Who Rides the Tiger Read online

  'At any rate,' she went on, 'the man must have had a heart, because he looked at us and he smiled. It was a beautiful smile, and Vincente smiled at him. I was too frightened to do anything but hide behind Vincente. The man came to Vincente, and he asked my father what was his name. My father said that he was his eldest son. It was not true, but my father thought the man might feel more strongly towards the eldest son, might think my father had more to lose. We did not know what was in his mind. It was not until later that we found that this man, this Senhor Santos, had a wife who could not have children of her own. Senhor Santos wanted to adopt Vincente. There was money to change hands, and my father was a greedy man. Unfortunately, Vincente refused to go unless I was to go also. I say, unfortunately, because I seem to have caused my brother nothing but trouble.' She sighed again.

  Dominique was beginning to understand. 'How - how oldwas Vincente then?' she asked.

  'He was eleven, and I was three. That was twenty years ago now.'

  Dominique shook her head. 'Did you ever see your real parents again?'

  Isabella shook her head. 'They moved - we did not know where, and I suppose now they are dead.' She said this dispassionately, and Dominique stared at her.

  'Did you have, no feeling for them - not even your mother?' she exclaimed.

  Isabella shrugged. 'My mother was completely ruled by my father. And I think she had so many children she was glad to see two go.'

  'But that's terrible!'

  'That is life, Dominique.'

  'Is - is that why Vincente is so bitter?'

  'Partly, I suppose. At least it may account in some part for his perhaps unreasonable standards.'

  'I see,' Dominique nodded. 'And his wife?'

  'Valentina?'

  'Yes. Did he love her?'

  Isabella shook her head. 'That also was a farce. Valentina Cordova was the owner of a huge chain of companies. They had belonged to her father, and when he died she took over the reins. She was a completely ruthless business woman, and everyone said she had no heart. She wanted the Santos Corporation, and she would have got it, too, had not my adopted father begged Vincente to intervene. Vincente was only twenty-two at that time, and Valentina was easily thirty-three or four. But, as you may have realized, he can be completely irresistible if he so chooses, and he disarmed the harsh business woman almost overnight. That he had to marry*her to complete the deal was an indication of Valen- tina's own strength of will.'

  'You mean - you mean - that was why he married her?'

  'Yes.' Isabella sighed. 'My father was delighted. It was what he had wanted. Vincente knew that. And after all, it was the least he could do for the man who had made him his heir.'

  Dominique shook her head. 'It seems incredible! Was - was the marriage a success?'

  'If you mean was Valentina happy, then yes, I suppose she was. Whether Vincente was happy or not is debatable. I fear it was another example to him of how people use other people.'

  'But he was using Valentina!'

  'On our father's behalf only. Our father was a sick man. He urged Vincente to do it, and Vincente obliged. He was indifferent, you see. And how could Vincente let our father down?'

  Dominique stubbed out her cigarette, her mouth dry. If Vincente had married once for money, could he have married a second time for revenge? It seemed possible - even probable, and the idea appalled her.

  'She died,' she said now, sliding off the bed. 'How?'

  'Valentina went to visit with her uncle and aunt in New Orleans. The plane crashed on take-off on her return journey.'

  'Oh.' Dominique swallowed hard. 'How convenient for him!'

  'You do not mean that,' said Isabella shrewdly. 'And I get the feeling that there is more to this rift between you and Vincente than his previous marriage. Try to understand, Dominique, Vincente's life has not been easy - or uncomplicated, as yours has probably been until now. First there was our life in the favellas, when we lived by our wits. And then our life with the Santos's who were really so much more real parents to us, but for Vincente even this affair had its complications, in the form of Valentina. And finally myself. I - well, I got involved with a man, and - well, that is of no interest to you, I am sure. At any rate, Vincente was very shocked when I decided to enter the convent. He tried to dissuade me, but I was adamant.'

  Dominique bit her lip. If only she could ask Isabella about that affair, that involvement. If only Isabella would ask what brought her to Brazil in the first place. But obviously Isabella did not realize that Dominique was anything more than an attractive female Vincente had chosen to make his wife.

