The Golden Madonna (3 page)

With a great sigh of resignation, she decided to disappoint them. 'Oh very well,' she said ungraciously. 'If it's all been arranged.'

She was angry with Michael too, for not intervening on her behalf, and she vowed to have words with him on the subject, at the earliest opportunity. Nothing, she decided, was going her way so far, and it was not a situation she was either used to, or liked very much.

She walked across the beautiful, shaded courtyard with Miguel Cordova, aware of the fact that he was controlling his normally lengthy stride to accommodate her, and wondering how on earth she was going to put up with his arrogance for another three months.

The house itself was as lovely as its exterior promised, and a wide arched entrance doorway gave access to a wide hall, cool and restful after the sunshine outside. It was quiet too, and she realised that this was the time of the siesta, when everyone took time off to relax from the heat of the day. No wonder the servants had looked a little disgruntled at their arrival.

There was an air of peace in the wide hall, with its high arched ceiling and dark panelled walls. Everything, doors and windows alike, was curved and arched with not a harsh angle anywhere, and Sally was reminded suddenly of old churches, a feeling confirmed by a huge brass crucifix on one wall, with a bowl of white roses below it.

For some inexplicable reason she shivered again, as she had done at the station, and as then, Miguel Cordova looked down at her and smiled faintly. There was something exciting and exotic about this strange new world she was discovering, and something almost sinister too, that applied as much to the man beside her as to her surroundings.

She hastily avoided meeting his gaze head on, and instead looked around her, trying to still the rapid and quite unnecessary thudding under her ribs. He was a very disturbing man and, despite her professed dislike of him so far, she still responded, however unwillingly, to some deep, unquenchable instinct that found him dangerously but irresistibly attractive.

'This way, Miss Beckett.'

His deep, quiet voice broke into her thoughts and startled her for a moment, his fingers holding on to her arm as if he suspected she might turn and flee, given the opportunity. Sally went with him, her heels clicking softly on the mosaic-tiled floor, like an echo of castanets.

He did not turn her towards the wide curved staircase as she expected, but across the hall towards what was obviously the door into one of the downstairs rooms. 'Where are you taking me?' she ventured, suspicion edging her voice, so that he smiled briefly, his fingers tightening on her arm.

'I shall introduce you to the ladies,' he told her. From then on my responsibility ends.'

S
ALLY
did not know quite what to expect when Miguel Cordova opened the door of the room and ushered her in ahead of him. She was immediately aware that there were two women in the room, and that two pairs of eyes were regarding her curiously, one friendly and welcoming, the other not so.

The elder of the two women rose at once and came across the room towards them. Tall and dark, with black hair that was just turning grey at the temples, handsome rather than pretty, she would have struck Sally as typically Spanish but for a pair of startlingly blue eyes that smiled at her from the fine boned features.

'Madre,
mi amada,'
Miguel Cordova greeted her with a smile. 'May I introduce Miss Beckett? Miss Beckett, my mother, Dona Alicia Valdaquez.'

Sally was relieved, more relieved than she dared admit, to see that friendly smile, and her hand was clasped in both Dona Alicia's. 'You are very welcome to Casa de Principes, Miss Beckett. Did you have a good journey?'

'Miss Beckett was not very impressed with our railway,' her son informed her, before Sally could reply, and Dona Alicia laughed softly, drawing her across to the window where she had been sitting.

'I don't blame you in the least, Miss Beckett,' she told her. 'The local line leaves a great deal to be desired, I believe.'

Her English was excellent, and much less pedantic than Miguel Cordova's, also the difference in the name puzzled her, although she could scarcely remark on it at the moment. Instead she sought to dispel the impression he had given of her.

'I'm afraid I was feeling very hot and tired, and I may have been rather—well, perhaps a bit outspoken,' Sally told her. 'I wasn't really meaning to be critical, Senora Valdaquez.' She bit on her lip uncertainly. 'I'm sorry, I'm not quite sure how I should address you,
senora.'

This time it was Miguel who was forestalled, and that gentle laugh put Sally at her ease again. 'I'd like it if you called me Dona Alicia,' she was told. 'I do so hope we can be friends, Miss Beckett. My own mother was English,' she added, and produced the information as if it was a trump card, so that it was obvious she was very proud of the fact. She laughed again. Hence these blue eyes!'

