Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author

ANNE MATHER

Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the

publishing industry, having written over one hundred

and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than

forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.

This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance

for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful,

passionate writing has given.

We are sure you will love them all!

I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.

I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.

These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.

We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is mystic-am@msn.com and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.

The Japanese Screen
Anne Mather

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

FERNANDO hadn’t wanted to come to the party. Parties were not his favourite form of relaxation and after the hectic negotiations of the past few days that was what he most needed. But the Castanas were friends of the family, and he could hardly have refused Lucie’s invitation without causing a rift in relationships. All the same, after over an hour of small talk, of circulating in a smoke-filled room and making conversation out of a multitude of inane pleasantries, he was more than ready to leave. He was tired and not in the best of tempers, and he was growing weary of Lucie’s determined attempts to flirt with him. She was a married woman with a child, and should have been beyond such a thing. Certainly in Spain her behaviour would have caused a number of raised eyebrows and the kind of gossip no self-respecting woman would want to arouse. But apparently Lucie imagined herself far from the rigid ethics of her own country, and as her husband was away for a few days on business, she was surrendering to the somewhat permissive society of London.

He looked round the crowded lounge wondering what excuse he could give for leaving so early. By no means were all the people present Spaniards. It was true that a large percentage were fellow compatriots, but the Castanas numbered English and Americans among their friends, too. There was a plentiful supply of wines and spirits, should he have felt so inclined, and an excellent buffet occupied the long tables to one side of the room. A hi-fi system offered an undistracting mixture of popular music and he supposed that of its type it was a reasonably successful gathering. But the truth was he was bored, and he thought with a sense of resignation that the isolation of his study back home would have offered a more than adequate substitute.

‘Fernando?’

Lucie was offering him yet another cocktail which he politely refused, summoning his determination to apologize and take his leave, when there was an unexpected interruption of the proceedings. A small boy came careering into the room, looking round a trifle desperately for a familiar face. When he saw Lucie he made straight for her, clinging to her skirts and crying wildly. He was wearing only pyjama trousers and as his face and hands were most obviously wet and possibly sticky, Lucie, not unnaturally, tried to push him away from her. But the boy cried all the louder and a ripple of amused speculation ran round the room.

A girl was following the boy, Fernando saw now, and she had halted rather uncertainly at the door to the crowded lounge. Then, with a slight shrug of her shoulders, she moved towards the boy and his mother. She was embarrassed, no doubt conscious of the conspicuousness of her blue nylon overall beside so many extravagant evening creations, and Fernando felt an unexpected stirring of sympathy. Women, young or old, did not particularly interest him, but this slender girl, a little above average height with dark-fringed eyes and a mass of ash-blonde hair that was presently secured rather inadequately by two elastic bands, aroused his compassion.

‘What do you think you are doing, Eduardo?’ Lucie was demanding in English for the benefit of their guests. ‘You know you are not permitted to come in here in the evenings. Señorita King!’ She turned on the girl. ‘What is the meaning of this?’

The girl’s cheeks were pink, but she took a firm hold on the boy’s hand before replying. ‘I’m sorry, señora. Eduardo has been unwell, and he insisted upon seeing you. I told him you could not be disturbed, but he ran away from me.’

Lucie clearly couldn’t decide whether or not to rail at the girl there and then or retire gracefully and make her feelings known at some future date. However, her Latin temperament seemed to get the better of discretion, because in heated tones she exclaimed: ‘What do you mean – he ran away from you? What were you doing, señorita? Are you not capable of controlling one small boy?’

The girl stood her ground, and Fernando admired her for it. ‘Eduardo and I were in the bathroom trying to get him cleaned up,’ she declared. ‘He slipped out of the door when my back was turned. I followed as quickly—’

Lucie waved her hands impatiently. ‘Spare me these small details, señorita,’ she snapped. ‘You know perfectly well that while his father is away Eduardo is inclined to be a little – er – upset.’

The girl listened and then said quietly, but distinctly: ‘I think the amount of sweets he consumed this afternoon is a more likely explanation, señora—’

Lucie clasped her hands together. ‘That will do, señorita,’ she interrupted her shrilly. ‘I will not be argued with in this insolent manner—’

‘Lucie! Cool down!’ Fernando spoke to her in their own language. ‘There is no harm done.’ He glanced in the girl’s direction and met her level gaze, noting that she did not seem to welcome his intervention, but going on in spite of it. ‘Er – Señorita King is not to blame. Eduardo is young – he is impulsive. He naturally wanted to be with you – he wanted your love and attention when he was feeling unwell.’

Lucie measured his gaze for a long moment and then he saw the unwelcome invitation appear in her eyes again. ‘Yes – yes. You are right, Fernando,’ she agreed, responding in an intimate patois. She turned back to her son and his companion. ‘You may go along with Señorita King, Eduardo. We will say no more about this tonight.’ She shifted her gaze to encompass the girl. ‘We will discuss it further in the morning—’

But now Eduardo was hanging back, tugging at the girl’s hand, looking imploringly at his mother, then at Fernando. ‘I want to stay, Mama,’ he whimpered. ‘Do not send me away!’

Fernando stepped forward, squatting down beside the boy, smiling at him encouragingly. ‘Your mama is busy right now, Eduardo. As you can see, she has guests to attend to. Tomorrow she will have time for you.’

‘Tomorrow she will be tired,’ accused Eduardo tearfully. ‘And Papa is away …’

Fernando hesitated. He had no wish to get further involved with the Castanas, but Eduardo’s forlorn face aroused his sympathy. ‘I have an idea,’ he said gently. ‘Tomorrow I shall not be busy – or tired. How would you like me to come and take you – where?’ He shrugged. ‘The park – the zoo?’

Eduardo’s face lit up. ‘I have not been to the zoo,’ he exclaimed.

‘The zoo it is, then. Tomorrow morning at – let me see – ten o’clock?’ He raised his eyes to the girl’s face, and speaking in English said: ‘Eduardo and I are going to the zoo. Will tomorrow at ten be suitable?’

The girl inclined her head and looked to Lucie for guidance. ‘I – I suppose so.’

‘That is so kind of you, Fernando,’ exclaimed Lucie, as he straightened. ‘Eduardo misses a man’s attention.’ She smiled, and her eyes said: As I do myself, but Fernando chose to ignore it.

‘Very well.’ Fernando was speaking in English again now. ‘Good-bye for the present, Eduardo.’

‘Adios, señor!’ Eduardo’s face was wreathed in smiles and he went with the girl quite happily then.

