The Ortiga Marriage Page 5

  She pulled away and ran into the garden, seeking the shelter of an arbour that had been her refuge many times when she was unhappy, sinking to the garden seat and crying quietly and bitterly, lost in her own misery and utterly alone.

  "I am not supposed to see you cry, am I?" Ramon's deep voice startled her. She had supposed that, his mission completed, he would have gone back to his guests, to the glittering ladies who flocked around him. She turned away, her head bent, moving along the seat from him when he sat beside her. "Many times nowadays you cry, do you not, Meriel?" he asked quietly. "Never though, with me, never so that I may ask why you weep. Always it is in secret, your tears dried, your face composed before you meet me again."

  "I—I don't," she managed, fighting to control her tears and the bitter hurt. "You've annoyed me, that's all. You've annoyed me because it's not fair. I often cry when I'm really angry and you know full well that I've been going to see the Ilaneros since I was a little girl. I often speak to them when we're riding together. I speak to their wives too. I have been doing so ever since my Spanish became fluent."

  "I do know this—full well, as you say," he assured her deeply. "Also do not lie to me, you are not very good at it. You are hurt, not angry. You will have to realise that you are not now a child who can come and go at will. The Ilaneros are men, not all of them married, and you are growing up to be a very beautiful girl, almost a woman."

  "I am?" She turned tear-drenched eyes on him and his harsh face softened.

  "Do you not know it?" he asked in little more than a whisper of sound. "There are ladies up at the hacienda who are in no doubt of your growing beauty and maturity. They know very well too that they are women. One day you will know it and that will be a day to remember."

  "I don't understand you, Ramon," she said tremulously, an unexpected shiver running over her as he moved closer along the seat.

  "Perhaps you are not meant to understand me," he said softly, "or perhaps it is because you are still struggling out of your childhood and into a new kind of beauty. Half-way between the two, you are enchanting—and very vulnerable," he added seriously. "Do not wander alone among men who have eyes in their heads that see your beauty and vulnerability. Ricard is enough to cope with at the moment. If I have to break a nose, I would prefer to break his. The men are important to me, he is not."

  She stared at him with wide and troubled eyes, her face losing its pale sheen and glowing with soft colour.

  "Is that why—why you glared at me when—when… I thought you were angry with me for being friendly to him because he's an Ortiga."

  ‘Por Dios!" For a moment, black anger crossed his face, but he controlled it at her quick look of alarm, his hand coming to her hair, running the tresses through his fingers, watching the golden strands fall to her shoulders.

  "I think that it will be a long time before you are really able to take care of yourself, pequena," he said quietly. "Even your thoughts run on lines that are utterly innocent and sweet." He stood abruptly and pulled her to her feet.

  "Come, you wish to dance? Put on that dress that I saw you trying on in front of the mirror as I passed your room last night, the long white one. Soon there will be dancing at the hacienda and I will dance with you. So far I have taught you everything else, I may as well continue with the lessons."

  "I can dance," she said with a shy little smile," we often go to dances from school."

  "With boys?" he enquired with mocking amazement, his hand coming to her chin as she blushed and would have hidden her face.

  "Yes," she said with a touch of defiance. "Naturally there are boys."

  "And do they also tell you that you are beautiful?" he enquired softly, tilting her face to his, his eyes intently on her soft blushes.

  "N-no, we're all just—-just friends."

  "Ah! Then they are still only boys," he said with a softly mocking smile. "One day there will be someone who is not a boy. Before that day comes I will have to write to this English school and inform the one in charge that my stepsister is not to be allowed out without an escort of two ugly teachers."

  "Oh! Ramon, you wouldn't!" She gasped, completely taken in by his serious face, but his soft laughter stopped her sudden anxiety and he took her hand, drawing her along with him and back to the house.

  "I am not sure yet exactly what I will do," he confessed quietly. "You will have to wait and see."

