The High Valley Page 9

  Morgana was completely confused. “Why should you wish to kidnap me?” she exclaimed.

  Ricardo smiled and lay back in his seat. “I have my reasons also.”

  “You're deliberately tormenting me.”

  He looked indignant. “Oh, no, Morgana. Believe me, all things will be explained in time.”

  “But when? How long am I expected to stay here?”

  Ricardo sighed regretfully. “Ah, that I cannot say.”

  She made a helpless gesture. “It's almost two days since radio contact was cut with the plane. My father will be out of his mind with anxiety.”

  “Oh, no. Arrangements have been made for a radio message to be transmitted to Rio that the plane has been requisitioned and all the passengers are safe and well.”

  Morgana felt a slight relief at this news. “I see.”

  Ricardo smiled. “We are not villains, Morgana, no matter what you may have heard. Queras is the unwitting instigator of our movement. He and his puppet government. I hope I live to see him hanged!” There was passionate feeling in Ricardo's voice.

  Morgana finished her coffee and rose to her feet. She moved towards the open door, looking out on the grassy slopes behind the house where goat bells tinkled in the morning air. High above, the high peaks of the cordilleras were shrouded in mist, mysterious and dangerous, successfully protecting the valley from unwanted intrusion.

  Ricardo came to stand beside her, watching her expressive face with lazy eyes. “Tell me, Morgana, is there some man in England who is eagerly awaiting your return?”

  Morgana gave him a cool stare. “What business is that of yours?”

  Ricardo smiled. “What reason could there be but that I find you intoxicating? You're a beautiful woman, Morgana. Don't pretend I am the first man to tell you so.”

  Morgana coloured, albeit unwillingly, and concentrated on the creamy petals of a magnolia that managed to thrive near the wall of the hacienda. “I don't pretend,” she said, carefully. “I leave that to you – and your brother.”

  Ricardo's face was alight with admiration, and then his expression changed suddenly and Morgana looked quickly round to find that another man had entered the kitchen and come up behind them.

  “So this is where you are, Ricardo,” Luis remarked, chillingly. “I should have guessed, of course.”

  Ricardo straightened and made an eloquent gesture with his shoulders. “Your so-beautiful captive intrigues me, Luis,” he commented lazily. “And after all, when our mother takes control of her there will be little opportunities for meetings of this kind. Our mother is very strict,” he advised Morgana with an apologetic smile.

  Morgana frowned. “But I don't understand. What has your mother to do with me?”

  Luis gave Ricardo an impatient glance. “My brother has not told you that, I suppose.”

  Ricardo raised his eyebrows innocently. “But it was not my place to do so, O Halcão,” he mocked.

  Luis's expression darkened. “No, I suppose it was not. Bom, Ricardo, you may leave us. You are not needed here.”

  Ricardo wrinkled his elegant nose. “That is not kind, patrono,” he said, with assumed indignation.

  Luis shook his head in disgust, and Ricardo gave a slight shrug of his shoulders before sweeping a bow towards Morgana and wishing them both “Adeus!” He walked away round the hacienda and Morgana realised his transport would be waiting for him.

  After he had gone Luis said: “Come. We will talk in my room.”

  Morgana looked at him mutinously. “I'd prefer to talk here,” she replied, coldly, unwilling to enter his room while the memories of yesterday evening were so strong in her mind.

  Luis spread his hands. “As you wish,” he said. He looked across at Lucia and she, sensing his gaze, nodded agreeably. Without a word she left the kitchen and again they were alone, only the sounds of the animals in the back of the house intruding.

  Luis strode to the wide fireplace and stood with his back to the flames, arms folded across his muscular chest, looking every inch the arrogant lord of La Nava. Morgana trembled a little in spite of herself. There was something so disturbingly male about him and his appearance of cold detachment challenged her femininity. But right now she would not permit herself to consider him in that way. His lapse of control last evening had not been brought about by any intention on his behalf, and his abrupt withdrawal at Ricardo's entrance had in itself been insulting. He despised himself for what had happened, of that she was certain, but he despised her even more.