The girl herself walked away with a certain amount of unconscious dignity, and watching her straight back Fernando wondered why he had bothered to intervene on her behalf. He had not done it for Lucie’s sake, to prevent her from making a fool of herself in front of her guests, he had wanted to save the girl – what was her name, Señorita King, further embarrassment. But it seemed she had no appreciation of his motives.

The following morning Fernando’s reservations had increased. He bitterly regretted the impulse he had had to give Eduardo an unexpected treat. It was giving Lucie the entirely false impression that he wished to see her again, and nothing could have been further from the truth. After showering and dressing and breakfasting in his suite at the Savoy, he had an almost overwhelming inclination to telephone the Castana house and make some excuse for not taking the boy out that morning, but he could not bring himself to act so selfishly. Instead, he dressed in a navy denim suit with a belted jacket, combed his thick straight hair and decided it needed cutting, and took a taxi to Lorrimer Terrace before he had second thoughts.

A young maid admitted him to the now quiet house. Only the pervading aroma of stale cigarette smoke and a faint drift of perfume evidenced the party of the night before, and he waited impatiently in the morning room, eager to be gone.

A few minutes later the maid reappeared. ‘Master Eduardo will be ready presently, sir,’ she said. ‘And Señora Castana suggests that you take lunch with her on your return.’

Fernando’s mouth turned down at the corners, and the maid who was watching him thought what an attractive mouth it was. He was an attractive man altogether, without the somewhat swarthy case to his skin that Señor Castana himself had. He was tall, too, taller than the average Spaniard, though not so tall as to appear ungainly. His hair was dark, but not black, and his clothes fitted him closely, emphasizing the powerful length of his legs and the muscular expanse of his chest.

‘You may inform Señora Castana after I have gone that I shall be unable to accept her invitation,’ he stated quietly. ‘I am not sure, but Eduardo and I may – take lunch out.’

The maid looked surprised, and Fernando conceded that perhaps he had spoken a little bluntly. But there was no other way to avoid difficulties. So long as Carlos was away on business, Lucie was a menace.

There was the sound of footsteps behind them in the hall and Fernando swung round as Eduardo came into the room followed closely by the young woman he knew as Señorita King. Inclining his head, he spoke to both of them: ‘Good morning, Eduardo. Good morning, Miss King.’

Eduardo gave a little skip. At seven years of age, a trip to the zoo was an exciting experience. ‘Are you ready to go, señor?’ he demanded eagerly.

Fernando smiled. ‘I see you are,’ he commented, still speaking English.

‘Oh, yes. I have been waiting for you to come for hours!’ declared Eduardo, with characteristic exaggeration.

Fernando shifted his attention to the young woman. This morning she was not wearing the nylon overall, but he suspected the neat grey skirt, the white shirt blouse and broad black belt signified some kind of uniform. Her hair, too, had been plaited and formed a coronet on top of her head. Although she was slim, she was not thin, and he could see the rounded swell of her breasts pressing against the material of her blouse. He looked away quickly, conscious of an unaccustomed quickening of his senses. It was not like him to notice such things, and he despised himself for doing so. The girl was nothing to him, and from the way she was looking at him he sensed she objected strongly to his appraisal.

‘Well—’ he began determinedly, forcing an enthusiasm he did not feel. ‘Shall we go?’

They all moved out into the hall and the maid departed about her business. The girl secured the zip on Eduardo’s anorak and stepped aside. But even as she did so a voice hailed them from above, a voice Fernando recognized only too well.

‘Fernando! Oh, Fernando, you are still here! I am so glad I have caught you.’

Lucie was standing on the stairs, a flimsy negligee draped about her. The girl, Miss King, seemed embarrassed and would have left them, but Fernando found himself doing something he had never intended to do. He looked up at Lucie, but as he did so he spoke in an undertone to the girl: ‘Get your coat, Miss King. You are coming with us.’

She stared at him as if he was mad, but Lucie was speaking again and Fernando had to move reluctantly towards the stairs.

‘If you will wait a few minutes, Fernando,’ she was saying, ‘I will come with you. That is …’ her lips curved provocatively, ‘that is – if you do not mind.’

Fernando thrust his hands into the pockets of his jacket. ‘Do you think it is your sort of outing, Lucie?’ he inquired dryly. ‘Er – you are aware that Miss King is accompanying us, are you not?’

Lucie’s brows drew together. ‘Miss King?’

‘But of course.’ Fernando was charming. He turned to look into the girl’s indignant, but as yet impotent, face. ‘Is that not so, Miss King?’

It was the moment of truth, the moment he dreaded. He was daring her to deny it. But to his relief she merely bent her head and said in muffled tones: ‘Yes, of course, señor.’

Lucie looked almost as angry as she had done the night before, but she controlled herself by a supreme effort and said: ‘In that case, there is no point, is there, caro?’ She took a deep breath. ‘Instead, I shall await your return with impatience. Did the maid tell you that I expect you to stay for lunch?’

Fernando sighed. ‘She did. But I cannot.’

‘Why not?’ Lucie was angry again.

‘It is not possible, Lucie. The zoo is a large place. I do not expect to be back before – well – four o’clock.’

‘Four o’clock!’ Lucie was furious. She gathered the negligée closer about her, apparently uncaring of the fact of its transparency. ‘Very well, then. You will dine with us, si?’

Fernando hesitated. To issue a firm refusal could continue this discussion interminably. With a faint shrug, he said: ‘Perhaps, Lucie, perhaps.’ He forced a smile. ‘We must be going. I have a taxi waiting.’

Lucie’s jaw was taut. ‘Until dinner, then.’

Fernando gave her a small bow. ‘Until later,’ he agreed, non-committally.

Miss King put on a grey coat to match her skirt and accompanied him out to the cab. They all climbed in and not until Eduardo was staring in an engrossed manner out of the window did she say: ‘I should be glad if you would never place me in such an awkward position again, señor! The invitation you issued was for Eduardo alone, and you know it!’

Fernando lay back in his seat, half turned towards her, watching her intently. Her voice was low and angry, but it had a husky intonation which he found pleasing. When she was angry, as now, she was disturbingly feminine, and not even the plain, even ugly, uniform could disguise that He wondered what she would look like in casual clothes? He wondered what her name was. How old she was.

Realizing she was waiting for him to make some comment, he said: ‘All right. It was – initially. However, I thought that perhaps you might enjoy the outing—’

‘I don’t believe you!’ She was abrupt.

‘Oh, really?’ Fernando didn’t altogether care for her manner. ‘Is not that a rather insolent remark?’

She sighed. ‘I’m not blind, señor. Nor am I a fool.’

‘I never imagined you were.’

‘Nevertheless, that was not the reason you insisted on my company, and I’d be grateful if in future you’d refrain from using me to extricate yourself from situations which have grown too hot for you!’

