Читать книгу Passionate Protection - Пенни Джордан, PENNY JORDAN - Страница 6

SHE TOOK A deep breath, wondering where to begin. Perhaps if she were to explain to him first that she wasn’t Isabel. How contemptuous he had been about her cousin! He really was insufferably proud and arrogant; she didn’t like him at all, she decided, eyeing him militantly.

She opened her mouth to explain, but was stunned into silence by the cynical way he was looking at her; a way no man had ever looked at her before, she realised, feeling the heat rising through her body. His study was an openly sexual one, and not merely sexual but contemptuous. Good heavens, it could have been Isabel exposed to that merciless scrutiny that made no allowance for feminine modesty or embarrassment! And she had thought Spaniards were supposed to be reticent, cultured and, above all, respectful to women!

‘You don’t understand,’ she began shakily when she had recovered her composure, anger fanned into tiny, darting flames by the look she had seen in his eyes.

‘On the contrary, I understand all too well,’ came the crisp response. ‘Dios, do you not think I know what goes on at these holiday resorts?’ His finely cut mouth curled sneeringly downwards. ‘You must have thought yourself extremely fortunate to meet a young man as wealthy and unworldly as my young brother, but unfortunately for you, Jorge does not come into his inheritance for half a dozen more years, when he reaches his twenty-fifth birthday. Until then I stand guardian to him, and you may take it that I shall do everything in my power to free him from your clutches. I must say I am surprised at your coming here,’ he added. ‘I thought Jorge had already made it clear to you that the affair was over. You should have persuaded him to pay for his pleasure at the time, Miss James,’ he told her contemptuously. ‘Now it is too late; now he sees you for what you really are.’ His lip curled, and Jessica went hot and cold to think of Isabel being forced to stand here and listen to these insults.

‘Your brother loved m-my … me,’ she corrected herself hurriedly. ‘He …’

‘—Desired your body,’ she was told flatly, ‘and in his innocence mistook such desire for a far different emotion—a fact which you used to your advantage, using his lust for you to force him …’

‘Just a moment!’ she inserted, with a sudden resurgence of her normal coolness. ‘If you are implying that Jorge was forced into …’

‘Oh, I am aware that there was no question of “force” as such,’ the icy voice agreed. ‘Bemused, dazzled, dragged out of his depth—these would perhaps be better descriptions. You are an attractive woman,’ he told her, openly assessing the shape of her body beneath the thin silk, ‘not perhaps in Jorge’s usual style, but no matter … Of course I realise why you are here. I suppose you thought that a personal appearance might be just the goad he needed. Absence makes the heart grow fonder—of someone else, is that it?’

Matters had gone far enough. There was a limit to the amount of time she intended to simply stand there and allow him to insult her.

‘Before we go any further, I ought to tell you that I have no desire at all to become engaged to your brother,’ Jessica told him truthfully, ‘In fact …’

‘Oh, come, you cannot expect me to believe that?’ he said softly. ‘Perhaps I should refresh your memory. I have here your last letter to Jorge. He brought it to me in a very troubled frame of mind. It seems that while he enjoyed your … company, the constant pressure you put on him to announce your engagement has panicked him into confiding in me.’

‘You having considerable experience of ridding yourself of unwanted women, I suppose?’ Jessica supplied sweetly. ‘One of the penalties of being wealthy!’

The dark flush of colour beneath his skin brought her a fierce sense of satisfaction. He hadn’t liked her implication that women would only find him attractive for his wealth, and she knew it wasn’t true. He was too intensely male for that. She found herself wondering if he was married, and then squashed the thought as being of no concern to her.

‘You must accept that Jorge no longer wishes to have anything to do with you,’ she was told implacably, ‘and even if he did, I would do everything in my power to dissuade him from marrying a woman like you. What attracted you to him the most? Or can I guess?’

‘If you did you’d be wrong,’ Jessica told him in a clipped voice. ‘As I’ve already said, I have no desire to marry your brother.’

