Forbidden Flame Page 7

  'I should not care for you to suffer some unfortunate stomach upset, because of my carelessness,' he told her flatly, as they put some distance between them and the drovers. 'The men are kind, but not always scrupulous, and you are not immune to infection.'

  'You mean, if you had been alone, you would have accepted their invitation?' Caroline asked, glancing back over her shoulder, and Luis shrugged.

  'Perhaps. It is of no matter.' He urged his horse forward. 'Come. We will ride for some way along the bank of the river, before we have to turn back.'

  'Turn back?'

  The consternation in Caroline's voice was unmistakable, but Luis only nodded. 'It is after seven, seňorita,' he pointed out patiently, showing her the face of the slim gold watch on his wrist. 'And it will take us the better part of an hour to get back. You would not wish to be late for your lessons with Emilia, would you?'

  Caroline supposed he was right, but she was disappointed that the time had passed so quickly, almost without her volition. She had wanted to talk to him, really talk to him, to get to know him better; and perhaps to discover for herself the real truth behind Esteban's assertions concerning Luis's mother. But now he was talking of turning back, and she had no idea when she might get another chance to be alone with him like this.

  They cantered across a marshy expanse of ground, to where the somewhat muddy waters of the river surged forcefully downstream. Close at hand, she could see that the river had been swollen by the storms of two days before, and whereas from her window she had seen only the trees and shrubs that grew on the higher ground, now she saw the torn off branches of trees and other debris being swept irresistibly towards the ocean. Once the inflated carcase of some animal, trapped by the powerful undercurrent, swept by them, and Caroline shivered at the realisation of how little chance of survival anything would have, caught in that pitiless flow.

  'My father drained this land,' remarked Luis, pulling the gelding's head round and compelling it along the bank. 'He deepened the channel of the river, and used the silt to raise the level of the ground. It greatly increased the value of his holding.'

  'I can imagine.' Caroline urged the mare alongside him, looking down into the swirling waters. 'Have you lived here all your life, seňor? Or did you, like your brother, go to university in England?'

  Luis glanced her way broodingly, his brief spate of cordiality disappearing. 'I am sure the details of my education can be of no interest to you, seňorita,' he essayed, without enthusiasm. 'Shall we ride to the ridge before turning back?'

  'Your brother told me a little about your father, when he showed me round the house,' Caroline persisted, shifting in the saddle. 'We talked about your family. It was very interesting. He explained that you're really half-brothers, and that although you had the same father, you had different mothers—'

  'Basta!' Luis's lean face darkened with sudden anger, and he overrode her submission with grim determination. 'To what purpose do you tell me this, seňorita?' he demanded. 'Of what possible interest could Esteban's confidences be to me?'

  Caroline flushed. 'I was—simply making conversation, that's all,' she defended herself stiffly, 'You mentioned your father, and I—I reciprocated. I'm sorry, I didn't know the subject was taboo!'

  Luis massaged the muscles at the back of his neck with an impatient hand, the action parting the lapels of his sleeveless jerkin, exposing the straining buttons of his dark shirt. 'It is not taboo, seňorita,' he told her at last, expelling his breath with heavy emphasis. 'But do not take me for a fool either, whatever Esteban has said.'

  Caroline was confused and embarrassed now, but somehow she had to remain composed. 'I don't know what you think your brother has said, seňor,' she declared, taking the offensive. 'He spoke about the history of the house, and explained some of the legends associated with the area. And—and so far as your family is concerned, he—he merely defined the situation.'

  'Indeed.' Luis's expression was sceptical now, his mouth oddly twisted, his attitude one of veiled contempt. 'You expect me to believe that? You did not then hope to provoke me into contradicting Esteban?'

  'Contradicting him?' Caroline's face burned, in spite of herself. 'No, I—'

  'Oh, let us have done with this,' Luis interrupted harshly. 'I know my brother, seňorita. I know what he is capable of. I know what he must have told you. But I have no intention of satisfying your squalid curiosity by compounding his deficiency—do I make myself clear?' His lips curled. 'And if that is the real reason behind this sudden desire for horseback riding, then I regret, you have wasted your time!'