‘Why, you—’ He bit off an epithet, conscious that for the first time in his life he had the urge to strike a woman. He stared at her angrily. No one had ever spoken to him in such a manner, would ever dare to do so! He was enraged, not least because although in one way she was speaking the truth, his own involvement was such an innocent one. ‘Do you realize I could put you out of this cab here and now, drive back to Señora Castana, and have you dismissed at once!’

She shook her head. ‘That’s entirely up to you, of course.’

‘Don’t you care?’ He was astounded.

She hesitated. ‘Well, I shouldn’t like to lose my job for incompetence, but this is rather different, isn’t it?’

Fernando chewed his lower lip. He had never met anyone quite like her before, and as his anger dispersed almost as quickly as it had come he found himself in the ignominious position of wanting to explain his motivations.

Frowning, he said: ‘I see no reason why I should justify my actions to you, but I can assure you that while there might be some truth in your suggestion that I invited you to evade—’ He glanced at Eduardo rather significantly. ‘Well – to evade certain people, the situation is by no means too – hot – for me!’

She pressed her lips together and he had the disturbing suspicion that she was trying not to smile, a suspicion which was increased when she looked up at him.

‘You’re laughing at me!’ he accused irritably.

‘No, I’m not.’ She made a helpless gesture. ‘Besides, what you choose to do with your time is no concern of mine except where it impinges on mine.’

‘Madre mia, I know it’s not!’ he snapped shortly, angry now that he had tried to explain. ‘If you would rather not accompany us then I shall direct the driver to take you back again,’ he added, in stiff tones.

She looked at him then and he saw that her eyes were a curious shade of deep violet, African violet, dark and beautiful. ‘I didn’t actually say that I didn’t want to accompany you,’ she said carefully. ‘Only that I didn’t wish to be involved in – in schemes.’

‘My schemes?’

‘If you like.’

‘You still believe—’ He broke off. ‘I give you my word. Lucie – that is – your employer and I are friends, that is all.’

Her lids fell to hide her expression. ‘If you say so, señor.’

Fernando controlled an almost irresistible desire to shake her. Was she deliberately goading him? Or was the image of Lucie in her negligee so firmly imprinted upon her mind as to negate anything he might say? He couldn’t be sure. He didn’t even know why he felt bound to try and explain.

Changing his tack, he inclined his head and said: ‘Very well, Miss King. I suggest we forget the unfortunate beginning and try and enjoy the day.’ He frowned. ‘We have not even been introduced. Fernando Cuevas, at your service, señorita.’

It was beholden upon her to make some similar statement, but she was obviously reluctant. He wondered why. His experience of women had taught him that he was invariably regarded in a favourable light, and while he did not normally make any effort to exert the charm which came so naturally to him, it was galling to realize that to this young woman he represented something else.

At last she said: ‘My name is Susannah, señor, Susannah King.’

‘Susannah.’ He repeated the word reflectively. It suited her. It was a wholly feminine appellation.

Eduardo turned from the window at that moment, gesticulating excitedly. ‘Señorita, señorita, is that St. Paul’s catedral? You said you would take me there one day, señorita. Will you? Will you?’

Susannah leant forward and then smiled. ‘Oh, no, Eduardo, that’s not St. Paul’s. That’s just a church. St. Paul’s is bigger, much bigger.’

‘Perhaps you would permit me to escort you both there another day,’ suggested Fernando. ‘Perhaps tomorrow?’

As soon as the words were uttered he wondered why he had said them. He had been reluctant to come out this morning. What was he thinking of – suggesting yet another visit to the Castana house?

Susannah King was looking at him strangely too. Perhaps she suspected some ulterior motive for his suggestion. He cursed himself for putting himself in such an ambiguous situation.

‘That’s very kind of you, señor,’ she was saying now, ‘but Eduardo has lessons tomorrow.’

Eduardo’s face dropped and the relief Fernando should have felt did not materialize. Instead, he found himself saying: ‘You give Eduardo these lessons, Miss King?’

‘Yes.’

‘You are then the boy’s – governess?’

‘That’s right,’ she nodded.

‘But I do not understand. Yesterday evening you were acting as nursemaid.’

She sighed. ‘Señora Castana has no nursemaid for Eduardo. She says she likes to look after him herself. When she cannot, I – I cope.’

Fernando found this knowledge not to his liking. Back home in Spain one employed a governess to teach, a nursemaid to care for the child’s welfare. Lucie knew this as well as he did. Surely they were not so short of financial assets that they could not afford both. But no. The Castanas were a wealthy family. It was much more likely, though not so palatable, that so long as Miss King was prepared to accommodate them they preferred to save a second salary.

They were driving now beside the green stretches of Regent’s Park, and Fernando leant forward and signified to the driver that they would walk the rest of the way. Susannah and the boy climbed out, Fernando paid their fare, and the cab rolled away.

It was a cool but pleasant morning in early April. Spring was in the air and the park was colourful with tulips and daffodils and narcissi. Even at this time of day there were plenty of people about, nannies with their charges, young mothers with prams, dogs and their owners enjoying the unexpectedly warm sunshine. They walked along the path towards the zoological gardens and conversation between them lapsed. Only Eduardo seemed unaware of the fact, exclaiming every now and then when a dog ran near to them or a child with a particularly interesting toy attracted his attention.

Zoos had never appealed to Fernando. The idea of a collection of wild animals being confined in small spaces for the public to come and stare at seemed to him a rather cruel and degrading arrangement. But when he remarked upon this to Susannah King he found that she had very definite ideas of her own upon the subject.

‘Most of these animals were born in captivity,’ she exclaimed. ‘They’d be no more at home in the wild than – than say, you would be, cast away on some desert island, remote from all the sophisticated accoutrements to civilized society you’ve grown used to.’

Fernando smiled. ‘And how do you know how I would react to such circumstances?’ he commented with a trace of irony. ‘I might find such a situation intriguing – de-pending, of course, on my companion.’

He saw the rose colour flood her cheeks. He was surprised at how easily he could embarrass her. So self-confident in some ways, in others she was extremely vulnerable, and the knowledge troubled him. He found himself wondering about her background, whether she had any home life, whether her parents were still alive – and then stopped himself. This would not do. After today, he would probably never see her again, which was just as well. He was becoming far too interested in her. He was leaving England at the end of the week. He was returning to his home in Spain – to his own family.

He noticed that after that she did not speak to him directly for some time, but concentrated on Eduardo, pointing out different species, explaining their various eating habits. Fernando was quite content to stroll along behind, answering Eduardo’s questions only when they were addressed to him.

