Dear Conquistador Read online

  A steely grip closing round her arm arrested the hopeless little show of defiance. He held her easily, his sardonic glance running down to the slender-strapped white sandals she wore. A grim smile curved his mouth and he thrust her towards the big car. ‘Do not try my patience too far, Miss Martin, or I must warn you that the consequences will be painful.’

  He slammed the door on her and reached back into the Renault, gathering up her handbag and dark glasses. He saw the two blue sheets of the letter and his mouth compressed as the bold signature was instantly discernible. Almost contemptuously he tossed the missive on to her lap and looked at her set, unhappy face.

  ‘Does he mean as much as that to you?’

  Her fingers tightened on the letter, and for a moment the significance of his taunting question did not register. She looked up sharply, but before she could frame the instinctive denial the Conde turned his head and smiled cynically. ‘You will get over it, Miss Martin, believe me. One day you will awake and comprehend real love, not the vapid shadow of it. You surely would never have been content with what Bruce Gilford could offer. ’

  The cold and heartless words stirred Hilary to an anger that overcame all other emotion. Her hands clenched and she burst out, ‘How dare you! You, senor, will never comprehend even the vapid shadow. How dare you speak of Bruce in that way? He would offer a love and understanding you don’t know the meaning of!’ The words were tumbling from her now as all restraint broke free and the bitterness of hurt and unhappiness escaped. ‘You would break your own niece’s heart, in the name of your precious tradition. You wouldn’t have cared a jot if they’d found out in time about Bruce and Sanchia. You’d have stopped them. Well, you didn’t find out. And I’m glad. Glad! They’ve got away and if they’re wise they won’t come back. And if—’

  Hands seized her shoulders and forced her to face his dark anger. ‘So you are glad, senorita! Do you know what you are saying? That you rejoice because another woman has won his love and you spite your own heart merely so that you can exult in their defiance of this tradition you despise?’

  ‘Yes - I’m glad!’ She was in tears and on the verge of hysteria. He was shaking her and she fought to break free. ‘You’re wrong, you see! I don’t love Bruce! And he never loved me. It was only—’

  ‘You foolish little amada! Calm yourself!’ He seized her flailing hands and held them imprisoned in the sheer force of his male strength. ‘Why do you always fight me? Why do you weep over a man you do not love and who does not love you? En que quedamos!’ he cried despairingly, and before she could move, his dark head blotted out the sun and she was caught in a fierce embrace. For an instant frozen in time his dark eyes held her wide, startled gaze and then his mouth imprisoned her own.

  She did not know how many endless seconds ticked past before life returned to her shocked senses. She struggled violently against his arms and tore away from his kiss. ‘How dare you! ’ she choked through her tears. ‘Let me go! I-’

  ‘What if I refuse to let you go?’

  ‘You’re despicable! You’re just the same as all men,’ she cried, ‘but you’re worse. You’re breaking your own precious traditions all the time. You make the rules and then break them. ’

  ‘What rules?’ His gaze bored into her. ‘The rules of love?’

  ‘You demand that your girls should never experience even a caress from another man before you deign to marry them, yet you would force your attentions on me whether I permit them or want them!’

  Imperceptibly the steely grip had slackened, but the compelling eyes never flickered. ‘Do you know what you do want?’ he demanded.

  ‘Yes! I want never to see you again. Do you hear?’

  ‘It is difficult not to! Why were you running away?’

  ‘I wasn’t!’ she said hopelessly, spent of strength to fight him. ‘Why should I run away?’

  ‘That is what I ask myself. Then why do you weep because you find el senor Gilford gone?’

  ‘I - I wasn’t. I—’ She shook her head. ‘Oh, what does it matter? If—’

  ‘But it does. Look at me, senorita. Could those tears be for a totally different cause? The fact that someone thinks ill of you, and that ill was completely unfounded?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, amada’ - the endearment was spoken deliberately

  - ‘that it is important I know the truth. Could it be that you run to another man for sympathy because you are hurt? That my niece was correct in her assumption as to the reason for your abrupt flight after our meeting this morning?’

  Hilary clasped her hands to quell their trembling. ‘Your niece is quite mistaken, senor,’ she said shakily, ‘and I am not your amada.’

  His lean mouth curved. ‘The prerogative of misunderstanding is not solely the privilege of the feminine sex,’ he said smoothly, choosing to ignore her protest. ‘Fortunately, my niece was honest enough to enlighten me as to the cause of your quite genuine mistake on the night of the fiesta. I regret any concern this misunderstanding has caused, senorita. I know now that my judgment was never at fault, in that respect, concerning yourself,’ he added.

  She avoided his glance. ‘If s over now, I want to forget it,’ she said awkwardly. She settled back, trying to regain composure, and prayed silently that he would close the matter and commence the drive back to Lima. She could not bear much more of this agony. But he made no move to switch on the ignition. She sensed him stir, then warm fingers closed round her chin and turned her face towards him.

