Читать книгу Innocent Invader - Anne Mather, Anne Mather - Страница 7

SARAH dressed the next morning in a lemon cotton dress and the slip-on sandals of the day before. Her hair as usual was bound round her head in the plaited coronet. She wore no make-up, but her time spent in the sun the previous day had not gone unwasted, and her skin was very lightly tanned. She looked much younger than her twenty-two years, although she was unaware of it, and as she went down to breakfast there was a spring in her step.

There was no one around when she reached the dining room, but Max soon appeared and asked her what she would like. She decided on fresh fruit, rolls, and several cups of strong, continental-flavoured coffee.

At about seven-thirty, when she was finishing her third cup of coffee, Ricardo appeared, alone. He had washed and combed his hair, and was wearing blue denim jeans and a white tee-shirt. He looked taken aback when he saw Sarah, and she said, smiling: “Good morning, Ricard.”

Ricardo hesitated for a moment, and then he said: “Buenos dias, señorita.” He seated himself opposite her, and when Max appeared he ordered rolls and butter and some fruit juice.

After Max had gone, Sarah poured herself another cup of coffee, and resting her chin on her hands, elbows on the table, she looked across at Ricardo. He looked up at her, and then involuntarily he smiled, and said: “I got dressed at tea time, but you weren't here.”

Sarah sighed. “I know. I fell asleep.”

“You went on the beach yesterday afternoon,” he said. “I saw you from my bedroom window. You went in the water.”

“Yes, do you? Can you swim?”

“Yes, I can swim, but we are not allowed to swim in the sea without supervision.” Ricardo pulled a face. “We are considered too young to take risks.”

Sarah frowned. “And the pool? Do you use that?”

Ricardo bent his head. “We are not allowed to use the pool. The Señora Irena can see it from her windows and she doesn't like to see us there.”

“Indeed!” Sarah felt indignant. What was the use of a pool if no one was allowed to swim in it? “And why do you call her the Señora Irena?” she was puzzled. “She is your aunt isn't she?”

“Yes, she is our aunt.” Ricardo said nothing further, for at that moment the two girls came bounding into the room, stopping abruptly at the sight of Sarah.

“Good morning, girls,” said Sarah, but the two girls did not answer. They merely gave Ricardo a killing glance and seated themselves at the table.

Sarah bit her lip. “I said good morning,” she remarked easily. “I would like to hear your answers.”

Eloise looked indifferent, and Maria, who seemed to follow her elder sister's lead, did likewise.

Sarah sighed, and looked at Ricardo, who shrugged almost imperceptively, and growled: “Answer her, Elly.”

Eloise stared at him. “Traidor!” she spat at him angrily.

“Eloise,” said Sarah wearily, “please. You will soon be a young lady. Kindly try to act like one.”

Eloise looked at her. “Why should we care what you think of us?” she cried furiously. “Nobody cares about us, and we care about nobody!”

Sarah felt a kind of compassion. The children were entirely too conscious of their background, and Irena was probably to blame, if yesterday's episode in the ante-room was anything to go by.

“You'll just be another one like her,” Eloise hissed, at Sarah. “She hates us, you know – really hates us! She spat at us once!”

Sarah was shocked now and showed it, but gathering her scattered wits she managed to say: “To me you are just three children whom I have come to teach. Why, back home in England I taught lots of girls and boys. I can assure you I won't spit at you, so can't we be friends?”

Eloise looked sceptical still, and Sarah turned to Maria. “Maria, can you ride? I can. I thought we might take the horses out after breakfast if your uncle gives his permission. Would you like that?”

Ricardo gave a whoop. “Can we, really?” he exclaimed. “We never get to take the ponies out unless Uncle Jason is with us. Will you really take us?”

“If your uncle has no objections,” agreed Sarah thankfully, aware that two of the children at least were weakening towards her. Eloise still looked unsure of herself, but Sarah felt that given time the other two would bring her round.

Thus it was that she was feeling quite a lot more sure of herself as Constancia led the way along the opposite corridor from the hall to Jason de Cordova's study. A glance at her watch showed her it was still two minutes to nine as Constancia knocked at the door, and they heard the señor's voice call: “Come.”

Constancia indicated that Sarah should go in, and then walked firmly away down the corridor. Sarah stiffened her shoulders, and pressed down the handle of the door and allowed it to swing inwards.

As she closed the door, she found herself in a book-lined room, panelled in dark wood, with a restfully coloured tawny carpet on the floor and heavy drapes of a beige colour at the long windows. Set square in the centre of the room was a heavy ebony desk with a black leather armchair behind it. In front of the desk were placed a couple of easy chairs, also in black leather; and several filing cabinets and a telephone indicated that this was a room where work was done and not merely a den. The desk was littered with papers, and a typewriter stood on a side table beside a comprehensive array of bottles containing various wines and spirits.