It was after one o’clock when Susannah seemed to become aware of the lateness of the hour, and casting a doubtful look in Fernando’s direction said: ‘I think Eduardo ought to have a drink and something to eat, señor. Could we go to the café and have a sandwich?’ Fernando hesitated. The café, within sight and sound, not to mention smell, of the animals did not appeal to him. ‘I suggest we leave the gardens and find a restaurant, señorita. Eduardo has seen almost everything, has he not? Perhaps this afternoon we might do something else, si?’

‘Que?’ Eduardo stared at them both excitedly. ‘Que le parece, señorita,’ he appealed. ‘Tengo mucha hombre!’

‘Speak English, Eduardo,’ reproved Susannah automatically, and then gave a small shrug of her shoulders. ‘I don’t know what to say, señor.’

Fernando cupped her elbow with his hand. ‘Then I suggest you leave everything to me,’ he remarked quietly. ‘Eduardo is hungry. Were he and I alone, we would most certainly dine at a restaurant of my choosing. Your company simply makes that a more attractive proposition.’ Susannah drew herself away from him quickly, and he could see she was embarrassed again. For himself he was conscious of a distinct feeling of exhilaration in his stomach brought about by the trembling he had felt in that instant before she drew herself away.

They went to a Spanish restaurant in a mews off Oxford Street. It was a place Fernando frequented regularly on his visits to London, and he was recognized at once. The service was efficient, but unobtrusive, and he noticed that Susannah seemed to enjoy the onion soup, the chicken and rice, and the fruit-filled icecream which they ate as a dessert. They had a rosé wine with the meal, and even Eduardo drank his with enjoyment. Afterwards, the waiter brought coffee, and a liqueur for Fernando which Susannah had declined. Eduardo was excused and wandered off to examine an enormous aquarium filled with tropical fish which was an integral part of the wall near the entrance to the restaurant, and Fernando asked whether Susannah would mind if he lit a cheroot.

She shook her head. He could see that she was nervous and endeavoured to put her at her ease, talking about Spain in general terms, discussing the wine-growing industry of which his family had been members for generations.

‘I know very little about wines,’ she admitted, cradling her coffee cup between her fingers. ‘They’re not considered a natural accompaniment to a meal here – at least, not where I come from.’

‘Where do you come from, Miss King?’ Fernando questioned, unable to prevent himself from doing so.

She put down her cup. ‘I was born in Yorkshire, actually. That’s in the north of England. But when I had completed my training I came south to work.’

He drew deeply on his cheroot, exhaling into the air above her head. ‘Your parents still live in Yorkshire?’ he suggested.

‘No. My parents are dead.’ She sighed. ‘Actually, I never knew who my parents were. I lived in an orphanage until I was sixteen years old – a children’s home is how they like to describe it.’

‘You sound – bitter.’

‘Oh, no, no.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not bitter. They were very good to me, actually. I just don’t think it’s fair that women should have babies and then – abandon them. If I had a child, I’d want to care for it myself.’ She flushed. ‘Where is Eduardo?’

‘Eduardo is quite happy watching the fish,’ replied Fernando, impatient at the interruption. ‘Go on. I’m interested.’

‘There’s nothing more to tell.’

‘You’ve worked for the Castanas ever since you came to London?’ He was surprised.

‘No. No, not all the time. I’ve been here four years. I worked for an American family to begin with, but they divorced and I didn’t want to go and live in the States, so I joined the Castanas six months ago.’

‘I see,’ he nodded. He had the feeling that Lucie Castana would not keep her staff very long. He dropped ash into the tray in the centre of the table and then said: ‘Don’t you want to get married? Have children – as you said.’

Susannah coloured again. ‘Not for expediency, if that’s what you mean, señor,’ she stated stiffly, and he cursed himself for putting her on the offensive again. ‘Don’t you think it’s time we were leaving.’

Fernando heaved a sigh. He could have gone on talking to her for a long time. There were many more things he would like to know about her, and this in itself was unusual for him. Women had always seemed vapidly transparent creatures, intent solely on finding a man and capturing him. Marriage was a convenience, for both sexes, and anything beyond that was purely a sexual necessity. He had never particularly cared for talking to a woman before, and he resented having to share her attention with the boy.

Outside the restaurant Eduardo had a stream of suggestions as to where they should spend the remainder of the afternoon, but Susannah was not disposed to listen to them. ‘It’s already getting on for three o’clock,’ she declared. ‘I’m sure we’ve taken up enough of Señor Cuevas’ time already.’

Fernando thrust his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He wanted to detain her, and it would not be difficult with Eduardo beginning to sulk at having his afternoon cut short, but common sense warned him that he had gone far enough.

‘I think perhaps Miss King is right, Eduardo,’ he stated, looking up and down the street rather impatiently. ‘Besides, you will want to go back and tell your mother what you have seen, will you not?’

Eduardo pouted. ‘You said we would go somewhere else,’ he accused, and Fernando felt a sense of contrition. He was letting the boy down simply because it was easier for him that way, and that wasn’t altogether kind.

‘Another day,’ he conceded at last. ‘If Miss King will permit you to miss lessons.’

Susannah gave a faint smile. ‘Thank you very much for escorting us, señor, and for that most delicious lunch.’

‘No tanto. It was nothing.’ Fernando could hear the stiffness in his voice, but her attempted dismissal irritated him. It was one thing for him to decide that they must part and quite another for her to take it upon herself to dismiss him. ‘I will accompany you back to the house, naturally.’

Susannah gave him a startled look. ‘That’s not necessary. That is—’ She paused, and he could almost read her thoughts. ‘Of course you are at liberty to come with us if you wish.’

‘As far as the door at least,’ he conceded sardonically, and was gratified to see that he had disconcerted her again.

But when the cab halted outside the Castana house in Lorrimer Terrace and Eduardo bounded out, intent on regaling everyone with his experiences, Fernando stayed Susannah with a hand on her arm. ‘One moment, señorita,’ he said in a low voice, aware of the troubled anxiety in her eyes.

‘Yes, señor?’

She sounded cool while he could feel heated blood in his veins. He drew a deep breath. ‘I wish you to have dinner with me tomorrow evening, Miss King.’

Her eyes fell before his, looking at his lean brown hand on the grey material of her sleeve. ‘I’m afraid I can’t, señor,’ she refused politely.

Anger erupted. ‘Por dios, why not?’

She tried to draw away. ‘I don’t think it’s a very good idea, señor. I – I don’t have a lot of free time in the evenings in any case.’

‘I think you are making excuses, Miss King. Why? Do you not trust me? I assure you, my motives are quite innocent. I enjoy talking with you, that is all.’

Susannah looked after Eduardo. ‘I must go, señor. Eduardo will tell his mother we are here. It would not do for her to find me here, with you, would it?’