  'You flatter yourself, seňor.' Caroline caught her breath. 'I was looking forward to this outing. I was looking forward to getting away from the hacienda. Believe it or not, I have ridden before, and I've always enjoyed it. Accepting your company was just a means to an end, as it seems I am not allowed the freedom here I've been used to. I didn't ask for your brother's confidences, and I wouldn't presume to expect yours.' She drew another trembling breath and adjusted the strap of her sombrero before adding, unforgivably: 'But in one respect I would agree with Don Esteban. You are jealous of him. As jealous as hell! And that's why you're so damned touchy, when your brother's name is mentioned!'

  It was a damning indictment, and although Caroline told herself it had been justified, she felt terribly guilty as she sat there, waiting for his denouncement.

  But it never came. With an indifferent shrug of his shoulders, Luis dug his knees into the gelding's sides and the animal obediently broke into a canter. Within seconds, he was some distance ahead of her, widening the gap with every stride, and with a feeling of helpless compliance, Caroline was obliged to follow him.

  The ridge he had mentioned was some half a mile away, a curving bluff of limestone, forming a natural ravine, at the bottom of which the river tumbled in contracted fury. Luis had reined his mount at the edge of the cliff, and Caroline rode up to him reluctantly, hanging some way back, aware that, so far as he was concerned at least, she had destroyed any hope of an amicable relationship between them.

  When he turned his head to look at her, she had to steel herself not to glance away, then her heart lurched with sudden palpitation when she saw that he was smiling. He sat there, one arm resting lazily across the pommel of his saddle, his expression wry and slightly mocking, and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that no matter what Esteban said, jealousy was not the reason for Luis's behaviour.

  'Feeling better?' he enquired, as she nudged her mare nearer to him, and Caroline made a gesture of defeat.

  'I'm sorry,' she said, pushing back the hat and shaking her hair free. 'I was rude, and I'm sorry.' She looked at him ruefully. 'Will you forgive me?'

  'There is nothing to forgive,' Luis retorted, straightening in the saddle. 'You have your opinions, and you are right to voice them. I am simply not used to such arbitrary candour.'

  Caroline sighed. 'I shouldn't have said what I did,' she declared, shaking her head, then swung herself down from the saddle to walk tentatively to the rim of the ravine. 'Would you believe me if I said I didn't mean it?'

  'I would advise you not to go too near the edge,' Luis commented dryly, and when she paid him no need, he too dismounted and, flexing his muscles, came to stand beside her.

  Caroline was intensely aware of him, of the lean length of his thigh only inches from hers, and of the fact that she had only to stretch her fingers to touch him. But she was aware, too, of the precariousness of their relationship, and while she didn't want to do or say anything to disrupt it yet again, she had to relieve her own sense of inadequacy.

  'Do you believe me?' she probed, looking up at him, and felt her breathing constrict when the intentness of his grey gaze locked with hers.

  'What does it matter to you?' he asked, his voice taut with suppressed emotion. 'I shall be leaving here the day after tomorrow, seňorita. My opinion is not important. It is with my brother you will have to deal.' He paused then, looking away from her to follow the plunging c
ourse of the river. 'But it may be that you are right,' he added, with some self-derision. 'Perhaps I am jealous of Esteban. Oh, yes—' this as she started to protest, 'perhaps I am. But not, I fear, for the reasons you imagine.'

  'What do you mean?'

  Caroline spoke huskily, but Luis had already turned away from her, adjusting the stirrup leathers hanging from his saddle, before thrusting his foot into the iron holster.

  'Can you not guess?' he asked, settling himself more comfortably in the saddle, and her eyes widened as she gazed up at him. 'Never imagine a priest is not a man, seňorita,' he concluded, causing her lips to part in confusion. 'Particularly, a priest who is not yet ordained.' He grimaced. 'In spite of my maternal heritage, I find that, ultimately, I am still my father's offspring.'

