The Abducted Heart (Sweetly Contemporary Collection) (9 page)

Letting the water run hot and deep, she sprinkled the bath salts into the tub, breathing deeply of the smell reminiscent of gardenias. She had shampooed her hair that morning while she bathed, and now lacking pins to put it up out of the way, she wrapped her head turban fashion in one of the soft, thirsty towels, then stepped into the tub and lay back with a sigh. She tired easily, one of the effects of her concussion. That, she told herself, was the reason for her unaccustomed languor. Nevertheless, at this rate she would soon be spoiled. It would be fatally easy to grow used to having her every wish anticipated. It was with difficulty that she had convinced Carmelita that she was capable of dressing herself. She thought the friendly young maid had been disappointed that she was not wanted.

Anne was halfway down the stairs before she glanced up. At the foot stood Ramón, leaning with one elbow on the carved newel post, an odd expression on his face. Her nerves gave a tiny jerk, but she let no hint of her agitation show on her face. Head high, she continued to descend until she stood just above him.

“Chalchihuitlicue,” he said, his tone registering satisfaction.

“What?” she asked, at a loss.

“Chalchihuitlicue,” he repeated, “Our Lady of the Turquoise Skirt, an Aztec goddess who presided over lakes and rivers. She is always represented as a young girl of charm, beautifully dressed. I had not realized why the dress you are wearing attracted my attention until I saw you in it.”

It was a skillful compliment, but compliments were something she was too unfamiliar with to be certain it was sincere. On the chance that it was, she thanked him in a low voice, then continued hurriedly, “But you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble and expense.”

“I thought I had explained that,” he said with an impatient gesture.

“I know,” she answered, a slight frown between her eyes, “but that doesn’t keep me from feeling uncomfortable about it.”

“You feel more attractive in this dress, do you not?”

She had to admit she did.

“Then that is enough. If it is the morality of accepting such things that bothers you, put it out of your head. I am your fiancé, am I not? And I assure you, I require nothing of you in return.”

Before she could recover her breath to reply, he turned sharply away. “Come, I would like a few minutes alone with you before we join the others.”

He held the door of the library for her, closing it behind them as she passed through. Before moving to his desk, he indicated a chair for Anne, but she elected to stand.

From the desktop, he picked up a small, velvet-covered jeweler’s box and, springing it open, held it out to her. Tucked into a bed of white satin was an oval-shaped diamond solitaire in a platinum setting.

When Anne looked from the ring to him without making a move to take it, Ramón asked, “Well, don’t you like it?”

“It’s lovely.”

“Perhaps you expected something more elaborate? But your hands are so slender. Anything else would have looked clumsy, overpowering.”

“Oh, no, it’s not that. The ring is all any girl could wish for. I just—”

“There must be some outward sign of our engagement, you will agree to that? People will expect it.”

“Yes.”

“Then — it is the cost again?” he said, a hard look descending over his face.

She nodded.

“There is no necessity for you to feel that you must protest every cent spent on you merely because I suspected you of being interested in my money, my dear Anne. I am not impressed.”

Anne felt a coldness settle around her heart. Without a word, she turned making swiftly for the door. He caught her before she had taken three steps, swinging her to face him, his hands on her forearms. His face was tight with rage. A threat seemed to hang in the air. Suddenly, Anne remembered Metcalf’s and this man’s power to harm Joe and Iva. Fear invaded her mind and she raised wide eyes to search Ramón’s face.

He stared down at her, his fingers biting into her arms, a muscle corded along his jawline. Then with an abrupt movement, he released her.

“I’m sorry, Anne. I should not have said that. We will forget it, please.”

The apology was so unexpected that she could make no answer. But neither did she object as he took the ring from the box and, picking up her hand, pushed it smoothly onto her finger. Her hand was cool in his warm grasp and he did not immediately let it go. He stared down at the pale oval of her face while tension grew between them. His hands moved to cup her elbows, drawing her close against him. She could feel the hardness of the planes of his chest and the muscles of his thighs.

“Anne,” he said, a questioning note in his husky voice.

A knock, loud in the stillness, sounded on the door. Before they could move, the panel opened and a woman stuck her head into the room.

“May I come in? Whoops! Sorry, Ramón, but you shouldn’t hide away with your fiancée when you have guests, especially a guest like me. You should have known I would chase you down, even in your sanctum.” “Anne, may I present my sister, Estela,” Ramón said dryly. With a show of reluctance that may or may not have been real, he dropped his hands from Anne and stepped to the door, ushering the small, vivacious, dark-haired girl into the room.

“It is a great pleasure to meet you,” Estela said, casting a sparkling look at her brother. “We were beginning to despair of Ramón’s ever succumbing to the lures of matrimony. I hope you will be happy here in Mexico with us.”

Acknowledging the introduction, Anne thanked her. Ramón’s sister, with her friendly smile and outspoken manner, was instantly likable. The evening before her began to look less of an ordeal.

Estela turned to Ramón. “I came looking for you for our grandmother’s sake. She declares herself determined to come clown for dinner and requires your arm down the stairs.”

“Is she strong enough?” he asked quickly.

Estela smiled with quizzical humor. “She has always been strong enough to do what she really wishes.”

“That doesn’t make her well,” Ramón pointed out.

“She is over seventy years old. What do you expect?”

He made no direct reply. “Come then, Anne, and let me introduce you to the others before I go up.”

“Couldn’t I help ... with your grandmother?” Anne asked, holding back.

Surprise made his face blank for an instant before he replied, “I’m sure I can manage.”

It had been a peculiar offer, perhaps, in view of Ramón’s belief that she and his grandmother were near strangers. “Please,” she said, making her smile warm and personal and just faintly entreating. “I would prefer to wait and meet the others only when I know you are near — in case I run into difficulties.”