  "Please, Ramon," she said with renewed anxiety, "I don't want you to interfere with school. I'm quite safe and I hate having attention drawn to me. It's bad enough as it is." 'What is bad enough, little one?" he asked seriously, stopping and looking down at her, his keen gaze making her blush anew.

  "Just—just… things," she murmured, dropping her gaze.

  "Then I will not make—things worse," he promised softly. "We will just dance and you can show me how well you do that. It will also serve to get Ricard out of your hair and into his proper place."

  "What place is that?" she asked with sudden mischief and he lifted her hand, surprising her by kissing it gently.

  "No place at all," he assured her quietly, "not because he is an Ortiga but because you are—Meriel. He is way down the line. Come."

  If his words had puzzled her and confused her, his actions later left her utterly bewildered. She changed into the white dress. It was a dreamy dress, she thought, as she stood and looked at herself. There were layers of chiffon, the sleeves puffed and demure, the neckline round and simple, and her golden hair shone in the lights as she went to the sala, drawn by the sound of the music. She hesitated outside, feeling unsure, and suddenly again unwelcome, but before she could retreat the door opened and Ramon stood there in dark suit, his black hair glittering in the light, and he caught her hand.

  "Aha!" he said in mocking triumph. "Caught you! You were about to flee, being once again quite sure that you are without value."

  "I—I was going to…'

  "Run away!" he finished firmly. "Come, we will dance. Hide your fears. Remember who you are."

  "I don't know who I am," she said sadly and softly as he led her into the well lit room where every eye seemed to turn on them, her nervous shiver bringing Ramon's arms round her as he swept her into the rhythm of the dance without any preamble.

  "A delightful amnesia that will one day totally disappear," he assured her. "For now, you look quite beautiful and fresh as a morning rose. Ricard on the other hand looks a pale shade of green. I never noticed before how ugly he is. Strange!"

  Meriel giggled and he looked down at her with a smile, his hands tightening on her waist.

  "You will avoid him, pequena?" he asked quietly and she nodded happily, blissfully secure in his strong arms, her happiness spilling over when he complimented her on her dancing and on the white dress that was so commonplace beside the gowns of the other women there.

  "The others have really beautiful dresses," she reminded him, a little embarrassed when his eyes went with open speculation over the ladies in question, his gaze lingering on their bare shoulders and the necklines that seemed to her to be little short of shocking.

  "You wish to look like that?" he enquired, his gaze coming back to hers, and she shook her head, hiding behind thick lashes to avoid his intent eyes. "I am glad that you do not, otherwise, I would not only write to the school, I would come and personally supervise your wardrobe."

  "You—you know I wouldn't…' she began, worried at his burst of anger, and he suddenly laughed, pulling her to him and swirling her around faster.

  "You are very anxious to keep me away from England," he said mockingly.

  "You are afraid that my bullying will follow you to your own world?"

  "No! You don't bully me, well, not often, and then you're almost always right. I'm not trying to keep you away from England either, I often wish you were there," she added daringly.

  "Why?" he asked with quiet but determined force.

  "Sometimes—sometimes, I—I miss you," she said softly, hanging her head to avoid his kee
n, dark eyes.

  "It is only natural," he said quietly. "I am your stepbrother after all, and I have had a great deal to do with your life in the past."

  He said nothing more and she wondered rather miserably if her confession had annoyed him, but it seemed that it had not because he held her with a gentleness that was beautiful, and his voice was soft in her ear.

  "Do not worry," he urged quietly. "One day you will be safe to let out alone."

  "You mean that I'll grow into a big girl?" she asked with a sudden waspish anger and he drew back to look at her.

  "We must hope not," he said seriously even though his dark eyes shone with laughter. "You are now—almost perfect." His flashing gaze skimmed over her slender shape and she blushed deeply, wishing she had held her tongue, her trembling not stopping for a long while as he danced with her for the better part of the evening to the clear annoyance of the ladies present and the open disgust of Ricard. It was the most wonderful night of her life but her happiness did not last. The next day she was relegated to her place, Ramon ignored her again and things were back to normal, but she kept well away from his cousin and she was glad to see them all leave, even though it meant that Ramon was now out on the llanos from morning until night.

