The Abducted Heart (Sweetly Contemporary Collection) (20 page)

“I see,” he said, averting his eyes as he gave a thoughtful nod.

“I have to go home,” Anne said, a shade of desperation creeping into her voice. “I can’t stay here.”

“Can’t you?” he queried, his voice soft, almost tentative.

He had said he wanted her, no more than that. He had never mentioned love. If she succumbed to a few kisses and an appeal to the senses, she would regret it for the rest of her life. What she felt had no place in a casual affair. To leave now would be difficult enough; later it might be more than she could bear.

“No,” she replied unsteadily, “I can’t.”

In the quiet they heard the sound of another car on the drive below. Ramón stood totally still while seconds ticked past. Abruptly he raised his head.

“There will be no need for a disagreement. Our engagement can be ended easily enough without a public parting. We will not upset Abuelita by disrupting her party or putting a sudden end to her hopes. Later, when we have more time, we can discuss your departure?”

“Very well,” Anne answered, her voice so low it was barely audible to her own ears.

He flicked a glance at the pink gown she had left uncovered on its hanger. “For the moment, we are needed below, I will wait outside while you change. Five minutes, no more.”

She emerged from the bedroom well within the deadline. Ramón was leaning on the opposite wall, his arms folded and a distant look on his face. He smiled when he saw her, a movement of the lips as brief and impersonal as the appraisal he gave her appearance. Without comment, he pushed erect with his shoulders, moving to her side, as she started along the hall. It was just as well he did not speak. So tightly knotted were the cords of her throat that she was not at all sure she could have managed an answer.

With his hand under her elbow, they descended the stairs. Anne was almost painfully aware of him as he moved beside her. She would not look directly at him, but as they passed a framed painting she caught a glimpse of him on the reflective surface of the glass, a tall distinguished man in correct evening attire. The pleated front of his shirt was immaculately white against the sun-burned darkness of his skin. In his lapel was a flower, something she had not noticed until this moment. Slanting a quick look at it, she saw it was a blush pink rosebud, the same color as her gown. For an instant she was puzzled, until she recognized the hand of his grandmother in the perfect match.

There was to be a small dinner party, consisting of Estela and Esteban, Señor and Señora Martínez, and a few more of Ramón’s close business associates, before the larger entertainment began. As Anne and Ramón reached the hall, they could hear voices coming from the sala where the dinner guests were gathered. Over the babbling murmur one female voice rose loud and clear. Hearing it, Anne came to a halt. It was Irene. The woman had to have invited herself for Anne knew her name had not been on the list of dinner guests, though she was included for later.

“Courage, Anne,” Ramón said, tilting his head so he could look into her pale set face. “It is only a party.”

“I know,” she replied, trying to smile. “But Irene — we weren’t expecting her. The table arrangements...”

“The table arrangements are no longer your concern. Let Maria and the servants worry about it. You have nothing to do except take what enjoyment you can from the evening.”

“But your cousin...”

“She cannot hurt you.” A speculative gleam warmed his narrowed eyes. “You have nothing to fear from her this night. Only once have I seen you more beautiful than you are now, and then because the nightgown you wore was somewhat more — revealing. You remember? It was the same color as this dress my scheming grandmother has chosen for you.”

Anne threw a startled look at him as the wild rose color of confusion spread across her cheekbones. Of course she remembered. That first night, the nightgown the housekeeper, María, had found for her, the pain in her head, the embarrassing confrontation in the hall when she had ventured out to find relief. It was not every day that a man swept her into his arms and carried her to her bed. How could she forget? What was astonishing was that he remembered such a detail as the color of her nightgown.

“‘That’s better,” he said, a low note of laughter in his voice as he placed his arm around her, urging her gently toward the sala. “At least now you no longer look as if you were going to your doom.”

The purpose of the compliment was obvious, still Anne could not help but be affected by it. She felt attractive as she moved into the room, able to greet the guests and accept their congratulations with stuffing ease. Even Irene posed no threat to her composure, though the other woman immediately capped her best wishes by introducing the man at her side as her fiancé.