'And your excellent English,' Sally said with a smile, while Dona Alicia nodded her gratification at the compliment.

'Oh, but we are being very remiss, Miss Beckett!' She turned to the younger woman, and Sally was at once aware of the undisguised dislike in the narrow dark eyes that studied her closely. 'Ines, my dear, this is Miss Beckett, from England. Dear Ines was the wife of Miguel's cousin, Carlos Valdaquez, Miss Beckett, she's staying with us for the time being.'

Taking the long, slim hand so grudgingly offered, Sally had to admit to curiosity about Ines Valdaquez. Miguel Cordova had referred to her as his cousin when he spoke of her earlier, now it seemed she was a cousin only by marriage, and that a marriage that existed no longer, judging by Dona Alicia's wording of the introduction, and the hint of sympathy in her voice.

She was dressed in unrelieved black, so it was possible that she was a widow, Sally thought, but the way she looked at Miguel Cordova made it fairly obvious that she did not intend to remain in that state for very long.

She was possibly thirty years old, although she could have been younger, for Sally remembered reading somewhere that women in hot climates tended to age more quickly. She was handsome, rather than pretty, in the same way that Dona Alicia was, with a smooth golden skin and dark eyes. Her black hair was drawn back in the traditional Spanish style and worn in a loose chignon in the nape of a long, smooth neck, and she could have been so much more attractive, Sally thought, if only she learned to smile more and frown less.

'Como esta usted
?' She used the formal greeting with even less warmth than Miguel Cordova had done at the station, making no attempt to use English, although it was obvious that she understood it well enough.

'Have you been shown to your room yet, Miss Beckett?' Dona Alicia asked, in such a way that it was possible she sought to relieve the small, hostile silence that followed the introduction. 'I'm sure you'd love to have a bath and change into something cooler, wouldn't you?'

'I would,' Sally agreed fervently. 'I feel terribly hot and crumpled and not at all fit to meet anyone.'

Dona Alicia smiled kindly. 'You're a very pretty girl,' she said. 'And that blue suit does wonders for your eyes, although it must be rather hot. Our Spanish
caballeros
will find your golden hair and blue eyes quite irresistible, I'm sure. We shall have to be on our guard, shall we not, Miguel?'

He stood beside a huge ornate container that overflowed with musky-scented geraniums, one arm outstretched along its edge, one foot crossed over the other, confident and at ease, and so arrogantly male that Sally felt that betraying curling sensation in her stomach again. His smile was brief, but it glowed darkly in his black eyes when he looked across at her.

'Miss Beckett is of the opinion that she can take good care of herself,
mi amada,'
he told his mother, in that deep, quiet voice. 'She has had no experience of Spanish men yet, of course.' The black eyes raked over Sally's slimness from head to toe with a boldness that took her breath away and left her feeling naked and horribly vulnerable.

She hastily looked away, but was aware that he still watched her, and probably enjoyed her discomfiture, especially when she felt the warm colour in her cheeks that betrayed the sudden and erratic way her heart was pounding at her ribs. Somehow she managed a smile for Dona Alicia, praying that her reaction was not too plainly obvious on her face.

'I
would
like that bath and a change of clothes, Dona Alicia,' she said in a strangely husky voice that she hardly recognised. 'If I could--'

'But of course,' the elder woman smiled. 'I'll get Ana to show you to your room.'

'Ana will be attending to our other guests,' Miguel reminded her. 'I'm afraid you will have to manage with Rosa, Miss Beckett, but I am sure you will find her quite efficient.' Sally looked at him and would have liked to say something very tart, but for one thing Dona Alicia would have been more upset than he would and for another he gave her no time to say anything, but reached for the ornate bell rope that hung only inches from his hand.

'You have plenty of time before dinner,' Dona Alicia told Sally with a smile, while they waited for the maid to appear. 'We do not dine until nine o'clock. You do realise that our times are somewhat different from what you are accustomed to, Miss Beckett, don't you?'

