Читать книгу Lure Of Eagles - Anne Mather - Страница 7

THE four-star Crillon Hotel stood in a side street, just off Manchester’s main square. Domine did wonder why he had not checked into the five-star Piccadilly, but perhaps he preferred the less hectic conservatism of the smaller hotel. In any event, it was nothing to do with her where he chose to stay, inasmuch as neither she nor Mark was expected to foot the bill.

She was still absently considering the things Mr Holland had told her, and finding the Crillon car park was full, she spent several fruitless minutes driving round and round the square, trying to find somewhere else to leave the small Porsche which her grandfather had given her six months ago on her eighteenth birthday. Eventually she managed to ease it into a limited-period parking area, and hurried across the park, aware that she was going to be rather late. It was all very well telling herself that she didn’t care whether he had waited for her or not, but the fact that she was virtually obliged to see him again this evening quickened her step, realising as she did that Mark might well be made to suffer for her tardiness.

One of several hall porters opened the swing glass doors for her as she mounted the shallow steps, and thanking him she looked apprehensively round the reception area. There seemed to be no sign of Señor Aguilar, and she looked anxiously at her watch. It was already after quarter past, and she wondered if he had gone into the restaurant without her.

She was just considering what she ought to do next when a voice said: ‘Miss Temple?’ and she looked up to find herself confronted by a black-coated waiter.

‘Yes?’ she nodded, swallowing her alarm, and he gave her a polite smile.

‘Mr Aguilar is waiting for you in the bar, Miss Temple,’ the man said, indicating the archway behind him. ‘If you’ll follow me …’

With as much self-possession as she could muster, Domine followed the man through the archway and into a discreetly lit bar-lounge. There were tables and armchairs, low banquettes upholstered in red leather, and tall stools at the bar, with circular red seats. There were several people in the room, some seated at the tables, others just standing around, and others occupying the stools at the bar. She saw Aguilar at once. He was seated at the bar, but at her approach he slid off his stool and came to greet her.

‘Miss Temple,’ he said, bowing over her hand. ‘How nice of you to come.’ Almost as if he had doubted she might.

Domine waited until he had released her hand and then thrust it awkwardly into the hip pocket of her pants. She saw his gaze flick over her, and wondered what his opinion was today, but then he was asking her what she would like to drink and she endeavoured to concentrate on the mood of the moment.

He looked very little different from the previous evening. He had discarded his dinner jacket, of course, but his lounge suit was just as dark, the grey silk tie he wore with it matching his shirt. She couldn’t help noticing that he attracted the attention of other women in the bar, and when he seated himself on the adjoining stool and his knee brushed her thigh, she was made disturbingly aware of the effect he had on her.

Having accepted her usual Martini, Domine allowed her gaze to move sideways, alighting on his dark profile, trying to guess why he had invited her for lunch. It would have been flattering to think he was attracted to her, but after the look he had given her the night before, she distrusted his suave courtesy. Whatever he wanted, it was not personal, though remembrance of that fleeting contempt rekindled her desire to make him squirm.

With this in mind she rested one elbow on the bar, and turning towards him, gave him the full benefit of her most winning smile. As she moved, the tantalising fragrance she wore drifted to his nostrils, her hair a silky silver curtain about her shoulders.

‘It was—kind of you to invite me to lunch,’ she said now, allowing the fingers of her other hand to lightly touch his sleeve. Her nails gleamed with polish, long and silvery, like her hair, her lips parting over even white teeth. ‘It was so unexpected, Señor—or may I call you Luis?’

His sleeve was withdrawn from her fingers, and she was subjected to a glacial scrutiny. ‘I think you misunderstand my motives, Miss Temple,’ he declared harshly. ‘My reasons for inviting you to lunch were not—personal ones.’

‘No?’ She pretended disappointment. ‘Then what?’

He raised his glass to his lips, swallowed a mouthful of the pale lager he was drinking before replying. Then he said severely: ‘I wanted to speak with you about your cousin.’

‘Lisel?’

‘Lisel, yes.’

Domine was intrigued. This was not what she had expected. ‘What about her?’

Aguilar frowned, and sought about in his pocket until he brought out a small cigar case. Putting one of the narrow cheroots between his teeth, he continued: ‘You will recall what I have told you about her already? She is—how shall I say?—not used to meeting strangers.’ He paused as he lit the cheroot with a slim gold lighter. ‘Coming to England, if indeed she ever does, will be a terrifying experience for her.’

Domine pulled a wry face. ‘So?’

His mouth tightened, the lines that bracketed it deepening. ‘You are not at all like her, are you? You do not begin to understand how she might be feeling.’

Domine felt indignant. ‘How could I? Does she know how I’m feeling right now? Of course not. We’re two different people. We’ve had a different upbringing.’

‘That, alas, is true,’ he responded curtly, and she did not misunderstand his preference. ‘But it may be that you could—help her.’

‘Me?’ Domine was astounded. ‘How could I help such a—a paragon?’