  Conversation dwindled after a while. Both girls seemed absorbed with their own thoughts, and Dominique decided her best plan would b£ to return to Bela Vista tomorrow, after attempting a second time to speak to Vincente. She voiced this suggestion to Isabella, and she said:

  'I think it might be a good idea. It also occurs to me that Vincente might be transferred to the Bela Vista hospital after the skin grafts have taken place.'

  Dominique frowned. 'You think so?'

  'Why not? And later, when he is recovered, he could stay at Minha Terra, providing there was a nurse ...'

  Dominique frowned again. She did not relish the thought of bringing another woman into her husband's life. But there was no reason to refuse, no logical reason.

  'Yes,', she agreed doubtfully. 'What - what will you do?'

  'Me?' Isabella shrugged. 'I do not know. The convent is some distance from Rio de Janeiro. It would be impossible for me to see him if I were to return there, particularly once he is transferred to Bela Vista.'

  'Then-then couldn't you come and stay at Minha Terra?' suggested Dominique, with some impulsiveness.

  With Isabella at Minha Terra she might feel a sense of security, and just now that was what she badly needed.

  In the evening, when Isabella went to see Vincente, Dominique asked Salvador to take her for a drive. They drove out of the city, to one of the many beauty spots overlooking the bay. The lights winked from the vessels out there, in the ocean, and Dominique obtained a measure of peace from the sense of infinity that the scene presented. She turned to Salvador and said:

  'Did you go and see Vincente this afternoon?'

  Salvador half smiled. 'Is that a guess - or an assumption?'

  'A guess.'

  Salvador chuckled. 'You are right, senhora. I went to see the Senhor.'

  'And?'

  'And what?'

  'Oh, Salvador, what happened? Did he mention me? Was he angry with you for bringing me?'

  'Angry, yes. With you - I do not think so?' Salvador sighed. 'You do not try to understand the Senhor, senhora. If he were this Senhor Harding, how would you treat him? Would you be suspicious of his every move? Would you accuse him of deceiving you, on the strength of gossip heard from a known harridan? Would you deliberately torment him by disobeying his every command?'

  Dominique frowned. 'I don't understand, Salvador.'

  'Of course you do. Tell me, what would you do?'

  'It's different with John,' she eventually said, slowly. 'He - he's not like Vincente. He's more - more reliable.'

  'You think so? Even though you know he deliberately set out to attract the Senhorita Isabella, and succeeded in breaking her heart?'Dominique stared at him. 'You can't be certain of that!'

  'Oh, yes, senhora. I was there. I saw it happen. Isabella was a sweet, innocent creature. Your Senhor Harding cared nothing for her. He wanted a flirtation - an affair. Her dark beauty after the fairness of English women attracted him. Oh, yes, senhora, I can tell you this now. He was ripe for entertainment, and he chose Isabella as his partner.'

  'I don't believe you!' Dominique was aghast. 'We were engaged to be married.'

  'Yes. But had you not refused to come with him? Had you not insisted on a longer engagement?'

  'How do you know that?'

  'Your Senhor Harding is not a silent man, senhora. He was morose and dejected, until he met Isabella Sa
ntos, at the Santos club. She was there with her brother for some special function. Senhor Harding did not take his eyes from her all evening. He was enchanted by her. You will agree, now that you have met her, that she is a very attractive young woman.'

  'Of course.' Dominique brushed back a wisp of hair impatiently. 'Go on.'

  'There is little more to tell. Surely you can guess what happened. Isabella fell for your handsome Senhor Harding, and he pretended to fall for her. There was talk of him breaking his engagement, becoming wholly involved with her. But somehow, when it came to the point, he would not do it. The affair - his side of the affair - dissolved into nothing more than that!' Salvador sounded incensed, and Dominique could understand why. These women were not emancipated like Englishwomen. They were not encouraged to deal loosely with any man, except the man who was to be their husband. She could understand Vincente's anger and contempt, and she wondered how John could have done such a thing and continued to write such graphical letters to her.