  Now he said: “As usual, Ricardo has, by his innuendoes, made what I have to say infinitely more difficult.”

  “Why?” Morgana was derisory. “Whatever has been said, you persist in having your own way. Whether or not Ricardo forestalled you, the end result is just as humiliating. Go on – tell me what your mother has decided!”

  Luis eyes narrowed. “You are insulting, both to me and my mother.”

  Morgana compressed her lips. “That's all I have left, isn't it?”

  “No!” His tone was violent. “You are extremely fortunate. While you are here your body is inviolate! It could so easily have been otherwise.”

  Morgana coloured hotly. “You don't seem to appreciate what you have done to me! While physically I am unharmed you cannot deny that mentally I am a prisoner of your lies!” She sighed. “Oh go on, tell me what your mother has decided.”

  Luis reached into his pocket and brought out a case of cigars. “You will be leaving here later today. You are to go to the house of my mother at the other end of the valley, and there you will remain until such time as you can be released.” He lit a cigar and inhaled deeply. “Do I make myself clear?”

  Morgana swallowed hard. “Go to the house of your mother!” she echoed weakly. “But why?”

  Luis raised his dark eyebrows. “She does not wish that you should continue to remain here.”

  Morgana stared at him. “I see.”

  “She considers it unseemly that a young woman should stay in my house and I must confess I agree with her.”

  Morgana took a deep breath. “Why? Why should you wish me to leave when you had me brought here in the first place.”

  “You were brought here on my instructions,” he said, harshly. “But not for personal reasons.”

  “And now you find you cannot allow me to stay. Why? Because of what your mother has decreed, or perhaps because of what happened last night!”

  Luis's features were hard and unyielding. “We will not discuss last evening.”

  “Oh! Why not? Are you ashamed? It is distasteful to you? Are the desires of the flesh so abominable to a man in your position?” Morgana was deliberately taunting, hurting him as he had hurt her.

  Luis clenched his fists. “Do not goad me, Morgana. What happened between us was the result of a series of events that artificially heightened the senses and overcharged the emotions. Much as I regret what happened, I cannot but observe that another woman might have shown less encouragement!”

  “How dare you!” Morgana was horrified. “Oh, I despise you, do you hear me, I despise you! You can't even admit to a normal desire for a woman, you have to distort it, destroy it by clinical dissection! Is the almighty O Halcão beyond the weaknesses of human vulnerability!”

  Luis took a step towards her and her heart leapt into her throat, but with a grim expletive he turned away, putting his cigar between his teeth with a hand that was not quite steady.

  “I will not enter into petty arguments with you, Morgana,” he said, in a controlled voice. “You are entitled to your opinion of me, of course.” He lifted his shoulders in an involuntary gesture. “Nevertheless, regardless of your personal wishes, you will go to my mother's house and do exactly as I have said.”

  Morgana hunched her shoulders defeatedly. As always his was the last word.

  “When do we leave?” she asked in a sullen voice.

  Luis glanced at his watch. “After the noonday meal. You may rest for a while and we will leave in the
late afternoon. The house is inaccessible by motor vehicle. We will ride from the lake.”

  “I don't ride,” Morgana reminded him coldly.

  “Then you will have to learn,” he responded sharply, and straightening his shoulders he turned towards her again. “Understand me, Morgana, you will behave yourself at the Villa Carrilhão, or you may find that even my patience is not unlimited.”

  “Are you threatening me, senhor?” Morgana asked, endeavouring to control the tremble that was trying to invade her vocal chords.

  Luis regarded her sombrely. “Perhaps I am, at that,” he said, ominously …

  CHAPTER VI

  THE afternoon sun was still hot but a wayward breeze lifted Morgana's hair so that it streamed behind her like a cloud of pale silk. Her horse, a grey mare of gentle temperament, moved rhythmically beneath her and now that her initial nervousness at being in the saddle had decreased she found she was enjoying the ride. There was a sense of well being in allowing the horse to take the initiative, and Consuelo, as the beast was called, seemed to know her way well enough unguided.