It was hardly wise to taunt him, but his evident admiration for her cousin was irritating, and Domine was not used to being ignored. Besides, he was expecting too much if he thought she could stick around, knowing Griffons would have to be sold, seeing everything she had ever loved come under the auction hammer, just to help the one person who was responsible for destroying her and Mark’s lives.

‘You are bitter,’ Luis Aguilar said now, irritating her even more. ‘That is understandable. But I must point out that your cousin cannot be held responsible for your grandfather’s aberrations.’

Domine glared at him. ‘Thank you, but I don’t require a lecture from you concerning my grandfather’s behaviour, aberrant or otherwise! And while we’re on the subject, I am not bitter; sad, perhaps, but not bitter!’

Her outburst had annoyed him, she could see that, and his next words confirmed it. ‘It seems to me that Sir George knew what he was doing when he made his last will and testament,’ he commented crushingly. ‘Neither you nor your brother seem to have any self-discipline whatsoever, and behave for the most part like a pair of irresponsible children!’

Domine clenched her fists. ‘Then what could we possibly do to help Lisel?’ she demanded, uncaring in the heat of the moment what Mark might think of her behaviour, and was almost gratified when he retorted:

‘I cannot for the life of me imagine!’ in cold chilling tones.

Of course, after that there was nothing more to say, thought Domine rather tremulously. Deciding she would not wait for him to walk out on her, she would walk out on him, she made to slide off her stool, but to her astonishment his hand came out and gripped her arm, preventing her from making her escape. She parted her lips to make some angry objection, and then closed them again when he turned those night-dark eyes in her direction. She did not comprehend the meaning in their hypnotic depths, but she could not move under that paralysing appraisal, her breath coming in shallow gulps as she returned his stare.

‘Wait!’ he commanded, and she realised how close he had been to losing his temper. ‘Perhaps my words were—careless, reckless; call them what you will. However, I tell myself, I would rather you were honest with me than—than merely paying lip service to my position.’

His position! Domine gazed at him in bewilderment. What position? What did he mean? As Lisel’s friend? Her adviser? Or was he hinting that he had power of attorney to act on her behalf?

She became aware that his fingers were numbing her wrist, but she had no desire for him to relax them. On the contrary, she liked him touching her, and there was the growing realisation that she was arousing him to show emotion. Until that moment he had displayed a singular lack of any kind of feeling, except perhaps contempt, and there was a curious satisfaction in knowing she had succeeded where Mark, even at his most objectionable, had not.

As if he was aware of what she was thinking, his hand was immediately withdrawn, and she looked down at the livid marks his fingers had left on her skin. She did not bruise easily, but she would be surprised if she had nothing to show for this afternoon’s violence, and his warring expression revealed his consciousness of that fact. No doubt he was regretting his behaviour bitterly, and the opportunity it had given her to expose his lack of self-control.

‘I am sorry,’ he said now, not looking at her, but hunching his shoulders over his glass, staring concentratedly at the row of coloured bottles which highlighted the back of the bar. ‘I did not mean to hurt you. I simply wanted—time to explain why I had brought you here.’

‘Yes?’

She refused to help him, and he went on more slowly: ‘My intention was to ask whether you would be agreeable to visiting your cousin. I would like you to come to Puerto Limas, to stay near your cousin, to befriend her. To prepare her, if you can, for the way of life she will be expected to contend with if she comes to England.’

He looked at her then, but now Domine was so shocked she found it impossible to sustain the advantage she had gained. ‘You—want me to—to come to Peru?’ she gasped, and when a movement of his head implied his consent: ‘You can’t be serious!’

‘Why not?’ The dark features were a mask hiding his true feelings. ‘She is your cousin, after all, a blood relation. Surely that must mean something to you.’

‘We probably don’t put as much emphasis on blood relationships as you do,’ replied Domine dazedly, trying to come to terms with his new disclosure. He was asking her to visit Peru, she kept telling herself incredulously, he was actually suggesting she should travel more than six thousand miles to stay with a cousin she had not even met!

Shaking her head, she looked at him doubtfully, trying to understand his reasoning. ‘But you don’t even like me,’ she protested, incredulity giving way to practicality. ‘Do you?’

His hesitation was scarcely flattering. ‘I would rather not discuss personalities, Miss Temple,’ he declared at length. ‘I am prepared to concede that the women of my acquaintance do not behave as you do, but I am equally disposed to admit that Englishmen do not treat their women with the same—respect. Therefore no analogy can be made.’

Domine’s indignation was superseded by her curiosity. ‘Are you married?’ she asked, unable to use the formal señor as she asked the unpalatable question, and his dark brows ascended with evident impatience.

‘I suggest we go and have lunch,’ he essayed firmly, making no attempt to satisfy her inquisitiveness. ‘I took the liberty of ordering for us both when you were delayed, and the waiter has just signalled that all is now prepared.’

The dining room of the Crillon was all ornate carving and fine lace curtains. The tablecloths were lace, too, and their table was set against the wall, partially concealed by a huge rubber plant. The head waiter himself saw them seated, and after the smoked salmon had been served Domine spent some little time looking about her.