  She was not protected from the Ortigas though, nor was she freed from the added unhappiness that they brought into her life. A change in the pattern of the school holidays due to the refurbishing of the school building made her next birthday fall when she was actually at the hacienda. Before, she had been taken out to dinner by her father, had received small gifts from her friends at school and a large expensive one from her mother, never anything from Ramon to show that he remembered whether she was alive or dead, so she dreaded her next birthday, her seventeenth.

  She came to the breakfast table on the day in a very uneasy state of mind, already hot with imagined embarrassment because she was sure that no one would remember and she would rather that they did not remember later and know of her disappointment. There were gifts though, arranged round her plate by Rosita, and her mother had made the effort to be early to greet her, Manuel bubbling with excitement at her side.

  There was a silver bracelet from her father, a parcel from school with the usual amusing gifts that made her laugh, a beautiful Indian cloak from her mother and a small musical box from the five-year-old Manuel.

  "Mama and I bought it in Caracas a long time ago," he confided proudly. "I have kept it wrapped in my drawer and never taken it out," he shot her a dark, anxious glance, "well, not very often."

  "Oh, darling, it's beautiful!" She bent to hug him and her eyes met Ramon's as he stood leaning against the door. He said nothing, not even wishing her a happy birthday, and her eyes hid from him in distress. She had not expected a gift from her stepfather, she often thought that Francisco Ortiga failed to realise who she was, his eyes only fell on her in a vague surprise, but Ramon was different and he had not even greeted her.

  She threw herself into the mood of Manuel, sitting him on her knee and letting him open the small presents from school, laughing with him at the amusing things that were all her friends ever gave to each other, trying to forget that Ramon was still there.

  He waited until Manuel had jumped down to the floor and then he moved, bringing from behind his back a perfectly arranged spray of yellow roses, walking across the room and placing them in her hands.

  "Many happy returns. This is what they say in England?"

  "Yes, they're beautiful. Thank you, Ramon."

  He stared down into her eyes for a long time until her face grew hot and then he smiled, a long, slow smile.

  "They are a greeting only. They are not your gift because it cannot be brought to the table and placed around your plate. Come."

  He took her hand gently, pulling her to her feet, motioning the excited Manuel away with a severe look that warned him not to follow, and Meriel walked beside him from the room, her hand securely held, her heart pounding wildly.

  Ramon led her to the back of the house, urging her on when she hesitated, his face quite serious as they came to the cobbled yard by the stables. There was a foal there, large eyed and timid, its coat as black as jet, shining in the early sunlight.

  "Your gift." He pointed at the foal and let her go but she had been frozen to the spot, stunned with disbelief.

  "For me?" She turned to him, her grey eyes as big and wide as the foal's, and he laughed then, taking her hand again and urging her towards the beautiful creature.

  "I could not resist it. It reminded me of you; long-legged and timid, gentle and beautiful. Unfortunately, he is black, there are no yellow horses although I looked for a whole year."

  They walked to the foal and she touched it lovingly and shyly and then in a burst of affection and gratitude she turned and threw her arms around Ramon's waist, hugging him tightly, forgetting his aloof manner.

  "Oh, Ramon! Thank you, thank you!"

  For a brief second, he stiffened and her heart lurched with worry that she had stepped beyond the bounds allowed, showing an emotion that was unacceptable, and then his arms tightened round her, holding her close in the quiet and sunny courtyard, silence all around them. A new fear leapt into her throat when he gently tilted her chin, looking down into her wide and anxious eyes, his own eyes dark and glittering.

  "I—I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm behaving like an idiot." She made to move away from the warm and enfolding arms but he held her closely still, his eyes on the softness of her lips as she gazed up into his eyes.