‘No?’ With a swift movement he reached inside his jacket and removed a folded piece of paper. ‘Read this—perhaps it will help you remember,’ he said contemptuously.

Unwillingly Jessica took the letter, her fingertips brushing him as she did, strange quivers of sensation running up her arm as she recoiled from the brief contact.

Matters had gone far enough. She would have to tell him the truth. She opened the letter, and her heart dropped. She had barely done more than read the first couple of lines, skimming quickly over them, but it was enough to bring a burning colour to her face. Isabel and Jorge had been lovers—that much was obvious; as was Isabel’s impassioned plea for Jorge to marry her. What on earth had possessed her cousin to write a letter like this? Jessica felt sick at the thought of her aunt and uncle reading it; and what about John? Why on earth hadn’t Isabel warned her? And why had she been so convinced that Jorge intended to come to England? To judge from his brother, the young Spaniard wanted to escape from the relationship just as much as Isabel herself.

‘Edifying, is it not?’ her persecutor drawled insultingly. ‘And I understand from Jorge—although he was reluctant to admit it—that he was far from being your first lover.’

Jessica’s eyes widened, mirroring her shock. Was it true?

‘So, obviously realising that your letter had failed, you decided to come in person. Why, I wonder? It must surely be obvious to you by now that Jorge does not wish to marry you.’

What on earth had Isabel got her into?

For a moment she contemplated telling the truth, but to do so meant betraying her cousin. She had protected Isabel for too long to stop now.

‘Perhaps, failing marriage, you had something else in mind?’ The soft suggestion held a trace of bitter contempt. ‘I know Jorge has told you of the marriage his family had hoped might take place between him and the daughter of a close friend of ours—a marriage, I might add, which would stand a far greater chance of success than the one you proposed. Perhaps you hoped to turn this fact to your advantage. Barbara’s family are very old-fashioned. They would be intolerant of any folly on Jorge’s part.’

Jessica went white, reaching out blindly to grasp the back of a chair for support as the meaning of his words sank in.

‘You thought I’d use blackmail!’ she whispered disbelievingly. ‘You thought I came here to … to …’

‘Very affecting,’ the cool voice mocked. ‘But I am not Jorge, to be easily impressed by a pair of huge amber eyes that plead with me to believe in an innocence I know they cannot possess. You are several years older than my brother; you used his inexperience and calf love for you to further your own ends. You must have known that his family would never tolerate such an alliance—so, Miss James, let us get down to business, shall we?’

‘If by business you mean you’ll pay me to forget any claims I might have on your brother, you’re wasting your time!’ Jessica told him furiously, too angry to care about the danger emanating from him as she pushed bitterly past him, blinking away tears of rage as she wrestled with the huge front door. She could hear him behind her, and the terrible fear that he would never allow her to leave made the blood pound in her head, her fingers trembling as she tugged at the door.

He swore harshly and she felt his hand on her shoulder, sobbing with relief as the door yielded and she half stumbled into the street. Her taxi was waiting and she flung herself into it without a backward glance, not caring what conclusions her driver might be drawing. The first thing she intended to do when she got back to the hotel was to put a call through to her cousin and find out exactly what was going on.

Fortunately, it was her aunt and uncle’s bridge night, and Isabel answered the phone, her pleasure turning to petulance as she recognised the anger in Jessica’s voice.

‘You saw Sebastian?’ she exclaimed nervously. ‘Oh, no, Jess, what did he say?’

She had a good mind to tell her, Jessica thought wrathfully. So Sebastian was his name; it suited him somehow.

‘Nothing flattering,’ she told Isabel grimly. ‘In fact he seemed to think I was you. Oh, Belle,’ she exclaimed as the scene in the vast and opulent drawing room flashed quickly through her mind, ‘you should have warned me, told me the truth. Why on earth did you want me to come here? Sebastian told me that Jorge had no desire to become engaged to you, he even showed me your letter.’

She knew from the sudden catch in her breath that Isabel hadn’t expected that, and yet true to form her cousin, even now, seemed to be trying to turn the situation to her own advantage.

