Читать книгу The Japanese Screen - Anne Mather, Anne Mather - Страница 8

IN fact, Susannah did not get to speak to Fernando on the telephone. When she rang his hotel that afternoon, the receptionist politely informed her that Señor Cuevas was out and could she take a message. As Susannah could not be sure of being able to telephone at some other time she had to leave a message with the girl, but it was an unsatisfactory arrangement and she hoped it would reach him. She spent the evening chafing at the restriction she had placed on herself by deciding not to involve anyone else which prevented her from making any call from the Castana house.

On Saturdays, Eduardo had lessons in the morning as usual, but in the afternoon if his father was at home he was taken out by his parents. It gave Susannah a couple of hours to go shopping or attend to her own personal affairs and this week she decided to wash her hair. It was thick and long and took some time to dry, but she used no hair-dryer, allowing it to dry naturally on a towel about her shoulders. Newly washed, it was smooth and silky and she decided that tonight she would leave it loose.

It was not until Eduardo was in bed and she was changing in her room that she realized that no actual arrangement for meeting Fernando had been made. She decided to go to the end of the terrace as before and hoped that her employers would not notice that she appeared to be walking out in a long dress.

It had taken her some time to decide what to wear. At first she had considered wearing trousers. She had several pairs of trousers that looked good when combined with a smock or a lurex tunic, but a feline desire to display a certain femininity forbade such casual attire. Instead she was wearing an amber-coloured caftan, edged with blue and green lurex braid, that dipped deeply to the cleft of her breasts in front and had wide sleeves that displayed her slender arms to advantage. She wore little make-up, adding only a green eye-shadow and a colourless lustre to her lips. Gold hoops swung out from the ashen fairness of her hair and she knew she was looking her best.

As it was a cool evening, she wore a navy blue velvet cape over her dress as she hurried towards the corner just before eight o’clock. As before there was no sign of her escort, and she linked her arms under the cape praying that he had received her message and that he did intend meeting her.

By ten past eight she was feeling chilled to the bone, and it wasn’t entirely due to the cold air about her. Where could he be? Should she go and find a telephone and ring his hotel? Perhaps he had not received her message after all. Perhaps he had left for Spain a day earlier than planned!

The horror that this aroused in her frightened her a little. She was allowing things to get out of hand. Heavens, she had only been out with the man once. She could hardly count that visit to the zoo as an invitation to her. And never at any time had he given her reason to suppose that he found her more than ordinarily attractive.

At twenty minutes past eight she gave up hope. He wasn’t coming and she hadn’t the courage to ring his hotel and find out why. She turned miserably and began walking slowly back along the terrace. Perhaps she would be able to slip indoors again without the Castanas knowing. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain why her evening had ended before it had even begun.

She had taken only a few steps when a voice that she ought not to have been so overwhelmingly aware of shouted: ‘Susannah! Susannah! Por dios, I thought I would miss you!’

She turned rather unsteadily. Fernando was leaping out of the gold Granada at the kerb, running towards her. She stood motionless, unable to show either delight or dismay at his sudden appearance, a choking emotion threatening to devastate her.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he was saying, a smile in his voice. ‘Your London traffic is – how do you say it – el diablo, si? I have been stuck in a jam for the best part of forty minutes, and—’ He broke off, suddenly becoming aware of her quivering immobility. ‘Que? What is it? Susannah – what is wrong?’ He lifted her chin with his fingers looking down into her eyes penetratingly. ‘Dios! You are upset! I am a clumsy fool, am I not? But you knew I would come – surely you knew that!’

Susannah couldn’t trust herself not to give her feelings away. She drew her chin away from his hand and made an indifferent little movement of her shoulders. ‘How am I supposed to know anything?’ she demanded unsteadily.

His dark brows drew together in a frown. ‘But of course you knew. Why else would I have issued the invitation?’ He reached for her impatiently, his fingers closing over the fine bones of her shoulders, his rings digging into her flesh, giving her a little shake. ‘Do you not know how frustrated I felt, sitting in the car, unable to contact you?’

He was close, too close. His body was only inches away from hers. His warm breath was fanning her forehead. Had her hands not been trapped within the enveloping folds of her cape she felt sure she would not have been able to prevent herself from reaching out and touching him. Instead, she looked up into his face. There was concern in the fine darkness of his eyes with their fringing of thick black lashes, concern and something else, something that caused a sudden breathlessness, a sudden inexplicable weakness in her legs.

‘Sagrada Maria, Susannah!’ he muttered huskily, ‘do not look at me like that! Do not make me do something we would both regret!’