An ironic smile touched his lips. ‘It is not of the slightest consequence to me whether or not Lucie finds us together.’ His eyes darkened. ‘Please – you will have dinner with me tomorrow evening, si?’

When he was disturbed his accent thickened, and he could hear it thickening now as he appealed to her. Why was it so important that she should accept his invitation?

She looked at him in an anxious fashion and then made a helpless little gesture. ‘I don’t know—’ she began awkwardly.

‘At eight,’ he insisted, pressing his advantage. ‘Walk to the end of the terrace and I will be waiting.’

‘Señor—’ she started, when Fernando saw Lucie appear in the doorway and look rather impatiently towards the cab.

He withdrew his hand from Susannah’s arm, and said: ‘Here is your employer now. Shall we get out to greet her?’

Susannah stepped awkwardly out of the cab and almost fell as she ricked her ankle on the kerb. But Lucie took not the slightest notice of her. Her eyes were intent on Fernando, and asking the cab-driver to wait, he too climbed out.

‘You’re early,’ she exclaimed, with a little dismissing nod in Susannah’s direction. ‘Come along in. We can have some tea.’

‘Gracias, no, Lucie.’ Fernando lapsed back into his own language. ‘I must go. I have an appointment with the importers at five o’clock.’

Lucie’s lips drew in. ‘You did not say that this morning, Fernando. I cancelled an afternoon engagement to be here on your return.’

‘I am sorry.’ He gave an apologetic smile.

Lucie held up her head. He could see she was warring with herself whether or not to mention the tentative dinner engagement also, but before she could come to a decision he bade her a brief Adios and climbed back into the cab. He could see the angry frustration in her face as he drove away and he hoped she would not wreak that frustration on Susannah King.

CHAPTER TWO

SUSANNAH was supervising Eduardo’s tea in the nursery when Lucie Castana came to find her. She could tell at once that Lucie was in a fine temper, and she hoped she would not start an argument here in front of the boy. He saw enough of that sort of thing between his father and mother and while Señor Castana was away Susannah had hoped to avoid any unpleasantness. However, her hopes were short-lived. Lucie was in no mood to prevaricate and came straight to the point.

‘Exactly what did you mean by going off for the day like that without asking my permission, señorita?’ she snapped angrily.

Eduardo looked up from his boiled egg in surprise. ‘Don Fernando asked Señorita King to come with us,’ he declared, in his boyish treble.

Keep out of this, Eduardo!’ Lucie ignored him. ‘Well, señorita? I am waiting for your explanation.’

Susannah moved away from the tea table. ‘I saw no objection to my joining Eduardo and – and Don Fernando, señora,’ she replied carefully. ‘There is nothing for me to do here when Eduardo is out.’

‘I might have had other ideas on the subject, señorita. It is true, you are employed for Eduardo’s sake, but I expect some consideration from you. I will not have you inviting yourself on every expedition that Eduardo makes simply because there is nothing for you to do here!’

‘It wasn’t like that, señora—’ Susannah was indignant.

‘Do not answer me back, señorita! If I say it was like that, then it was like that, do you understand?’ Lucie’s dark eyes flashed maliciously. ‘I did not realize you were so desperate for male companionship. Of course, while Carlos is away I’ve no doubt you miss his support—’

‘How dare you?’ Susannah was trembling with anger. ‘How – how dare you? Exactly what are you implying, señora?’

Now it was Lucie’s turn to look discomfited. For a moment she had allowed her own feelings of jealousy and frustration to get the better of her, but now she was regretting speaking so bluntly. In the eighteen months they had lived in England she had employed a total of five different governesses for Eduardo, and all except Susannah had left within three months of their employment. Only Susannah had borne the arduous duties pressed upon her without complaint, and Lucie knew that if Carlos came home to find that she, too, had given in her notice, he would be furious.

Taking a deep breath, she put out an apologetic hand and said: ‘I am sorry, señorita. Naturally, I am not implying anything.’ She forced a faint smile. ‘I – I have a headache, and I was looking forward to taking tea with Don Fernando. Unfortunately he has a business engagement, and I am afraid I allowed my disappointment to erupt into an unjustified anger against you.’

Susannah linked her fingers tightly together. ‘If you have any cause for complaint about my behaviour—’

Lucie shook her head impatiently. ‘No, no. Have I not just said I am sorry?’ She half turned. ‘I gather from Eduardo that you have had an enjoyable day.’

Susannah quelled the urge to tell Lucie Castana exactly what she thought of her as she caught sight of Eduardo’s concerned face. He was not ignorant of what had so nearly occurred, and there was appeal as well as anxiety in his eyes.

‘We had a – very enjoyable day, señora,’ she conceded at last, in expressionless tones.

Lucie studied her profile for a few moments and then walked towards the door. ‘So – we will forget this unpleasantness, si?’ she requested, unable to leave without gaining some sort of assurance from the girl.

Susannah made an indifferent movement of her shoulders. ‘Very well, señora,’ she agreed without enthusiasm, and Lucie had to be content with that.

Eduardo went to bed at seven o’clock and usually after this Susannah’s time was her own. Occasionally, when the Castanas were having a party, they asked her to remain in her rooms in case the boy needed her, but these occasions were not frequent.

Susannah herself did not go out a lot. She liked plays and sometimes a film, and if she was invited to a concert she enjoyed that very much, but she had no regular routine. Her friends were mostly girls from the training college she had attended, and although one or two of them were now married and introduced her to lots of suitable young men, she had no steady boy-friend. She was in no hurry to get married. Her background had not endeared the opposite sex to her, knowing as she did that her mother had been abandoned by her father when he found that she was pregnant. Or at least, that was her interpretation of her mother’s incapacity to care for her herself.

That evening, Susannah changed out of her formal skirt and blouse, donned an old pair of jeans and a chunky sweater, and settled down with the novel she had been reading for the past few evenings. It was a saga of family life in Cornwall at the turn of the century and up until now had inspired her interest. But this evening she found it hard to concentrate on imaginary characters when her mind kept wandering back over the real events of the day. She had no intention of accepting Fernando Cuevas’s invitation to dinner. She had been employed as a governess long enough to know that getting involved with either a member of the family or with a friend of a member of that family was simply asking for trouble. When she had worked for the American family, the Taylors, she had had plenty of opportunities, but she had learned her lesson well. Now she knew better than to cultivate relationships which in her position could only cause difficulties.

