Sweet Revenge

Anne Mather

The Conde, with his looks, his money, his castle in Portugal, was not the kind of man who could forgive anyone who tried to deceive him. When Toni Morley attempted to do just that, the Conde proceeded to exact a very subtle revenge.
"Look," said Toni, "I don't know what you think I am or what you think you can do to me, but I will not stay here, and you can't make me!"
"Oh, I think I can, senhorita."
"How?"
The Conde smiled. "When Paul left here several days ago I gave him a certain sum of money. I did this purposely, for two reasons. To get rid of him, and to adjure you to stay."
"How could making Paul leave adjure me to stay?" Toni demanded.
"The money is the key. It would be an easy matter to contact the British police and tell them that Paul stole that money. It was quite easy to make it appear as though some money had been taken from my safe..."

T
ONI
M
ORLEY
sipped the iced lemon juice, staring abstractedly at the mural of the beach at Estoril which adorned the walls of the small
restaurante.
She felt dejected and resentful, unwilling as yet to contact the airport with a view to booking a flight back to London. It hardly seemed possible that this time yesterday she had been a happy, carefree girl, revelling in her good fortune at having found a position so suited to her personality. How incredible it seemed that in twenty-four hours her whole outlook on life could be changed!

Ignoring the gather intimate glances she was receiving from the young Portuguese at the next table, she rummaged in her handbag for her cigarettes, and finding them lit one, drawing on it deeply. Her stomach still churned with indignation mixed with a natural sense of nervous tension, and she thrust her cigarettes away, straightening her shoulders almost involuntarily. After all, what had she to feel disturbed about? Why should she feel ashamed and unhappy when none of what had occurred had been her fault?

She swallowed another mouthful of lemon juice. Anyway, Pedro and Julia had not been the sweetest of children, spoilt as they undoubtedly were, yet they had possessed a certain charm, and Toni felt the familiar sense of despair overwhelm her as she realized she would no longer be there to look after them.

It was no good, she might as well admit it. This particular phase of her life was over, and there was nothing she could do to change that. All that should depress her was the knowledge that tomorrow at the very latest she must return to England and find herself another job.

She sighed. England. She had hoped to stay in Portugal for at least six months before returning to England. There was so much there to remind her of the small house in the suburbs, and the warmth and security of a happy home. A home that existed no more, except in the terms of a small bed-sitter in Kensington, her parents killed so suddenly and terribly in that pile-up on the M1 only three months ago. This job, as nursery-governess to the two de Calle children, had seemed the ideal situation. She would live with the family in Lisbon, teaching the children who were six and four years, and escape entirely from memories of the past. Miguel de Calle, the children's father, was a business man, who travelled extensively, and Toni was to act also as a kind of companion for his wife, Estelle. The children would learn English, and later would attend an English school, and as Senhora de Calle was pregnant, Toni's own position seemed secure for several years.

Toni had been in Lisbon now for a little over three weeks, and had settled down very well. She had liked Estelle de Calle, and could discuss most things with her. Miguel de Calle had been away most of the time, on business in Spain and France, and had returned home only three days ago. And that was the start of the trouble.

Toni stubbed out her cigarette, shivering a little in spite of the heat of the day. She was unused to scenes of any kind, and the kind of scene Estelle de Calle had created was completely beyond her comprehension. The Latin temperament, which she had seen little evidence of till then, had exploded with violent force, wreaking havoc with Toni's emotions. And over such a little thing...

She finished her lemon juice and rose to her feet. It was no good sitting here bemoaning her fate. She must return to London. What little money she had would pay her air fare back home to England, and then she would find herself another position forthwith. It was unfortunate that the de Calles had not yet paid her month's salary, for she doubted very much whether she would get that now.

She walked through the open swing doors of the
restaurante,
emerging into brilliant sunlight. She slid dark glasses on to her nose, and brushed back the heavy swathe of silvery blonde hair, smoothing it behind her ears. Then, swinging her handbag, she began to walk up the incline towards the narrower thoroughfare of the Avenue S. Maria. She had found a room this morning, in a small
pensao,
which would have to suffice until she was able to book her flight home.

Footsteps dogged her own, and glancing round apprehensively she found the young Portuguese from the
restaurante
was following her. Compressing her lips, she deliberately quickened her step, only to find he quickened his step also, and presently came abreast of her, glancing at her sideways out of the corners of his lustrous dark eyes. '
Boa tarde, senhorita,'
he murmured, smiling intimately. 'Is something wrong?'

Toni considered whether to ignore him completely. Her knowledge of Portuguese was quite limited, and although he had spoken English she doubted whether his knowledge of her language was any greater than hers of Portuguese. Conversely, she had some small knowledge of the opposite sex, and such as it was it argued that to ignore him might encourage him to believe she was provocative. So she shook her head, and said:
'Nao'
in a cold, aloof tone.

The boy merely continued to pace her and watch her intently. Toni looked about hopefully for a taxi. She hadn't a lot of money, it was true, but it would be the easiest way to rid herself of the young Portuguese's unwelcome attentions, without causing a scene, or involving anyone else. It was still some distance to the
pensao,
but she had no intention of allowing him to find out where she was staying.

'Donde e que e o Sr?'
the boy asked, moving closer so that his arm brushed hers.

Toni moved away to the kerb edge; she could not reply in Portuguese and he would not understand a rebuff in English, or if he did he would ignore it. She sighed. What was there about
her
that attracted such unwelcome attentions? First Miguel de Calle, and now this young boy. She doubted whether he was as old as she was.