  "You are not alone in that," he said softly. "There is an idiot in both of us, waiting to get out." He seemed to be hypnotised by her mouth and by the soft flush of colour that flared in her cheeks and slowly his head bent to hers until he was almost touching her lips with his, his breath warm on her face.

  "I have to be very careful how I treat you," he murmured in an old voice, speaking as though his mind was on something else entirely. "You are very—breakable." An overwhelming desire to close her eyes had her dark lashes falling slowly so that when his lips finally touched her, she was in an odd and trance-like state, her breathing slow and shallow.

  His lips came to the delicate corner of her mouth, lingering there for a second and then lifting to move to the other side and gently rest there. Then, suddenly, he laughed and put her gently away. "I will turn him into the paddock and we will see him run," he said with no emotion in his voice. "He must be trained. While you are in England I will school him when he is old enough and one day we will see how you ride a thoroughbred horse across the llanos."

  "If I'm here," she said softly, leaning against the fence and watching the foal kick his heels and race in circles of pleasure on the grass. "I'm seventeen today. When I am eighteen I shall be leaving school and then I'll not be coming back."

  "What do you mean?" He had turned on her harshly as if she had been deliberately defying him. "This is your home!"

  "Not really." She looked up at him and then looked away from the dark anger of his eyes, mournful that she had angered him but knowing that he would probe until he had the truth. "I can do whatever I wish when I'm eighteen and I've decided not to go to university. I want to go straight into a job and my father knows the owner of a big chain of magazines. He's an old man but my father went to school with his son. The son is dead now but they've always kept up correspondence and when I told my father what I'd decided he got me an interview with Mr. Mackensie. I can start with them when I go back to England after the next summer holiday. I'm going into advertising, selling it."

  "You!" Ramon burst into laughter, his hands coming to span her slim waist. "You are too shy to ask for more tea when you are at the table! How do you expect to sell advertising? This type of work is very hard and competitive."

  "I know." She was hurt by his laughter and her lips trembled. "I'll have to get hard and businesslike. I'll have to be more like the Ortigas," she finished defiantly.

  "But I like you as you are," he had said softly, tightening hi
s grip on her. "I like to have a shy and gentle stepsister who watches me with wide and anxious eyes. I do not want a modern impressive salesperson striding around the hacienda telling me how to manage my affairs."

  He had to be joking, although he looked perfectly serious and she smiled tentatively, unsure.

  "But you forget what I said, Ramon!" she said softly. "I will not be coming here. I shall be working in England and the times when I can visit will be very few." He stared down at her and then suddenly lifted her by the waist, holding her above him and glaring up into her face. She could see that he was angry enough to throw her over the fence and into the field and she couldn't even reach to touch his shoulders, he had her too high up.

  "You will beg my pardon and refuse this ridiculous job!" he rapped out, his dark eyes blazing.

  "I have to earn my living," she stammered in a frightened voice.

  "Promise!" He held her even higher and she nodded frantically until he lowered her to the ground, continuing to look furious.

  "Let us have no more of these ridiculous ideas," he ground out, taking her shoulder and turning her towards the house, "you will live here at the hacienda when you have finished at school!"

  "I can't! I—I can't, Ramon!" She had to continue even though she was frightened by his anger. "If I live here permanently, I'll never see my father!"

  He stopped for a second and looked down at her as if the thought was entirely new to him but then turned her back towards the gardens and the house.

  "He will visit you here." Apparently that was to be the end of it.

  "How can he? He's not rich like you. He could hardly ever come."

  "Then you will visit him and I will pay for it. Do be quiet now, I have heard enough!"

  Her trembling legs stumbled and she would have fallen headlong but his arm shot out and caught her.

  "Ah! You are so afraid that your legs will not walk. Remember that the next time you have such wildly irritating ideas."

  "They're not…!" she began but his arm tightened and he drew her close in a comforting embrace.