Flame of Diablo (31 page)

desolation.

With a little shiver she reached out for

her clothes, telling herself that it was

only the fact that she was clad in nothing

but a damp towel which was making her

feel chilled to the very bone.

Rachel was not sorry to leave the army

post the following day. The dinner had

proved to be something of an ordeal,

with some of the younger officers

present exchanging furtive looks and

smiles as she entered. The muttered

name 'Arnaldez' from one of them soon

provided her with an explanation for the

air of rather knowing familiarity with

which they greeted her. Carlos was

presumably

in

the

guardroom,

entertaining everyone with his version of

her relationship with Vitas.

But their attitude soon changed to one of

somewhat dazed respect when Vitas

announced their forthcoming marriage

and Pablo Lopez rose to propose their

healths.

It disturbed Rachel to be given this

evidence of how much female chastity

was prized, and how a woman who

departed from the code ordained for her

might be treated. She didn't know

whether to feel grateful or resentful over

the difference that Vitas' announcement

had made to them, although she

suspected that her treatment at the post

might have been very different if she had

not been about to become Senora de

Mendoza.

Vitas had accepted the good wishes

which had been offered with courtesy,

but his manner to Rachel was still

distant, and she thought unhappily that

she was being punished for the harsh

things she had said to him at Diablo.

But if his manner at the dinner was cool,

it became positively icy when he

discovered that she had decided to

travel to his home in the ambulance with

Mark, rather than fly ahead with him in

the waiting helicopter.

For a moment she thought he was going

to argue with her, even order her to

travel with him, but instead he turned

away, telling her expressionlessly that

she must act as she thought best.

As it was, the journey turned out to be a

disaster, Mark was in some pain, and a

thoroughly

pettish

mood,

and

he

grumbled

continuously,

apparently

blaming Vitas exclusively for the fact

that he had broken his leg, and ignoring

the fact that he could easily have been

killed.

Rachel's patience ran out long before the

journey was over, and she told him

roundly that he should think himself

lucky.

'I can't see how you make that out,' Mark

said crossly. 'Dragging us into his feuds.

Didn't he realise how dangerous it was?'

'He hardly had to drag you into anything,'

Rachel pointed out. 'You were there in

the thick of it, thanks to your stupid

quarrel with Grandfather—and your

greed.'

Mark looked sulky. 'To think that hoard

of emeralds was there all the time, and I

never knew,' he muttered.

'You and a million others,' she said. 'I'm

glad Vitas did what he did. They're

buried for ever now, and no one will

ever be tempted.'

'Well, I think he's mad,' Mark said

rebelliously. 'No one destroys a fortune

like that.'

'Those jewels carried the seeds of their

own

destruction

with

them,'

she

protested. 'They were unlucky. Didn't

Miguel Arviles tell you that...'

'Miguel's

an

old

woman,'

Mark

complained. 'I wouldn't have minded

risking a bit of bad luck to get my hands

on a few of those stones. You're not

going to tell me that the high and mighty

Mendoza family haven't been quietly

milking them over the centuries.'

'I'm not going to tell you anything.'

Rachel's tone was weary. 'You probably

wouldn't believe me if I did. And I think

you've had all the bad luck you can take,'

she added, giving his cumbersome

plaster a significant look.

Mark relapsed into a sullen silence, and

Rachel found she was regretting the

impulse which had decided her to travel

with him. He obviously had no need of

her company.

In spite of the stuffy atmosphere in the

ambulance, and the persistent jolting, she

managed to doze off, and woke to find

that they were slowing down. She

roused herself, smoothing back her

dishevelled hair and running her palms,

slightly damp with apprehension, down

her denim-clad thighs.

The first person she saw as she

descended from the ambulance was

Vitas, a stranger in a lightweight formal

suit. He stepped forward, and put his

lips briefly on her cheek.

'Welcome to your home, Raquel,' he said

quietly. 'My mother is waiting to greet

you.'

She took the arm he extended to her and

feeling rather foolish walked towards

the arched front door and the line of

waiting servants. She wished she could

have made her first entrance in

something a little more impressive than

jeans and a shirt. Something in wild silk,

she thought wistfully, and perhaps even a

picture hat.

The fleeting glimpse she had been

vouchsafed of the exterior of the house

had pleased her. Built in two storeys, it

seemed to reflect the elegance of a

bygone era. The red tiles of the roof had

a mellow glow in the late afternoon sun,

and archways gave brief views of

courtyards with flowers and fountains,

and a vivid splash of turquoise which

might have been a swimming pool.

Inside, the elegance continued, with

exquisitely tiled floors and a gracious

staircase with a wrought iron balustrade

curving up to the upper storey.

'My mother has her own suite on the first

floor,' Vitas said abruptly. 'I have

ordered that your brother be taken

straight to his room. It has been a long

and tiring journey for him.'