All the same, that did not stop her from thinking about him. He was the most attractive man she had ever met and although he did not possess the even good looks people referred to as handsome there was something disturbingly magnetic about deep-set, heavy-lidded eyes, a lean intelligent face, and smooth dark hair that appeared to need none of the oily hairdressing so loved by other Latin men she had met. She wondered how old he was – possibly between thirty-five and forty, but she couldn’t be sure. He didn’t look old, but the experience in his eyes betrayed an awareness not evident in the eyes of a younger man. She wondered why he had asked her to dine with him. What possible motive could he have? She didn’t believe his statement about enjoying talking to her, and she was not conceited enough to imagine that he might be attracted by her appearance. It would have been quite an experience, she acknowledged truthfully, but experiences sometimes required a payment she was not prepared to give.

The following day it crossed her mind that she really ought to ask Señora Castana for Señor Cuevas’ telephone number while he was here in London and ring and explain that she would not be meeting him that evening. But discretion got the better of valour. To bring up such a thing would only create more trouble, and she decided that if he did come to meet her and she did not turn up that would be that.

But as the day drew towards evening she had second thoughts. What if, when she did not go to meet him, he came to the house? What would she do then? What could she do? And how incensed Lucie Castana would be!

She put Eduardo to bed at seven o’clock as usual, said good night, and went to her own rooms. Señor Castana was due home tomorrow and Señora Castana had told her that she intended having an early night. There was no reason why she should not slip out of the house, meet Señor Cuevas and explain, and be back indoors again before anyone noticed her absence.

The decision made, she changed out of her uniform into a pair of rather shabby red velvet pants and a cream ribbed sweater, leaving her hair in the coronet of plaits she had worn all day. At five minutes to eight she left the house, not bothering with a coat but throwing a thigh-length cream cardigan about her shoulders.

It was a mild evening and the birds were still making a loud noise in the small park across the way. There were few people about. This small terrace of elegant town houses was occupied by a section of the community to whom walking was something one only did on the golf course, so she met no one she knew as she hurried towards the corner. There was no sign of Fernando Cuevas and unreasonably her heart sank. What did it matter? she asked herself impatiently. If he didn’t turn up, all the better. It would save her having to go into unnecessary explanations.

Reaching the end of the street, she looked up and down the wider thoroughfare beyond, but there was no one around who looked the slightest bit like the lean dark Spaniard she had come to meet. She sighed and consulted the broad masculine watch on her slim wrist. It was only just eight o’clock. He might conceivably be late. Traffic in London at this hour of the evening was notoriously unreliable, and it was quite easy to get trapped in a jam.

She drew her cardigan closer about her, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She might as well wait a few minutes. If only to satisfy herself that she had been wasting her time.

‘Good evening, Miss King!’

The quiet words spoken somewhere near her ear startled her almost out of her wits and she swung round on her heels staring in amazement at the man who was standing just behind her. He was quite close and she could smell a faint aroma of an after-shaving lotion. He was casually dressed in a tawny-coloured lounge suit and a roll-collared silk shirt that clung to the contours of his chest as he moved. His eyes dropped the length of her body in a swift appraising motion and then returned to her face again as he smiled approvingly.

‘I am glad you have dressed informally,’ he said. ‘I was afraid you might take my invitation to mean a dinner jacket affair.’

Susannah gathered herself. ‘No, no, you don’t understand, señor. I – I didn’t come to meet you, at least – not to go out with you.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘What is that supposed to mean, señorita?’

Susannah folded the sleeves of her cardigan around her arms. I can’t dine with you, señor. I’m sorry. I tried to make it plain yesterday afternoon, but Señora Castana interrupted me, and—’

‘Basta!’ He cut her off with an impatient ejaculation. ‘Why can you not dine with me? You are here. You are ready. Where is the difficulty?’

Susannah gasped, ‘I’m not ready. Not like this!’

‘You look perfectly satisfactory to me.’ He shook his head. ‘Why did you come to meet me if you did not wish to dine with me?’

Susannah shrugged. ‘I – I was afraid you might come to the house. I didn’t want to cause any more – upset.’

‘With whom? Señora Castana?’

‘Does it matter?’ She moved a little away from him. ‘I’m very flattered, of course, but I don’t accept invitations from friends of my employers.’

Fernando Cuevas put out a hand and caught her upper arm preventing her further progress, his fingers hard and compelling. ‘Why not? Do your employers forbid it? Do they subject you to a very subtle form of moral blackmail?’

Susannah shook her head, looking down at his hand on her arm. ‘It doesn’t do to mix business with pleasure,’ she replied. Then she looked up. ‘I’d have thought you would have known that, señor.’

He smiled, the kind of smile that caused her heart to quicken its beat rather dramatically. ‘Please,’ he said appealingly. ‘Would you disappoint a lonely man? A stranger to your country? I promise not to compromise you in any way.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Come. I have a car this evening – I hired it specially for the occasion. I do not care for taxi drivers to listen to all my conversations with you.’

Susannah’s resolve was weakening by the second. Her head was swimming, and she wondered if he could feel the throbbing rate of her pulses through his fingers gripping her arm. She thought it was entirely possible. There was a certainty of purpose about him now which was not completely due to his own self-confidence. Slowly but surely he was drawing her with him, off the pavement and on to the road and across to where a gold-coloured Ford Granada was parked, the reason why she had not observed him earlier.

‘You see,’ he said, unlocking the door with his key. ‘Is this not a most attractive vehicle I have chosen for us?’

Susannah looked into his face, so disturbingly close to her own. ‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Get in and you will find out,’ he advised quietly.

She hesitated for a moment and then with a resigned shrug she allowed him to assist her into the car and close the door behind her. He walked round the bonnet and slid in beside her, giving her a slight smile as he did so, and she thought with a sense of self-betrayal that for once she was allowing a man to call the tune.

Fernando said nothing as he threaded his way expertly through the busy traffic and on to the Hammersmith flyover. She had expected him to be uncertain of his way about London, but it seemed obvious that he was used to driving through its maze of one-way streets and box junctions. Susannah sat in the comfortable leather seat, separated from him by the console fixture of the gear lever, and wondered exactly where they were going.

As the traffic thinned, he had more time to look about him, and settling himself more comfortably in his seat, he said: ‘How old are you, Miss King?’

Susannah was taken aback. ‘That’s a very pointed question, isn’t it?’

‘Hmm. I suppose it is. Are you going to tell me?’ He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes, and she found herself becoming warm under his gaze.

‘As a matter of fact I’m twenty-four,’ she declared shortly. ‘How old are you?’

He chuckled. ‘Much older than that, Miss King.’

‘That’s not an answer,’ she exclaimed indignantly.

‘How old do you think I am?’

She hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. Thirty-five, thirty-six?’

‘You’re too kind.’ His expression was wry. ‘I am forty, Miss King. Almost old enough to be your father, si?’