  A Land Rover had transported them on the first leg of their journey, and during that tense ride Morgana had said little, responding only when it was absolutely necessary. But since leaving the Land Rover at a lakeside dwelling and mounting the horses she had relaxed. Perhaps it was the almost unbelievable beauty of the scenery that had dispersed her antagonism, she didn't know, but certainly she was aware that she was passing through some of the most dramatic country she had ever seen.

  The lake, a huge expanse of water that Luis had remarked was almost forty feet in depth in places, was situated at the foot of a gorge, and tall rugged rocks thrust their greenish-grey majesty towards a cloudless blue sky above. The lake was edged about with every kind of growth, from narrow pines that stretched hopefully upwards to thick masses of ferns interspersed with tropical foliage. Morgana had seen birds, too, gorgeous blue and gold macaws, and kingfishers that dived expertly for their prey.

  But it was after they mounted their horses and began to ascend a narrow winding track up the steep side of the gorge that Morgana began to appreciate the sheer wealth of beauty that was all around her. Although she could not see the plateau from here, she saw again the waterfall that fell sheerly down into the stillness of the lake, causing a foaming cauldron of movement at its foot. It seemed incredible that the valley could present so many contrasts, from the lush, cultivated area around the village at its further end to this wild, untrammelled beauty of the gorge. Her earlier sense of apprehension at being taken to meet Luis's mother had given way under this onslaught of grandeur and for a while she was content just to gaze and marvel at these untouched wonders of nature.

  Then, as the track curved round a precipitous rock face, Morgana saw the house for the first time.

  It was amazing, she thought, that anyone should have conceived of building a house here. Built of grey stone, weathered by the elements of countless seasons, it seemed a part of its surroundings. Somehow a plateau had been worn out of the granite and the house was lodged under an overhanging curvature of the cliff which gave it a natural protection against the winds that blew so strongly here when darkness fell. Around the house was a high wall and Morgana reflected that no castle could be more strongly protected. She wondered, too, at the strength of will of a woman who was prepared to live here, apparently alone, for most of her life.

  Luis, who was leading the way on a black horse whose mettle Morgana would not like to have tested, glanced back at her now and said: “Well? And what do you think of my home?”

  “Your home?” she echoed blankly. “But I thought –”

  “You thought the hacienda was my home?” He made a slight movement of his powerful shoulders. “Oh, no! It is – as you would say in England – my business premises, that is all.”

  “I see.”

  “This is the house my father left to me as the eldest son. But for now it is the home of my mother.”

  “I see,” Morgana said again, a strange quiver of expectation running through her veins. “It's very impressive!”

  “Impressive? Yes, I suppose it is. It is also very beautiful and very isolated. When the winter winds blow, and there is snow on these peaks all around, it is very comfortable here, in my eyrie.” He gave a sardonic smile. “That is appropriate, is it not? The eyrie is the home of the hawk – and the eagle.”

  “Birds of prey,” murmured Morgana, dryly, and Luis's eyes darkened for a moment before he swung round in his saddle and pressed the stallion forward up the final climb to heavy wooden doors which were set in the outer walls of the villa. As they approached the doors were suddenly swung wide and Morgana saw a boy of about fifteen years of age gaze adoringly up at Luis as he passed and said something to him. Then the boy's bright enquiring eyes turned to Morgana and she smiled at him involuntarily, seeing the curiosity on his face.

  Within the inner courtyard Luis was dismounting, unfastening her cases from the strap with which he had slung them across his mount's broad back. Morgana hesitated a moment, glancing round nervously and seeing the boy close the heavy doors before running across to speak with Luis again. Then she withdrew her foot from one stirrup and with clumsy movements she slid to the ground, landing rather heavily on the stone floor. Luis looked round quickly and his eyes regarded her intently.

  “Are you all right?” he enquired, swiftly.

  Morgana brushed down her blouse and ran exploring fingers over her hips and thighs. “I expect so,” she replied, doubtfully. “My spine feels numb.”

