Stormy Haven (16 page)

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Authors: Rosalind Brett

BOOK: Stormy Haven
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Memsahib
?”
came the polite query.


The
senor?

she managed.


The master is in his room,

he began, but was interrupted by Ramon.


Melanita!

He hurried to her, put an urgent arm around her.

How did you get here in this wind? No, don

t speak yet. Come and rest in the lounge.

He was thoughtful and very anxious. He put two pillows at her back, drew forward a footstool and would have unknotted the scarf from her hair if she had not pushed it down around her neck.


This is wicked,

he said.

I
would have come to you. Anything rather than have you out in such weather. Are you alone?

As though,
thought Melanie hysterically,
I
ought to have remembered to fill my pocket with a chaperon!
She nodded weakly.


I
came to have a talk with you and your father.


My father is resting in his bedroom. The knee troubles him again. Melanie, it is so wonderful to see you, but you have been foolhardy, especially after spending a week in bed.


I haven

t been in bed—only keeping to my room.

He dropped to the divan beside her.

Your cousin told me it was the shock. Just faintly I see the marks. I reprimanded the old French
madame
and she apologized, but what good was that once you had been hurt?

He went on speaking rapidly, and Melanie had the despairing impression of herself lounging comfortably at his side with her hair disordered. She had to interrupt him.


Please may I see your father, Ramon?


But
I
have told you—he is a little indisposed.


This is important. I won

t worry him again.


But, my dear one, there can be nothing so vital between you and my father. It is more necessary that I arrange to take you back to the hotel.


Would I have fought my way here on foot simply for the pleasure of having you drive me back?

she demanded vexedly.


You did not think,

he said.

For you to come here alone is an indiscretion that almost anyone would forgive, knowing how young and warm of heart you are. But I am wiser, and as your future husband it is my duty to protect you from gossip.

She sat up straight, pulled her feet down from the stool.

All right, Ramon. If you won

t bring your father you

ll have to hear it without his support.


Hear what, my little Melanie? How strange are you.


I

m sorry,

she said tensely,

but there

s been a ghastly mistake. I

ve never given my consent to marrying you

and I

m afraid I never will.

He didn

t take it in; or if he did, he misconstrued her meaning.


Please, Melanie, you must not become distressed about that other. I have not made love to her, ever! It was a contract between parents two years ago, and has nothing to do with either of us.

She stared at his excited, working face.

What
are
you getting at?

He hastened on, trying passionately to convince her.

It is as your cousin has told you. My father made with Carmela

s father a contract of marriage. It was agreed that I should travel before we married, and now, on the last stage of my travels, I have met you, and for me there is no other woman in the world.
I
swear it.


But the contract,

she said hazily.

What

s it all about? Isn

t it binding?


Can the heart be bound with red tape?

he asked hotly.

Even my father would not wish to do it.


But two years ago you were twenty-four. You must have agreed to marry this girl.

His shoulders lifted, his hands went out in an alien manner.

In Spain it happens that way. Carmela is the daughter of my mother

s old friend and a suitable match. I consented because I did not then know you or that such a thing as this love of ours could exist. Can

t you understand, Melanie?


Yes, I think I can,

she said slowly.

This girl in Spain is the reason you

ve been
so ...
circumspect?


Of course. My father has communicated with my mother, but he could not give his sanction to our official engagement till this other matter is ended. Everything will come right. Do not fear.

Melanie was silent for a moment. Then,

Was Elfrida aware of all this?


But certainly.
I
myself put it very clearly to the
senor
a
, and my father is too honorable a man to deal in subterfuge. It was only just that you should be acquainted with the whole position. The
senor
a
is your guardian
—”


She isn

t but
...
oh, Ramon, I

m so terribly sorry.


For what are you so sorry,
chica
?
That you have misunderstood my coolness? But that was comprehensible.

One would hardly term Ramon in any mood as cool, but he really had been chivalrous and kind and forbearing. It was so difficult to spear him deliberately.


For everything,

she cried.

I wish we

d never met, and you were happily in Cadiz with your Carmela. This is unbearable.

He came closer, seized and held her hand.

Melanita, you speak like a jigsaw puzzle, and I am not in a condition to fit the pieces together. We are almost alone. Do you not realize that?

His voice went soft and slurred, his eyes glazed.

