Under the Brazilian Sun

by Catherine George

  ‘How absolutely lovely,’ she exclaimed, and smiled at Teresa. ‘I didn’t expect a garden like this at a cattle ranch!’

  ‘It is all my work,’ her hostess said, plainly delighted. ‘When Antonio brought me here as a bride it was just grass and trees and the curral with the horses.’

  ‘You’ve done it all yourself?’ said Katherine, astonished.

  Teresa laughed. ‘I have help, but I am designer and chefe, and I work in it most days.’

  ‘The flowering hedge is magnificent.’

  ‘Hibiscus does well here. Agora, we must hurry, Katherine. There is your bathroom through that door, but now we return to my impatient son.’ Teresa paused as they left the room. ‘You like Roberto?’ she said bluntly.

  Katherine nodded. ‘Very much.’ Just to see him again had made it plain that ‘like’ didn’t even begin to cover her feelings for Teresa de Sousa’s charismatic son.

  Teresa smiled mischievously. ‘It is plain he likes you very much also, Katherine.’

  Antonio de Sousa was chatting to his son over glasses of beer when they went down. As they got to their feet, Katherine saw that now Roberto was dressed in similar clothes to his father their physique was similar, but he had inherited his looks from his mother rather than from his equally handsome sire.

  They had drinks on the veranda, but afterwards Antonio went off to his office to do some work, and suggested Roberto show his guest around the Estancia.

  ‘Katherine might wish to rest on her bed,’ Teresa protested.

  Roberto got up quickly. ‘Then I shall take her up to her room. Later, Katherine, we shall explore outside.’ He took Katherine’s hand to hurry her up the stairs. When they reached her room he closed the door behind him and took her in his arms, rubbing his cheek against her hair. ‘Now we are here in private I can kiss you at last, if you wish, amada.’

  ‘Of course I wish,’ she said with a sigh, and surrendered to the mouth that devoured hers with such hunger she felt dizzy, her breath tearing through her chest as she inhaled the scent of Roberto’s skin. As she felt him harden against her she pulled away, gasping. ‘You’d better go now.’

  ‘I know I must,’ he groaned. ‘Ah, querida, it is so good to have you here.’ He trailed a hand down her flushed cheek as though convincing himself she was real. And then said the last thing she expected. ‘Can you ride? ‘

  She blinked. ‘Ride?’

  ‘A horse.’

  ‘Oh. Yes. Though not recently.’

  ‘Otimo. We shall ride together in the morning.’

  ‘It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. Won’t your mother mind if we take off?’

  He shook his head. ‘My mother is so delighted to have such a clever, charming guest she will not mind, I promise.’

  When Roberto had torn himself away after demanding, and receiving, one last kiss, Katherine decided that the first thing on the agenda was unpacking. And found that the suitcases on the chest at the end of the bed were empty. She ran to the wardrobe, where every stitch of clothing she possessed was either hanging from the rail, perfectly ironed, or neatly folded on the shelves. She raised her eyebrows as she stripped off her jeans and shirt. The de Sousa family led a very different life from hers! They were obviously conventional when it came to relationships too, if Roberto had to kiss her in secret. But since he had invited her here for Christmas, the de Sousas must surely realise that there was more between her and Roberto than just his gratitude for her work on his painting. Katherine sighed as she leaned back against the pillows on the pristine white bed, wishing he could share it with her later.

  Katherine shook her head in wry wonder. This was something new in her life. Before meeting Roberto, her attitude had been a take it or leave it view on the rare occasions she’d found a man she liked enough to let him make love to her. She’d had no idea how wonderful the experience could be, given the right partner. Except that Roberto, in almost every other way, was exactly the wrong partner. He was now ready to put the glamour and excitement of his past career behind him and settle down to his share of running the Estancia Grande, but there was no place in his kind of life for someone like Katherine Lister.

  She spent an hour deep in thought, then had a wash and did her face, dug out a perfectly ironed pink shirt and went down to the veranda.

  ‘I sent for tea when I heard you,’ said Teresa, and smiled. ‘You feel better now?’

  ‘I do indeed. I was all set to unpack, but I found some kind fairy had done it for me.’

  Roberto held out a chair for her. ‘Did you sleep?’