‘You didn’t tell him he was wrong, did you?’ she asked quickly, ‘about us, I mean, Jess?’

‘I wasn’t given the opportunity,’ Jessica told her dryly. It hadn’t been pleasant listening to what the arrogant Conde had to say, and some of his more stinging barbs still hurt.

‘He mustn’t know,’ Isabel was saying positively. ‘Oh, Jess, try to understand—when I wrote that letter to Jorge, I was desperate—I thought I might be pregnant … Jess … Jess, are you still there?’

Trying not to betray her shock, Jessica murmured an assent. ‘Oh, you don’t understand at all,’ she heard Isabel saying crossly, obviously correctly interpreting her silence. ‘Honestly, Jess, you’re so old-fashioned it just isn’t true! Living like a frigid spinster might suit you, but it doesn’t suit me,’ she told her frankly, ‘and why shouldn’t I have fun if I want to?’

‘Was it fun, thinking you might be pregnant and unmarried?’ Jessica asked her bluntly. Isabel was still very much a spoiled child, and it did neither of them any good thinking now that she should have been treated far more firmly as a child—the damage was done, and Isabel seemed to think she had a God-given right to indulge herself in whatever she chose.

‘No,’ she heard Isabel admit sulkily. ‘But what else could I do? I had to write to him—he was as responsible as me.’

‘Go on,’ Jessica told her briefly. The more she heard, the less able she felt to defend her cousin—but then there were her aunt and uncle to think of. Both of them would be unbearably shocked if they heard the truth.

‘Oh, nothing.’ She could almost see Isabel’s petulant shrug. ‘I discovered it was a false alarm, by that time I had met John, and so …’

‘So you asked me to come here to see someone I thought you were on the verge of becoming engaged to. I don’t understand, Belle. There must be something more to it.’

There was a long silence during which mingled exasperation and fear gripped her, and then at last Isabel admitted sulkily.

‘Oh, all right then, when I wrote to Jorge he didn’t write back, but his brother did. Jorge had shown him my letter, he said, and he wanted to know what proof there was that any child I might have was Jorge’s—beast!’ she added vitriolically. ‘It was a hateful letter, Jess, and I was scared—Jorge had told me about him, that he was his guardian and that he was very strict. I was terrified he might come over here—come and see me because of what I’d written—so I panicked. I thought if you could see Jorge and tell him that I didn’t want him anymore then he would tell Sebastian and …’

And she would have been safe, without having to endure the unpleasantness of an interview with either Jorge or Sebastian, Jessica reflected bitterly. Trust Isabel to want to wriggle out of the situation with the minimum amount of discomfort to herself!

‘You do understand, don’t you, Jess?’ Isabel pleaded. ‘I couldn’t run the risk of Sebastian coming over here. If the parents or John had seen him …’

‘So you sent me into the lion’s den instead,’ Jessica supplied dryly. ‘Thanks!’

‘I didn’t know that you’d see Sebastian or that he’d mistake you for me,’ Isabel defended herself, ‘but perhaps it’s all worked out for the best,’ she added with what to Jessica was colossal selfishness. ‘Now he’s seen you and you’ve told him that you don’t want Jorge, he won’t bother us again. What was he like?’ she asked curiously. ‘To hear Jorge talk about him anyone would think he was God!’ She giggled. ‘I quite fancied meeting him; Jorge said all the women were after him. He’s immensely wealthy, and the title goes back to the days of Ferdinand and Isabella. He sounded fearfully haughty and proud.’

It was becoming obvious that Isabel knew far more about the Calvadores family than she had told her, Jessica realised. She was furious with her cousin, but as she knew from past experience, it was pointless getting angry with Isabel. Even if she were to drag her out here and make her face Sebastian and Calvadores herself, what possible good could it do? Isabel was probably right, it had all turned out for the best, although Jessica doubted that he would ever have felt sufficient concern about her hold over his brother to go the lengths of seeking her out in England.

