Forbidden Flame Page 5

  Emilia straightened. 'Tio Vincente is my father,' she declared, causing Caroline's lips to part in stunned disbelief. Was there no end to the revelations she was to be subjected to? 'Tio Vincente loved my mother. That's why Don Esteban hates me.'

  'Oh, don't be so silly, Emilia.' Caroline had had enough for one day. 'Look, I'm not here to discuss who might or might not have loved your mother. I'm sure your father cared for her very deeply, and just because you're disobedient, and your father punishes you, there's no reason for you to go spreading malicious tales that have no basis in fact. You're your father's daughter—it's obvious! Now, sit down, and stop behaving like a melodramatic two-year-old.'

  Emilia pursed her lips. 'You don't know anything.'

  'Nor do I want to,' retorted Caroline shortly, uncomfortably aware that her motives for feeling that way were not entirely disinterested. She couldn't help remembering Luis's reticence when she had asked about Emilia's mother's death, and his reluctance to discuss his brother's reaction. But, as she had continually to keep telling herself, the personal affairs of the Montejos were nothing to do with her, and she determinedly began to ask Emilia questions, in an attempt to assess the child's capabilities.

  In fact, the morning passed quite quickly. Once she became interested in proving what a bright and intelligent pupil she was, Emilia lost that air of antagonistic aggression, and showed an entirely more sympathetic side to her nature. She was sharp and intelligent, and although Luis had told her that Miss Thackeray had died last year, her education was far in advance of most children of that age. She read well, and with expression, and her mental arithmetic was good. If she had a failing, it was that she was sometimes too quick with her answers, and in consequence made careless mistakes that given a little more time, she would have avoided. She had obviously enjoyed her lessons with Miss Thackeray, and whatever the old lady's failings, so far as Emilia's education was concerned, she had done a good job.

  Emilia told her that lunch was usually served at one o'clock, so at half past twelve Caroline dismissed her pupil. She had decided to return to her room and do some of her unpacking, as well as attending to her appearance. But when she opened the door to her apartments, she found that someone had forestalled her, and her clothes had all been hung away and her cases stowed in the closet. Unused to such assiduous attention, Caroline felt somewhat disconcerted, but a swift examination of the drawers and wardrobe assured her that her belongings had been handled with the utmost care and consideration.

  Examining her reflection in the dressing table mirror, she noted the faint flush that still lingered in her cheeks, a reminder of the disturbing morning she had spent, she brushed a pale powder compound across the revealing colour in an attempt to disguise her agitation, then re-applied the lip-gloss to her mouth. In truth, she did feel a little hungry now, having refused a cup of chocolate mid-morning, but the prospect of seeing Luis again, after his brother's revelations, tightened the muscles of her throat.

  She traversed the length of the corridor again, and descended the stairs' at ten minutes to one, only to encounter the subject of her nervous speculations in the hall. Luis had evidently just come in from riding, for he was wearing black leather gaucho pants and an open-necked black shirt, and the scent of horseflesh was unmistakable as he moved to pass her and climb the stairs.

  'I trust you have had an enjoyable morning, seňorita,' he remarked, with his innate courtesy, and Caroline knew an hysterical desire to laugh in his face. An enjoyable morning! If he only knew, she thought wildly, then composed herself to reply quietly: 'It was most interesting, seňor. And you?'

  Luis paused, two stairs up, arrested by her conventional response. 'I enjoy riding,' he said, after a moment's consideration. 'You must try it while you are here. Esteban keeps a good stable.' And without giving her a chance to make any further comment, he mounted the rest of the stairs, two at a time.

  Caroline sauntered across the hall, unsure what to do, or where to go. The salón, where Doňa Isabel had accosted her earlier, was empty, and breathing a little more freely, she moved across to the windows.

  From here, it was possible to see the forecourt, and the sweep of formal gardens away to the left. Within the high walls of the fortress-like building were manicured lawns and flower beds, and a carefully pruned row of fruit trees, espaliered against the stone, softening its grim exterior. A means of escape? reflected Caroline dryly, then turned as footsteps sounded behind her.

