White Witch (12 page)

Peter was on the qui vive for his uncle’s arrival, and dashed out to meet him when he saw the Silver Shadow coming down the avenue of palm trees that led to the hotel. He dodged other cars at considerable risk to life and limb, while Laurel watched anxiously from the hotel entrance, unable to intervene. With relief she saw them coming towards her, Peter hanging on Luis’ arm.

‘He is still alive,’ was Luis’ greeting. ‘But I thought that red car was going to get him. Does he often do that?’

‘No, only for you.’ She was glad of the diversion for her heart was beating madly. Luis had for once abandoned formal clothes and wore a black sweater above black cord pants. The garb suited him, outlining his lean, muscular frame.

‘He was in a hurry to get to you,’ she went on. ‘He was afraid you’d disappear into the office without saying hello.’

‘I am not in such great haste to become immersed in the hotel’s discrepancies,’ Luis returned, smiling. ‘Shall we go outside and have a drink before I commence operations?’

He was as darkly magnetic as he had always been, in every fibre Laurel was aware of him, feeling herself come alive under the stimulus of his presence. Last time they had met, she could think only of the sick child, but today it was Luis who absorbed her. She was like a thirst-crazed desert wanderer who had found a spring of fresh water.

Peter answered in Spanish to the effect that that would be a lovely idea, and pranced on ahead. Luis watched him fondly.

‘He is progressing with the language, and he has grown since his operation.’ He held the swing door open for her to pass through on to the terrace, and his glance swept over her body. She wore brown slacks and a bright green blousette in soft piled bouchette fabric with a deep vee neck. She had lost most of her summer tan, but excitement at his coming had brought a wild rose tint to her cheeks. Her eyes were shadowed and she was much too thin. When they were seated, where she had sat with Cristina, he gave his order and then examined Peter critically.

‘He looks very well,’ he decided. ‘Quite himself again.’

‘I’ve still got a red mark on my tummy,’ Peter told him, unwilling to discard the role of pampered invalid.

‘You will always have a scar, but it will turn white.’

The waiter brought their refreshment very promptly, and he turned his regard upon Laurel.

‘More than I can say for you. I hoped the fresh air up here would do you good. You are thin as a willow wand, and your eyes are like bruised pansies.’

She flushed and paled under his keen scrutiny. ‘Oh, I’m all right. I’ve not been sleeping well, that’s all.’

‘Why is that?’ he asked sharply.

Because I can’t get you out of my thoughts and this place is redolent of you—but she could not tell him that. Instead she said:

‘I’ve been worrying about how Mrs. Carter is managing.’

‘I do not think you are losing sleep over her,’ he returned. ‘She managed before you came to her. Be honest, Laurel, you are pining for your James, but you will soon be reunited.’

‘Who’s James?’ Peter demanded.

‘Has she not told you? Someone who is going to make your Tia very happy.’

‘You don’t mean she’s going to get married?’ He stared at Laurel aghast. ‘Not some beastly English guy? I wanted her to marry a Spanish
hidalgo
so she would be here always. Why don’t you marry her, Tio? That would be super.’ Peter’s vocabulary was becoming a strange mixture of tongues.

‘Your aunt does not trust Spaniards,’ Luis said bitterly. ‘She said she would only marry an Englishman.’

So she had—long ago, but here was one misconception she would remove before she left, Laurel decided.

‘If you’re talking about James Baron,’ she said, ‘there’s no such person.’

‘ ’Course not!’ Peter exclaimed triumphantly. ‘I knew you’d got it wrong, Tio Luis, and I think that’s a horrible name.’

‘It was invented on the spur of the moment,’ Laurel confessed.

Luis was sitting very still, his face inscrutable. Then he took out his car keys. ‘Pedro, there is a parcel on the back seat of the Shadow wrapped in red paper. It is a present for you. Go and get it, and you can open it at once if you like.’ He handed the boy the keys.