  Sighing, she said: 'But that doesn't alter anything, Salvador. Vincente still hates me!'

  Salvador started the car's powerful engine. 'He would like to do so, senhora,' he replied enigmatically.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE following morning Dominique was awakened early by the unusual sound of traffic in the adjoining main street. Sliding out of bed, she walked to the windows and stared out pensively at the misty haze rising over the city, and the distant shimmer of the ocean. It was going to be another perfect day, and she went into the bathroom and hastily sluiced her face and cleaned her teeth before dressing in the navy suit. Their unexpected stay in Rio had found her unprepared, and it was all she had to wear.

  Then, opening her door, she silently crossed the lounge of the suite so as not to disturb Isabella, and went out quietly. She took the lift down to the ground floor and smiled at the startled glances the hotel porters gave her.

  Outside there was still a chill in the air, but it was heavenly fresh, and she walked slowly, allowing the faint breeze to blow away the cobwebs from her mind.

  At the junction with the main road she beckoned a taxi, and when one halted she asked the driver to take her to the St. Augustine Hospital. Then she settled back on the back seat, and hoped her faint feeling of hopefulness would strike some matching chord in Vincente's heart.

  The hospital was already busily active, and she was allowed to go straight up to the third floor where Vincente's room was situated. Sister Sanchez was no longer on duty, instead it was Sister Moreno, and she looked rather surprised when Dominique introduced herself.

  'But Senhor Santos is barely awake,' she exclaimed. 'We do not rouse our private patients before seven-thirty. It is only seven-forty-five now.'

  Dominique was impatient. 'I'm his wife, Sister Moreno,' she said. 'Surely the time is less than important. How is he today?'

  'Improving satisfactorily,' replied Sister Moreno smoothly. 'It should not be much longer before we begin the skin grafts.'

  'And he's going to be all right?'

  'Of course. Perhaps there will be some scarring to begin with. But later - with plastic surgery - he will be completely recovered.'

  'Can I see him, then?'

  'If you insist, but it is most irregular,' replied Sister Moreno shortly.

  Dominique shrugged, thanked her, and left her office to enter the private ward where Vincente was accommodated. She tapped at the door, waited for his curt summons, and entered the room. Vincente stared at her disbelievingly, then said: 'Why have you come? Where is Isabella?'

  'Asleep at the hotel, I imagine,' replied Dominique, more calmly than she felt. 'How are you this morning?'

  'As well as can be expected,' he returned coldly, turning so that the injured side of his face was partially hidden from her sight.

  Dominique closed the door and approached the bed. 'Tell me,' she said, 'what happened at the plant? How did the explosion take place?'

  'That's something I shall find out when I'm out of this place,' he said tersely. 'Have they told you how long they expect to keep me here?'

  'No. But Isabella said she thought they would probably transfer you to Bela Vista once the skin grafts had taken place.'

  'But how long?' He was staring moodily down at the coverlet. She could have been anyone.

  'Altogether, perhaps a month - six weeks, even.' She came round the bed to his side. 'Why?'

  'Because there are things I must do,' he replied harshly.

  He stared at her for a moment, and her eyes flickered over the burned flesh of his face without revulsion. There was no feeling of distaste in her. He was the man she loved, and all she felt was a surge of protective emotion.

  However, Vincente seemed to sense none of this. Instead he said: 'Why did you come? Wasn't yesterday enough for you?'

  'Yesterday you wouldn't speak to me,' she said unsteadily. 'And I need to talk to you. Isabella has told me about Valentina.'

  His face darkened. 'Oh, indeed! Did she also unburden herself about Harding?'

  'No. She doesn't know I know John.'

  'Of course not. I had forgotten. Perhaps you had better not mention him. After all, you are hardly the person she would most like to meet.'

  'I didn't intend to mention it. Besides, John's affairs are nothing to do with me.'

  'Aren't they? Don't you wish you'd married him after all? At least he would have had more sense than to—' He halted abruptly, and she wondered what it was he had been going to say.

