White Witch (7 page)

‘Ah
si,
the English think so much of the dog.’ Peter had picked up the bundle of curly white hair that was sharing Pom-pom’s basket.

‘Isn’t she lovely, Tia, and when I sleep here, Granny lets her come on my bed.’

Granny knew how to wean Peter from Laurel; dogs on beds was something she would not have allowed.

‘Unhealthy,’ Mercedes muttered acidly.

Peter glared at her. ‘Fifi is very clean, and I
like
having her.’

Laurel gently stroked the small head with the tuft on top. To her mind a spaniel or a terrier would have been a better pet .for a boy than this little toy, which was too delicate to walk far or play games, but she had her points as a bedfellow.

‘Pedro had better go back to lunch with you,’ Mercedes decided, ‘as we have a visitor.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Laurel agreed. ‘Coming, Peter?’

Peter turned to his grandmother. ‘Can’t I take Fifi with me? Just while we have lunch?’

‘I am afraid not,
chico,
dogs are forbidden in the Reina.’

Laurel was sure the staff would stretch a point and Fifi would be allowed in the garden, but she said nothing. The little animal was the bait to ensure Peter’s presence at the Casa, and the Senora was not going to relinquish her, even for a short while. Peter reluctantly returned Fifi to her basket, and Cristina extended her plump hand towards Laurel.

‘
Hasta luego
,’ she said languidly.

Again their fingers barely touched. Laurel murmured something about being pleased to have met her, bowed to the other two women and left.

So that was Luis’ intended bride, obviously rich, and very Spanish, but Esteban had told her Luis had gone to Barcelona for a couple of days, so there seemed to have been a lack of communication somewhere, but she might be making a long stay.

Entering the foyer, she found Esteban at the desk, flirting with Carmen. He came at once to meet her.

‘Been to retrieve the brat?’ he asked cheerfully. ‘When is he going to be installed at the Casa permanently?’

‘Ssh!’ But Peter had run to the desk to try out his Spanish on Carmen, with whom he was a favourite. ‘Soon, I expect,’ she went on in a low voice, ‘but I’m still not quite happy about it. He gets on well with your mother, and she’s trying to win him with pets.’

‘That obnoxious white poodle? He is a boy, she should have bought him a proper dog.’

‘Oh, he’s charmed with Fifi, and I believe there’s a pony on the way, so Luis is going to teach him to ride.’

‘You mean I am—Luis will be too busy. Come and sit down,’ he indicated a red velvet-covered bench beside the window looking into the patio. ‘I suppose you met my future sister-in-law?’ Laurel sat down wearily, staring at the large pink roses blooming in the patio.

‘Yes, but why isn’t Luis here to meet her?’

‘Because he did not know she was coming. Mercedes’ stage management has gone wrong somehow. She meant to give Luis a pleasant surprise. You know she invited her to counteract your pernicious influence,
querida
?’

‘Oh, don’t start that again—and don’t call me dear,’ she said irritably. She knew what the word meant now.

Esteban addressed the ceiling. ‘She has the face of an angel, and the tongue of an asp! I suppose you have had a trying morning, I do not imagine you found Cristina any more to your taste than she did you.’

‘Was it likely we’d discover we were soulmates? Don’t forget, Joanna was my sister, and she’ll never forgive that.’ Laurel smiled wanly. ‘But it’s your sister I’m worried about with regard to Peter—I’m afraid her dislike of me extends to him.’

‘Because he takes after you and his mother. You should have darkened his skin and dyed his hair before you produced him. She hated Joanna and made mischief between her and Pedro.’

Laurel looked at him quickly. ‘I’m afraid my poor sister was not always discreet.’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Best let bygones be bygones. But she believes you are another of the same sort, and of course you are in love with Luis.’

‘I’m not!’ she cried, then meeting his shrewd gaze: ‘Well, yes, I suppose I am. Oh, God, Esteban, is it obvious?’

‘No, but inevitable,’ he returned seriously. ‘Luis is like a flypaper to flies where women are concerned, but do not distress yourself—I am sure only I have seen it, and that is because I am a little in love with you myself, but it was very foolish of you to let yourself be caught.’