‘He sent me the most hateful letter,’ Isabel was saying, her voice quivering slightly. ‘He said that he didn’t believe I might be pregnant and that it was just a trick to get Jorge to marry me. At least it’s all over with now, Jess,’ she added on a happier note, ‘I’m so relieved. By the way,’ she added coquettishly, ‘John proposed last night and I’ve accepted him—the parents are over the moon!’

Privately Isabel thought her cousin far too young to be thinking of marriage. It was plain that Isabel was far from mature, and she doubted that John was the right husband for her, but she knew better than to interfere.

‘When will you be back?’ Isabel demanded. ‘We’re having a proper engagement party, and I want you to be there, of course.’

A sop to ease her conscience, Jessica thought wryly. She had done the dirty deed for her and now she was to be rewarded; Isabel couldn’t get engaged without her. Had her cousin the slightest idea of what it had felt like to have to stand there and listen to Sebastian de Calvadores’s insults? To be told that her morals were questionable, that she was motivated by financial greed—no, she thought grimly, Isabel didn’t have the slightest conception.

Since she had allowed herself two days to sort out Isabel’s romantic problems, Jessica found herself with a day on her hands. She wasn’t going to waste it, she decided as she breakfasted in her room on warm rolls and fresh honey. She would explore Seville.

She already knew a little about it; that it had once been ruled by the Moors who had ruled all this part of Spain; that during the Middle Ages it had had a fine reputation as a centre of medical learning. Once Colin arrived there would be scant time for sight-seeing, which in any case did not interest him, so after checking the time of his flight, which was due in early in the evening, Jessica collected her guide books and set out to explore the city.

But as she wandered the Moorish Alcazar, instead of simply being able to drink in its beauty, at almost every turn she was forcibly reminded of Sebastian de Calvadores; it was from the men who had built the civilisation from which this beauty had sprung that he drew his arrogance, she thought as she looked around her. There was Moorish blood running in his veins, underlining and emphasising his total masculinity. She shivered, suddenly feeling cold, glad to step out into the warmth of the sunshine. Forget him, she told herself, why worry about what had happened? She knew that he had been totally mistaken about it, and that should have been enough. But somehow it wasn’t. She could forget the contempt in his eyes, the explicitly sexual way they had moved over her body and yet at the same time had remained so cold, as though he had been saying, see, I know everything there is to know about you as a woman and it does nothing for me, nothing at all.

If it wasn’t for the fact that by doing so she would betray Isabel she would have gone back and told him how wrong he was about her; then it would be his turn to feel her contempt, her condemnation.

Seville was a beautiful city, but she wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it. Almost everywhere she looked she was reminded of Sebastian de Calvadores; Moorish faces, sternly oppressive, stared back at her from paintings; Moorish men who had guarded their women like precious jewels in rare caskets and who would never in a million years permit them the kind of freedom Isabel enjoyed.

Chastity and desire burned strongly in twin flames in these people; either saints or sinners, but knowing no middle road; their history was a proud one and there could be few natives of Seville who did not boast some Moorish blood, some fierce elemental strain they had inherited from their forebears. They had been a race who, even while they tasted the cup of pleasure to the full, always remained a little aloof, knowing that where there was pleasure there was pain. A cynical, sophisticated race who had kept their women closeted away from the world to be enjoyed by them alone.

Jessica was glad when the time came to go and meet Colin’s plane. He seemed so solid and safe somehow as he came towards her, carrying his briefcase, frowning uncertainly until he saw her.

‘Jessica!’ His hug was affectionately warm. ‘Everything sorted out?’ he asked her as they got into their taxi, his tone implying that he wouldn’t be surprised to find that Isabel in her tiresomeness had allowed her problems to overflow into Jessica’s working life.

‘I think so.’

His relief made her laugh. ‘Thank goodness for that! I was terrified that we’d have a tearful besotted Latin lover on our hands!’

Just for a moment Jessica compared this image to the reality of Sebastian, and wondered if Jorge was anything like his formidable brother. Probably not. She couldn’t see Sebastian allowing himself to be manipulated in the way she was coming to suspect that Isabel had manipulated Jorge. No, when it came to the woman in his life, Sebastian would be totally in control. Was he married?