  ‘No. I’m not one for naps in the day.’

  ‘But you rested. Which was good,’ approved Teresa.

  ‘This is Dirce,’ said Roberto, as the maid appeared with a tray. ‘She unpacked for you.’

  ‘Muito obrigada,’ Katherine said to the girl, and Roberto explained briefly to the shy, smiling girl.

  Knowing that Roberto was impatient to take her outside, Katherine drank down a cup of tea, excused herself to her hostess and went off with him to explore.

  ‘I will not take you to my mother’s garden,’ said Roberto as they left the house. ‘She will want to show you that herself. I will take you to the swimming pool, and then to the curral so you can meet some horses.’

  ‘I’d better make friends with one if I’m to do some riding in the morning.’

  ‘It is a long time since you rode?’

  ‘Ages. So we’d better not go too far tomorrow or I won’t be able to sit down to eat my Christmas dinner.’ Katherine looked around her with interest as they made for a grove of trees which sheltered a sizeable swimming pool.

  ‘You shall swim there later if you wish,’ he told her and led her past it to make for the curral, a railed enclosure near a cluster of vine-covered outbuildings. She could hear men’s voices and the sound of horses whickering, and she smiled up at Roberto in eager anticipation as they reached the group of horses tethered at the curral rails. Unlike the stable bred hacks she rode at home, these were the rough-coated descendants of wild mustangs, he informed her, stocky, strong animals with the stamina necessary for the hard work required of them. A group of men with dark, smiling faces came to greet Roberto, among them some Katherine had seen earlier. The head man patted one of the horses and beckoned politely.

  ‘Geraldo is asking you to take a look at this one and see if you approve,’ said Roberto.

  Katherine climbed on the first rung of the rail so she could reach the horse’s ears, and spoke into them softly while she stroked his head, telling him he was such a handsome fellow she’d like to ride him next day.

  He whickered softly, and blew on her fingers, and Roberto laughed. ‘I think he says he would like that very much. How could he not?’ He called the other men over and introduced them. Katherine smiled warmly and greeted Geraldo again, then said muito prazer to Jose, Mario, Helio and Jango, and hoped she would remember which was which among the younger men.

  ‘We will have a short ride tomorrow,’ said Roberto as they strolled back to the house.

  ‘Good. Other than not getting too stiff, I’d really like to help your mother.’

  ‘Dirce and Maria the cook are already doing so, along with relatives they bring along for the occasion to help,’ he assured her. ‘Friends and neighbours will be sharing our meal, and preparation has been going on for days.’

  She eyed him in alarm. ‘I should have brought something grander to wear for the occasion.’

  He laughed. ‘Ah, Katherine. You may be a historian, but you are all woman also! And for this I am truly thankful,’ he whispered in her ear.

  ‘It’s no laughing matter, Roberto Rocha de Sousa!’

  He kissed her swiftly as they reached the trees near the house. ‘It will not be the Christmas dinner you are used to, amada. It is a churrasco under the trees here, so no ball gown is necessary.’

  ‘That’s a relief.’ Katherine eyed her feet in their flat suede loafers as they approached the house. ‘There’s another pro
blem, though, Roberto. No riding boots.’

  ‘No matter. We will find some for you.’

  Dinner that night was an informal affair on the veranda.

  ‘We have simple meals on the days before Christmas, Katherine,’ said Teresa. ‘But on the day, our friends will join us for an Estancia Grande churrasco.’

  ‘I wish you would let me help in some way,’ said Katherine.

  ‘After travelling so far, we cannot let you work,’ said Antonio, filling her wine glass. ‘And Roberto takes you riding in the morning. You ride at home?’

  ‘Not as much as I’d like. When I was young I rode regularly at weekends and went on riding and trekking holidays with my father. These days, I just hire a mount when I have time.’ She smiled at him. ‘A different breed from your horses here.’

  ‘Do not take her too far, Roberto,’ warned his mother, eyeing Katherine with sympathy. ‘It is recent that you lose your father?’

  ‘No. Ten years ago, when I was eighteen.’

  ‘He would be proud that his daughter is a Doutora of art history,’ observed Antonio kindly.