‘I don’t know if he can manage the lock.’ Laurel rose to her feet, suddenly afraid of being alone with Luis.

‘ ’Course I can!’

Peter vanished like smoke, as Luis’ hand clamped over Laurel’s wrist.

‘Stay where you are.’ He looked up at her with reproachful eyes. ‘Why, Laurel, in God’s name why?’

She sank back on to her seat, her wrist still manacled by Luis’ strong brown fingers.

‘I needed some defence against...’ she blushed vividly and stared down at the table ‘... you know what. You were engaged to Cristina and I ... I couldn’t become your mistress.’

‘With the result you were never nearer to being raped in your life,’ he retorted caustically. ‘No, that is the wrong word—you were willing. That was a damn stupid thing to say. Laurel—to be told another man had got there first nearly drove me crazy, and I have never been engaged to Cristina.’

Laurel tried to free her wrist, but his grip tightened.

‘Look at me,’ he commanded.

Drawn by some force she could not resist, Laurel unwillingly raised her eyes. He stared into their limpid depths as he had so often done before.

‘Virgin’s eyes,’ he said at length, and released her.

She rubbed her wrist against her trouser leg to restore the circulation.

‘You didn’t think so that morning by the pool,’ she told him bitterly, ‘when you accused me of being Peter’s mother.’

‘
Querida
,’ his voice was very soft, ‘you had been playing with fire. Did you not expect retaliation?’

‘So that was what it was! I could call it slander, defamation of character and a few other things, and to round off your charming epithets, which amounted to liar and fraud, you said definitely you were going to marry Cristina. But that didn’t come off, did it? She’s thrown you over and latched herself on to a seedy duke.’

Not at all perturbed, Luis told her: ‘I always knew you had a temper. I like a woman with spirit. Yes, Cristina told me she has captured a duke and expected me to be overwhelmed with grief at the loss of her person ... and her pesetas.’

‘Which you weren’t?’

‘I pretended to be, to soothe her vanity, which was all that was hurt. After all, I had aroused her expectations. I
had
intended to marry her, but I could not bring myself to propose to her, not while my heart was longing for ... you.’

‘But you couldn’t marry a slut out of an
orfelinato
, as she so politely told me.’

‘When was this?’

‘She came up here looking for you. She wanted to flourish her duke in your face. Nice lot, you Spaniards...’ Laurel was very angry, he seemed quite unmoved by all the distress he had caused her ... ‘Because I very rightly tried to repel you, putting up the only defence I could think of, you put me through purgatory with your horrible insinuations, and Cristina sells herself for a title to spite you.’

‘You are no better. You sent me to hell pretending you were involved with a non-existent suitor. I thought that was why you ran away from Mijas without waiting for my return. You had already told me, you little liar, you had been away from him too long. After that, I had to keep away from you. I dared not even visit you in London to offer my apologies, in case I found you with this James Baron—loathsome name!—for then I would have killed him.’

Peter was running towards them, waving red wrapping paper in one hand, and grasping a toy replica of the Silver Shadow in the other. He caught the last words.

‘Killed who?’ he demanded with interest. ‘Not the man who wants to marry Tia? She says he’s not real.’

‘Tia,’ Luis said with great decision, ‘is going to marry me.’

‘Oh, goody!’ But Peter at that moment was more excited by his present, than Laurel’s matrimonial prospects. ‘It’s super, Tio Luis, thank you—I mean
gracias muchas
.’

‘
Muchas gracias
,’ Luis corrected him. ‘And where are my car keys?’

‘I left them in the lock of the car,’ Peter said blithely.

‘Then go and get them,
cretino.
You can leave your present here until you come back.’

‘
Perdon,
Tio Luis.’ Peter was off like a rocket and Luis turned to look at Laurel. She was gazing at him in wide-eyed astonishment.

‘You can’t mean that, Luis—me, an orphanage slut?’

‘The finest little woman in the world, or so your friends tell me.’