She bent her head. ‘Why did you want to know how old I was?’ He shrugged, resting his arm on the ledge of his window. ‘I had the distinct suspicion that you were much younger than twenty-four. Were it not for that ridiculous hairstyle, I would say you were twenty at most.’

‘Ridiculous hairstyle!’ she echoed, putting a hand to her head. ‘What’s ridiculous about it?’

He cast her a sardonic glance. ‘You look like a small girl trying to look like an adult. I liked it better in the elastic bands, untidy though it was.’

Susannah caught her breath. ‘I don’t think you should make personal comments about my appearance, señor.’

‘No. I agree, I should not. But you did ask me, and I was merely being truthful.’ He slowed behind a lumbering wagon. ‘And as I am so much older than you are, perhaps it would not be too presumptuous of me to suggest that I might call you Susannah, si?’

She clasped her hands tightly together in her lap. ‘Do I have any choice?’

‘You make me sound very rude. I’m sorry.’

She sighed. ‘I didn’t mean to do so. Of course you may call me Susannah if you wish.’

His lean brown fingers slid round the wheel. ‘So. As that is disposed of, I suggest we talk about something else. For example – do you like shellfish?’

‘Shellfish, señor?’ She sounded as perplexed as she felt.

‘Si. Is that not how you say it – lobster, crab, that kind of thing?’

‘Oh, I see. Shellfish.’ She nodded apologetically. ‘Yes, I like it.’

‘That is good. The place where we are to dine serves the most delicious lobster you have ever tasted. It is cooked in a sauce of cream and white wine, and melts in the mouth. You must try it.’

Susannah managed a smile, but in truth she was wondering whether she would be able to eat anything at all. His presence unnerved her. She felt the restraint between them like a tangible thing. And yet there was no reason for it.

To her surprise, their destination was a rather exclusive golf club, overlooking the Thames near Kingston. Although on this Wednesday evening there appeared to be no rule about formality, many of the diners were wearing dinner jackets, or lounge suits with bow ties, and as their female counterparts all looked elegant and soignée to Susannah’s uneasy eyes, she felt terribly self-conscious in her old velvet pants and cream sweater.

It was better once they were seated at table and Fernando was studying the wine list. What small interest their arrival had aroused had mostly been concentrated on him, but now that he was patently ignoring it the conversation around them resumed its normal level.

The meal was as delicious as he had said it would be, and under his surveillance she agreed to try the lobster. A certain amount of good wine loosened her reserve and while they ate she talked quite happily about her work, relating one or two amusing anecdotes she had collected over the years. He was a good listener. He lay back in his seat watching her closely, and it was not until they reached the coffee stage that she realized she still knew absolutely nothing about him, other than that he was a friend of the Castanas. He wore three rings, two very broad silver ones and a meshed gold one, but none of them occupied the third finger of his left hand. Even so, he could be married for all she knew. And she had no idea how to bring the conversation round to his personal affairs.

They left the restaurant at about ten o’clock and walked back to the gold Granada. It was parked beneath a willow tree that dipped its branches towards the river. It was cooler now than it had been when they left London a couple of hours ago, and Susannah shivered.

‘You are cold,’ he said at once, unlocking her door. ‘Do get in. I should not like you to catch a chill, Susannah.’

She climbed inside obediently and watched him through the rear-view mirror as he walked round the back of the car to reach his door. He levered himself in beside her, checked that she was comfortable, and then reversed smoothly out of the parking area.

It seemed no time at all before they were running through the suburbs, dark now with street lamps casting pools of light on the pavements. He drove through the mass of side streets to reach Lorrimer Terrace, and brought the big car to a halt only a few feet from the door of the Castana house.

Susannah glanced doubtfully up at the windows, wondering whether their return had been observed. It was unlikely. Lucie Castana slept at the back of the building and the sound of a car drawing up in the street outside was a common enough occurrence for it not to attract any especial interest.

She suddenly realized that she was making no attempt to get out of the car and turning to Fernando Cuevas, she said: ‘Thank you very much, señor. I have enjoyed myself.’

The dark Spaniard gave her a slight smile, his fingers tapping somewhat impatiently on the wheel. ‘That is good,’ he replied. ‘So have I. Good night, Susannah.’

‘Good night, señor.’

With a vague feeling of reluctance, she climbed out of the car and he leant across to close her door behind her, giving her a casual salute before driving away. She entered the house with a distinctly hollow emptiness inside that owed nothing to her physical condition. She didn’t know what she had expected. She should have felt relieved that he had made no attempt to ask to see her again. But she didn’t. Instead, she felt emotionally drained, deflated, and totally out of humour with herself for feeling so.

The following day life resumed its normal pattern. Eduardo had lessons in the morning and in the afternoon they walked to the common so that he could run off some of the energy he had in such abundance. Susannah usually enjoyed these outings. She liked running about after the ball and seeing Eduardo’s pale face flushed with healthy colour as he forgot his anxieties in the pure delight of physical exertion.

But today, Susannah found it hard to relax. She was constantly searching for a gold Granada among the cars that they passed and every dark man they encountered aroused a momentary flutter of excitement which was just as quickly doused. She didn’t know why she should imagine that Fernando Cuevas might want to see her again. His parting of the night before had been humiliatingly brief. And yet she couldn’t deny the surge of anticipation she was feeling.

However, neither a gold Granada nor any dark Spaniard appeared and she returned to the house for afternoon tea somewhat dejectedly. Señor Castana had returned in their absence and when Eduardo saw his father waiting for him in the hall he gave an excited squeal and ran towards him eagerly. Susannah greeted her employer politely and then left the family together, asking the young maid to bring her tea to her sitting-room.

The next morning Señor Castana sent for Susannah while she was giving Eduardo his lessons. Leaving the boy writing out an English exercise in his laborious fashion she went downstairs to the study wondering whether Señora Castana had found some cause for complaint in spite of what she had said.

Carlos Castana was a stocky man of average height, with a thin moustache. He was handsome in a swarthy, Latin sort of way, but Susannah liked him because he had such a pleasant personality. He always tried to be fair in his dealings with the staff, and they all thought he put up with his wife’s moods and tempers very patiently. Now he admitted Susannah to his study, rather thoughtfully she thought, and indicated that she should take a seat. Susannah sat, waiting apprehensively for him to begin. Of course, he might just want a report on Eduardo’s progress, but in the past he had always come to the schoolroom for that.

He walked behind his desk and sat down facing her. ‘First of all, Miss King, I want to say how pleased we are with Eduardo’s development.’

Susannah folded her hands in her lap. ‘Thank you, señor.’