  'There you are, Miss Leyton.' Her employer stood framed in the arch of the open doorway, correct and businesslike in his pale grey attire. Aside from the fact that he was smaller than his brother, and stockier, his features were not so finely chiselled, and his tongue appeared to moisten his thick lips as he took in the delightful picture she made. With the sun behind her, her hair was like a pale aureole around her head, and he held out his hand encouragingly, urging her to join him. 'Lunch is an informal meal at San Luis, seňorita,' he added gently. 'I will show you how we help ourselves.'

  Taking a deep breath, Caroline crossed the salón again to join him, and his hand lightly cupped her elbow. 'I hope you had no trouble with Emilia after I left, seňorita,' he exhorted her, as they passed through the hall, and Caroline squashed the desire to release herself from his grasp, and assured him that his daughter had been an exemplary pupil.

  'This is good,' he exclaimed, obviously pleased. 'For too long, she has had no kind of discipline. I hope you will understand me when I say I expect your support in all things, and—' he paused, fingering his tie, 'that you will remember that it is I, and no one else, who gives you your instructions.'

  His meaning was unmistakable, and Caroline's lips tightened. 'Of course, seňor,' she murmured, stifling her protests, and her employer permitted a self-satisfied smile.

  Esteban escorted her to the morning room. It was not the room where they had eaten the night before, and was much less ornate than most of the rooms in the hacienda. Exquisitely-embroidered tapestries took the place of elaborate panelling, and predominantly turquoise and gold in design, they kept the room light and airy. Now, long french doors had been opened on to a sunlit terrace, where an arched colonnade provided shade for long buffet tables, and Caroline could not suppress the gasp of pleasure that escaped her when she saw the dappled waters beyond. A patio, chequered with mosaic, surrounded the sunken pool, and a realistically poised jaguar was frozen in an attitude of menace, while a crystal-clear fountain cascaded from its jaws.

  'Patio del Jaguar!' announced Esteban, with a flourish. 'A fitting background for the lion of San Luis, would you not agree?' he prompted, and Caroline, who was slightly disconcerted by this display of conceit, hid her misgivings in a projected show of admiration.

  'The jaguar,' she exclaimed effusively, 'he looks so real!' And she escaped his oppressive possession by stepping out into the brilliant sunshine.

  Until then she had not appreciated how hot it really was. The thick walls of the hacienda provided their own brand of air-conditioning, and until she felt the sun beating down on her head, she had felt reasonably cool. Now, she lifted her face almost worshipfully to the sun, and pressed her hands to the back of her neck. It was a gesture of unconscious sensuality, but she was unaware of it, until her attention was caught by a movement at an upper window. Almost against her will, her eyes were locked for a brief moment with Luis's, then he drew back out of sight, and she was left with the awareness of Don Esteban's brooding appraisal. Immediately her hands dropped to her sides, and relinquishing her desire to explore further, she returned to the terrace.

  'You are a sun-worshipper, Miss Leyton?' Esteban enquired, his voice thicker than she remembered it, and she forced a light smile.

  'I—I didn't realise it was so hot,' she confessed. 'What a pity one can't swim in the pool.'

  'That could be arranged,' Esteban remarked, his eyes lingering on the burgeoning curve of her breast, but Caroline chose to ignore him, as she turned determinedly to the buffet tables.

  A
mouthwatering display of dishes awaited their attention. Various salads, and their attendant sauces, flanked curried eggs and creamy stuffed avocadoes; shellfish, served in their own shells; cold meats and gelatines, and chilled fruit juices. For the more adventurous, there were steaming enchiladas, and tacos, dishes of fried chicken, and bowls of chili con carne, which Caroline knew from experience was nothing like the chili con carne she had had at home, and delicious caramel desserts, nestling in beds of fresh peaches and apricots.

  Esteban encouraged her to try the tortillas, but Caroline chose a chicken salad, and she was seated on the terrace, a glass of chilled white wine in her hand, when Luis and Emilia joined them.

  'Ah, chica,' exclaimed Esteban, beckoning his daughter towards him, apparently indifferent to his attitude to her earlier, and wary of his uncertain temper, the child approached.