Her face flamed and she would have pulled away from him, but he shook his head a trifle grimly and with a kind of rough determination propelled her towards the car. Once inside, she averted her head and he got in beside her without a word, driving away from the quiet terrace with his usual expertise.

As they turned into the main stream of traffic he spoke again. He had evidently got himself well under control, and his voice was cool as he said: ‘I suggest we dine at my hotel. It’s a little late to be leaving London, do you not think so?’

Susannah made no response and he took her silence to mean acquiescence. They drove through the busy streets thronged with theatre-goers, down Shaftesbury Avenue and into the Strand. Susannah had never been into the Savoy before, and she was glad now that she had chosen to wear a long dress. Fernando for his part seemed totally unimpressed by his surroundings, but in his expensively-cut charcoal lounge suit, a dark red shirt and tie giving him a somewhat alien air, he slotted effortlessly into this background.

He left her for a moment in the reception hall to speak to a man who looked like a manager of some sort. When he came back he put his hand beneath her elbow and led her towards the lift. She looked at him with startled eyes and his expression relaxed a little.

‘I thought we might dine in my suite, Susannah,’ he explained quietly. ‘Do you have any objections?’

Susannah sought about in her mind for a suitable reply. She felt sure that in Spain he would never dream of taking a woman to dine in his suite, but she didn’t know how to make the protest.

‘Is – is there something wrong with dining in the restaurant?’ she inquired unevenly.

‘No.’ Fernando halted, looking down at her. ‘Would you prefer that?’

Susannah pressed her lips together rather unhappily. If she was honest she would admit that she would not prefer that at all. But what respect could he have for a woman who would agree to dine in his suite?

Now, she licked her lips and said: ‘If you would – rather not be seen with me—’

She had never seen anyone look so angry. Without a word, he turned and walked back across the reception area, leaving her again while he spoke to the man she had thought was the manager. Then he came back to her. She had shed her cape, but not even the attractiveness of her appearance lifted the cold anger from his eyes.

The next hour was the worst period of Susannah’s young life. The exceptional quality of the food was lost on her, and she noticed that Fernando ate little himself, merely drinking liberally of the wine and making a pretence of enjoying the steak and salad he had chosen. She was unutterably relieved when it was over and he suggested they should leave the restaurant.

In the reception area again, she collected her cape and looked at him nervously. ‘If – if you’d rather not take me home, señor, I shall quite understand,’ she murmured, in a small voice.

There was silence for a few moments and then she heard him heave a deep sigh. ‘I’m sorry, Susannah,’ he said, and she thought he sounded strained. ‘I’ve been – how do you say it – a pig all evening!’ He shook his head, running a hand round the back of his neck, and tugging at the hair on his nape. ‘How will you ever forgive me?’

Susannah trembled. ‘It was my fault—’ she began, but he interrupted her.

‘No, it was mine. You were quite right to refuse my invitation. It would have been a – dangerous situation, and you were right to avoid it. I am sorry.’

Susannah’s eyes were wide as she stared at him, and with an exclamation, he said: ‘Come! I will take you home. I have an early start in the morning.’

Susannah hung back now. His words chilled her more than his attitude all evening had done, even though they were spoken with warmth and gentleness. Without moving, she looked all about her and said: ‘What an attractive building this is. I’ve never been here before. Does it accommodate a lot of people?’

‘A reasonable number,’ he remarked dryly. ‘And surely you know that as well as I do.’

‘Yes.’ Susannah still lingered. ‘You said you had a suite. What does that consist of?’

Fernando ran his palm down his shirt front, unconsciously drawing Susannah’s attention to the fact that he wore nothing beneath it. ‘A suite can consist of many rooms or only a few,’ he replied briefly.

‘Does your suite have many rooms?’

Fernando adjusted the knot of his tie. ‘Does it matter?’ Then, as her eyes clouded, he added: ‘I have a small suite – two bedrooms, a lounge, a bathroom. Does that satisfy you?’

Susannah looked down at her hands. ‘Could I see it?’

There was another pregnant silence, and finally Fernando said: ‘I don’t think that would be a very good idea, Susannah,’ in terse tones.

She looked up. ‘You sound – angry. Why?’

Fernando took her arm impatiently. ‘It’s time we were leaving, Susannah. Come along. I’ll take you home.’

Susannah made no further demur. Her small spurt of recklessness had been extinguished, and she wished she had not been so foolish. In the car, she stole a surreptitious glance at her watch. Was it only a quarter to ten? It seemed much longer than ninety minutes since she had been waiting so eagerly for him to come.