Reminded of his duplicity, she said tartly: ‘Yes, Mrs. West gave me a good testimonial, didn’t she? But prior to that...’

‘I was well aware of your excellent qualities,’ he interrupted, ‘until I allowed Mercedes to play on my jealousy. I am afraid I am a jealous man, Laurelita. It is a part of loving ... Oh, what
is
it?’

The manager had approached bowing deferentially, indicating in Spanish that all was ready for El Senor’s inspection. At the same moment Peter returned with the car keys, and Luis groaned.

‘You had better go and do your duty,’ Laurel told him, ‘and allow me time to collect myself.’ Had Luis been about to confess he loved her? Resignedly Luis rose to his feet. ‘And do not dare to run away,’ he threatened, then his face softened. ‘You and I have both suffered, but the best is still to come.’

As the two men walked away, Peter looked up from examining his toy, to enquire:

‘You don’t really mind Tio Luis being Spanish, do you, Tia? After all, I’m Spanish too.’

Laurel threw her arms round him and kissed him, much to his disgust.

‘I love everything Spanish.’

‘You go round like a weathercock,’ Peter reproved her, ‘but I only like being kissed when I’m ill.’

Luis had different ideas, but it was not until after dinner with Peter safely asleep that he was able to demonstrate how much he liked being kissed and kissing. They had wandered out into the gardens where a yellow moon had replaced the sun. The old magic was still there, the rapturous response, but Luis was gentle, his passion held in check. Presently he reluctantly released her, and with a hand under her chin, tilted her face so the light fell full upon it. The moon’s rays turned her skin to ivory, her hair to silver, but her eyes were like stars.

‘
Amada,’
he began earnestly, ‘if you have any doubts express them now, and we will reconsider, for once we are married, I will never, never let you go.’

She answered steadily: ‘I’ve loved you for a long time, Luis, and I’m ready to take a chance on you, but you must trust me, for when you called me a fraud you all but broke my heart.’

‘For that I humbly beg your pardon, it was, as you might say the last ditch before my final defences crumbled. I nearly asked you to marry me on that day when we stood above the gorge, but ... well, we know what happened to your sister, and I felt we must make very sure, and you
were
a fraud when you trumped up James Baron. Then I saw red, I was ready to believe anything bad of you to get you out of my system.’

‘But it didn’t work?’ she asked softly.

He shook his head. ‘I could not oust you from my heart. When I saw you again on the doorstep of that unspeakable place, I longed to sweep you into my arms and carry you away, pamper you with luxury, do anything to make amends.’

‘Me, with my hair like a bird’s nest, and a smut on my nose?’

‘Was there? To me you always looked lovely, and there was a light in your eyes ... but then that good lady talked about you getting married, and I thought I must have been mistaken.’

‘She didn’t mean anyone in particular, but she was afraid some man would take me away from her eventually. She was right. You wouldn’t let me go back and work out a month’s notice to placate her? She was very good to me when I had nobody else to turn to, and I was fond of the children.’

‘Most certainly not. I will give the Home a large donation to compensate for your loss.’ He drew her back into his arms. ‘And if you want children perhaps I can do something about that.’

Laurel laughed, and snuggled against him, murmuring in his ear:

‘Your mother did tell me something about a flamenco dancer in Torremolinos, but if I’m to be a good Spanish wife, I suppose I must look the other way.’

‘Mama should not tell tales. I went to Manuelita seeking distraction when you seemed lost to me, but it was useless, she sickened me. There will never be anyone but you,
luz de mi vida
.’

Enlaced, they wandered on through the scented garden, not noticing the air was turning chill.

Beside the rose bush from which he had once given her a blossom, Laurel stopped.

‘Luis!’

‘What is it now?’

‘You haven’t said it, you know.’

‘Said what?’ he sounded anxious.

‘That you love me.’

‘For now and for ever. All that I have is yours, including my heart.’