‘Do you imagine I wanted to fall for him?’ Laurel asked in a low tense voice, for the first time admitting what she had tried to disguise from herself. She realised now that she well and truly had fallen in love with Luis. She made a little helpless gesture. ‘I know it’s quite hopeless.’

‘Do not make a tragedy out of it,’ he admonished her. ‘Me, I have been in and out of love many times, and when the lady is unkind, I console myself by reflecting that it will pass and there are ... what do you say, many more fishes swimming about.’

Laurel wished she had his facile nature. His love affairs did not go very deep, and to use his metaphor, there were not many fish of Luis’ calibre swimming about.

‘Do you think Cristina will make him happy?’ she asked.

Again he shrugged. ‘
Quien sabe?
She has all the attributes he requires in a wife. She will give him a quiverfull of nice little black-haired, black-eyed
ninos
full of nice blue blood.’ Their eyes met.
‘Dios,
Laurel why does it have to be so, why cannot you follow your hearts?’

Laurel sighed. She knew where her own heart was leading, but she was not at all sure about Luis’.

‘Because it’s not done in Andalucia,’ she said bitterly.

‘It was once...’

‘And you know what happened. That should be an object lesson to me, shouldn’t it?’ She touched his hand. ‘You’re the most human of the Aguilas, Esteban, and I thank you for your sympathy, but I’ll be all right. I’ll get over it. When I get back to England I’ll take your advice and look out for a suitable, ordinary Englishman, of my own standing, and all this,’ she indicated the rose-filled patio, the beautiful marble foyer, ‘will seem a dream.’

‘I wish you luck,’ he said gently, ‘but it seems a pity. You and Luis at Ronda, you made such a charming couple.’

Laurel winced. ‘Ah, please don’t remind me of that.’ She forced a shaky laugh. ‘Are you coming over all romantic? We must be practical, and shouldn’t you be paying your respects to Senorita Ordonez?’

‘It is not I she wants to see, and I do not like hen parties,’ he returned flippantly. He sprang lightly to his feet. ‘Let us go and find some lunch. Hi, Pedrillo,’ he called, ‘as you say in your delightful vernacular, grub’s up.’

Peter came running and they went down the marble staircase, and out into the sunlit garden, where the buffet was spread beneath the trees.

Luis came back looking more saturnine than ever, but Laurel hardly saw him at all. He was, she presumed, spending all his spare time at the Casa, courting Cristina, who was in no hurry to leave.

The pony arrived and was stabled near the hotel. What with his Spanish lessons, riding, swimming and Fifi, Laurel was less and less necessary to Peter. He spent more and more nights at the Casa, saying he liked having his own room and Fifi. Sometimes he seemed to forget she was there.

Laurel decided it was time for her to go. She had accomplished what she had come to do, established Peter with his Spanish relatives, and though he would inevitably miss her ... at first, he had plenty of other distractions. Though she saw so little of Luis, he was constantly in her mind, and she was always hoping for a chance encounter. She would know no real peace until she had left his vicinity, and, as she had told Esteban, her sojourn in Spain back in London would seem like a dream.

But she had a problem. She had not got enough money for her return fare. It had been tacitly understood that that was to be provided when she left, it was part of the contract, but the Aguilas seemed to have forgotten about it. She needed what she had to keep her until she found work again upon her return, and she might well find she was redundant when she applied to her old firm for re-employment. She hated having to ask, but it was foolish to be so sensitive when she really needed the money, which was a mere fleabite to the wealthy Aguilas.

So, pocketing her pride, she went to see Dona Elvira.

The Senora received her coldly, she was jealous of Peter’s affection for her, but she brightened up when Laurel explained her need.

‘Of course you must have it, and we will make all arrangements for your journey, but you will have to ask Luis about it. He manages all the financial affairs for the family, and I daresay,’ the shrewd eyes narrowed, ‘he will add a little bonus. He, like the rest of us, appreciates your action in bringing Pedrillo to us, and would like to show it in a practical manner.’

‘I only want what’s due to me,’ Laurel told her stiffly, resenting the elder woman’s manner. She knew Dona Elvira was dying to be rid of her, but she need not humiliate her by talking as if she were paying off a servant. Would Luis take the same attitude? It would be painful if he did, and she was after all Peter’s aunt.

Dona Elvira unbent a little.