It was the same Mexican with whom Anne had danced two nights before. Though his full name eluded her, she discovered that he was called Pépé. He seemed a little discomfited at Irene’s public proclamation of their relationship and her possessive clinging. Of slight build, he wore his fine dark hair brushed straight back. Despite the stamp of Spanish pride on his features, Anne doubted he was a match for the woman at his side. The whispered remonstrance he made when Anne and Ramón turned away received no more than a laugh from Irene.

The dinner went smoothly. The food was delicious, the service perfect, leaving little excuse for Anne to allow her attention to wander from the general conversation.

Doña Isabel, installed at the foot of the table with Esteban on one hand and an elderly gentleman, Señor Rivas, on the other, was in high form. She fairly sparkled with good humor, chiding her grandson for his silence and skillfully drawing each of the other diners out. In a most genteel way she even flirted a bit with Señor Rivas, who gallantly responded in kind. When Doña Isabel had added his name to the seating plan, she had said something offhand about evening the numbers, but Anne suspected the older woman enjoyed his company more than she admitted.

Places had been found for Irene and her new fiancé at the table. Irene was seated next to Señor Rivas, with Señor Martínez and Estela beyond her on Ramón’s left. Pépé was between Anne, at the place of honor on Ramón’s right hand, and Señora Martínez, with Esteban beyond the Señora on Doña Isabel’s left. That the arrangement was none too pleasing to Irene was plain, though her reasons had more to do with her distance from the head of the table than with her separation from her fiancé. Several times she leaned forward with a question designed to capture Ramón’s interest. Without effort, Doña Isabel foiled these attempts, doing it so sweetly that Irene could not take offense without appearing boorish.

Her antics were not lost on Pépé. Irene’s fiancé watched her with sullen suspicion in his face. When she flung him no more than a perfunctory smile, he grew steadily more morose, draining his wine glass again and again as the meal progressed.

If Ramón caught this byplay, he gave no sign. He, too, as Doña Isabel had remarked, seemed more preoccupied than usual. For a brief instant Anne allowed herself to think that her refusal to stay had meant more to him then she supposed. That thought was quickly ousted by the dread that it was Irene’s announcement which had disturbed him.

Did he, in spite of everything, feel some attachment for Irene? Suppose he had merely been using the silly little American girl who had forced herself upon him to teach his countrywoman not to take him for granted? Or worse still, suppose he was using Anne to distract Doña Isabel’s attention from the woman to whom his grandmother had taken a dislike?

Such thoughts were bitter company. Though she tried, Anne could not quite dislodge them from her mind.

Staring at the candle flames which wavered in a low silver holder nestled in a bed of yellow dahlias, Anne thought it was just as well she would soon be leaving. If she had to stay and endure the torture of such doubts for long, she would go mad.

Beside her, Pépé, perhaps deciding to take a page from his fiancée’s book, inclined his head in Anne’s direction with a low-voiced comment. She hardly heard, so deep was her concentration.

She glanced once more at Ramón to find his considering gaze riveted upon her face. Twin flames, the reflection of the candles, burned in his eyes. For an instant she was aware of a sudden breathless warmth in the room, then she realized his stare had moved past her to the man at her side. Sick at heart, she recognized the emotion which flared white-hot in his steady regard. It was jealousy.

They were just leaving the dining room when the guests invited later for the dance began to arrive. Laughing, talking, accepting glasses of champagne from deferential waiters, they crowded into the sala. They were a glittering throng with one thing in common, an air of expectancy.

It was Doña Isabel, standing regal in her lavender lace, who made the formal announcement of the engagement. The words, in liquid, sonorous Spanish, had a misleading finality to Anne’s ears. Side by side, she and Ramón accepted the first toast. They sipped once at their champagne glasses, then at the instigation of the elderly woman, linked arms to drink again.