  Someone had washed her face and brushed her long dark hair, and the frilly white dress had been replaced by an equally unsuitable pink one, with long lace sleeves, that must be quite restraining in the heat, Caroline suspected. A slight bruise on her cheekbone was all that remained of the blow her father had delivered earlier, but Caroline guessed it was tender, and flinched when Esteban flicked it with a careless finger.

  'Let that be a lesson to you, Emilia,' he admonished her lightly. 'You are to do exactly as Miss Leyton tells you, and I expect to hear that she has no further trouble with you.'

  'Yes, seňor.' Emilia glanced at Caroline from beneath her dark lashes, and glimpsing the rekindled hostility, Caroline could have wished her employer had chosen less ambiguous words. Did Emilia think she had been complaining about her? Or did she imagine she had confessed her previous insolence? Either way, it was going to be a continuing struggle keeping Emilia and her father sweet, and she didn't honestly know if she wanted that responsibility. Then she encountered Luis's grey gaze, and knew that for good or ill she was already committed— although to what she had yet to discover.

  Aside from the inherent disharmony among the participants, it was very pleasant eating lunch on the terrace. The sun filtering through the flowering vine cast moving shadows over the mellow stonework, and the shrubs spilling from their tubs around the pool dappled the monolithic stillness of the crouching predator. Insects buzzed among the flame trees, and exotically-patterned butterflies skimmed the falling bubbling fountain, adding the frantic flutter of their wings to the cooling effluence of the water.

  Esteban was disposed to be affable, and although Luis entered the conversation only rarely, those occasions when his brother addressed him were not the fraught offensives of the night before. On the contrary, they discussed the estate and its problems, and if sometimes Esteban's contempt for his brother's more democratic methods of running the hacienda surfaced, he quickly disguised it, beneath a mask of urbanity. Perhaps he wanted to show he could be tolerant, too, Caroline reflected, tense in spite of herself when Luis chose to argue.

  Emilia, after attracting her father's initial attention, took no part in the conversation at all, spending her time feeding small pieces of meat to the white doves that flew down from the cupola above their heads. She was evidently accustomed to her father's variable moods, and Caroline knew a sudden sympathy for her. It could not be easy, living here without friends or companions, and she determined to try and show her how to play as well as work.

  The meal over, a black-clad nursemaid appeared to take Emilia away for her siesta, and taking the opportunity presented when one of Esteban's servants came to speak to him, Caroline, too, made her escape. She needed time to herself, she decided, time to assimilate her position here so far, and with a feeling of weariness out of all proportion to the amount of work she had accomplished, she made her way up to her room.

  With the blinds drawn, it was very cool and pleasant lying on her bed, and she relaxed almost instinctively. Perhaps it was not going to be so bad as she had at first thought, she thought sleepily, and lost consciousness before her brain had time to examine the things she had learned.

  She awakened a couple of hours later, feeling considerably refreshed. When she released the blinds, the shadows were longer, and in the distance, the sea had a distinctly amber tinge. She longed to be near the sea, to plunge into its cool waters and dispel the sticky aftermath of her nap, but as that was not possible, she went and took another shower.

  Afterwards, she dressed in cream cotton trousers and a loose embroidered smock, with wide elbow-length sleeves. She would have preferred to wear a cotton vest, and leave her slim arms bare, but the outfit seemed too immodest in the confines of the hacienda. Besides, she had no desire to give Don Esteban the wrong impression, and after brushing her hair and restoring a light make-up, she left her room in search of a cool drink.

  The hacienda seemed very quiet as she made her way downstairs, her sandalled feet echoing hollowly as she crossed the wide tiled hall. There was no one in either of the salóns she entered, and the library was equally deserted, the french doors in the morning room closed now, the buffet tables removed. She was hesitating over whether to summon one of the servants when the door to a small anteroom she had noticed earlier opened, and Luis Montejo appeared. He seemed deep in thought, his head bent and his dark brows drawn closely together, but when he saw her he transferred his hands to his pockets, regarding her presence with polite but distant enquiry.

  'Seňorita, he observed courteously, inclining his head. 'Are you looking for my brother, or Emilia? I should tell you, Esteban is resting, and would not welcome being disturbed, and Emilia does not take lessons in the afternoon.'