‘You must not think we are ungrateful, the boy has given me a new interest in life, but we cannot continue to impose upon your kindness. You have your own life to lead and it would be as well
if you
took it up again.’ The eagle eyes were full of meaning. The Senora was not stupid, she saw most of what was going on around her, though she rarely left the house. She added with emphasis: ‘Believe me, my dear, there is nothing for you here in Spain.’

Nothing ... and everything.

Laurel took her leave.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Laurel
had been hesitant about approaching Dona Elvira, but she was ten times more reluctant to go to Luis. In vain she reminded herself of his assurances that he looked upon her as a relative, felt responsible for her and had even offered her a villa, so would be co-operative in the small matter of her return fare. He had been so distant of late, she feared she had unintentionally offended him, though she could not think how. The withered remains of his rose she had put away in a little cardboard box. Though she derided herself for being so sentimental, she could not bear to throw it away.

She hoped Dona Elvira would give him a hint, but several days passed without anything happening. She thought of asking Esteban to make her request for her, then scorned herself for being a coward. She only wanted what was her due, and Luis would not press her to stay. Perhaps that was it, it would hurt her to see unconcealed relief when she told him she wanted to leave; possibly he had forgotten she was still in his hotel.

She dressed herself in her black dress, and decided not to put on any make-up. She looked pale and wan, the heat, and it had become very hot, was sapping her vitality, even her hair was losing its lustre. Looking in her mirror, she decided she looked anything but seductive, and that was her aim. Luis must not imagine she had wanted to contact him for any reason other than business. This might be the last time she would see him, she thought sadly; he would give her the money and instruct Leonardo the manager to book her flight and order her taxi, and that would be that. She would leave as unobtrusively as possible, and it would be best not to say goodbye to Peter; it would be too harrowing for both of them. She would suggest to Luis that he tell him, when she had gone, that she had had to return to England for a while, and he need not say outright that she was not coming back. Peter adored his uncle and he would be the best person to comfort him.

Having ascertained previously that Luis would be working in his suite that evening, she summoned up her courage and went to face him.

‘
Entre
,’ he called curtly, in answer to her timid knock.

He was sitting at his desk, with a mass of papers spread before him. As the night was so warm, he had discarded his jacket, and was wearing a short-sleeve silk shirt, open at the neck, and his sweat-dampened hair fell in wisps over his face as he pored over the figures he was working upon. It and his informal garb made him look younger, and increased his attraction. Laurel looked hastily away from the sight of his bare muscular forearms, and the brown column of his throat, aware that her pulse had quickened.

‘Laurel!’ he exclaimed when he saw her, pushing the hair out of his eyes and springing to his feet. He reached for his jacket, and she said hastily:

‘No, don’t put it on, it’s so hot. I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I have to ask you something.’ They had not been alone since Ronda, and after Cristina’s coming she had only seen him in the distance.

‘Sit down,’ he indicated the settee by the window where she had sat before ... and wept. How long ago that seemed. ‘Let me get you a drink.’

She shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’

‘Sit down,’ he repeated. ‘I cannot talk to you when you stand like a bird poised for flight; do you think I am going to eat you?’

Laurel laughed shakily, ‘No, of course not,’ and obediently sat. Ignoring her refusal he poured out a glass of Manzanilla, the wine of Seville.

‘Drink it,’ he ordered, as he brought it to her. ‘You look as though you need it. You are very pale, Laurelita,’ she flinched at the affectionate diminutive. ‘Is anything wrong?’

‘Oh, no.’ She put the glass down on the small table beside the settee. ‘It’s only the heat.’

She noticed there were roses in a vase on his desk, red roses, the roses of Ronda, but the maid would have put them there, they held no significance for him.

He sat down in the armchair opposite to her, his eyes intent upon her face.

‘
Bien,
what is this great matter that has led you to beard the ogre in his den?’

So he had sensed her trepidation and was making a joke of it.

‘Oh, nothing very important. I’ve decided it is time for me to leave, and your mother said I must ask you for my fare, which it was agreed...
’
She stopped.

For Luis had sprung to his feet, as if he had been shot.

‘You cannot go, Laurelita, I will not let you go!’

His vehemence took her aback.

