The black invader (5 page)

Still not quite able to believe he was serious about it, Kirstie decided to treat it all lightly, and she got on with her meal again, talking lightly and matter-of-factly. 'What / think of him depends on how much like Miguel he is,' she said. 'According to Miguel he's a romantic, which sounds an improvement, but I don't see myself setting out to seduce him if he isn't my type, Abuelo.'

Her grandfather's stern gaze disapproved of her flippancy, and he was shaking his head. 'Be pleasant and courteous,' he advised. 'That's all.'

'I'll try,' Kirstie promised as she popped in another mouthful of paella, but she didn't dare think he was serious about marriage—especially with Miguel.

The following morning Kirstie was appalled to realise how nervous she was as she walked along the ride to Casa de Rodriguez, and it wasn't entirely due to the fact that she was about to start her first job. Those rather unnerving suggestions her grandfather had made about marriage into the Montafies family had assumed much more serious implications when she lay in bed waiting for sleep to come, and she hoped and prayed he wasn't going to confide his hopes to Miguel during one of their friendly conversations.

She had no intention of getting herself involved with any of the Montanes other than in the way of business, and she would leave her grandfather in no doubt of it. At the moment there were other matters to concern her;

such as whether or not her typing and shorthand speeds had deteriorated during the two years since she left school, and if she would be able to cope with unfamiliar business procedures.

Nor was she quite sure how she should present herself when she arrived. Did she simply walk in, or should she ring the door bell and wait to be admitted? She had no previous experience to guide her, and her legs were shaking quite alarmingly as she crossed the verandah to the door. As it happened the decision was taken for her when the door was opened, as it had been yesterday; and just as then Miguel Montaiies stood in the doorway watching her with that curiously intent gaze of his.

Her dress was plain blue linen with a fairly high neckline and half-sleeves, and made her look slightly older than her years, but was suitably businesslike, she hoped, and she had brushed her shoulder-length hair into a glossy black chignon, making her look far more typically Spanish than he had ever seen her look before. Low-heeled black shoes rather emphasised her diminutive height, and she hoped he wouldn't realise how nervous and insecure she felt.

Her grandfather's suggestion nagged uneasily at her mind again too when Miguel took stock of her businesslike image. His gaze moving over her with explicit slowness, he took in every item of her changed appearance, and just briefly she believed he smiled to himself. *Good morning,' he said, stepping back to allow her inside. 'You're very punctual, Seiiorita Rodriguez.'

As he had done the previous day, he led the way across the hall and saw her into the office, then followed her in and closed the door behind him. She felt immediately more confident at the sight of his uncle and smiled at him as he put down the telephone receiver. 'Good morning, Seiiorita Rodriguez, please come in— you're very punctual.'

His welcome confirmed Kirstie's liking for him, but she glanced at Miguel, who hovered just behind her, before she replied. 'I was taught that punctuality is part

of being a good secretary,' she said, *and I want to make a good start, Seiior Montanes.'

'Good, good,' he murmured approvingly while his eyes took note of unmistakable signs of nervousness, and he smiled again, reassuringly. 'Naturally you're a little nervous, senorita, but please try not to be, you have nothing to be ^fraid of here, I assure you. You'll find me less of an ogre than you might expect, I promise you.'

'Oh, but of course you're not!' It was automatic as she made the denial to glance over her shoulder again at Miguel, lingering somewhere in the background, for she wondered why he was still there after his remarks yesterday. Turning back to his uncle, she sought to explain exactly how she felt. 'It's just that this is my first job and I'm so afraid of not knowing what to do, sefior. I'm a complete beginner.'

'Then justNgo along at your own pace until you get used to it,' Sefior Montanes advised. 'You'll soon pick up a routine, my dear senorita, and I'm sure we shall have no difficulty getting along together.' Then he too looked across at Miguel and regarded him quizzically for a moment. 'Don't you agree, Miguel?'

It seemed his nephew suddenly realised he was being involved, and he straightened up, shaking his head and half-smihng. 'It seems it might work,' he conceded. 'You appear to be capable of adapting to circumstances after all, Seiiorita Rodriguez.'