I love you, my little fair dove, and I want you too much to endure this nearness. Melanie
—”

Both had leaped up, but Melanie felt the edge of the stool pressing into her calves and seemed powerless to make the small effort to push it back with her foot. Ramon

s arms went around her, his heart pounded into her, and he kissed her with a passion so unrestrained that terror mounted in her throat, had possession of her limbs. His hands seared, his breath was like fire against her neck.


Melanita, my beautiful...

For a further endless minute she was nerveless, staring frantically over his shoulder. Then sanity and strength returned with a rush. She doubled her fists and thrust at him, whirled across the room and out to the hall.

The servant stood impassively with his back to the main door, arms folded and turbaned head erect. Like a eunuch guarding a harem, thought Melanie, with freshly risen hysteria.


Get out of my way!

she said.

Amazed, the servant instantly shifted, bent to help her with the bolts.


Stay, Melanie!

Strangely pale, Ramon shouldered the servant away from the door, tried to wrest Melanie

s hand from the lock.

Forgive me. Come back to the lounge and wait while I see my father...

But she had shaken him off, dragged open the door and fled. A tornado entered the house, beat down a flower pedestal with a crash, slammed doors and lifted the heavy Persian carpet to one side as if it were no more than a linen handkerchief.

Ramon dashed out. His hoarse shouts were blown away and the darkness was so intense that she must have been instantly swallowed. She couldn

t be far away. It was nearly impossible for a man to keep his balance, let alone a slip of a girl. He must call servants, procure many flashlights.

Melanie, meanwhile, was swaying from tree to tree. She had never known such a wind, such dreadful, thundering blackness. Rain added to the nightmare; great gobbets of water smashed against her face and body, and into the frangipani hedge to which she clung as she moved spasmodically along the avenue.

Aching, gulping down air, her clothes saturated, Melanie was yet extraordinarily unafraid. She was free of Ramon, free of her cousin. The fiercest elements could not rob her of this joy of freedom.

Soon the road gurgled like a river in spate. Water streamed around her ankles and slowed her down, but she was moving all the time, descending gradually to the town. She had no notion of the time, no real idea of where she was.

Then, some way off, she saw advancing headlights; someone had been caught out of town. It must be nerve-wearing to drive in this storm-rent night. A few seconds later she was floodlit by those powerful rays, and the car swerved dangerously, with purpose, holding her illumined till it reached her and stopped. A man flung open the nearside door, Melanie was summarily hauled into the car and at once it moved on, up the avenue.


My God,

said Stephen below his breath.

I might have known it would be you.

The perilous ascent took all his attention. The car rocked in the wind, skidded through silt, slithered over potholes, and every window coursed with blinding rain.

Melanie turned her head. An Indian servant sat in the back of the car, as unflurried in his posture as if this were a bright afternoon. Melanie became conscious that she was streaming, that her hair hung like lengths of seaweed. She looked sideways at Stephen, saw that his head and shoulders had got drenched when he yanked her into the car, and noticed with misgiving the set, grim lines of his face.

In spite of the evening

s happenings she felt peaceful, nearly happy. What more could she ever want than this, to belong at last to Melanie Paget, and to be with Stephen Brent? Granted, she was not at this moment too attractive a companion, but that could be remedied. And if Stephen would only give her time she would be frank with him.

They twisted onto a smooth driveway and were confronted by the ornamental stucco front of an immense garage.


Put the car away, Vasseljee,

Stephen flung over his shoulder. Then,

Ready, Melanie?

Shielding her with his body from the worst onslaughts of the wind, he half carried her into the terrace surrounding the house. His key turned in the lock, a light snapped on, and they were both inside with the door closed against the night.

Melanie noticed nothing at all during those first minutes
in Stephen

s house. She followed him down a long corridor that resembled a series of fretworked arcades, and allowed him to push her into a bathroom the size of a lounge.


There are towels in there,

he said.

I

ll bring you something to wear.

She stood marveling, then, at the elegance, the blend of pastel colorings, the mural tiling. There were two baths, a great square one in the center of the floor into which one might comfortably dive and another of European style in pink alabaster, which stood against the end wall.

Stephen reappeared, dropped a paisley dressing gown and some masculine underwear onto a stool.


You can

t have a bath because they weren

t expecting me back and there

s no hot water,

he said.


Oh,

she said regretfully.

I

d have loved to step down into that vault.


So get undressed and have a good toweling,

he added inflexibly.


But, Stephen
...”


Get busy, or I

ll rub you down myself.

She laughed a little.

I
believe you would.

Stephen didn

t smile. He rested upon her a brief glance of cold and ruthless exasperation, then went out and shut the door.

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