  Caroline pressed her lips together. 'As—as a matter of fact, I was hoping I might be able to get a glass of cold water. Consuelo advised me not to drink the water from the taps upstairs.'

  'She was correct.' Luis frowned. 'In any case, the tanks become warm and the water is unpleasantly tepid. However,' he paused, 'you may have something more appetising, if you prefer. There is a refrigerated cabinet in Esteban's study, containing various kinds of fruit sodas. Perhaps you would like one of them, instead of cold water.'

  Caroline hesitated. 'But won't your brother—'

  'Esteban will never notice,' Luis assured her, with a curious twist to his mouth, and led the way along a corridor, similar to the one upstairs. Only this time the portraits were interspersed with narrow, fluted-glass windows, and the carpet underfoot was in shades of red and silver.

  Esteban had not shown her his study during their morning tour, but now Luis led the way into a room only slightly smaller than the library. As in the library, there were shelves of files and books, mostly agricultural tomes, she noticed, and an imposing square desk, set with two dark green telephones. The desk was neat and tidy, however, with no outstanding piles of papers waiting attention, and Caroline decided that Esteban was either extremely efficient—or extremely bored.

  She chose a lime-juice cordial from the drinks cabinet, then arched her brows when Luis took nothing. 'Won't you join me?' she asked, reluctant to be left to her own devices again, but the tall dark Mexican shook his head.

  'I regret I do not have the time, seňorita,' he demurred politely, following her out of the room and closing the door. 'But I have no doubt Esteban would not object if you chose to walk in the gardens, or borrowed one of the books from the library.'

  Caroline looked up at him mutinously, making no effort to open the ring-pull can. 'I wanted to talk to you,' she exclaimed, stung by his indifference, and his expression hardened as he met her resentful eyes.

  'I am sure if you have any questions, my brother will be happy to answer them,' he said, hooking his thumbs into his belt. 'I hear that he approves of your behaviour so far, and I am sure Emilia can only benefit from your example.'

  Caroline pursed her lips. 'I don't want to talk to Don Esteban,' she declared, in a low tone, 'I want to talk to you. I—I wanted to apologise for what happened—'

  'There is no need.' He interrupted her harshly, waving away her attempt at conciliation. 'I am glad
to have been of service, seňorita. And now, I have work to attend to.'

  Caroline heaved a sigh, then, before he could take too many steps away from her, she hastened after him. 'Seňor! Seňor, you said I might be able to ride while I was here: could I do so now? Emilia doesn't need me, as you said, and I'm not in the mood for reading.'

  Luis's lean dark face was intent. 'Seňorita, you cannot ride alone—surely you realise that? Aside from the evident dangers, a woman does not go out unescorted, and I suggest you discuss the matter with my brother, and ascertain his opinion.'

  Caroline gazed up at him frustratedly, brushing back her hair with an impatient hand. 'You mean—I'm a prisoner here, is that it? I'm not allowed outside the hacienda without a prison escort!'

  'You are over-dramatising the situation, seňorita,' Luis exclaimed heavily, glancing about him as if hoping for a distraction. 'I am sure that something will be arranged, if you request it. Who knows, maybe el patrón himself will accompany you. Even though it may result in your having to ride in the carriage.'

  'The carriage?' Caroline echoed blankly, and Luis sighed.

  'My brother does not ride, seňorita,' he retorted flatly. 'But he may be persuaded to make an exception in your case.'

  Caroline caught her lower lip between her teeth, biting hard. 'I don't want your brother to escort me,' she burst out impetuously. 'And if you won't take me, then I shall find some way to go alone—'

  'You will not!' He overrode her declaration with harsh admonition. 'Be assured, seňorita, I shall inform Esteban, if you do attempt to do so, and it may very well result in your forfeiting any opportunity in the future.'

  Caroline gasped. 'You'd do that?' She shook her head. 'You brought me here! Doesn't that give you any sense of responsibility at all?'

  'I did not bring you here, seňorita,' he contradicted her forcefully. 'I transported you the few miles from Las Estadas, that is all. You applied for this job, you accepted the appointment, and you travelled all these miles, at the instigation of Seňora Garcia, to take up the position. How can you blame me if it is not wholly to your liking?'