  Katherine nodded. ‘He’d be delighted. Dad had a doctorate in the same subject, and lectured at the local college. He was at university with James Massey, the man I work for at the gallery.’

  ‘And because of Senhor Massey I met you,’ said Roberto with satisfaction.

  After dinner Teresa led her guest across the hall into the formal drawing room for the first time, her excitement plain to see as she threw open the doors with a flourish. ‘Olha, Katherine. Here are the gifts Roberto has given us for our anniversary.’

  ‘They arrived!’ Katherine smiled in delighted recognition at the pair of paintings hanging either side of the massive stone fireplace. The young girl in her filmy white seemed to smile across shyly at the soberly dressed young man with the gleam in his eye. ‘How marvellous! He looks really good now, Roberto!’

  ‘Because you worked so hard on him,’ he said, and kissed her hand. ‘You are a clever lady.’

  ‘E verdade, Katherine,’ agreed his father, and smiled at his wife. ‘Teresa wishes to tell you a story.’

  Katherine was fascinated to hear that after Roberto mentioned his resemblance to the young man in the painting his mother had spent hours at her computer researching her family tree.

  ‘Because of her research, some days we meet only at dinner,’ said her husband dryly.

  She gave him a sparkling glance. ‘Better I am spending time with a computer than a lover, nao e?’

  ‘Much better,’ agreed her son fervently. ‘Pae would have killed him.’

  ‘E verdade,’ agreed Antonio, so matter-of-factly Katherine couldn’t help laughing. ‘Gauchos are jealous husbands,’ he informed her with a gleam in his eye, then at an imperious look from his wife begged her to continue.

  Teresa de Sousa’s research had led her to José Luis Rocha Lima, an ancestor who had been involved in wine shipping in the late eighteenth century. ‘He spent much time in England in a town called…how do you say it, Roberto?’

  ‘Ipswich?’ said Katherine in excitement. ‘Where Gainsborough once lived?’

  ‘Isso mesmo.’ Teresa smiled triumphantly. ‘Infelizmente, I have no…no…’

  ‘Provenance?’

  ‘Exatamente, Katherine. I have no papers which prove the portrait is of a Rocha Lima.’ Teresa took her son by the hand and led him over to stand underneath the portrait. ‘But Roberto is proof enough, nao e? If I tie his hair back—’

  Roberto dodged away, laughing. ‘No ribbons, por favor!’

  There was much animated discussion about the painting over coffee later, but at last Katherine had to smother a yawn, and Roberto jumped to his feet and held out his hand.

  ‘You are tired, and if we are to ride in the morning we must go early. You still wish this?’

  She nodded. ‘If you can find me some boots, yes.’

  ‘I have some which might fit,’ said Teresa. ‘But to rise early you must sleep now, cara.’

  ‘What time must I get up?’ asked Katherine, as Roberto took her up to her room.

  ‘I will call you,’ he promised, and took her in his arms as he backed into the bedroom door to close it. ‘I want so much to make love to you, amada,’ he whispered, and kissed her with a sudden, overwhelming hunger she responded to with equal heat.

  ‘Me too,’ she said breathlessly when she could speak. ‘That’s not going to happen, so go now, darling.’

  Roberto’s eyes blazed down into hers. ‘I like this word. Say it again.’

  ‘Darling—’ Whatever else she’d intended to say was smothered as his demanding mouth brought them to a mutual fever pitch of longing.

  ‘This is torture,’ he said hoarsely, and let her go. ‘I will see you in the morning.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  KATHERINE was ready next morning when a tap on the door heralded not Roberto, as she’d expected—and hoped—but his mother, with two pairs of pleated soft boots, and Dirce following behind with a tray.

  ‘Bom dia,’ said Teresa, smiling. ‘You are up early, Katherine.’ She gestured to the girl to put the tray on the chest. ‘Obrigada, Dirce.’

  ‘Good morning. I wasn’t sure what time Roberto wanted to set off.’

  ‘Soon, but only after you have eaten breakfast. Try the larger boots, cara.’

  Katherine slid her foot into one and wriggled her toes. ‘With socks, they’ll be perfect.’

  ‘Muito bom.’ Teresa smiled. ‘Roberto is impatient, but you must eat first.’