  ‘Look at me, amada,’ he ordered. ‘There is something I wish to discover, so please be truthful.’

  ‘I am always truthful,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘Then tell me, are my attentions as distasteful to you as you would have me believe?’

  She gasped and twisted free. ‘You have no right to ask such a question of me, senor.’

  ‘In this instance, I have every right,’ he told her coolly. ‘You have just accused me of breaking the rules of our tradition. I would have you know, senorita, that your accusation is as unfounded as my own to you this morning.’ She stared back at him, and his mouth curved in the beginning of a smile. ‘I agree that such attentions would be dishonourable should I have no intention of carrying them to an honourable conclusion: that of asking you to become my wife.’

  ‘Your wife! ’

  The astonishment was so patent in her enormous eyes and parted lips that he shook his head in mock despair. ‘My wife, Hilary. But how am I to discover if you reciprocate my feelings unless I make the kind of advance you tell me a man of your own nationality makes towards the girl of his choice? And how much longer,’ he added fervently, ‘are you going to fight me every time I endeavour to wake your sleeping heart to the meaning of real love between a man and woman?’

  His dark eyes were warm now, the lines of his mouth curved with his ardour, and with an unbelieving gasp she tried to speak. But words would not come and he was too impatient to wait for her response. This time the hard arms closing round her were the delightful prison his cloak had been - and the bruising ardour of his mouth an ecstasy.

  Between kisses he whispered endearments she had never in all her wildest dreams believed she would hear from him, until she fought free of what must be the most bewildering dream ever and put a defensive hand against his chest.

  ‘You - you love me? You - you’re asking me to marry you?’ she whispered.

  ‘I love you,’ he smiled down at the stars she was unable to blink out of her eyes, ‘and I have intended to make you my wife ever since ... but I will tell you of that later. Come back into my arms.’

  ‘But I - I thought you were going to marry Consuelo.’

  ‘Hombre!’ He raised despairing eyes. ‘Dona Elena - or Madrecita! - has been talking to you. No, my little rosa inglesa, I have never intended to be the instrument that will unite Pacquera and Navarre.’

  She looked down. ‘I was sure you were going to choose one of them. ’
r />   He tipped up her chin. ‘Did that thought make you unhappy, beloved?’

  She nodded mutely. ‘I - I never dreamed you - you could feel like this about me. You - you were always so - so—’ She stopped, unable to put into words how much his coldness and anger had hurt.

  ‘I hurt you in my anger?’ His mouth was tender and his hands gentle now. ‘Do you not know that we always hurt those we love most? Always you fought me, or fended me off with that cool English insouciance that never let me know what you were thinking. ’

  ‘It was my only defence.’ She moved abruptly. ‘But how did you find me - and I wasn't running away!’

  He sighed, making no secret of the fact that his lips did not want to make words at this moment. He brushed his mouth against her throat and ear as he said softly: ‘It was quite simple. Senora Navarre telephoned my aunt this morning as soon as she found Sanchia’s farewell note. At that same moment my niece, whom you believe to be so strictly suppressed, was upbraiding me severely for my harshness to you. The uproar was quite shattering - though quite normal -you will get used to us eventually! - but one of the servants had seen you leave in the Renault. My first thought was that you had run away and I immediately telephoned the airport to instruct them to detain you until I got there. Then Juanita reminded me that you might not know about Bruce and Sanchia. For some time I had believed you were attracted to Bruce, in a very cool way, and so I thought you might rush to him for sympathy. And so - here I come. Quite simple!’ he added with such unabashed smugness that she had to smile.

  Then she sobered, the shadow of memory coming into her eyes. ‘It’s partly true, though,’ she admitted. ‘I did want to run away. I - I didn’t know how I was - how I—’ ‘Yes?’ he prompted instantly, the spark of devilry glinting in

  his eye.

  ‘You know perfectly well - now.’ The rose colour was glowing all over her under the message of his ardent gaze.

  His mouth quirked. ‘Do not be ashamed of your blush. I find it delightful. I think it was one of the first things that made me fall in love with you. That very first morning when you wandered out on your balcony and raised your face to the sun. You were like a flower newly budded, and that wisp of petal pink floating about you ... I wanted to reach out and hold you, keep you where no other man might behold your slender beauty. And then, when I had regained control of my errant emotions and tried to warn you, you blushed so endearingly

  ‘But it was because of the eyes! ’ she said wildly. ‘The eyes in the painting - your ancestor. I felt so foolish because I said you were like him, and—’

  She stopped. The Conde was shaking his head impatiently. ‘Already you are becoming like a Spanish woman - you talk too much!’ He took her into an embrace that left her weak and helpless in his arms.