‘But, Luis, I must. Peter will be all right now. He has so many other interests, he’ll not miss me after the first wrench. I ... I can’t stay here for ever.’

She saw she had taken him completely by surprise, but hadn’t his mother mentioned her departure? Apparently not. He said more calmly:

‘I thought you would stay here for the summer, or until Pedrillo goes to school. Why do you want to leave so soon?’

‘Because there really isn’t any reason to stay,’ she said wearily; she had not expected he would question the necessity for her to leave. ‘I’ve done what I came for, got Peter settled, and now, as Dona Elvira has told me, it’s time I went back and took up my old life again.’

‘You have discussed this with Mama, without speaking to me?’

‘I didn’t want to bother you about such a small matter, but when I asked her for my fare she said I must apply to you.’

‘Small matter!’ he ejaculated. There was an ominous glitter in his eyes, and she felt vaguely afraid. Why was he making it so difficult for her?

‘Oh, Luis, please let me go,’ she said desperately. ‘Nobody wants me here.’

‘I do.’ The words were wrenched out of him, almost it seemed against his will. Laurel felt a surge of joy at the admission, but she quickly quelled it. She could not stay exposed to the ever-present danger of an emotional outburst, and with Cristina across the way, it would be shockingly reprehensible. Surely he must see that? She said steadily:

‘Then that is another reason why I must go.’

‘I cannot let you go,’ he repeated distractedly. ‘I could not bear never to see you again, you little white witch.’ He moved restlessly about the room, then halted in front of her, and his expression was menacing.

‘Is it because of that man in England—you hinted that there was one—that you are determined to go?’

Laurel had completely forgotten that she had tried to mislead him with her arch, ‘Possibly,’ in reply to a similar question. She looked blank, and then realised that he had shown her a way of escape. He would release her if she could convince him she was involved elsewhere.

‘Yes,’ she lied. ‘James...’ she mentioned the first name that came into her head, ‘declares I’ve been away too long. It isn’t fair to him,’ she was improvising wildly, ‘when he didn’t want me to come away in the first place.’

‘You have kept very quiet about him.’ Luis was looking at her suspiciously. ‘You gave me to understand you were alone in the world.’

‘Well, I’m not engaged yet,’ she was pleating her skirt nervously. ‘We have a ... an understanding.’ She forced a little laugh. ‘It would be unwise to leave him too long, he may take up with someone else!’

But she had made a mistake, for she had aroused the fiery jealousy of the Spanish temperament. She had already thrown Luis out of gear by announcing her imminent departure for which he had not been prepared, and now her innocent little deception had driven him beyond his control. His black eyes suddenly blazed, and he almost snarled:

‘You shall not go to this ... this James, not after what has been between us.
Dios,
have I held off, suffered the torments of the damned, to surrender you to another man?’

He swooped. Laurel was pulled up into his arms, crushed against his chest, while his hard, demanding lips claimed hers. All her good resolutions and scruples were swept away as the dam of their pent emotions broke and engulfed them in a fiery flood. Laurel clung to him, her arms about his neck, her fingers entwined in his hair. Impatiently he pulled down the back zip of her dress, and it fell away, exposing her creamy shoulders. His mouth drew trails of fire over her neck and bosom, causing her shivers of delight. She clung closer to his long lean length feeling his thighs pressing against hers. Lifting his head, he said hoarsely, the words punctuated by hard breaths:

‘And you ... ask me to pay ... to send you away!’

Laurel, drowned in sensation, was past all reasoning thought. She laid her cheek against the opening in his shirt, flesh against bare flesh, and closed her eyes in ecstasy.

Luis whispered thickly in her ear:

‘There is only one ending to all this.’

He lifted her in his arms and turned towards his bedroom. Laurel was incapable of any resistance. She wanted what was to come as much as he did. Why should she object?

The telephone rang ... and continued to ring. An insistent summons, that instrument that is the harbinger of news good or bad. Lovers rush to it, full of eager anticipation, others are impatient of interruption, or apprehensive of disaster, but few can resist its urgency, certainly not Luis, conditioned by habit and business training. He halted by the desk, allowing Laurel to slide to her feet, but retaining one arm about her, as he reached for the phone with his free hand, automatically putting it to his ear.

‘Damn you, what is it?’ he growled.