‘It’s very—Victorian, isn’t it?’ she remarked absently, not really thinking to whom she was speaking, and then grimaced when she realised she had his undivided attention. ‘I mean …’ she shrugged awkwardly, ‘all lace curtains and potted palms. Or in this case, a potted rubber plant.’

‘You don’t like it?’ he queried, watching her with an intentness that was unnerving, and she hastened to correct his impression.

‘It’s not that. It’s just—well, different, that’s all.’

‘From reinforced steel and plate glass?’ he suggested drily. ‘Yes, I thought so, too. Although the plant looks out of place to me. I am used to seeing them in the wild. I regret this is a puny thing at best.’

‘You have rubber plants in Peru?’ Domine was interested.

‘Trees, mostly,’ he amended. ‘They grow wild in all parts of South America, most particularly in the rain forests of the Amazon basin.’

‘That’s in Brazil, isn’t it?’ Domine’s geography was not brilliant, but she knew a few elemental facts. ‘Have you been to Brazil?’

A faint smile touched the corners of his mouth, increasing the disturbing activity of Domine’s nervous system. ‘Oh, yes,’ he replied tolerantly. ‘I have been to Brazil. And to the Amazon basin.’

Domine was fascinated. ‘Have you seen the Angel Falls?’ she asked, resting her elbows on the table and cupping her chin in her hands. ‘It’s the highest waterfall in the world, isn’t it? I saw a programme about it on television. It looked beautiful!’

‘It is,’ he agreed quietly. ‘But the falls are not in Brazil. It’s Venezuela you’re thinking of. Not the Amazon at all, but the Churun river.’

‘Is it?’ Domine pulled a wry face. ‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid geography was not my strong point.’

He shook his head. ‘South America is a long way from Manchester. I doubt, for instance, if I could tell you the source of the river Thames.’

‘I doubt if I could either!’ confessed Domine, with a gurgle of laughter, and for a moment their eyes met without either hostility or antagonism. He smiled, and it was miraculous how much younger he looked, the deeply-etched lines ironed away, his mouth mobile and sensitive. She wanted to go on looking at him, and a crazy impulse made her say: ‘You’re not disliking me so much now, are you, Luis?’ but as soon as the words were uttered she knew she had gone too far.

‘Whether or not I like you, Miss Temple, is not in question,’ he told her severely. ‘I suggest we return to the real reason for this meeting. Have you considered the suggestion I made to you?’

Domine pressed her lips together, irritated by his apparent ability to switch off any human feelings. For a second time she had had a brief glimpse of another side to his character, but he seemed determined not to allow any emotion to colour his judgment.

‘You didn’t answer my question,’ she said now, refusing to be coerced. ‘And my name is Domine, as you know very well. You don’t call Lisel Miss Temple, and yet that’s her name as well.’

He gave her an impatient look, but the arrival of the waiter to clear their plates created a diversion. By the time their chicken casserole had been served, Domine had had time to wish she hadn’t brought Lisel’s name into their conversation, and she applied herself to the meal without expecting any response.

‘I have known—Lisel for a number of years,’ he surprised her by remarking, after the waiter had departed. Filling her glass with the mildly sweet hock he had chosen to go with the meal, he added: ‘I knew her father and her mother, and when they were killed, naturally I did what I could for the child.’

Domine’s eyes were wide. ‘You knew Uncle Edward, then?’

His mouth twisted. ‘As Edward Temple was Lisel’s father, that seems an unnecessary question.’

Domine flushed. ‘I was surprised, that’s all. I shouldn’t have thought Uncle Edward was your type.’ She paused. ‘Mark’s supposed to be very like him.’

‘Really?’ He raised his wine glass to his lips. ‘I find that hard to believe. When I knew Edward Temple, he was not at all like your brother. For one thing, he had abandoned the material world. Money meant nothing to him. He wrote poetry—and he painted; I have two of his water-colours myself. He seemed totally out of touch with your society, as I know it.’

Domine forked a piece of chicken into her mouth before replying. Then, thoughtfully, she said: ‘Perhaps it would be more to the point to say that the material world had abandoned him. My grandfather never forgave him for running away to get married, and I believe he never had a steady job for years. Writing poetry and painting water-colours might be very pleasant, but it seldom pays the bills.’ She produced a smug smile. ‘Grandpa’s words, not mine.’

‘I see.’ A frown drew his dark brows together for a moment, then he seemed to dismiss the thought that had caused it. ‘Well, it is of no matter. Lisel’s parents are dead now, and beyond the reach of any retribution but God’s. However, the problem of your cousin still remains.’

Domine shrugged. ‘Why do you think I might be able to influence her? Aren’t you afraid I might—contaminate her?’

The downward curve of his mouth revealed the irritation he was keeping in check, and pressing on, she exclaimed restlessly: ‘All right, tell me about Peru, then. I know the capital is Lima, but that’s about all. Do you live in Lima? Does Lisel? Is this place—what did you call it?—Puerto Limas?—is that near Lima?’