  ‘Senor Conde!’ she whispered at last when he raised his head and looked down at the warm glowing response his ardour had induced. ‘You are not giving me much chance to talk. ’

  ‘Senor Conde!’ he mocked softly. ‘Do you not yet know my name?’

  ‘Romualdo,’ she said tentatively, loving the lean dark contours of his features under her exploring fingertips, ‘or Ruaz?’

  ‘I have always preferred my loved ones to call me Ruaz.’ He took the slender fingers and touched them one by one to his lips. ‘Now I am not sure ... I like to hear your little English tongue curling round the syllables ... you shall call me Romualdo.’ He tried to imitate the way she said it, but in a way so endearingly teasing she dissolved into laughter, even as her heart ached with the sheer joy of being able to express her love for him.

  He claimed her mouth again, and at last she stirred in his arms, one flaw intruding upon this new happiness. ‘Ruaz ...’ she whispered, ‘what about Juanita? We must do something for her, for she is desperately unhappy.’

  He sighed, his mouth rueful. ‘You still have a suspicion that I am a flint-hearted tyrant, amada mia, have you not? Listen, I have something to tell you, but it must remain a secret as though we were already trusting husband and wife.’ He settled her in the crook of his arm, his hand caressing her, and told her of his plans for Ramon.

  ‘You know that Juanita is an heiress, and that Ramon, although of good family, is penniless. You should know also that no man of honour would lay himself open to the taunt of fortune-hunter. However, things are not so black as they appear. On Ramon’s mother’s side of the family there is a distant relative who is what you call a self-made man. He owns one of the biggest vineyards in the country and he has no immediate issue to inherit. There is every possibility that he may select Ramon, but only if Ramon can prove himself capable of managing the vinedo without dissipating its wealth. It is only a matter of weeks since he intimated his intentions to me and sought my opinion as to Ramon’s character. Naturally it is his wish that Ramon should not learn of this until the moment is opportune, and so I have arranged for Ramon to take this post in the Central Valley and learn what he needs to know to fit him for this responsibility.’

  ‘And if it all turns out this way you will let Juanita marry him?’ Hilary said eagerly.

  ‘I shall consider it,’ Ruaz said. ‘But in the meantime Juanita must complete her education and learn to know her own heart. ’

  ‘You think she will change her mind about Ramon once she is parted from him, don’t you?’ Hilary could not keep wistfulness out of her tone. ‘It will seem like an eternity to her.’

  ‘Not quite. Tell me, amada mia, if Juanita were as dear to you as, say, a daughter, would you allow her to obey blindly the first fledgling stirring of her heart? I think you would counsel caution. ’

  ‘Yes,’ Hilary’s eyes were soft with reflective lights. ‘If only I wasn’t torn between both points of view.’

  ‘I think you are concerned for my niece’s futile months of yearning, my little tender-heart,’ he said softly.

  The thrill of pleasure at knowing the endearments from his lips were for her alone was too new for Hilary to be sad for very long. She smiled into his eyes and shook her head. ‘I can’t help imagining a whole year of wondering if I would be allowed to marry you,’ she said slowly. ‘I think, once knowing that I had your love, I would cease to exist for that year. ’

  ‘Nothing can stop you marrying me,’ he said with a flash of

  the old arrogance. ‘You are in my power for ever.’

  ‘What?’ Uncertain if he were serious, she looked at him with wondering eyes and thought she met sardonic humour in response. ‘Ruaz - in our way of thinking marriage is a wonderful partnership. Each gives and receives, honours and loves and shares—’

  ‘Forsaking all others,’ he interrupted tenderly.

  She nodded, and he studied her for a moment, his eyes making no secret now of his love. Then he smiled slightly. ‘Do you remember the day you were sightseeing with the good Bruce, and we saw the Indio boy and girl’s courtship?’

  ‘Yes?’ She was puzzled. ‘You mean the mirror-flashing?’

  ‘No. I mean his stealing of her hat. Do you remember losing anything amada?’

  ‘No - certainly not a hat. Why?’

  He reached across her and groped in the back of the glove compartment. A murmur of impatience escaped him, then he found what he sought and drew forth the chiffon bandeau she had lost on the day of the corrida.

  ‘Why, that’s mine! So that’s where it went to.’ She made to take it, but he held it out of her reach.

  ‘I had made up my mind even then that you were going to be mine.’

  ‘But I am yours now, so ...’ her eyes danced, ‘but I think perhaps I will not risk a fight for repossession of my property.’

  Her arrogant conquistador frowned, then surprised her by solemnly fixing the bandeau over her hair. ‘After all, I do not think I need to rely on so trite a token of magic.’

  Her soft laughter bubbled, and was stilled under the claim of his lips. The bandeau slipped from her hair and Hilary caught it with one hand before she gave herself into his embrace. Perhaps it was magic
, after all...