  Caroline was bewildered. 'Your maternal heritage, seňor? I—I don't understand—'

  Luis bent his head, as if it was suddenly too heavy for his neck to support, and looked down at her in resignation. 'My mother lives at the Convent of the Sisters of the Annunciation, seňorita. When my father died, she took refuge there, and it is my brother's wish that I should follow her example.'

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Don Esteban had guests for dinner that evening.

  They were a Seňor and Seňora Calveiro, from the neighbouring estate of Los Calvados, and their daughter, Josetta. Caroline, who had been informed of the invitation at lunch, had hoped to be allowed to take dinner alone in her room, but Don Esteban would not hear of it.

  'Luis will be joining us, of course,' he said, spearing her with his dark gaze, and she wondered whether her unannounced outing with his brother had been reported to him. 'I shall expect you to make up the numbers, seňorita, and I am sure the Calveiros will wish to compliment me on my good fortune.'

  'You're very kind, seňor.'

  Caroline had answered politely enough, but inside, she had dreaded the evening ahead, and the inevitable association with his brother. After that disturbing exchange on the ridge, they had ridden back to the house without any further opportunity for conversation, and once there, Luis had speedily excused himself from her presence. She had suspected he was already regretting his earlier frankness, and she doubted he would welcome an evening spent in the company of a confessor. She had been responsible, of course, it was all her fault, and her own feelings were so confused, the last thing she wanted was to make the situation any harder—for either of them.

  But she had had little time to reflect on these thoughts. The advent of the maid with her breakfast tray had interrupted the hasty shower she was taking, and afterwards, dressed neatly in a navy shirt and brace skirt, she had found Emilia already in the library, awaiting her.

  The little girl had evidently decided the easier course was to obey her father, and Caroline was glad she had had the foresight to prepare the next day's lesson the previous morning, while Emilia was writing an essay. In future, she would have to find time to prepare their lessons on a more regulated basis, devoting different days to different subjects, but for the present, she concentrated on keeping the child busy, and interested. Mexican history had never been Caroline's strong point, but now she found herself reading about the Spanish conquest, the subsequent religious conversion, and ultimately, the mingling of Spanish and Indian blood to produce the mestizo race that presently predominated. She studied the campaigns of Benito Juarez and Porfirio Diaz, the latter dictatorship primarily responsible for the flourishing wealth of the hacenderos, and the revolution of 1910 which made such a hero of Pancho Villa, and realised how limited her knowledge had been up to that time. The more she learned, however, the more it fascinated her, and she refused to acknowledge that she was in any way influenced by her involuntary involvement with Luis.

  Lunch was again a buffet meal, and for once Caroline was glad of Doňa Isabel's presence to divert Esteban's attention from herself. Nevertheless, the dark-eyed patron of San Luis found plenty of occasions to bring her into the conversation, and she was made increasingly aware that little went on that he did not know about.

  And yet, although there were several occasions when she had an opportunity to tell him that she had been riding with his brother, somehow she never seemed to find the right words. It didn't occur to her that Luis might have told him. Instinctively she guessed that he would leave it to her to make that decision, but the idea of telling Esteban, of laying herself open to his mockery and possible contempt, promoted only constraint, and she escaped after the meal feeling distinctly cowardly.

  As on the previous afternoon, she sought the refuge of her own room, and fell asleep on her bed. She had intended to prepare the following day's lessons for Emilia, and write to her mother, but exhaustion overtook her, and she knew nothing more until the sun was rapidly sinking into the west.

  She got off the bed reluctantly, aware of the approaching dinner party, and spent several minutes gazing at her reflection with critical eyes. The rest had left a slumbrous languor about her, and there were faintly bruised shadows on her eyelids. She had slept too soundly, she decided, refusing to acknowledge their significance, and dismissed the uneasy realisation that the last thing she had thought of was Luis's face, when he told her he was his father's son. Unbidden, Doňa Isabel's words came back to her, the old lady's angry denunciation of the woman she had seen in the hacienda. All of a sudden, it did not seem so incredible that there was some female in Luis's life, and Caroline perceived her own reactions to it with a sense of impatience.