He drove away from the hotel and along the Embankment. Susannah could see the shadows on the river, and on the opposite bank there were the lights of the Festival Hall. The muted sounds of a ship’s siren sounded mournfully across the water and she shivered. Its sad lament suited her mood. Since leaving the hotel Fernando had said nothing at all, and she was overpoweringly aware that she had quickly destroyed his momentary sense of contrition at the boorishness of his behaviour. After tonight she would probably never see him again, and she couldn’t help but think that he would be glad to be rid of her.

In a very short time they were drawing up in Lorrimer Terrace and Susannah waited impatiently for the car to stop so that she could get out. Misery cloaked her like an almost physical presence, and she couldn’t understand why this man, whom she had known less than a week, should have become so important to her. He didn’t care about her, that was obvious. He might find her physically attractive, that she had to accept, as witness his suggestion that they should dine in his suite that evening; but it had been a fleeting attraction which had not survived more than an hour in her company, and she burned with humiliation when she recalled how afterwards she had practically invited him to take advantage of her.

As soon as the car drew to a halt, she reached for the door handle, but was stayed when he said quietly: ‘Just one minute, Susannah. Please.’

She sat back in her seat, withdrawing her hand inside her cape again, glad of its concealing folds to hide her trembling nervousness. Her companion switched off the engine, and sat in silence for a few moments. Then he half turned towards her, one arm along the back of her seat.

‘I can’t let you go like this,’ he said, in a low voice. ‘I know I’ve been a brute this evening, but—’ He shook his head. ‘I ought not to have invited you out again. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry if I’ve made you miserable.’

Susannah’s throat felt choked. The last thing she had expected was for him to apologize to her. ‘That – that’s all right,’ she managed. ‘I – I shouldn’t have accepted.’

‘Oh, Susannah!’ He looked across at her in the gloom, and she could see the glitter of his eyes. ‘What can I say? What can I do? I’m leaving tomorrow. There is no time to show you that I mean what I say.’

‘Oh, please …’ Susannah was near to tears, and they would be the final humiliation. ‘Thank – thank you for a pleasant evening – oh!’

She broke off on a gasp as she felt his fingers against her neck, under the weight of her hair. They moved with a certain sureness to her throat, releasing the catch of her cape so that he could slide it from her shoulders. Then he moved a little closer, uttering an imprecation in his own language at the barrier caused by the gear console.

Susannah remained perfectly still, not looking at him, not making any attempt to encourage or discourage him. She didn’t believe this was really happening. Even when she felt the heat of his body through the silk of his shirt that brushed her arm, she told herself that she was exaggerating his nearness. She couldn’t really feel the pressure of his thigh against hers, or smell the faint aroma of shaving lotion and tobacco that clung to his clothes. And yet it seemed real enough, and there was another scent, too – the warm male scent of his body that seemed to be reaching out and enveloping her in a warm and intimate atmosphere. She trembled. She had to be sensible about this. Just because she was experiencing the most wanton desires towards this man she must not imagine that he felt the same way towards her.

‘Susannah.’ His breath warmed her ear. ‘Look at me. Please – look at me.’

She looked. He was closer. She wasn’t imagining it. When she turned her face, his was only inches away. The light from the street lamp outside showed the naked hunger in his eyes, the sensual curve of his mouth. With one hand he cupped her cheek, his thumb moving probingly against her lips, caressing them, parting them. Then he bent his head and put his mouth to those parted lips, kissing her gently, exploringly, until something seemed to fuse between them and he could no longer deny his need of her. His hand slid down to her throat, and the pressure of his mouth became an urgent force that impelled her back against the soft upholstery.

‘Te deseo, Susannah, de mi alma,’ he whispered, releasing her lips to seek the hollow between her breasts. ‘Forgive me, forgive me, but I cannot help myself—’

Susannah’s hands came up around his neck, curling into the thick vitality of his hair. She drew his mouth back to hers, returning his kisses with innocent abandon, and not until he dragged himself away from her to slump heavily over the steering wheel did she realize that she had been behaving in a manner tantamount to begging him to make love to her.

With shaking fingers she gathered up her cape, fumbled the door open and stumbled out, slamming it behind her. Then she ran across the pavement and up the steps and into the Castana house. She could hear sounds of music from the drawing-room, but there was no one about, and she ran weakly up the stairs, not stopping until she had reached the safety of her own room. Then she alowed the cape to fall to the floor and threw herself upon her bed to sob uncontrollably …