Helping himself to more wine, he said: ‘Puerto Limas is almost six hundred miles from Lima. I told you, it is a village, in the mountains. With very little civilisation as you know it within easy reach. However, there is an air service between Lima and Arequipa and road links to the outlying villages.’

‘Six hundred miles!’ Domine was amazed. She had not imagined it was so far. It was almost frightening contemplating the implications of its remoteness, and isolation. Then she realised he had still told her nothing about himself, and her lips tightened with impatience.

‘That disturbs you?’ he enquired now, misunderstanding her expression, and she held up her head, regarding him frustratedly.

‘You disturb me, señor,’ she declared, emphasising the title. ‘What do I know about you? What have you told me about yourself? Nothing! I think that’s rather disturbing. How do I know what you tell me about Lisel is true? She could be dead, for all we know, and you——’

‘I advise you stop there,’ he interrupted her sharply, his eyes glittering coldly, like black ice. ‘Your solicitor, Mr Holland, verified my position long before I came to England, and if you have any doubts about my reputation, I suggest you take them up with him.’

Domine was unrepentant. ‘Well, why are you so reticent? Why don’t you tell me about yourself? Or is there some ghastly skeleton in your family cupboard that you’re afraid is going to come out?’

She did not think he was going to answer her, and she was beginning to wish she had not spoken so recklessly when he said harshly:

‘I am inclined to regret issuing that invitation, Miss Temple. My motives seemed simple enough—that you should get to know your cousin, so that when she comes to England she will have at least one friend. But you seem to think that gives you the right to question me about my private affairs. I assure you, it does not.’

Domine played with the handle of her fork for several moments after his quelling injunction, and then, deciding she might as well damn her chances completely, she replied:

‘You’re a bore, do you know that? And just too conventional to be true! Why shouldn’t I be curious about you? I don’t know what the people are like in that way-out country you come from, but if they’re like you, then believe me, I don’t want to come!’

His features were rigid after this little assertion, and a peculiar shiver of fear ran through her. It was not so much that she was afraid of him, rather that she was afraid she had destroyed for ever her chances of getting to know him better. He would never forgive her for this, and no doubt he was already thinking of ways he could leave the table without arousing any unnecessary comment. She hunched her shoulders, telling herself she had been justified in her outburst, that he had been absurdly reserved and uncommunicative, and that she had no wish to go to Peru anyway. But the feeling of disaster persisted, and she knew she would have given anything to retract what she had said.

‘Is that your final word?’

She lifted her lids to find him looking at her, and immediately a wave of hot colour surged into her cheeks. ‘You mean—I have a choice?’ she gasped.

His expression was not flattering. ‘As I regard your outburst in much the same way as I would any irresponsible statement, the question does not arise,’ he retorted, making her feel ridiculously childish. ‘You are young. You lack self-discipline, as I stated earlier. But you do not dissemble, as I believe your brother does, and I am persuaded that Lisel may teach you as much as you can teach her.’

Domine stared at him indignantly, but she made no attempt to defend herself. The opportunity she had thought lost had been restored to her, and for the moment that was enough.

‘Very well,’ she said, moving her shoulders in an offhand gesture. ‘I will come to Peru—to Puerto Limas. But I won’t promise to behave like one of your Peruvian maidens, all demure and sweetly biddable!’

There was a moment’s pause while he digested this, and then he said, surprisingly: ‘I would not expect you to, Miss Temple.’

To Domine’s surprise, Mark was not enthusiastic.

‘What the hell is the point of travelling all the way to Peru to meet someone who’s eventually going to have to come to England anyway?’ he demanded. ‘Making friends with her! Why do you want to make friends with her? I thought you weren’t interested.’

Domine helped herself to a cup of tea from the tray Mrs Radcliffe had left on the low table on the hearth. It was a grey day outside, with a fine drizzle dampening the tiles around the fountain, but the drawing room was warm and comfortable, an open fire supplementing the heat convected from the radiators. Spooning sugar into her cup, she said: ‘I thought you would approve. After all, you were the one who wished you could get to know her.’

‘Me, yes. You, no.’ Mark was sullen. ‘Why did he ask you, that’s what I’d like to know? Why not me? After all, I’m the man of the family, now that Grandpa’s dead. Surely I’m the one he should have asked.’

Domine sipped her tea reflectively. ‘I expect he thought Lisel would respond more easily to another woman,’ she shrugged. ‘Having lived with these nuns for years, she probably doesn’t know many men.’

‘Huh!’ Mark paced aggressively about the room. ‘All the same, I am her cousin.’

Domine shrugged, deciding it would not be politic at this time to point out that she was, too, and eventually Mark got around to asking her when she planned to leave.

‘I’m not sure,’ she admitted doubtfully. ‘But soon, I suppose. I called at the library on my way home, and apparently it’s summer in Lima at the moment. Summer is the best time to visit. Though where Lisel lives, the temperatures don’t vary too much from winter to summer. They have a rainy season——’

‘Save it!’ interposed Mark impatiently, his lower lip jutting angrily. ‘I don’t want a geographical run-down of the country. I only wanted to know whether you planned to travel back with Aguilar.’

