon the steering wheel, "now I realize how unfair such a posi-tion is to you." When he swept her face with an un-fathomable look her pulses leapt, then subsided to a dull throb when he decided, "In future you must feel free to make any decisions you think justified so far as Carmen and the running of the household is concerned - I will instruct the servants that your orders are to be carried out without question ... So far as you and I are concerned," he capitulated unwillingly, "the position will remain unchanged, except that whereas before you looked upon me as your employer I now feel we under-stand each other well enough to continue as friends."
Friends! Suddenly the word was hateful! Friendship with Francisco, Hazel imagined, would be a lukewarm, almost non-existent relationship barely one step advanced of the employer-employee status they had just abandoned. She was bewildered by the ache of disappointment throbbing through her words when
she accepted with forced brightness, "That's fine by me. Thank you for being so understanding."
As the journey continued she basked in the novelty of his amused indulgence and played the dangerous but delightful game of imagining life as it might be if ever his indulgence should grow into an emotion more lasting, more demanding.
Love! The word presented its
elf with the impact of ice upon her warm heart. She stared blankly out of the window, her hands tightly clenched, grappling with a storm of feeling that left her with nerve ends tingling and a heartbeat so erratic she felt faint. She faced a moment of truth, a time to acknowledge honestly the fact that had lain buried beneath the excuses and evasions that had convinced neither herself nor Tio Garcia when she had tried to explain her acceptance of Francisco's proposal. It had begun that morning on the beach, on their very first encounter, catching her so unprepared she had not been able to believe, much less cope. But now it had to be faced!
Gradually, as confusion subsided and her trembling body relaxed, her mouth lifted in the beginnings of a smile. An invisible burden of guilt had lifted from her heart, enabling it, for the first time in weeks, to beat freely and with renewed optimism. She felt relief and an unbelievable happiness as she recognized that the vows she had taken and the promises she had made had sprung not from lies but from the deep love felt for her bridegroom by an adoring bride...
When assisting her from the car in front of the Casa, Francisco was startled by a smile of sudden sweetness. Firmly she checked an impulse to communicate further,
and swept gold-tipped lashes over eyes alight with happiness. It was silly to expect him to share in the revelation, she scolded herself, causing him further puzzlement by adopting, with the swiftness of sun disappearing behind rainclouds, an attitude of cool indifference. "Your visitor has arrived, Francisco," she nodded, curious about the owner of the raffish red sports car parked further along the drive.
He barely spared it a glance before entering the Casa. "Our business won't take long," he assured her, his hand reaching towards the door behind which his guest waited. "I'll get rid of him as quickly as possible, then, if your headache is not too painful, perhaps you will join me for lunch ?"
Hazel drew in a shaky breath: for once he was not demanding! "Yes, I'd like that," she stammered, ignoring his reference to the non-existent headache, "I'll just slip upstairs and change." As she showered and slipped into an orange sundress the memory of his inscrutable look remained with her. Perhaps, she mused, there was such a thing as thought transference and two minds really could converse silently. Wishful thinking? Perhaps. But her newly awakened love was so all-enveloping she would not have been surprised to see I love him! emblazoned across her face. She sped to the mirror, then sighed with relief. Nothing showed except cheeks pink with excitement, eyes glowing golden, and a pink mouth that however hard she tried would not discard its tremulous tilt of expectancy.
Francisco's guest was just taking his leave when she ran downstairs to the accompaniment of tinkling bells. The sounds encroached upon the men's conversation,
causing a momentary lull that was broken by the amazed ejaculation.
"Great Scott, Hazel! I've scoured the resort searching for you!"
"Robin! . . . Mr. Carstair . . . how nice to see you again !" she replied gaily, in love with all the world.
"You are acquainted with my wife, senor?" Francisco questioned coldly.
An explanation faltered on Hazel's lips, then died with a shiver as she became conscious of chill hanging like a smoke cloud about the gloomy hall.
"Your wife!" A soundless whistle escaped Robin's lips while at the same time he projected towards her a look of reproach which managed to suggest a degree of intimacy far removed from the reality of their informal encounter.
"Well," Francisco demanded, "have you or have you not been introduced ?"
"We met on the beach yesterday," she tilted, angry with Robin and furiously resenting Francisco's haughty censure. When his eyebrows elevated, she forestalled his intention to speak. "Carmen and I spent a very enjoyable hour with Robin. We drifted out to sea in a pedalo and he very kindly came to our rescue. We introduced ourselves ..." she petered out, hiding dismay behind a look of defiance.
She had to weather the icy glint that chilled across her before it came to rest upon Robin. "I am grateful to you, Senor Carstair, for extricating my wife from the result of her folly. Perhaps, in this instance, lack of propriety may be excused if we take into consideration your different nationality and your ignorance of our
ways. Please do not feel offended if I warn you against adopting such procedure as a habit. The women of my country are not used to being accosted by strangers and, were my wife not English by birth, she would have found such action most offensive."