A man was standing by the open French doors, his back to her, and although he was tall and dark, Sarah thought for a moment she had been mistaken in thinking that it was Jason de Cordova. But as he turned to face her, and her eyes were drawn irresistibly to the blatant scar on his cheek, she saw indeed that it was her employer. But this man looked nothing like the Jason of yesterday. He was casually but immaculately dressed in a suit of light fawn silk, and his cream shirt contrasted favourably with the tan of his skin. A dark red tie was slotted about his neck, and he looked thoroughly businesslike this morning. His rather sinister attraction was enhanced by his appearance, and Sarah felt as though she was staring quite helplessly at him. Gone was the friendly stranger of yesterday, and in his place was a man who frightened her a little by his detached manner.

“Ah, Miss Winter,” he said, moving to the desk. “Won't you sit down, please?”

Sarah subsided on to an armchair, feeling her earlier fears materialising again. She had thought her success with the children this morning had removed all her tension, but back it came flooding over her at the sight of this man, so cool and aloof.

“I … er … I'm sorry I feel asleep last evening,” she ventured awkwardly. “I understand you wanted to speak to me.”

“This morning is just as convenient,” he replied easily. “Have you met the children again?”

Sarah had to smile. “Indeed I have,” she said impulsively. “Several times.”

“I see. And what do you think? Can you handle them?”

“I'm sure I can,” she said, without conceit. “I think they're lonely, that's all.”

Jason studied her a moment and then said: “Lonely? I should never have believed it. What makes you say that?”

“Lots of things!” She sighed. “Perhaps I'll be able to explain better when I've had more time with them. Eloise is going to be the most difficult, but I'm confident that given time I'll be able to change her.”

Jason looked a little amused now. “And you've discovered all these things in twenty-four hours,” he said, with some sarcasm.

“Yes.” Sarah looked down at her hands and studied the ovals of her finger nails, not wanting to look at his face, too conscious of her own vulnerability. She had never been able to hide her feelings and she did not want to see the mockery in his eyes and feel the nervous tension that it would bring.

As though aware of her feelings, Jason said: “Would you like a cigarette?”

Sarah looked up. It was on the tip of her tongue to explain that she did not smoke, but then she decided against it. Why not, after all? Perhaps a cigarette would rid her of some of this nervousness.

“Thank you,” she said, and accepted one from the box he held out to her.

He lit hers and one for himself from a gold table lighter and with some trepidation Sarah drew on the cigarette. It did not make her cough as she had been half afraid it would, but instead the room swam round dizzily. Pressing a startled hand to her throat, she sat up straight, and prayed for the feeling to pass. She had heard from other girls that a first cigarette sometimes caused this kind of reaction, but she had not believed them.

Jason looked at her strangely. “Are you all right?”

The room steadied, and Sarah managed a half-smile. “Of course. What suggestions have you regarding the children's lessons, señor?”

Jason seated himself behind his desk, leaning back in his chair looking at her, and with great daring, she thought, she drew again on the cigarette.

“You were not surprised to learn that Serena was not wholly Spanish, then,” Jason was saying, as the room swam even more giddily, and Sarah gripped the arm of her chair painfully, feeling the colour receding from her face. Leaning forward, she managed to hit the ashtray on the desk with the cigarette, and then she lay back weakly, fighting for composure. She was aware that Jason had risen from his seat and crossed to the tray of drinks on the side table. He returned with a glass full of amber liquid, and putting it in to her hand, he said quietly: “Drink this and you'll feel better”

Gratefully, Sarah did as he asked, and immediately she felt the room begin to steady and her head stopped spinning.

“Now,” he said, on his haunches beside her, “what's wrong?”

His nearness disconcerted her There was in his eyes the kind of understanding that was quite overwhelming, and she had the feeling that he was again the man she had met on the quay the previous day. At close quarters the scar was an ugly sight, and as though conscious of her scrutiny, he ran his finger lightly along its length. He rose to his feet, and said: “I'm sorry if this upsets you. I suggest you try to ignore it.” His voice was cool again.

Sarah rose too. Even as tall as she was, he was much taller, but she felt at less of a disadvantage standing. “It doesn't upset me,” he said, looking at him candidly. “It fascinates me!” Then she flushed as she realised what her impulsive tongue had said now, but was relieved when he did not appear to consider her remark personal.

“So,” he said, looking down at her. “You will now tell me what was wrong with you.”

Sarah sighed. “I'm not used to smoking. I'm afraid it was the cigarette; it made me dizzy.”

Jason smiled. “Was that all?” he asked, amused.

“Yes, why? Did you think you had an ailing governess on your hands?” Sarah laughed, albeit a little nervously.

Jason shook his head. “You look very well to me,” he remarked, his eyes surveying her thoroughly, making her acutely conscious of the shortness of her skirt.

Sarah subsided again, clasping her hands together. “Sh – shall we discuss the timetable as we were going to do before I acted so foolishly?”

Jason shrugged, and moved back round the desk. “You tell me what you suggest,” he said slowly, “and I'll tell you what I think.”

For several minutes they discussed the children. Jason told Sarah that he had had a room cleared on the first floor and three desks installed for the children and one for herself. He had also provided exercise books and textbooks and plenty of paper and pencils.

“If there's anything else you require, you just have to ask,” he continued. “At what time of the day do you intend to work? Mornings, I think, would be the most convenient. The afternoons could then be your own until tea time, and of course after the children are in bed in the evenings, you're free to do as you wish.”