‘No.’ Domine could be certain of this anyway. ‘Mr Holland told me he plans to leave the day after tomorrow. I couldn’t possibly be ready in that time.’

‘Holland? Oh, yes …’ Mark nodded. ‘You went to see him. What did he have to say?’

Domine put down her cup, choosing her next words with care. ‘Well,’ she began slowly, ‘he suggested that we ought to think carefully before selling Griffons.’

‘Oh, did he?’

‘Yes.’ Domine hesitated. ‘He also suggested that we might consider—offering Lisel a home here, until—until she finds her feet.’

Mark scowled, but she could see the agile brain working. ‘Offer Lisel a home here,’ he echoed broodingly. ‘While we do—what?’

‘You know Mr Villiers would give you a job,’ Domine ventured cautiously, but Mark vetoed that suggestion straight away.

‘What? Me work for old Villiers! You’ve got to be joking!’

‘Why?’ Domine stuck to her guns. ‘Despite Grandpa’s opinion of you, you do know quite a lot about the business. If you went to work for Mr Villiers, you would eventually get his job. And in a few years——’

‘Oh, yes.’ Mark’s tone was ironic. ‘In a few years, I might work myself into the position I occupy now!’

‘No.’ Domine pursed her lips. ‘Mark, you don’t have any position now, and you know it.’

‘Lisel doesn’t.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You remember what I said last night? Lisel knows nothing about the mills. As you’ve just pointed out, I do. Why shouldn’t I become her managing director? Boss in everything but name.’

‘The board would never agree.’

Mark’s scowl returned. ‘Why not? They won’t be able to stop me, if I have Lisel’s backing.’

Domine shook her head. ‘You’re completely unscrupulous, aren’t you?’

Mark shrugged. ‘Just practical, that’s all. Exactly what you asked me to be.’

Domine made a frustrated gesture. ‘Aren’t you forgetting Señor Aguilar. We still don’t know what his interest is. What if he plans to come back to England with Lisel? To help her——’

Mark’s balled fist smote the palm of his hand. ‘You don’t really believe that, any more than I do. In any case, it’s up to you now, to persuade Lisel that she doesn’t need any outside help. That her—long-lost family are more than willing to do everything they can to make things easy for her.’

‘Me?’ exclaimed Domine in dismay. ‘Up to me? Oh, no, Mark. You can’t expect me to persuade her to put her trust in you. Besides, I don’t suppose she’d believe me. She knows Grandpa left the business to her because he didn’t trust you. She’s not a fool, you know, only shy.’

Mark snorted. ‘I doubt whether the subleties of the situation have even occurred to her,’ he retorted. ‘And your friend Aguilar doesn’t seem the type to spread that kind of rumour.’

‘He’s not my friend,’ said Domine crossly, munching a ginger biscuit with more vehemence than enjoyment.

‘Isn’t he?’ Mark was guessing again. ‘It was you he invited to lunch, not me.’

‘He invited us both for dinner,’ Domine countered shortly, remembering her intention of wearing the black satin cat-suit. That could wait, however, she decided sensibly. She would take it with her to Peru, though. There might be another occasion.

They drove to the hotel that evening in Mark’s Mercedes. His enthusiasm for her trip was increasing by the minute, but Domine’s doubts were just as fertile. It might have been easier if she had felt some emotion towards the girl she was going to meet; resentment or curiosity, or both. But being absolutely honest with herself, she had to admit that without Luis Delgado Aguilar’s intervention, she would never have agreed to such a request.

Her choice of gown that evening mirrored her intention to show him that she was not the tiresome child he so obviously thought her. Like the cat-suit, it was black, but its draped chiffon bodice and flowing skirts were unmistakably feminine. It left most of her slender arms bare, and she wore a broad slave bracelet on her forearm, to complement the slim gold chain about her neck. Her hair was coiled into a swathed knot on top of her head, and even Mark had commented on the elegance of her appearance.

Luis Aguilar was waiting for them in the foyer this evening, suave and immaculate in his dinner jacket, the long powerful legs carrying him swiftly to greet them. If he found Domine’s appearance appealing, he made no show of it, summoning an attendant to take her velvet cape, before leading the way into the dining room.

‘You will forgive me if I do not offer you a drink first, Temple,’ he said, as they approached a table set for four. ‘But my other guest does not drink alcohol, and I do not care to keep her waiting.’

It was then that Domine saw the other woman already seated at the table. She was also dark, like their host, with the same kind of sheen to her cap of dark hair. Domine estimated her age to be around thirty, but she had one of those ageless Spanish faces that could have been any age from thirty to forty. High cheekbones, and a finely-sculpted mouth, a black gown, like Domine’s, only different in the respect that she showed very little of her magnolia pale skin, and a tall slender body as she rose, that dwarfed Domine’s five feet and four inches. Whoever she was, she would curtail Mark’s plans to spend the evening ingratiating himself with Luis Aguilar, Domine thought rather spitefully, angry herself that he should show so much respect to this woman, and so little to her.