The implication was obvious. Not only did it penetrate Robin's fairly thick skin that he was being delicately roasted, it was made plain that Hazel too lacked necessary refinement. She could have wilted there under Francisco's frown and under the scrutiny of his ancestors, their features immortalized by the strokes of a supercilious brush. No doubt now, his offer of friendship would be withdrawn, and with it the promised concessions that were a part of that friendship - a free hand with Carmen and complete charge of the household! She hardly recognized her own voice asking, "Why not stay with us for a couple of days, Robin? As my husband can spare very little time from his work, Carmen and I are often lonely. It would be fun to renew our short acquaintance."
Even Robin, for all his brash self-confidence, was taken aback by the suggestion. His glance sketched curiously over Francisco's taut profile, then lingered upon the bowed head of the girl visibly overwhelmed by her own temerity. As he hesitated, a roar rilled the Casa, echoing along dark passageways, shuddering fragile ornaments upon their stands, and setting the staircase jangling with the noise of discordant bells. Every muscle in Hazel's body tensed at the sound and her wide eyes flew immediately to Francisco's face as if expecting to see anger flaming hot from snorting nostrils. Lightning flashed and Robin took a protective
step towards her, impelled by her look of terror. "Don't be scared, Hazel. If you really want me to I'll stay!" he shouted through a second clash of thunder. But she did not hear him, because with one last despairing look at Francisco she had clapped her hands over her ears and run to escape the presence of what she was convinced was the displeasure of the unreined monster.
CHAPTER VI
The storm lasted all evening, thunderous sounds trembled the very foundations of the Casa, sword thrusts of lightning searched dark, mysterious corners, and wind tore through outside passageways sighing condemnation of the eruption into life of long-dormant strength. It would have been a relief to cry great tears of grief such as were being spattered, round as coins upon the windows and marble-floored patio. They might have marked the despair of all previous Drach brides, those sobbing raindrops, bemoaning the folly of a girl who when almost within earshot of a dragon's purr had opted instead for a provoked roar. Hazel flinched inwardly at each thrust of the elements, trying to look composed within the circle of guests chatting casually in the main sala, but conscious always of Francisco who, though pleasantly hospitable as always to his guests, conveyed to her by his very formality a threat of impending confrontation. From where, she wondered belatedly, had she found the effrontery to tilt at his authority ? She, a mere employee, had actually dared to invite into his home a man against whose personality he had already clashed - and threatened to clash further.
"I must admit," Catryn lounged complacently against a brocaded settee blue as her eyes, "I feel grate-ful for this storm that's prolonged my visit. Not even the most stringent of employers could have insisted
upon my braving waterlogged roads to reach the hotel."
"But did you not know," Francisco's smile was inscrutable, "that I hold the elements completely under my control? A flick of the fingers," he demonstrated, "brings a lightning flash! A sweep of my hand for thunder," he laughed aloud when both thunder and lightning obeyed his commands, his sardonic amusement accelerated by Hazel's startled amazement. "And a hiss," he bent menacingly over her, purging his anger in eyes registering terrified disbelief, "brings the wind strong and wild to ravish all who resist my will!"
She jumped to her feet and screamed when a door burst open, projecting a cold breeze against her feve
rishly hot cheeks. "Stop it!" she choked, frightened to the point of hysteria, then crawled with embarrassment when everyone began to laugh and to applaud his realistic dramatics. Her foolishness was underlined by Catryn's: "Really, Nut-brown, you are na'ive!" and even Tio Garcia, usually so sensitive to undercurrents, seemed greatly entertained. Only Robin was aware of her plunge into fear, and when buckling knees sent her groping for support he pulled her into the seat next to his and steadied her hands with his own. He directed a glance of utter dislike towards Francisco as he soothed:
"It's no crime to show feeling, sweetheart, rather a refreshing change, in fact, to discover someone without any of the hidden depths and pet neuroses that plague us lesser mortals." He seemed to intend a deliberate challenge when he raised his voice. "You are the epitome of my ideal woman - utterly feminine, totally visible, and pretty damned adorable!" He swept Francisco a glance of unsheathed steel and seemed
disappointed when after a silent clash which sliced through nerve, the Marques decided to parry:
"I pity you, senor. Why do people never long for what is possible - always the impossible? However, do not despair, I'm sure that somewhere in the world there's a replica of the ideal you have sought and found - too late!" It was what Robin would have crudely termed a "brush-off", but expressed with such cool diplomacy that everyone sighed with relief. A nasty situation had been averted, but it was obvious to everyone present that the conflict so narrowly averted had merely been postponed until some future date.
The clearing of Tio Garcia's throat acted as a signal to relax. One could almost sense the subsiding of Francisco's wrath as he trod with panther grace towards Catryn, whose watchful body was rendered boneless by the warmth of his smile. Hazel drew a hand across a brow damp with sweat and felt terribly tired, as if she had been standing for a week. Vaguely, through whirling thoughts, she heard Tio Garcia enquire politely the nature of Robin's business and suffered a missed heartbeat when his answer indicated a semipermanent stay on the island. "I work in the film industry, senor, a producer of sorts, interested mainly in documentaries. That's the reason I came to the island -the caves of Drach have a legendary beauty which I've been commissioned to transpose on to film."
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