And for me, Rachel thought, but knew if

she uttered the thought he would

probably say it was her own fault and

that she could have travelled in comfort

with him, instead of riding, cramped and

jolted over endless miles of dusty roads.

She accompanied him up the stairs and

along a wide gallery to an impressive

pair of carved doors at its end. He lifted

his hand to tap at one of them and

glanced down into her tense face.

'Relax, Raquel,' he advised. 'My mother

will be delighted with you. You are the

answer to her prayers.'

The woman who rose to meet them as

they entered was of medium height, but

her dignity and presence made her seem

taller. She wore a plain black dress, in

impeccable taste and a sunburst brooch

blazed on her shoulder. Rachel found

herself gathered into a scented embrace

and held warmly.

'Bless you, my child!' There were tears

in the Senora's eyes as she stood back.

'And bless you, Vitas, for bringing her to

me. She is as lovely as an angel. What

an exquisite bride she will make, and

how happy I shall be to dress her. It is

so long since Juanita was married.'

'At least two years,' he supplied drily. 'If

you wish to talk to Raquel about clothes,

then I will leave you and make sure that

her brother is comfortable and has all

that he needs.'

Rachel felt unutterably self-conscious as

the doors closed behind him, and she

was left alone with the Senora.

'Come and sit down, my child.' The

Senora waved her towards a sofa set in

front of the wide window. 'I shall not

detain you long. You will wish to go to

your room and bathe and rest before

dinner. Vitas is having your luggage sent

here from Asuncion, but I have chosen a

few things that were Juanita's for you to

use in the meantime. If you decide on a

dress for this evening, my maid will

carry out any small alterations that are

necessary.' She smiled at Rachel. 'Later

of course you will choose your own

maid, but at first several girls from the

estate will wait on you in turn so that

you can get to know them and decide

which will suit you best.'

She picked up a piece of embroidery and

began to work on it.

'I have also arranged for my dressmaker

to come here the day after tomorrow,

when you are rested, with patterns and

samples of material for your wedding

dress.'

Rachel swallowed. 'So soon?'

The Senora's eyes rested on her with a

faintly quizzical expression. She said

gently, 'Dear child, from what my

impetuous son has told me, it seems to

me that your marriage should take place

without delay.'

Rachel felt herself blush to the roots of

her hair, the few remaining shreds of her

poise scattered.

'He has told you everything?' she asked

in a low voice.

'He has always told me everything.' The

Senora paused in her stitching. 'This has

distressed you? Do you perhaps expect

me to be shocked—to hold you in

contempt because you gave yourself

outside the sacrament? Surely you cannot

think so. That night you spent with my

son might well have been his last on

earth. Do you think I could despise the

girl who held back the darkness for

him?'

Rachel felt tears prick at her eyelids.

She said, 'I—I didn't know what to

expect.' After Mark's hostility, she

supposed she had anticipated the worst.

'You are tired,' the Senora said

soothingly. 'And you have suffered a

terrible ordeal at the hands of that evil

one, Rodriguez.' She crossed herself.

'May God have mercy upon his soul. I

will ring and have Josita take you to

your room,'

Josita turned out to be an elderly woman

with a gaunt face, but when she smiled

she was transformed, and she smiled a

great deal as she watched Rachel take

her first awed look round the bedroom

she had been taken to.

The bed itself was enchantment enough

—four carved posts and a mass of crisp

white frills cascading down to the

carpet. The sunlight coming into the

room was diffused through the palest of

silk drapes, and each window was

flanked by floor-length curtains in heavy

brocade, looped back by matching

cords.

The

carpet

and

walls

complemented each other in pale orchid

pink.

After

Maria's

attentions,

Rachel

submitted resignedly to being helped out

of her jeans and shirt and wrapped in a

swansdown-trimmed

peignoir

while

Josita showed her the dresses the Senora

had mentioned. It was obvious the maid

favoured the first one she displayed for

Rachel, a classic white chiffon, with

billowing diaphanous sleeves, and she

was disappointed when Rachel shook

her head, biting her lip slightly. Under

the circumstances, she thought wryly,

there was no way in which she was

going to present herself downstairs clad

in virginal white under Vitas' cynical

gaze.

Eventually she chose a dark blue model

covered in small white polka dots,

essentially Spanish in design, with an

off-the-shoulder

bodice

and

wide

flounced skirt. The length was right, but

her waist was more slender than that of

the absent Juanita, and Josita bore the

dress away to make the necessary

adjustments.

Rachel lay on the bed and tried to relax.

The Senora's welcome had done much to

warm the coldness deep inside her, but

she knew that it was the reassurance of

Vitas' arms around her that she really

needed.

His coolness frightened her. Even his

mockery would be preferable, she