‘Allow me to present Lisel’s cousins, Inez,’ he was saying now, as the woman’s lips parted in a polite smile. ‘This is my sister, Miss Temple,’ he explained, meeting Domine’s incredulity with sardonic eyes. ‘She is staying in London at the moment, and I invited her to join us this evening.’

Inez Aguilar—Domine could only think of her as unmarried, as she did not mention a husband—had little to say for herself. When she did speak, she addressed herself to Mark, asking him about his likes and dislikes in the way of food and entertainment, emitting little about her own activities. She seemed quite content to sit back and allow her brother to dominate the conversation, and he did so, talking about general things mostly, giving Mark little opportunity to introduce a more personal note.

The meal was excellent. Domine had seafood, and steak, and finished with puree of strawberries, served with ice-cream. She had a good appetite, and seldom had to worry about her figure. Occasionally, if she thought she was gaining an extra inch, she went on a diet of crackers and lemon juice for a couple of days, but she was always glad when she could revert to her normal eating habits.

She was aware of Inez Aguilar watching her from time to time throughout the meal, but it was not until the coffee was served that she addressed herself to her.

Then she said: ‘My brother tells me you are to visit Peru, Miss Temple. To meet with your cousin, no? I am sure Lisel will be delighted to meet one of her own countrywomen.’

Domine felt this was open to discussion, but she nodded, and answered: ‘That’s right. I’m—er—I’m looking forward to it. I’ve never visited South America before.’

Inez wiped her lips with her napkin and then dropped it on the table. ‘You—you will probably find it much different from your expectations,’ she said at last. ‘Not only are we in another hemisphere, we seem also to be in another century.’

‘I think Miss Temple is aware of that, Inez,’ remarked her brother drily. ‘Will you have some cognac, Temple? I can recommend the St Helena. Napoleon’s best, I believe.’

Domine cast a resentful look in his direction, but he was summoning the waiter, and taking the opportunity, she asked: ‘Do you and your brother live in Puerto Limas, señora?’

If he had heard her question there was nothing he could do about it, for the waiter had taken his full attention, and Inez answered without hesitation.

‘My brother’s house is just outside Aguilas, which is some three miles from Puerto Limas, Miss Temple,’ she said. ‘I, of course, live at Puerto Limas.’

Of course? Domine shrugged to herself, and as she did so she saw she now had their host’s undivided attention. However, she pretended not to notice this silent intimidation as she went on: ‘Aguilas? Oh, yes. Er—Luis told me. That’s the nearest town to Puerto Limas, isn’t it?’

It was difficult to decide who was the most annoyed by her deliberately casual reference. Inez was obviously taken aback, and even Mark was regarding her with a mixture of amusement and irritation. The silence around the table was itself intimidating, but above the murmur of conversation around them, Domine could hear the distinct sound of music. It was a lifeline, she thought, looking appealingly to Mark for deliverance, and holding his indifferent gaze she said:

‘There must be a dance going on next door. Shall we have our coffee in there?’

Before Mark could answer however, Luis interposed. ‘Regretfully, my sister does not dance,’ he said, pushing back his chair. ‘But if your brother will be so kind as to keep Inez company, I will show you the ballroom.’

It was the last thing Domine wanted, but her silent signals to Mark produced only the most resigned of apologies. No doubt he was not too overjoyed at the prospect of keeping Inez company, and he probably thought she deserved all she got.

Luis was standing now, waiting for her to get to her feet, and with a determined stiffening of her shoulders she did so. Mark made a perfunctory gesture of rising, and then she was walking swiftly across the floor, trying to keep pace with Luis’s longer strides.

Outside the restaurant he turned sharp right, and now she could see the small ballroom that opened at the end of the corridor. The sound of music was louder now, predominantly violins, with none of the throbbing rhythm of guitars that Domine was used to dancing to.

‘So,’ he said, as they halted in the open doorway to the ballroom, ‘you seek to inquisition my sister with your questions.’

His voice was low and angry, and Domine felt the increasingly familiar feeling of frustration where he was concerned. ‘There’s no such verb as inquisition,’ she declared crossly, glancing up at his taut profile. ‘Inquisition is a noun. One can conduct an inquisition, but one doesn’t inquisition anyone.’ She pursed her lips. ‘You should know that, coming from the race of people who introduced the word.’

His antagonism was palpable, but she knew there was no point in trying to reason with him. Someone, perhaps this sister of his, had given him this inflated opinion he had of himself, and it was time he realised that not all females bowed before his rampant superiority.

‘Thank you for that lesson in English, Miss Temple,’ he said now, his eyes narrowed and hostile. ‘But I beg to correct you, on one point at least. The Spaniards introduced the inquisition, and I consider myself Peruvian, not European!’

Domine shrugged. ‘You speak Spanish in Peru, don’t you?’

‘They speak English in the United States, but I doubt if they consider themselves British,’ he retorted brusquely, and then made a sound of impatience. ‘But this is ridiculous. I am allowing myself to be drawn into one of these pointless arguments that you seem to thrive on. I did not bring you out here to discuss my poor grasp of the English language.’

