Читать книгу The South American's Wife - Kay Thorpe - Страница 7

THE flight was short and uneventful. Luiz had left a Land Rover at the São Paulo airport on his way out, prompting Karen to wonder how she and this Lucio had got there themselves. If in a car, it must still be parked here somewhere.

She didn’t care to broach the subject. Any mention of Lucio Fernandas was like waving a red rag before a bull.

By four o’clock they had left the city suburbs well behind and were driving through a landscape of grassy, tree-dotted plains broken by isolated low ranges. As Luiz had promised, the climate up here, some two thousand feet above sea level, was far pleasanter than Rio’s.

Karen recognised nothing. Not that she’d expected to. The closer they came to the home she had abandoned just a few days ago, the worse she felt. Beatriz may be the only one to know the real reason she had flown, but the others were hardly going to see a supposed disagreement with Luiz as an adequate reason. There was every chance that her partial amnesia would be suspect to them, if not to Luiz himself. It was, she had to acknowledge, a very convenient method of avoiding responsibility for her actions.

‘Are you feeling unwell?’ Luiz asked, shooting her a glance. ‘Do you wish to stop?’

Karen shook her head, pulling herself together. ‘Just nervousness. How are they likely to react?’

He gave a faint smile. ‘If I know my sister, she will throw her arms about you and commiserate. She blames me for driving you away with my domineering manner.’

‘Are you?’ Karen ventured. ‘Domineering, I mean?’

‘No more than I have to be to maintain your respect. We come from different cultures. There were adjustments to be made by each of us. I believed we had achieved a balance.’

‘When I ruined everything by going off with another man,’ Karen said hollowly. ‘I still can’t imagine how I could have done that. To leave…’

‘To leave?’ Luiz prompted as she let the words trail away.

Like the night before, she’d been about to say, To leave a man like you, but it still sounded too much like sycophancy. ‘Without even a word,’ she substituted. ‘The whole thing was shameful!’

It was a moment before Luiz responded, his expression austere again. ‘We must put it behind us.’

‘Can you, though?’ she asked.

‘As I’ve said before, I have no choice.’

There was little comfort in the answer. Karen hadn’t really expected any. It was still difficult to accept that the person she had been—the person she still felt herself to be inside—could have behaved in the manner ascribed to her. As if someone else had taken over her body during the lost months.

‘Tell me about the ranch,’ she said after a moment or two, desperate for something to break the silence between them.

Eyes on the road, Luiz lifted his shoulders in a brief shrug. ‘What can I tell you? Guavada produces beef for the export markets. It was founded in my grandfather’s day, the land area increased over the years to become what it is today.’

‘You own a third share then?’

‘As the eldest son, I inherited outright ownership.’ His lips slanted when she failed to comment. ‘I sense disapproval.’

Karen stole a swift glance at the hard-cut profile. ‘It seems a bit unfair, that’s all. In England all the children would be entitled to a share—male and female.’

‘This is not England,’ came the short response. ‘Raymundo is no pauper. He could found businesses of his own. As to Regina, she bears the name only until she marries.’

‘Is that imminent?’

‘Regina has yet to meet someone capable of retaining her interest for longer than a few weeks.’

‘Well, at eighteen she has plenty of time. After all…’

‘After all, I waited long enough to find the right person,’ he finished for her on a sardonic note as she broke off.

‘What you obviously believed was the right person at the time,’ she said, gathering her resources once more. ‘We can all make mistakes.’

‘Especially when judgement is clouded by a lovely face and body.’

‘I doubt that you’d have allowed your libido to rule you to such an extent.’ Karen kept her tone level with an effort. ‘Any more than I would myself.’

Luiz made no reply. He looked remote again. Karen leaned back against the seat rest and closed her eyes, willing herself to stay in control. Whatever happened from here-on-in, she could only go along with it.

They drove through a sizeable township bright with greenery, turning off the road on to a narrower one some fifteen minutes later, to pass beneath a tall wooden archway with the name carved into its surface.

Fencing stretched to either hand as far as the eye could see, though with no sign of either cattle or habitation. The latter proved to be hidden behind a large clump of trees a half mile or so ahead.

Anticipating something akin to the ranch houses seen in cowboy films, Karen was totally thrown by the lovely colonial-style building that came into view. Fronted by beautifully landscaped lawns, its white walls glinting in the late afternoon sunlight, it had verandas running the whole way round.

The girl who came out from the house as the car drew to a standstill was an Andrade through and through, her waist-length hair darkly luxuriant about her vibrant young face, her figure, clad casually in shorts and sleeveless top, lithe and lovely. As Luiz had predicted, she gave no quarter to the amnesia, descending the steps with open arms and a radiant smile.

‘So wonderful to have you home with us again!’ she declared. ‘But your poor face! How it must pain you!’

‘Not any more,’ Karen assured her. ‘And the marks will soon be gone too.’ She found a smile of her own, overcoming the awkwardness of the moment by sheer willpower. ‘Perhaps my memory will have returned by then.’

The shadow that passed across her sister-in-law’s face was come and gone in an instant. ‘It will! I’m sure of it!’

‘I think refreshment would be a priority at present,’ said Luiz with a questioning look at Karen. ‘A cold drink, perhaps?’

She hesitated. ‘I don’t suppose tea would be available?’

‘Of course.’ His tone was tinged with humour for a moment. ‘You insisted on it. Too much coffee, you said, was bad for the health.’

Mood lifting a little, she tried a lighter tone herself. ‘Not very tactful in a coffee-producing country!’

‘I like tea too,’ claimed Regina. ‘I’ll have some prepared immediately.’ She held out an inviting hand. ‘Come.’

Karen accompanied her indoors to a wide hall. A wrought-iron staircase rose from the centre to branch off left and right to open galleries. Plant-life abounded, spilling from standing pots, from hanging baskets, from the galleries themselves.

The woman who appeared in an archway under the curve of the staircase was in her mid-twenties. Unlike Regina’s, her hair was a dark blonde; her striking features were formed from a totally different mould, her figure voluptuous. There was no welcome in the tawny eyes, just a cold watchfulness.

She spoke in Portuguese, drawing a sharp admonishment from Luiz.

‘We will all of us speak only English when Karen is present. The way we did when she first came to Guavada.’

‘Does that mean I learned to speak Portuguese myself?’ Karen asked, picking up on the nuances.

‘You acquired a fair grasp,’ he confirmed.

She found that difficult to take in. She’d shown little aptitude for compulsory French in school, much less other languages.

On the other hand, she’d never lived in a foreign speaking household before.

‘You expect us all to believe this claim of yours?’ demanded the newcomer, who could only be Beatriz.

‘What you believe is your affair,’ Luiz cut in hardily before Karen could form an answer. ‘What you say in this house is mine. Where is Raymundo?’