He shook his head. ‘No, I am thanking you, Miss King. You have settled down with us very well – better than I had dared to hope.’ He paused. ‘You may know that in the past my wife has had some difficulties in keeping staff, but I’m glad to say that you appear to have fitted in with us excellently.’

‘Thank you, señor.’

Susannah was intrigued. She wondered what all this was leading up to. If Señor Castana hadn’t brought her here to discipline her, what did he want?

He went on, choosing his words carefully. ‘As you are aware, I have been abroad for several days. I went to the continent on business. There was a directors’ meeting. My company is planning to expand.’

Susannah nodded. She didn’t quite know why he was telling her this. The affairs of his company were nothing to do with her, unless it was a roundabout way of telling her that he intended giving her a rise.

He reached for a cigar from the box on his desk, and lit it before going on. Then, when it was glowing warmly, giving off an aroma of Havana tobacco, he said: ‘The company is planning to open a branch in New York, Miss King. I have been invited to run that branch.’

Now she understood. He was explaining the circumstances to her because if he took this appointment, if he moved to New York, he would expect his family to move too, and that included Susannah herself as Eduardo’s governess.

‘I see,’ she said inadequately.

‘You understand why I am telling you this, do you not, Miss King? Naturally I shall be accepting this appointment and moving to New York. I intend to take a house there as I have done here for the past eighteen months. I want you to come with us.’

Susannah nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘You’ll come?’ He rose to his feet, resting his palms on the desk and leaning towards her.

‘I don’t know, señor. I – I should have to think about it.’

Señor Castana nodded. ‘I understand that. I have told you at once because I remember at the time you came for an interview you mentioned that you were leaving your previous post because you did not wish to move to the United States. May I hope that you have changed your ideas since then?’

Susannah shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know, señor. I – if it had been France – or Spain!’ She hesitated. ‘New York is such a long way away.’

‘But you have no family in England, Miss King. You told me so yourself.’

‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But my friends are here.’

‘You will make new friends!’ He spread a hand in a very continental gesture. ‘You are a very attractive young woman, Miss King. Forgive me, but one cannot help but notice such things. I have seen the way men look at you … I do not think you would find it too difficult to find companionship.’

Susannah’s cheeks were flushed. ‘Well – thank you, señor. But really, I – I must have time to think it over.’

‘Of course, of course. I will not rush you. I do not suppose we will be leaving England for several months yet. But I would hope you would decide soon. I want an English governess for Eduardo, and if you are not coming with us …’

‘I quite understand, señor.’ Susannah rose now. ‘And – and thank you for your confidence in me.’

Señor Castana made some deprecatory comment before showing her out, but after the study door was closed, Susannah stood for several minutes in the hall thinking over what had been said before returning to the schoolroom. She was still standing there when the maid came down the stairs.

‘Oh, there you are, Miss King,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve been up to the schoolroom looking for you. There’s a letter been delivered for you.’

‘A letter? For me?’ Susannah forced herself to remain calm. ‘Where – where is it?’

‘It’s here, miss.’ The maid drew an envelope out of the pocket of her apron. ‘Delivered by hand, it was. Do you know who it’s from?’

Susannah took the envelope from the maid’s inquisitive hands, turning it over with trembling fingers. It was parchment-stiff, the quality evident, and there was a monogram on the flap. Making no attempt to open it, she stared at the scrawling handwriting and her heart skipped a beat. It had to be from him, it just had to.

Aware that the young maid was watching her eagerly, waiting for her to open it, she went towards the stairs and ran up them lightly. ‘Thank you,’ she called over her shoulder, and guessed that her concealment of the letter’s contents would become the topic of much gossip and speculation in the kitchen. But she couldn’t bear to open it in front of anyone else.

She went to the schoolroom first and checked that Eduardo was still busy, then she went to her own suite of rooms. Once inside she tore open the envelope and drew out the sheet of thick paper it contained. It was a letter, and an urgent glance at the signature at the end assured her of its writer’s identity.

Dear Susannah, she read,

As you do not wish me to come to the house and as I cannot telephone without revealing my identity, I am forced to use this method of contacting you. I would like to see you again. I am expected to return to Spain on Sunday and therefore I would hope that we might dine together this evening or tomorrow evening. I realize that this is very short notice, that you may have some previous engagement, but I very much want to see you again, Susannah, and I shall wait in anticipation of your reply. You may reach me at the hotel at the head of this page.

Yours, Fernando Cuevas.

She re-read the letter twice, sitting on the edge of her armchair, conscious of a rising sense of exhilaration out of all proportion to the situation. But she couldn’t help it. To know that she was going to see him again filled her with excited expectation.

Putting the letter away carefully in her handbag, she returned to the schoolroom. As soon as she could she would ask Señor Castana whether she had any objections to her going out that evening. Now that Señor Castana was home surely no one would mind. Then she would telephone Fernando Cuevas’s hotel while she and Eduardo were out walking this afternoon.

To her delight, Lucie Castana came to the schoolroom some fifteen minutes later and after speaking to Eduardo and complimenting him upon his painstaking work, she said: ‘Señorita, my husband and I will be dining out this evening.’ She didn’t seem to notice Susannah’s consternation, but continued: ‘It is a little celebration, you understand? He has told you, has he not, of this most excellent appointment in the United States?’ She hugged herself delightedly. ‘Oh, can you not imagine how wonderful it will be, señorita, living in such an exciting city? Meeting so many interesting people? There will be so much to do – so many places to go! I was becoming bored with London, and I can’t wait to get away. Carlos has said we are to have a house on Long Island, and Eduardo will learn to swim and have other children to play with—’

She broke off suddenly as she became aware of Susannah’s dismayed expression. ‘What is the matter, señorita?’ she demanded. ‘Are you not pleased that my husband has gained this promotion? Why are you looking so – so miserable?’

Susannah tried to compose herself. ‘Nothing’s wrong, señora,’ she denied. ‘So you’re going out this evening to celebrate.’

‘Have I not just said so?’ Lucie looked annoyed. ‘Is there something wrong in that? Surely you do not object to staying in this evening, señorita?’

‘No. No, of course not, señora.’

Susannah shook her head trying not to feel too disappointed. There was always tomorrow evening, and it was something to look forward to.

Lucie’s nostrils flared. ‘If you have made arrangements for this evening, señorita, then you must change them to tomorrow!’

Susannah nodded. ‘Very well, señora.’

Lucie gave her one last impatient stare and then turned and left the room. Obviously she considered Susannah’s attitude lacking. She had no doubt expected some enthusiasm about the proposed move to New York, but Susannah couldn’t think about that now. For the present her thoughts were obsessed with the desire to get to a telephone and tell Fernando Cuevas that she would have dinner with him the following evening.

CHAPTER THREE

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 …

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