‘You know your English is faultless,’ exclaimed Domine indignantly, and suffered another of those belittling stares.

‘That tempts me to an obvious retort, does it not?’ he demanded, shaking his head. ‘But I refuse to make it. My reasons for bringing you out here were——’

‘—to show me the ballroom,’ interposed Domine wickedly, and the thin lines of his mouth relaxed into reluctant humour.

‘You are incorrigible!’ he affirmed, with resignation. ‘Did your mother never teach you that it is unfeminine to be so presumptuous?’

Domine hesitated. ‘My mother died soon after I was born,’ she replied slowly. ‘Grandpa was the only parent I’ve ever known.’

‘Your father?’

‘He was drowned, when I was six.’

‘Perdone!’ For the first time since she had known him she heard him lapse into his own language for a moment, and the betraying sensitivity was disturbing. But he quickly recovered himself. ‘I regret,’ he said, his words still a little shaken, ‘I mean not to pry into your private affairs.’

‘That’s all right.’ Domine was offhand. ‘I don’t mind. I have nothing to hide.’

The ironic twist to his lips revealed his understanding of her last statement, and with an inclination of his head he said: ‘No more do I, Miss Temple,’ but he made no attempt to elaborate.

Deciding to take the initiative yet again, Domine stepped through the doorway into the small ballroom. It was not an attractive room, unless one liked Gothic mirrors and gilt decoration, but in spite of its heavy carving and gloomy lighting the acoustics were remarkably good. There were few people circling the floor to the music of the string quartet playing on a dais at the far end, and the musicians themselves were making hard work of a popular tune of the day. Most of the guests present seemed quite content to sit at the tables surrounding the dance floor, or congregate together near the doorway where Domine was standing. It was a typical gathering of middle-aged to elderly people, and she wondered what Luis’s reactions were to this collection of Englishmen taking their leisure.

Glancing round, she saw he had come to join her, standing slightly behind her, surveying the scene with enigmatic eyes. Domine wondered if they had dances like this in Lima, or whether the young people were allowed to indulge in more exciting rhythms than the jerky quickstep at present being executed.

‘Do you dance—Luis?’ she enquired irrepressibly, and he regarded her tolerantly.

‘I do not recall giving you permission to call me by my given name,’ he said without heat. ‘My sister was most shocked, as you may have noticed. In Peru, one does not do such things. It may seem terribly old-fashioned to you, but we are brought up to respect our elders.’

Domine couldn’t suppress a gurgle of laughter. ‘Your elders?’ she echoed. ‘Are you saying that you are my elder?’

‘I am much older than you are,’ he agreed smoothly, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. ‘Shall we return to the others?’

‘No.’ Domine was mutinous. ‘I want to clear up this point about names here and now. Are you saying, if I got to know you in Peru, I would be expected to call you Señor Aguilar all the time?’

He sighed. ‘No. Once we had been introduced, you might call me simply señor, or perhaps Don Luis.’

‘Don Luis?’ Domine shook her head. ‘But why? Why shouldn’t I call you Luis? That’s your name, isn’t it?’

He gave a resigned shrug of his shoulders. ‘Why can you not accept that that is our way? It is not your way, I know, but I cannot help that.’

Domine hunched her slim shoulders. ‘Well, if you think I’m going to call you Señor Aguilar, you’re mistaken. It’s too archaic for words. This is the twentieth century—the fourth quarter of the twentieth century! I’m not some Victorian miss, meeting a man for the first time!’

‘No one could doubt that,’ Luis retorted drily, and she knew an unexpected impulse to please him.

The rhythm of the music had changed to a slow waltz, and the musicians were evidently more capable in this tempo. The tune was one of Domine’s favourites, usually sung by a group with their guitars, but still as haunting, played by the Percy Manfield quartet.

With an appealing eagerness she turned to Luis, putting a hand on his sleeve and saying: ‘Dance with me!’ in low breathy tones.

His reaction was predictable. ‘You do not give up, do you, Miss Temple,’ he exclaimed tersely. ‘And even in this liberated country of yours, surely it is still the prerogative of the male to invite the female to dance?’

‘Are you inviting me?’ she enquired, arching her eyebrows interrogatively, and he expelled his breath with impatience.

‘No,’ he retorted, and she could see the way his fists had balled in his pockets. ‘But as I know you will persist in this foolishness until you get your own way, I am forced to the conclusion that it might be easier to give in to you.’

Domine’s expression mirrored her delight. ‘Then you will?’

‘If you insist,’ he conceeded shortly, and she cast him a mischievous smile as she preceded him on to the dance floor.

However, her ideas of dancing and his were as converse as their opinions. Luis held her stiffly, with one hand in the small of her back and at least six inches of space between them. His other hand held hers at the required angle, and although his fingers were firm around hers, there was no feeling of intimacy between them.

‘Can’t you relax?’ she demanded, removing her hand from his shoulder and twisting it around her back to shift his fingers from her spine. ‘Hold me closer, for heaven’s sake!’ She looked up at him appeasingly. ‘I won’t explode, you know!’