He took her point at once. His face cleared. “Of course,
mi alma.
As you wish,” he said, and encircling her waist with a casual gesture, led her out of the room under his sister’s amused and approving gaze.

Doña Isabel was ready, sitting bolt upright in a straight-backed chair, in black lace, a magnificent parure of diamonds, and holding an ebony walking stick. A small prayer mantilla of black lace shot with silver covered the white silk of her hair. She acknowledged the formal presentation of her grandson’s fiancée with a regal nod at variance with the kindling warmth in her eyes.

“You look charming this evening, my dear Anne. I may call you Anne?” the old lady said with an audacious smile for Anne alone. Receiving Anne’s prompt permission, she went on. “May I compliment you on your evening frock? It is perfectly delightful, though I think — Ramón, would you be so kind as to fetch me my jewel casket?”

His black glance considered her for a moment, but she returned the look with such a serene expression that he moved to obey her.

“Ah, here is what I was looking for,” the old woman said when the large satinwood box lined with green velvet was placed on her lap. From a small compartment she had taken a fine gold chain. Suspended from it was a lump of turquoise in the shape of a human heart. The stone veining on its surface had the look of gold tracery.

With an imperious gesture, Doña Isabel handed the gemstone to Ramón. “Here, put it on for Anne. It should go perfectly with what she is wearing. It was given to me many years ago by Ramón’s grandfather, a token to go with a gown I had then much in the style of yours.”

As he moved toward her with the pendant, Anne said in alarm, “I can’t take this. It — it wouldn’t be right.”

“Nonsense,” the old woman said, a satisfied look on her face as Ramón placed the chain around Anne’s neck. “Aren’t you going to be my grandson’s wife?”

That question, and the limpid look of innocence that went with it, haunted Anne all evening. The turquoise gradually warming against her breast, she descended with Ramón and Doña Isabel to the living room, or sala, as it was called. Estela came forward to help her grandmother into a chair, and with her light chatter, helped to integrate Anne into the company.

Estela’s husband was a quiet man several years her senior, a professor of history at the University of Mexico not far away. With his neat goatee, intelligent eyes, and briarwood pipe, he looked much like university professors everywhere. Ramón’s business associate and his wife, Señor and Señora Martínez, were a middle-aged couple, both of them on the plump side. They held their glasses of sherry with self-conscious gentility, and, perhaps because they were nervous, reached often for the plate of hors d’oeuvres that sat on the table before them. With sympathy, Anne realized they were new to affluence and a little out of their depths socially. The fact helped her to feel not quite so uncomfortable herself. She was not alone in finding the Castillo family overwhelming.

Ramón did not leave her side. He pressed a small glass of sherry into her hand, then stood with his hand resting on the back of the chair in which she was seated. Together, they fielded the questions about where they had met and when, how long she would be visiting, and the probable date of their wedding. It was Ramón, however, using a skillful blend of fact, humor, and audacious imagination, who made their supposed romance sound a fantastic adventure leading inevitably to this moment, without revealing that it had begun less than a week before. Regardless of how good he was at half-truths, it was a relief when dinner was announced. Presenting an arm to each, Ramón took both Anne and his grandmother into the dining room.

Anne had somehow expected the meal, her first in the household that was not served to her on a tray, to consist of typical Mexican dishes only. Nothing could have been further from the truth. The menu was continental, with a predominance of French dishes in rich sauces, fresh vegetables simmered in butter, a salad, and for desert, a fruit ice followed by strong, hot coffee.

They were sitting over the demi-tasse cups when Estela, taking advantage of a pause, asked, “What do you all say to a performance of the Ballet Folklórico at the Palacio de Bellas Artes? This is something, Ramón, that Anne should see if she is to learn anything of the country she must make her own. It is a beautiful spectacle, I promise you, Anne, as well as being educational.”

As Anne glanced uncertainly at Ramón, Estela went on. “Also there is Xochimilco — the floating gardens — Chapultepec Park and the castle, the pyramids at Teotihuacán—”

“Anne is not a tourist,” her brother pointed out mildly. “There will be plenty of time for that sort of thing.”

Turning to Anne, Estela said. “If I were you, I would watch him. If you let him he will do nothing but work, work, work, and you will soon find yourself a widow.”

“But a rich one,” Ramón observed.

“To some women that is no comfort,” his sister informed him with a tart edge to her voice, “believe it or not.”

Estela’s husband, Esteban, spoke before Ramón could rise to this bit of provocation. “Let me point out, my dear, that we have no tickets and it is getting rather late. Besides, I don’t believe Ramón’s other guests are as enthusiastic as you about the program.”

Señora Martínez made a deprecating gesture. “I am sorry if we cast a damper — is that correct? — on the outing. However, my husband and I have been several times to the ballet, and it is better this evening that we go home. We have a teenage daughter who is out with her young man, and we must be there to see that she returns at the appointed time. You understand?”

Estela protested, but the motherly woman would not be swayed. She insisted on leaving as soon as the coffee cups had been drained.

Her husband supported her. “No, truly,” he said as they stood at the door. “Youth is the time of enjoyment. We would be most unhappy, Ramón, if we were to cause you to miss this opportunity of showing your beautiful fiancée the nightlife of our wonderful city on this her first visit.”

Ramón, a thoughtful expression on his face, made no other attempt to keep them. Señor Martínez sketched a short bow in Anne’s direction, then with a final American-style handshake, maneuvered himself and his wife out of the door.

“A fine idea,” Doña Isabel said as they turned back into the room. “Even if the ballet is out of the question, there are other places to go in the evening.”

“There is an excellent singer at one of the big hotels on the Pasco de la Reforma, and they have a good dance band,” Estela added hopefully.

“You are taking up night life, Abuelita?” Estela’s husband asked.