'Well, of course I am!' she answered pertly, and was aware of Enrique Montanes looking vaguely surprised at the exchange. 'If I'm less than perfect to begin with I hope Senor Montanes will have patience with me.'

'I think the first thing we must get straight,' Enrique Montanes said with a smile, 'is the matter of what you call everybody. We usually solve the problem of all of us having the same name by giving me the senior position as Sefior Montaiies, and my nephews their various first names. Don Miguel, whom you've met, Don Jaime who deals with our foreign sales and whom you

won't see very often, and lastly Don Luis, who will be arriving today.' He took note of Miguel's swiftly arched brows and smiled. 'I haven't had the opportunity to tell you yet, Miguel, but that was Luis on the phone just now. He's arriving today instead of Monday.'

V see!' Something in Miguel's voice caught her attention, but when Kirstie looked around he was watching her and smiling in a curiously dry fashion. 'Oh well,' he said, 'I'll leave you to get on. I may or may not see you again some time, Senorita Rodriguez— adios!'

'Adios, SqUot Montaiies.' She caught the look in his eyes when he half-turned in the doorway and hastily corrected herself. 'Don Miguel.'

For a second the dark glowing eyes between their thick heavy lashes held hers steadily, then he turned and closed the door quietly behind him, and quite unknowingly Kirstie let out her breath in a long sigh of relief. 'Now,' said Enrique Montafies, 'shall we begin, Seiiorita Rodriguez?'

Her first day at work had gone much better than she had dared hope, and Kirstie was quite pleased with herself. Of course Enrique Montanes' patience and understanding had made all the difference, and she was certain she would have found it much less easy with Miguel in charge. Also she had finished far earlier than she expected, and when Enrique suggested she might like to take the mare out for an hour, she had jumped at the chance.

She wasn't accustomed to being cooped up indoors all day, and a ride before supper would revive her, and also give her the opportunity to ponder on how well things had gone so far. There was plenty of time before supper, and she had left a pigeon casserole simmering in the oven all the afternoon, so there was nothing to concern herself with where their evening meal was concerned.

The dainty little Arab mare had been a gift from her grandfather on her eighteenth birthday and Kirstie

doted on her, so much so that she had to admit that having to part with her completely would have been almost as much of a wrench as leaving the Casa de Rodriguez. Together with her grandfather they had attended many aferia; Don Jose riding beside her on the sleek, mettlesome stallion that Miguel Montaiies now rode. He never rode now and Kirstie missed him more than she dared admit.

In the softer warmth of evening the intricate network of irrigation channels caught the light of the lowering sun and glowed like rivers of wine between the fertile groves. The vastness and fertility of the huerta was something that never ceased to enchant her; providing sugar, rice and olives as well as the main crop of oranges, and although the blossom had mostly fallen, the unmistakable scent of oranges still lingered in the air.

A slight pressure of her heels sent the mare forward and, just for a moment, Kirstie thought she felt a slight movement, as if the saddle had shpped a little, but the impression was only brief, and she soon forgot it in the pleasure of her ride. In fact she was enjoying herself so much that the last person she wanted to see was Miguel Montanes looming up on her right.

With any luck he'd be anxious to get home after a hard day in the saddle and would do no more than acknowledge her and then ride on, but at the moment their paths were bound to cross and a meeting was inevitable. Instead of just a murmured greeting and a casual wave, however, Miguel reined in his mount, giving Kirstie little option but to do the same.

'You've finished already?' he asked, by way of a greeting, and she felt herself flush at the tone he used.

*Senor Montanes decided when we finished, I didn't,' she told him. 'He also suggested I might like to go for a ride before supper, and I wasn't going to say no.'

She dismounted and leaned with apparent nonchalance against one of the trees. Watching him from the comer of her eye, she decided that both he and his horse were showing something less than their customary spirit,

and she wondered what had happened to cause it. The stallion had been ridden hard, that was clear, but Miguel had a broodingly angry look about him that puzzled her.

*No, of course not.'

His reply was unexpectedly mild in the circumstances, and again Kirstie looked at him curiously, taking advantage of his preoccupation with his horse as it drank from one of the irrigation channels, to study him for a moment. He was an earthy, virile man and quite alarmingly disturbing at times, so that she stirred uneasily against the tree trunk, touched by some unexpected sensation she had no control over.