Luis permitted her to draw a little nearer, but he made no response to her teasing provocation. Nor did he relax the stiffness of his body, and driven beyond reason, Domine drew back from him abruptly, right into the path of another couple. The man’s hard heel crunched painfully down on to Domine’s sandal-clad instep, and she could hardly suppress the cry of agony that rose into her throat. The man’s immediate apologies were sincere, and she managed to assure him that it was really her fault, but she had to limp off the floor, refusing as she did to take Luis’s arm once more.

But once they had gained the comparative privacy of the corridor, his fingers gripped her upper arm without her volition. ‘Let me see it,’ he commanded, gesturing towards her foot, and in spite of her previous intentions, she extended it for his inspection. ‘Idiota! Imbecil!’ he muttered savagely, squatting down beside her and massaging her foot with exquisite gentleness, and Domine caught her breath.

‘Who?’ she asked jerkily. ‘Me? It wasn’t my fault really. It was an accident——’

‘I did not say I meant you, did I?’ he objected, looking up at her with those dark enigmatic eyes. ‘Perhaps I meant myself, for allowing such a thing to happen.’

Domine’s breathing felt constricted suddenly. ‘It—it wasn’t anybody’s fault,’ she got out unevenly. ‘I—will it be all right?’

‘Nothing seems to be broken,’ he reassured her, making a final searching examination. ‘It may be a little stiff tomorrow, but that is all.’

‘Thank you.’ Domine slipped her foot back into her sandal as he rose to his feet. Already most of the stinging pain had left it, and only the bruising of the flesh remained to remind her of the incident. That, and the disruptive tenderness of Luis’s hands upon her skin. ‘I—I suppose we’d better go back to the restaurant now.’

‘I suppose we better had,’ he agreed gravely, supporting himself against the panelled wall of the corridor, but he made no attempt to move away, and Domine’s pulses raced. ‘Tell me,’ he added, the hooded lids shading his expression, ‘how soon can you be ready to leave for Lima? One week? Two? I myself must return in a day or so, but I should like to know when you expect to make the journey.’

Domine’s smile was quizzical. ‘Do you really care?’ Then, when he made no effort to answer her, she continued: ‘I don’t really know—I haven’t thought about it yet. Will I need a visa? And are there injections I should have?’

Luis frowned. ‘You will not need a tourist card, but as for inoculations—yes, I suppose there are certain precautions you should take. Yellow fever, smallpox and tetanus, certainly. And perhaps typhus, too, although that is not absolutely essential.’

Domine grimaced. ‘So many!’

Luis’s expression softened. ‘But necessary, do you not agree?’ His eyes moved over her face to the creamy skin rising from the folds of black chiffon. ‘You would not like to see that smooth skin scarred with pockmarks, would you? And I assure you, typhus has equally unpleasant symptoms.’

‘All right.’ Domine adjusted her sandal strap under his intent gaze. ‘I’ll make the necessary appointments.’ She hesitated. ‘I just wish you weren’t leaving so soon.’

‘Why?’

For once he responded to her wistful anxiety, and she looked up at him with appealing candour. ‘Because—well, because I’ve never made such a long journey alone. In fact, I haven’t made any journeys alone before. Grandpa always insisted I had a companion, usually my mother’s Aunt Barbara. She came with me to Italy last summer.’

His expression was thoughtful now, the finely-chiselled lips drawn into a considering line. ‘Your grandfather,’ he said, as if speaking his thoughts aloud. ‘You feel no antagonism towards him, do you? Do you not feel any resentment towards your cousin either?’

‘Why should I?’ Domine was philosophical. ‘Grandpa did what he thought was best. Perhaps he was right. If he’d left me the mills, he knew Mark would have——’

But she broke off there, realising suddenly what she was saying, and to whom she was saying it. She was not supposed to take sides, and certainly not with the man who represented her cousin. If Mark could hear her …

‘I see.’ Luis straightened away from the wall now, and she could tell from his expression that he understood very well what she had been about to say. ‘So you will come in two weeks, yes? And your brother shall remain here, and we will see what kind of success he has in running the mills.’

Domine gulped. ‘You’re leaving Mark in charge?’

‘Temporarily,’ he agreed. ‘Answerable to Mr Holland, and ultimately to his own board of directors, of course.’

Domine shook her head. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘You do not recommend me to do this thing?’ he enquired, and she made a helpless movement of her shoulders.

‘No! Yes! I mean, why are you doing this?’

‘We have a saying in my country,’ he said, beginning to walk back to the restaurant, and she had, perforce, to accompany him. They reached the glass doors, and through them she could see Mark and Inez still sitting stiffly at their table. ‘It is: if a man can float, he will not drown; but if he can swim, he will reach the shore safely.’

Domine sighed. ‘You—expect Mark to—prove himself?’

‘Or not, as the case may be.’

‘You don’t trust him, do you?’

Luis put a hand on the glass door. ‘I trust you,’ he said quietly, and Domine would never have believed those three words could be instilled with so much meaning for her.