With the eyes of everyone in the room upon them, Ramón stood smiling down at her. The contours of his mouth curved in an expression so loving that Anne had to clench her teeth to keep her own smile from wobbling. Deliberately, he took her free hand, and holding her gaze with his own, raised it, uncurling the fingers. He pressed his mouth, warm and firm, to the softness of her palm.

Anne caught her breath. She would have snatched her hand away if he had not held it fast. A moment later, the orchestra hired for the occasion struck up the first ceremonial waltz. Placing her captured hand on his shoulder, Ramón swept her out onto the floor which had been cleared for dancing.

They danced without speaking, circling the floor alone once before they were joined by other couples. Anne, becoming aware after a moment of the mechanical stiffness of her performance, made an effort to pull herself together. She was not helped by the steely feel of the arms which held her close against him.

“I believe it’s time I congratulated you on your acting ability,” she said, flicking an upward glance through her lashes.

He accepted the compliment calmly. “There’s no telling what heights we might reach, you and I, with a little more practice.”

Was there an oblique suggestion in his tone? Anne drew back in his arms. “You promised...”

“Did I?”

“You said we would discuss my leaving later on.”

“So I did,” he agreed, his voice hardening. “I wonder what is behind your persistence in bringing this subject up every time we are together. What is your hurry to get back to Texas? What are you running away from — or who are you running to?”

Anne felt her heart jerk. It was an effort to hold her voice steady. “There’s nothing like that. I just want to go back where I belong, back to being plain ordinary Anne Matthews. Is that so hard to understand?”

“No,” he answered. “Not if it is the truth.”

“You doubt my word?” A small frown drew her brows together.

“Let us just say I have little hope of a straight answer from you.”

Anne came to a halt, making a futile effort to free herself of his arms. They were near the edge of the dance floor. His hands cupping her elbows, Ramón shielded her from view with his broad back.

“You are angry?” he asked. “Very well. Shall we put it to the test? Tell me this. Are you running away from me?”

Anne went still, her eyes wide as she searched the stiff angles of his face. How was she to reply? A negative answer would be a lie. She was running away from him, trying to escape the effect he had on her senses and the disruption he had caused in her life. And if she answered yes, he would believe she was afraid of him, fearful that he might press his attentions upon her. Neither of those things were true.

And yet, her silence was in itself an answer.

After a moment he dropped his hands and stepped back. His eyelids narrowed, shuttering his eyes, but not before she saw the derision mirrored in their black surface.

“Ramón...” she said, touching his coat sleeve with cool fingers. “You don’t understand.”

His smile was bleak as he inclined his head. “Are you certain you do?” he asked, and taming on his heel as the tousle came to an end, he walked away.

Anne did not have time to determine the meaning of his cryptic remark. She was claimed immediately for a bossa-nova by Pépé, who seemed delighted to teach her the unfamiliar steps. Afterward she danced a stately measure, with Señor Rivas, followed in tam by Señor Martínez, and still Ramón did not come near her again. He led his grandmother out onto the floor, then stood beside her chair, leaving her only to solicit what were clearly duty dances with Señora Martínez and one or two other elderly women and young female relatives. Soon afterward, he disappeared, remaining away for nearly an hour. During that interval Anne noticed Irene leaving the room, however, she did not stay away for any length of time.

The relief Anne felt at seeing her return alone and with a frown of discontent marring her features was so intense that she sought a chair against the wall beside Doña Isabel. She remained there for fully half an hour.

The musicians which had been hired for the occasion were adept at modern music as well as the traditional Latin rhythms. It was interesting to watch young Mexicans in expensive evening wear gyrating to sounds she associated in her mind with American teenagers in blue jeans and T-shirts. They were an attractive people, Anne found herself thinking. With a more discerning eye than she had had when she arrived two weeks before, she could trace, in their high cheekbones and brilliant, flashing eyes, indications of their Aztec lineage. She could not begin to remember all their names, though most had been painstakingly introduced by Doña Isabel. Still, when they caught her eyes, these friends and distant relatives of Ramón gave her spontaneous smiles of acceptance that warmed her even though she knew she would never be one of them.