  'I married you because I loved you,' she replied shakily.

  'Is that so? I notice you use the past tense.'

  'Stop trying to trip me. Why did you marry me? That's a much more complex question, isn't it?' Her voice almost broke and she swallowed hard.

  Vincente lay back on his pillows regarding her steadily. 'You will never know why I married you,' he said cruelly. 'Because I do not intend to tell you. That's something for you to think about - to take your mind off this!' He pointed momentarily at his cheek, and then rolled on to his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows. 'Now get out, I don't want to see you any more.'

  'Vincente, stop, it!' she cried. 'You've obviously never been jealous, or you couldn't act like this.'

  He turned on to his back. 'Is that what you are saying? That you were jealous?' He sounded sardonic.

  Dominique moved restlessly. 'Yes - yes, of course.'

  Vincente gave a derogatory smile. 'My God!' he said bitterly. 'How you can twist things! You had absolutely nothing to be jealous of.'

  'I know that now - but - well, even the day we were married, you set out to tantalize me!'

  Vincente sat up, his face serious. 'That was different,' he said coldly. 'I - I wanted you then!'

  'And you don't want me now?' Dominique pressed her hands to her cheeks.

  'Not in the same way,' he replied humiliatingly.

  Dominique stared at him, unable to believe that he could have changed so utterly, and yet there was cruelty and bitterness in every line of his face. With a muffled sob she turned and dashed to the door, opening it fumblingly, and rushing away down the corridor, ignoring the startled stares of the nurses and orderlies who passed her. Once she heard her name called, but she would not go back, and when she glanced back and saw Vincente himself standing in the doorway of his room, watching her, she quickened her step, reaching the lift, and closing the gates with panic-stricken movements. It was not until she was in the taxi, going back to the hotel, that she allowed the hot tears to flood her cheeks and drown her misery.

  Isabella was having breakfast when Dominique returned to the hotel. But when she saw Dominique's tear-reddened eyes and strained expression she forbore to ask where she had been. Obviously she could guess. Instead, she told Dominique that she had contacted the Mother Superior at the convent and she had decided to take her up on her offer to return to Minha Terra for a while.

  'I am sure it is a good idea,' she said, in her usual calm tones. 'I can easily have Salvador drive me down to Rio to
see Vincente, until such time as he is transferred to Bela Vista. I will ask about that this morning.'

  Dominique merely nodded, giving a faint smile, and went to bathe her face.

  Later in the day, after Isabella had visited Vincente again, they drove back to Bela Vista with Salvador. Isabella seemed absorbed with her thoughts, and once or twice she began to say something to Dominique, only to prevent herself at the last moment.

  And so began for Dominique the longest and most miserable month of her life. Just as Isabella had said, Vincente was transferred to the Bela Vista hospital ten days later, and continued to make rapid progress. Isabella visited him almost every day, but she did not question Dominique's decision not to visit him again, even though Dominique had been sure she would do so. Indeed, Dominique had sometimes hoped Isabella would make some effort to persuade her sister-in-law to visit the hospital, if only to give her a reason to go there, for although she said she did not want to go, not seeing Vincente was having a terrible effect on her nerves. She questioned Isabella extensively about the skin grafting and his other injuries, and rang the hospital frequently herself and spoke to his doctor.

  If the hospital staff were amazed that she should never visit, they must have put it down to her natural revulsion against ugliness, and although this disturbed her, she would not give in and go and have Vincente hurt and humiliate her once again. There would be time enough for that once he came home again. And it was this time that she anticipated and yet feared most.

  Sometimes she wished he would finish with her completely, give her a divorce on any grounds he cared to name, but mostly she knew that if he did that she would never be the same again. Life with Vincente might be stormy, but life without him was no life at all.

  During Vincente's third week in hospital, Frederick Rivas came to visit Dominique. Isabella was at the hospital at the time, and Dominique invited him in warmly, glad of someone new to talk to. She had avoided going down to the town because she was aware of the talk and speculation which would be rife there.