He again moved nearer, almost forcing her off the pavement. She looked at him angrily, seeing the caressing lift of his eyes, and feeling an impotent sense of inadequacy. She looked round helplessly, and then saw the taxi coming from the opposite direction. Preoccupied with thoughts of escape, she did not stop to consider that there might be other traffic on the road. She stepped off the pavement, right into the path of a huge grey limousine. There was a scream of brakes as the driver of the car wrenched his wheel round desperately to avoid her. Toni felt the nearside wing brush her hip and she was thrown back on to the kerb, bruising her thigh on its lip, and lying there for a moment, stunned.

She became aware of the chatter of excited foreign voices, as a small crowd gathered and she made to get shakily to her feet. She was barely conscious that the driver of the limousine had extracted himself from behind the wheel of the car, slamming the door with savage impatience. He strode over to the group, thrusting the sightseers aside arrogantly, and almost hauling Toni to her feet with hard angry hands. Toni registered that he was a very dark man, with a thin tanned face that was marred by an ugly white scar that ran almost the full length of his left cheek, giving him a strangely satanic appearance, which was enhanced by the fury he was venting on her.

'Deus!'
he ground out, glaring at her.
'Esta maluco?

Toni ran a hand over her forehead, gathering her scattered wits. 'I - I am English,
senhor,'
she said with difficulty. 'I am sorry if I startled you!'

'Sorry! You are
sorry
!' He glanced round angrily, dismissing the crowd by his expression. '
Senhorita,
are you in the habit of trying to kill yourself?'

Toni shivered, overcome with the realization of what had almost happened. 'I - I've said I'm sorry,
senhor,'
she said, swallowing hard. 'You must know I was not trying to kill myself.'

He released her shoulders and straightened. 'That may be so,
senhorita,
nevertheless, you almost succeeded! In future I would advise you to take a little more care when crossing our roads!'

He spoke with only a slight accent, and his voice was deep and attractive, but Toni was in no mood to appreciate this. Instead, he seemed to her the epitome of everything she had encountered since coming to Portugal: male arrogance, omnipotence and ignorance. She managed to move slightly away from him, wondering where the young Portuguese had disappeared to, and yet feeling a sense of relief that he had done so.

'If - if you will - excuse me—' she began, but he seemed to remember his own part in the proceedings, and to her astonishment, he said:

'Come,
senhorita.
As you are obviously a stranger in my country I will see that you reach your hotel without further incident.'

'Oh, no!' Toni shook her head, backing away. Thank you, but no!'

'I insist!' His tone was forceful, and the few sightseers who were left watched with amusement at this obvious battle of the sexes.

'And so do I,' exclaimed Toni. 'Good lord, do all Portuguese refuse to take no for an answer?'

He shrugged, his dark eyes narrowed, and she thought inconsequently that he was the most attractive man she had ever encountered. He was not handsome in the accepted sense of the word, but he was tall and lean, and moved with a lithe fluid grace that suggested he was very fit. Only his scar detracted from his appearance, and yet it also added a kind of hard cynicism which was in itself a challenge. Remembering Miguel de Calle's soft hands and slightly over-fed body, Toni felt a sense of revulsion, as she compared him to this man who was regarding her with something like contempt in his eyes.

'Very well,
senhorita.
I will leave you to yourself, as this is what you wish!'

Toni flushed, feeling uncomfortable, and then, seeing a familiar face on the fringes of the group, changed her mind.
^l
Senhor,'
she began, as he turned away, 'I - I - could I take you up on your suggestion?'

The man studied her almost insolently for a moment, making Toni wish she had not spoken, and then gave a lift to his broad shoulders. 'As you wish.'

Toni nodded, and followed him to the smooth limousine with trembling legs. She felt the eyes of the young Portuguese following her from his position at the edge of the crowd, and slid into the car with relief. At least with this man she felt reasonably safe, although why she should do so, she couldn't imagine. In his way he could be eminently more dangerous.

As she entered the car she noticed a crest on the door; a silver shield emblazoned with scarlet lettering, but the door was closed on her before she had a chance to read the words. She wondered what it meant, who he was, and then lay back in her seat with a feeling of defeat. She felt tired and weary and strangely near to tears.

The man walked round the bonnet and slid in beside her, his eyes meeting hers for a moment before he started the engine. Toni felt hot all over suddenly, and she twisted the strap of her handbag nervously. It was a long time since any man had disturbed her as this man did, just by looking at her with those incredibly black eyes. She noticed that his lashes were long also, thick and dark, like his hair, which grew rather low on his neck providing a contrast to the brilliant whiteness of his shirt. His suit was dark too, and immaculate, and Toni thought it very likely that it was only one of many. The car, too, was immaculate, a continental luxury sports car with a speedometer that reached fantastic speeds.

He glanced her way once more, and Toni's colour deepened as she realized he had been aware of her scrutiny.

'Your hotel,
senhorita,'
he murmured softly. 'Its location?'

Toni swallowed her breath, choked, recovered and said: 'Er - the
Rua S. Henriques,
it's a
pensao
actually!'-

'Ah!' He nodded, and swung the car into a thickly trafficked area, letting the wheel slide through his fingers with lazy expertise. Toni put her head on one side, as crazy thoughts flitted through her mind. So, too, would he make love, she thought; expertly, his hard, lean hands arousing passionate response. She allowed herself a slight smile at her thoughts, and then caught her bottom lip between her teeth as he became aware of her amusement and quelled it with a glance.

'You find something amusing,
senhorita
?' he asked coolly.