  Katherine was as impatient as Roberto to set out on their ride together. After a sketchy breakfast she hurried downstairs in her borrowed boots and found Roberto on the veranda, spurs jingling in tune with his impatience as he talked to his parents. When Katherine joined them he swept off his flat black hat and bowed, looking so breathtakingly handsome in full gaucho dress again she laughed in delight.

  ‘Bom dia, Katherine,’ he said, preening outrageously. ‘You like me in my working clothes?’

  ‘I wish I had some just like them!’ she assured him.

  Antonio de Sousa handed her a black hat like Roberto’s. ‘You will need this, Katherine.’

  ‘And do not take her far, Roberto,’ warned Teresa. ‘Katherine must be well for Christmas Day.’ She turned to her husband, looking worried. ‘Perhaps you should go with them, caro.’

  He exchanged a look with his son, and shook his head. ‘Roberto will take good care of our guest, querida.’

  Katherine put the hat on and smiled at Roberto. ‘Will I do?’

  His eyes gleamed. ‘Oh, yes. You will do.’ After goodbyes and promises to be careful, Roberto seized her hand and hurried her off towards the curral. ‘How are you today?’ he asked, once they were out of earshot. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Not really. It was no effort to get up early.’

  ‘Nor for me. I wanted you in my bed, Katherine.’

  She stopped before they reached the curral. ‘Is that your main reason for asking me here? The bed part, I mean?’

  His eyes glittered under the black hat’s brim. ‘No. How could it be? I knew well that unless we were married, or at least noivado, my mother would not expect us to sleep together. I shall exercise much patience until we stay for a time in Porto Alegre before your flight home.’

  Katherine eyed him narrowly. ‘What will your parents think we’re doing in Porto Alegre?’

  ‘Shopping!’ He led her to the horses, which were saddled and ready, waiting with two of the men in attendance. Katherine tried a careful greeting in Portuguese which won warm smiles, and went up to her horse to pat him.

  ‘The saddle here is different from the English type,’ Roberto warned.

  Katherine found it had no cantle or pommel, just a simple sandwich of leather pads and woollen blankets with a thick sheepskin on top. But she would probably soon get used to it. The sun was already so hot she took off her sweater and put it in her saddlebag while Roberto buckled circular spurs
to her soft boots. He handed her the reins and gave her a leg up, and she settled herself on the strange saddle, leaning to gentle the horse while Roberto adjusted her stirrups.

  ‘In the past a gaucho rode barefoot,’ he informed her, ‘gripping the straps between the toes for balance.’

  Katherine pulled a face. ‘I’m really glad I don’t have to do that. What’s the horse’s name?’

  ‘Garoto, which means boy, mais ou menos—words you will hear often. They mean more or less.’ He motioned her to follow as the other men rode off ahead of them.

  ‘Do we need an escort, then?’ asked Katherine.

  ‘No. They go to work.’ Roberto waved a gloved hand towards the horizon, where a sea of brown marked the presence of the herd. ‘We go with them so you can meet some of the Estancia cattle.’

  Soon Katherine was comfortable enough with the saddle and the gait of her horse to gaze in appreciation at the vastness of the landscape. ‘What on earth does it feel like to know this is all yours, Roberto?’

  ‘I feel proud! This is minha terra, my land,’ he said, a possessive note in his voice as he swept a hand to encompass the rolling green of the pampas. ‘At one time, when Luis was still here, I had the freedom to go off and prove myself in my racing career. But now I am home to stay. My father is older than he looks, and suffers a little with the blood pressure. So now he can spend time at the apartment in Porto Alegre with my mother, as she so much wishes, while I gradually take over.’

  ‘Is he happy about that?’

  ‘It makes my mother happy, and he would do anything to ensure her happiness.’

  Katherine nodded soberly, her eyes lighting up as they grew near enough to hear the bellowing of the herd. She watched, enthralled, battling to control Garoto’s excitement as encircling horsemen and dogs drove the cattle on, herding them through gates in the line of fences she could now see demarcating the pastures. ‘Amazing! How many in this lot?’

  ‘Several hundred head,’ yelled Roberto, his teeth a flash of white in his tanned face as he moved his horse nearer. ‘Stay by me!’