Laurel could hear the deferential Spanish voice from reception. She leaned against Luis wrapped in a sensuous dream. He would dispose of the interruption and then they would be alone together.

Luis dropped the receiver back on to its cradle with a Spanish oath. He withdrew his arm and became galvanised into hasty action.

‘Mercedes and Cristina are in reception,’ he said harshly, reaching for his jacket. ‘They are coming up.’

The dream was shattered. Laurel ran towards the door, intent only upon escape, but Luis’ hand on her shoulder stopped her.

‘Are you crazy? You cannot go rushing into the corridor looking as though I have raped you!’ He pulled up the zip of her dress. ‘Sit down on the settee and compose yourself. We have a few minutes while they are exchanging compliments with Leonardo.’

He had shrugged into his jacket and was fastening a black cravat about his neck. Feeling dazed, Laurel on the settee was mechanically adjusting her dress, and smoothing her hair. It was lucky she had not used any make-up, there were no smudged lips, or telltale marks on Luis’ shirt. The glass of Manzanilla was still beside her. Luis was using a pocket comb to bring order to his hair, listening for sounds in the passage. Laurel would have given a lot to avoid the coming ordeal, but if she left now, she would meet the intruders on the stairs, and she was feeling shaky. Better to stay where she was and allow Luis to do the explaining.

Hearing footsteps, he threw the door open with a flourish, saying in Spanish: ‘Welcome, dear ladies, I am honoured that you have come to call upon me.’

Luis had completely recovered his poise. In a few moments he had transformed from a man consumed by passion into his normal suave self. But Laurel still felt churned up inside, and her hands were trembling so much she had to clasp them firmly in her lap. She wondered vaguely what Luis was going to say.

They came in, Mercedes severe in a shapeless black dress, Cristina in red brocade with a lace shawl about her shoulders and diamonds at her throat. The former glanced malevolently at Laurel, but showed no surprise, Cristina looked astonished and said something to Luis in a hard metallic voice in her own tongue. Luis smiled serenely and explained in English:

‘Senorita Lester came to see me about arrangements for her return to England. But do sit down, Cristina,’ he indicated the armchair opposite to Laurel which he had previously occupied himself. ‘Let me get you a drink.’

Mercedes said icily: ‘Mama and I have been wondering when she was going—we have decided the boy would do better without her disturbing influence. She keeps him reminded of all the things we want him to forget.’

She had seated herself upon the only upright chair in the room, a wooden one with a hard seat.

Mercedes was never happy unless she was uncomfortable and making other people feel the same.

‘But it is I who make the decisions,’ Luis returned blandly, while Laurel flushed at his sister’s contemptuous tone.

‘Then surely you see the wisdom of dismissing her.’ Mercedes had noticed Laurel’s agitation and drawn her own conclusions.

‘Laurel is not a servant to be dismissed,’ he rebuked her. ‘She is an honoured guest, and I have been telling her I do not consider Pedrillo can do without her yet and I hope she will spend the rest of the summer with us.’

Laurel glanced at him quickly. He could not , mean that—her position was becoming far too difficult; he had only said it to needle Mercedes, who was looking like a cobra coiled to strike. He turned to Cristina.

‘
Que tal, querida
, I have not seen you all day.’

‘Is why I ask Mercedes to bring me here,’ she said eagerly. ‘I wish to see where you live and work.’ She looked up at him reproachfully. ‘You hide away like a hermit. Is not kind when I am here!’

Standing beside her, he patted her shoulder, telling her he had been very busy, indicating the papers on his desk, but he was glad she had interrupted him, she was a most welcome diversion, but he spoke absently, and Laurel realised he was not as composed as he was trying to appear, a muscle twitched in his cheek, and he clenched and unclenched the hand farthest from Cristina. She rose to her feet:

‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go now.’ She was glad to find her voice was steady. She met Luis’ eyes over Cristina’s head and saw they were still smouldering. He told her:

‘You must not let these ladies drive you away. They will be grieved if you depart.’ (She knew they were longing to see the back of her.) ‘You have not drunk your wine.’ A mocking glint came into his eyes. ‘You and Cristina should get to know each other, you have so much in common.’ (Himself?) ‘Sit down again and let us enjoy a little pleasant conversation.’