‘Jess?’

Stop thinking about him, she chided herself, giving her attention to Colin. She was in Seville to work, not concern herself with the private life of a man who was virtually a stranger. Stranger or not, for those first few pulsating seconds when she had seen Sebastian she had been aware of him in a way that still had the power to shock her. For all his repressive arrogance there was a sensuality about him, a total maleness and a dangerous allure, reminiscent of that of a jungle cat for its prey.

Colin was tired after his flight and it was decided that he would dine in his room and have an early night.

‘Have you been to the exhibition centre yet?’ he asked Jessica. She shook her head. ‘Well, the exhibition doesn’t open until tomorrow. We’ve got an appointment with Calvortex after lunch. Keep your fingers crossed, won’t you?’ he asked her. ‘I’ve done all next season’s designs with their fabrics in mind. If they’re anything like last season’s we’ll be on to a real winner—especially if he gives us the exclusive use of his stuff for the U.K.’

‘How much do you know about them?’ Jessica asked him as they stepped into the hotel foyer.

‘Very little, and most of that word of mouth. The Chairman of the company handpicks his clients, from what I’ve been told. The company is a small family-run business; apart from that I know nothing, except that they produce the sort of fabrics that fill the dreams of every designer worth his or her salt. I’m relieved to hear you’ve sorted out all that business with Isabel,’ he added as they headed for the lift. ‘Tiresome girl! Why should you run round after her?’

‘Well, I won’t have to much longer,’ Jessica told him. ‘She’s got herself engaged.’

‘God help the man!’ was Colin’s pious comment as the lift stopped at their floor.

Their rooms were not adjacent and outside the lift they went their separate ways.

In her own room, Jessica tried to concentrate on the morning and the textile show, but somehow Sebastian de Calvadores’s aquiline features kept coming between her and her work. A hard man and a proud one, and her face burned with colour as she remembered the way he had looked at her, the insulting remarks he had made to her.

She went to bed early, and was just on the point of falling asleep when she heard someone knocking on the door.

‘Jess, are you awake?’ she heard Colin mutter outside. ‘I’ve got the most dreadful indigestion, do you have anything I can take?’

Sighing, she went to her suitcase and found some tablets. If Colin had one fault it was that he was a hopeless hypochondriac and that he refused absolutely to carry even aspirins about with him, preferring instead to play the martyr for the uninitiated. Jessica had got wise to this within her first few months of working for him, and had grown used to carrying what amounted almost to a small pharmacy around with her whenever she travelled with him.

She opened her door and handed him the small packet.

‘You’re an angel!’

Colin bent forward, kissing her cheek lightly, and as he did so out of the corner of her eye Jessica glimpsed the couple walking down the corridor towards them; the woman small and petite with smoothly coiled dark hair and an expensive couture evening gown, her escort tall, with raven’s-wing dark hair and a profile that made Jessica’s heart turn over thuddingly as she stared at him.

Sebastian de Calvadores! What was he doing here, and who was he with?

Her face paled as he stared contemptuously at her, suddenly acutely aware of her thin silk nightgown and tousled hair, Colin’s hand on her arm, his lips brushing her cheek. Her face flamed as she realised what interpretation Sebastian de Calvadores would be placing on their intimacy, and then berated herself for her embarrassment. Why should she care if he thought she and Colin were lovers? What possible business was it of his? And yet his steely glance seemed to say that he knew everything there was to know about her, and that he doubted that her motives for being with Colin were any less altruistic than those he had accredited her with in his brother’s case.

‘Jess, is something wrong?’ Colin asked her with a frown, sensing her lack of attention. ‘You’ve seemed strangely on edge ever since I arrived. It’s that damned cousin of yours, I suppose.’

‘Nothing’s wrong, I’m just a little tired,’ she lied huskily, glad when Sebastian and his companion turned the corner of the corridor. ‘I’ll be fine in the morning.’