  Leaving the bedroom, she stripped off her clothes and took a cold shower, revelling in the brisk spray, dispersing the lingering threads of lassitude. It would not do to face her employer without being fully alert, she reflected dryly, and while she might resent his arbitrary use of her presence, he was her employer, and she felt obliged to accommodate him.

  She took the only black dress she possessed out of the wardrobe and flung it on the bed, studying its simple lines without enthusiasm. It was made of a synthetic fibre, that combined the uncrushability of polyester with the softness of silk, and she had bought it to attend a cocktail party with Andrew, and the memories it evoked were not welcome.

  It had been one of those professorial gatherings, beloved of the lecturing fraternity, and just after Caroline had taken her final exams. Tricia was ill again, some complication after another of her nervous upsets, and Andrew had cast caution to the winds and invited Caroline to join him. There had been some eyebrows raised at the sight of the handsome young professor escorting his erstwhile student, Caroline remembered ruefully, fingering the soft black folds. In spite of her father's position, their relationship was untenable. He was a married man, and when Caroline encountered Tricia on the campus the following week, her understanding had left Caroline feeling like a bitch. It was then she had begun to see the futility of her love for Andrew. He was never going to divorce Tricia. Her father, the dean, would see to that. And because Caroline's own father was also involved, there seemed only one alternative.

  With a sigh, Caroline slipped the dress over her head, and acknowledged without conceit that its darkness complemented her extreme fairness. Against the sombre fabric, her hair had the sheen of silver, and the sun had only tinted the pale contours of her face. The halter neckline exposed most of her neck and shoulders, and the downy hollow of her back, but she couldn't help it. It was the most suitable thing she possessed, and she had seen many more provocative garments at the hotel in Merida.

  Dinner was at eight, but Don Esteban had asked her to join him for a pre-dinner aperitif at seven-thirty. It was a little after that time when Caroline left her room, and she was walking with her usual haste along the gloomy corridor when a door to her right suddenly opened. She was so shocked, she faltered in her stride, for she had supposed herself the only occupant of this wing. But Luis's unexpected appearance disabused her of that belief, and she gazed at him speechlessly for a few moments, before recovering her equilibrium.

  'I am sorry. Did I startle you?' he asked, emerging from the room a
nd closing the door, and she expelled her breath with feeling.

  He was formally dressed this evening, in a wine-coloured velvet evening suit, the matching silk of his shirt enhanced by a froth of lace. On many men, she realised, the extravagance would have looked feminine, but with Luis's hard features, no such comparison was necessary. The shoulders beneath the soft pile of his jacket were broad and unpadded, the thighs mounding the material like a second skin were powerful and muscular, and she knew from experience that his sinewy strength had all the resourcefulness of a predator.

  'I didn't—I didn't know your rooms were on this corridor,' she admitted, as he fell into step beside her. 'It—it always seems so empty.'

  'They are not,' Luis disillusioned her politely. 'I have been visiting Tia Isabel, that is all. It is she, and not I, who shares this wing with you.'

  'Oh!' Caroline was aware of a sudden empty feeling, not wholly due to a sense of disappointment. Of all the occupants of the hacienda, Doňa Isabel was the last person she would have chosen to share her seclusion, and a feathering of goosebumps rippled her flesh.

  'She is harmless, you know,' Luis remarked quietly, as if aware of her apprehension, and Caroline glanced quickly at him. His perception where she was concerned was quite remarkable, but in this instance his reassurance was not convincing.

  'When she is lucid,' she retorted, as they reached the head of the stairs, and preceded him down them before he could make any further comment.

  Don Esteban's guests had arrived, and were talking with him in the main salón, an imposing room, with many fine pictures, and furniture from the period of the last emperor. But it was not the room that held Caroline's attention this evening, but the four men and women who awaited her there, and her mouth went dry when she encountered their critical gaze.