“Thank you.” Sarah bit her lip. “Señor! Would it be all right if the children and I rode sometimes?”

Jason frowned. “You ride?” he asked.

“Yes. And I spoke to Jacob yesterday and he told me that the ponies were for the children's use and that there was another horse which I could use. Not yours, of course.”

Jason half-smiled. “Why? Do you think you couldn't handle Apollo?”

Sarah shrugged. “I think I could,” she retorted impulsively.

“Indeed? Then you must be a very good horsewoman. Apollo is a spirited devil at best. At worst he can act like a creature possessed. I shouldn't care to think of you riding him alone. But perhaps one day I'll find the time to ride with you, and the children, of course, and I may put you to the test.”

“Then we may use the horses when we like?”

“You may. Providing you ride on the beach. You can come to little harm there.”

Sarah looked taken aback, but she did not demur. Jason studied her in his intensive way for a moment, and then he said: “Before you contracted the vapours, I asked you whether you were not surprised to learn of Serena's nationality,” he said slowly.

Sarah flushed. “I was surprised, naturally,” she said, making a helpless gesture. “But it doesn't make any difference to me, if that's what you mean.'

Jason leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. “Yes, that's exactly what I meant.” He relaxed again and lay back in his chair. “Is there anything else you want to know?”

Sarah bent her head self-consciously. “There is something,” she said quietly. “Ricardo tells me the children are not allowed to use the pool – is that right?”

Jason's expression darkened. “That's correct. Why?”

Sarah looked up. “I was going to ask you that question.”

“Were you indeed?” He rose to his feet, and moved round the desk restlessly. “Did Ricardo give you any reason?”

“Yes. He said it was because they could be seen from Señora de Cordova's windows.”

Jason's expression was unreadable. Sarah was only aware that he was annoyed about something, and she could only assume it was because of her question. “And if I tell you that this is so, what then?” he asked, from behind her chair.

Sarah felt a tingle running up her spine. She wanted to turn round to rid herself of the feeling that he was studying her intensely. But she could not do that. She was forced to sit upright in her chair, and pray for him to return to his side of the desk.

“W… well,” she said awkwardly, “all I can say is that it seems a waste of a beautiful pool. In my experience, beaches are for playing on, and the sea, for children at any rate, is for paddling in. The young children of my acquaintance swim in the swimming baths. At home there are public baths in most towns. Few children have the luxury of a pool in their back garden.” She swallowed hard. “These children, your nephew and nieces, seem to have neither. They tell me they may not swim in the sea without being supervised. I can understand this, but they could have such fun in the pool if you would let them …” She halted, and bent her head. “Of course, that's only my opinion.”

“You've made your point,” he conceded, moving across to the open windows. This side of the house faced the beach and the sea, and Sarah followed his gaze out to the waving palms and coral sands beyond the gentle cliffs.

She looked at him as he stared out to sea for a brief moment, wondering what he was thinking. She was sure he must consider her an interfering busybody. After all, that pool must have been there for years, and she really had no right to question its deployment.

But he turned back to face her, leaning against the frame of the window. He looked a little amused now, she thought, and she rose swiftly to her feet. “Is that all, then?” she asked.

Jason shrugged his shoulders. “What about the pool? Do you want to use it? The children as well, of course.”

Sarah stared at him, her eyes bright and dancing. “Are you serious? May we?”

“I think you might. After all, what's the use of having a governess if she can't be allowed the facilities provided for every English child?” His tone was a little sardonic, but Sarah could have hugged him. She was so pleased and excited. How delighted the youngsters would be!

“Thank you,” she exclaimed, her voice revealing her inner vivacity. She turned to the door, but moving towards it she remembered her interview with Irena the previous day, and a shiver ran down her spine at the thought. There was something utterly menacing about her presence and when she found out about the swimming pool she would not be pleased.

Turning back, she said: “Señor, may I ask you something else?”

Jason straightened up. “By all means. What is it?”

Sarah frowned. “Am I allowed to use the beach – I mean, am I allowed to swim in the sea?”

Jason's fingers sought the jagged disfiguration on his cheek. “Why do you ask?” he questioned her softly. “Surely that requires no answer. You may use the beach whenever you wish, naturally.”

“I may?” Sarah pressed a hand to her throat. “Thank you, señor.”

She would have opened the door, but he said: “Wait,” and moved across to her side, looking down on her intently, his tawny eyes guarded. “Has Irena – my wife been speaking to you?”

Sarah's hot cheeks provided his answer, and he ran a restless hand round the back of his neck. His nearness was doing strange things to Sarah. She had the strongest desire to get as far away from him as possible. And she knew she ought not to feel this way, just being close to him like this. But she had never experienced feelings of this kind; never been aware of a man, not only as a friend or associate, like the priests who visited the convent, but as a controlled yet primitive being, capable of gentleness and violence, love and hate. She was aware of everything about Jason de Cordova; the width of his shoulders, the lean strength of his hard body, only lightly disguised by the fine material of his suit, the indefinably male smell about him. The desire to touch him grew so overwhelming that with a kind of panic-stricken movement she opened the door, and with a brief: “Good-bye, señor