Sally glanced across at Miguel, remembering how accurately he seemed to have interpreted Michael's teasing glance earlier, and the look she met in the dark eyes challenged her to state her opinion. She declined to meet the challenge, however, and instead smiled at Dona Alicia.

'Oh yes,' she said. 'I've heard about it.'

'Miss Beckett does not approve of our late hours either,' Miguel said softly, and Sally flared swiftly in her own defence.

'I didn't say so, Senor Cordova!'

'It was said for you by Mr. Storer,' he insisted, still in that same quiet voice and, looking across at him angrily to deny it, Sally realised with a flash of certainty that he was baiting her deliberately.

She had heard that the Latin temperament relished a display of passion, and it seemed he was trying to provoke something of the kind in her. Whether for his own amusement, or for some other devious reason, she had no way of knowing. Perhaps for no better reason than to satisfy that lurking streak of cruelty that she suspected lay not far below the surface of his smooth urbanity.

'Michael said nothing of the sort,' she declared firmly, and he smiled.

'Sometimes words are not always necessary, Miss Beckett, are they?'

Since she was very unsure how much longer she could contain her temper, Sally welcomed the appearance of the maid, and followed her from the room thankfully. Rosa was a quite different proposition from Ana, the housekeeper, and Sally ventured a smije as they made their way up the curved staircase, the intricate wrought iron balustrade smoothly cool under her finger tips.

Rosa was much younger than Ana too, and her dark eyes glowed with a smile that encouraged Sally further. 'Have you worked here for very long?' she asked, thinking it as good an opening as any, and Rosa's young face creased for a moment's deep thought as she tussled with the strange tongue.

'Si, senorita,'
she said at last.
'Por dos
—for two year.'

That was something of a surprise, because she looked little more than fifteen or sixteen now, but Sally smiled encouragingly. 'So you like working for Dona Alicia?' she said, and Rosa looked at her with a small, puzzled frown.

'But this is the house of Don Miguel,
senorita,'
she corrected her, gently polite. 'It is for Don Miguel that I am at work.'

'Oh, I see.' So he had not been merely boasting when he claimed the household was his. Dona Alicia must simply be a guest, although she was probably a permanent one. 'And you like working for Don Miguel?' she asked, without quite knowing why, but appalled by the small sly look that greeted the question, from the corners of Rosa's dark, expressive eyes.

'Ah si, si, senorita,'
she said with a wide smile, her small brown face glowing.
'Muy mucho!'

There was no doubt about Rosa's feelings for her employer, and Sally was forced to recognise that he had at least one devoted slave in his household, and she suspected there were more. She would have been the first to admit that she had undoubtedly started off on the wrong foot with Miguel Cordova and was therefore somewhat prejudiced, but he had done little to prove himself worthy of such adoration as far as she was concerned and she sighed resignedly. Ah well, perhaps he would improve on closer acquaintance. Although closer acquaintance with Miguel Cordova could well prove to be even more disconcerting.

Her room was beautiful; light and airy, cool and full of the fragrances of flowers. It opened out on to one of the arched balconies she had seen from below, and overlooked that wonderfully exotic inner courtyard. so that there were climbing roses and great masses of purple bougainvillaea almost inside her room. Even the soft cool voice of the fountain was audible in the quietness.

Rosa smiled at her obvious delight, and showed her a small but luxurious bathroom opening off the bedroom. Sally took a moment or two to wonder if the accommodation given to her fellow students was equally luxurious, and saw no reason why it should not be, for the house was big and used to accommodating visitors in the summer for the three months the school was open.

Rosa was watching her, her dark head tilted to one side enquiringly. 'Is there more I can do,
senorita?'

Sally shook her head, anticipating the pleasure of a long soak in that luxurious bath. 'No, thank you very much Rosa. I'll be able to manage fine now.'

'Muy bien, senorita.'
She bobbed her head and withdrew with a smile,
'Gracias.'

Rosa-closed the door softly behind her, and Sally stood for a moment in the middle of the room, breathing in the warm, soft air and the dozen fragrances from the garden below. If only there was not Miguel Cordova to consider, she could have thoroughly enjoyed the prospect of three months at the Casa de Principes.