  Luis's hard face softened slightly. “You must do more riding,” he observed. “City dwellers get little exercise.”

  Morgana tensed. “I am not a city dweller!” she responded, sharply, and then she clenched her fists. There was no point in arguing with him. Instead, she looked at the villa.

  At close quarters it was equally impressive and larger than she had at first imagined. It was built on two floors, the upper rooms possessing balconies with no doubt magnificent views of the surrounding area, Morgana thought. There was a fountain in the centre of the courtyard and around it grew a small collection of flowering shrubs while by the colonnaded entrance to the villa climbing plants had been trained up the walls. The courtyard was sheltered and only the sun penetrated the thick walls at this time of year so that the vegetation had ample opportunity for survival.

  While the boy who had admitted them attended to the horses, Luis came across to Morgana carrying her cases. “Come,” he said. “I am quite sure my mother will have noted our arrival and will be eagerly awaiting meeting you.”

  Morgana gave him a wry glance. “I don't believe you,” she said, compressing her lips. “If what Ricardo said –”

  “Forget what Ricardo said,” he advised her quietly. “Come!”

  Morgana heaved a sigh and followed him across the paved terrace and through the double door into the house.

  They entered into a panelled hallway whose walls were stained a light oak. The floor was wooden also and polished to a high shine. There were skin rugs strewn around and a heavy mahogany chest on which stood a vase of magnificent orchids. A wrought iron balustraded staircase wound into the upper regions of the house while to right and left panelled doors led into the downstair apartments. But even as they entered and Morgana began to take in these fleeting impressions one of the doors to the right of the hall opened and a woman came through to greet them.

  If her surroundings had startled Morgana by their beauty and elegance, then Senhora Marianna Salvador startled her even more. She was so different from Morgana's imaginings, so svelte, so chic, so completely the kind of woman one would have expected to be the wife of some statesman that Morgana pressed her hand to her throat with increased nervousness and felt suddenly supremely conscious of her own dishevelment.

  Luis had stood her cases down and went forward to meet his mother with obvious tenderness, taking her hand and allowing her lips to touch his tanned cheek. “Marian
na!” he murmured, deferentially, and then turned. “Marianna, I want you to meet Senhorita Mallory. Morgana, this is my mother!”

  Morgana came forward awkwardly, wiping the palm of her hand down her pants before offering it to his fastidious example of Portuguese elegance. “How – how do you do?” she said, politely.

  “Boas dia, senhorita,” responded Marianna Salvador, her dark eyes surveying Morgana very thoroughly. Then she looked again at her son, her eyes softening miraculously as they encountered his. “You are late, Luis. I was beginning to wonder whether you intended to come after all.”

  Luis spread his hands. “I said I would, Marianna,” he replied, gently. “Am I not then a man of my word?”

  “I hope so, Luis, oh, I sincerely hope so,” she replied, insinuatively, and Luis glanced in Morgana's direction, his eyes enigmatic.

  “So you are here, Morgana,” he said, expressionlessly. “I hope you will realise that from here there is no escape.”

  Morgana's cheeks suffused with colour. “I'll remember that, senhor,” she said, tautly.

  His expression grew harsh. “You have my permission to use my name,” he reminded her grimly.

  Morgana straightened her shoulders. “Oh yes, O Halcão,” she murmured, and was gratified when he looked even grimmer.

  His mother had been listening to this exchange with curious eyes and now she said: “You will stay for dinner of course, Luis?”

  He shook his head. “Alas no, I must go back,” he replied, quickly. “I have wasted too much time as it is. There is work to be done.”

  Marianna caught his wrist suddenly between her two hands. “You – you will be careful, my son?”

  Luis gave her a gentle smile, the kind of smile Morgana had never seen, and one which disturbed her deeply because of its warmth and tenderness. She thought how wonderful it must be to have him smile at her like that and then looked abruptly away, unwilling to allow him any place in her emotions.

  “I'll be careful, Marianna,” he told his mother now. “Don't I always take care?”