The cream shirt he was wearing was opened almost half way down and showed glimpses of thick dark hair and bronzed flesh, and there was a musky, masculine scent about him that spoke of hours in the hot sun, and was curiously affecting in the present circumstances. She was never very long in his presence without feeling the urge to challenge him, and she looked at him obliquely. *You don't mind, do you?' she asked.

That's a foolish question!'

There was a suggestion of suppressed emotion about him still, and she eyed him thoughtfully. Ts something wrong, Don Miguel?'

'Wrong?* He frowned at her for a moment, then swung down from the saddle and tethered the tired animal to one of the trees, and she felt her heart give a quite alarming lurch when he came and leaned with one hand on the tree behind her. He was hot and dusty and yet there was a curious excitement about having him so close so that Kirstie despaired of her own susceptibility. *You're very observant, senorita, I wasn't aware that my expression gave so much away.'

Then there is something wrong?'

Miguel ran his free hand through his hair. 'I don't think it's anything that would interest you,' he said, and she shifted slightly so as not to be quite so close.

Tf it concerns the estate I'm interested,' she told him.

and he gave her a brief narrow-eyed look before nodding his head.

'Very well. I've just found it necessary to get rid of one of the workers and it isn't a task I particularly enjoy, however much it was deserved.'

Such sensitivity, she felt, was unexpected in him, and because it surprised her she answered rather absently, 'Oh dear!'

How she could have conveyed disapproval with such an innocuous reply she could not imagine, but Miguel turned his head sharply. *You don't approve?' he challenged, and Kirstie shrugged.

*I didn't say I didn't approve,' she denied. *I admit I don't Hke to think of any of our—the estate people being dismissed, but I can't question your reason or your right. And you don't have to tell me your reason,' she added hastily.

Tor stealing.' Judging by his expression the incident had obviously left a very bad taste, and again she wondered at his sensitivity. 'Apparently it's been going on for some years, but it's never been discovered until now. I've been making regular checks and it came to light during one of them.'

'So it goes back to—our time?'

She didn't like to think of that, but her grandfather had never really been personally involved in running the estate to any great extent. It had always been left in the hands of an overseer, and she wondered if the present regime were more strictly personal in their involvement; it seemed so. What concerned her most about the sacking was if one of their long-term employees was involved, and when she shook her head it was purely and simply because she hated the idea of that. Yet once again, it seemed, she had given him the wrong impression.

'Don't you believe that thieves should be punished, Senorita Rodriguez?' Miguel asked with the resentment that was more usually her prerogative, and she hastened to correct him.

*Well, of course I do! If we'd known about it we'd have done as you have, I dare say; my grandfather is a very—moral man and he would never have let anyone get away with stealing from him.'

'Yet you're still looking at me as if I'm some kind of inhuman monster,' he accused. 'Why?'

'It isn't because you dismissed the man if that's what you think '

'It wasn't a man, it was a woman!'

Something curled inside her, and Kirstie stared at him in dismay, for she could imagine the feelings of any woman faced with the wrathful vengeance of Miguel Montanes. 'Oh dear,' she said, and again he frowned at her.

'That makes it worse? Being a woman?'

'I just can't help feeling sorry for her,' Kirstie insisted, 'because I think you'd be completely ruthless.'

For a moment he said nothing, but he held her wavering gaze so determinedly that she found it impossible to look away. 'Ah yes, of course, whatever happens, whoever is guilty, I must inevitably emerge as the villain, mustn't I, Sefiorita Rodriguez?'

'I didn't say that!' she denied, then went on with scant regard for what she was getting into, 'But I can't imagine anyone more guaranteed to put the fear of God into someone than you, and thief or not, I feel sorry for the wretched woman!'

'So!'

A hard, glittering look combined with the weight of the day's tiredness added to his look of unrelenting fierceness, and Kirstie had little doubt that should he lose his temper it would prove no less formidable than the rest of him. Yet it wasn't fear, of his anger that made her legs feel so alarmingly unsteady as she leaned more heavily against the tree behind her, and the fingers of one hand curled tightly against the rough grey bark.