Witch's Harvest (24 page)

He leaned forward, staring at her in the lamplight as if he had never seen her before. His lips parted, then snapped shut as if he
was forcing back whatever he had planned to say. Then, almost wearily, he sent the butt of the cheroot flying over the veranda

rail, and stood up.

He said, 'Then it shall be as you wish, Abigail. But may I make one request of you? I have to go to Manaus tomorrow. Would you

be good enough to delay your departure until my return?'

She winced. 'Is that necessary?'

His mouth tightened. 'I think so—on practical grounds at least. Presumably you wish to obtain a flight back to Britain. And you

will need Pedro Lazaro to fly you out,' he added.

She looked down at the table. 'Very well, then.'

There was another silence, and she thought she heard him sigh faintly, before she heard the sounds of his footsteps walking

away from her into the house.

She stayed where she was for long minutes.

So that was it, she thought. It was as simple as that to renounce everything she had ever wanted from life.

That simple—and that heartbreaking.

Three days later, she watched as Pedro Lazaro's aircraft circled above the
fazenda
before disappearing over the trees towards
the airstrip.

Since Vasco's departure she had existed in a kind of limbo, but that was over now, and her hours, her very moments at Riocho

Negro were numbered.

She hadn't wished to alert the servants by packing in advance, so she supposed that was something she could deal with now. It

would give her something to occupy her mind while they were driving over from the airstrip.

She went to the bedroom and removed her suitcase from where it had been stored in the cavernous wardrobe. Then she began

to lift her clothes from the rails and drawers, taking immense care to choose only those things she had brought with her.

Suddenly she found herself wondering, as she folded some shirts, whether Della would be accompanying Vasco, or whether he

would wait a decent interval—whatever that was—before introducing another woman into the household. She picked up a pair

of shoes and rammed them into the case on top of her ill-used garments.

Why was she torturing herself like this? She would know soon enough—and besides, it was hardly any of her business any

more. The marriage was over, so why should Vasco bother to dissemble from now on?

She had almost finished her packing when she heard the jeep.

He must have beaten all speed records to get here, she thought bitterly. Was he so keen to get her off the premises? She felt

tears pricking at her eyes, and angrily wiped them away with her fists. She was going out of here with her head held high, not

snivelling, or worse still, imploring him for the love he could not give her.

She was just fastening her case when he walked into the bedroom. She did not look up as he came to stand beside her, but

went on fumbling with the strap on the case which was proving annoyingly recalcitrant.

He said quietly, 'I see you have wasted no time.'

'What did you expect?' Her mouth felt dry. 'Did—did you come back alone?' She despised herself even for asking, but if she had

to face Della and her triumph then she needed fair warning.

'Pedro is with me.' Vasco sounded faintly surprised. 'Rosa is giving him some food.'

'I hope he won't be too long.' She got up from her knees and motioned towards the case. 'Could you take that to the veranda for

me?'

'Presently,' he said. 'Don't you want to know— haven't you the least curiosity about what took me to Manaus?'

She shook her head. 'I already know.'

'But you don't know the outcome of my visit.' As she tried to move past him, his hands descended on her shoulders, detaining

her. He said quietly, 'Abby, I have found a potential buyer for Riocho Negro. I am giving up the struggle here, and going back to

Rio to join the family business.' He paused. 'Well, have you nothing to say?'

Abby felt as if she had been turned to stone. She stared up into his face, assimilating the new lines of strain round his mouth

and eyes.

She said, half-whispering, 'But you said this was your life—that you'd never leave.'

'And I meant it, then.' Vasco shook his head. 'But since then I have learned that nothing here matters as much as the happiness

of the woman I love.'

She tore herself free. She said harshly, 'Then it's a pity you didn't come to this decision a long time ago—and save all this

unhappiness and—and bitterness.'

'Is that all you have to say?' There was a note of incredulity in his voice. 'Doesn't it matter to you that I'm prepared to make this
sacrifice?'

'What do you expect?' She glared at him. 'A pat on the back, and my heartiest congratulations? Well, forget it. It's no longer my

concern what you do, Vasco. I—I hope everything turns out as you want.' She snatched up her case. 'And now I'd like to leave.'

The silence between them was bleak and empty as a desert, then Vasco shrugged and turned away. 'And I was fool enough to

think it might make some difference,' he said, half to himself. 'That you would understand why…'

Her voice shook. 'You don't expect much!'

'On the contrary,' he said cynically, 'I expected a great deal.
Adeus, senhora
. I will not keep you any longer.'

Abby hurried through the house, the case banging awkwardly against her legs as she moved. There was no one about, and she

was glad of it. She couldn't have borne to face Ana and the others. Vasco could make her excuses when she'd gone, she

thought wretchedly, and tell them whatever story he wanted to explain her abrupt departure.

And then, she thought, he would have, somehow, to explain his own.

It crucified her to know that Della had won in the end, although at the same time she knew her cousin would have remained

impervious to Riocho Negro's wild, dangerous charm. Vasco was clearly not prepared to risk losing her a second time, and who

could blame him?

But he was so committed to the life here, she argued with herself. How could he really be happy in Rio, away from it all, Della's

presence at his side notwithstanding?

She had expected Pedro Lazaro to be waiting on the veranda, but there was no sign of him. Abby dumped her case down and

stood irresolutely for a moment. It seemed her wait had to continue for a while.

The moments passed with agonising slowness. Don Afonso squawked at her, and she went over and stroked the fierce head

with her finger.

'Goodbye, you monster,' she whispered huskily. 'Wish me luck.'

She paused suddenly. I've forgotten the
figa
, she thought. She had always cherished the little wooden token which had
welcomed her to Riocho Negro, although it hadn't brought her any real good fortune so far. But maybe its magic wasn't potent

enough to prevail against all the adverse influences which had been against her from the first.

But, in spite of that, she didn't want to leave it behind. Apart from anything else, she was aware that it would be the direst ill-luck
to abandon it, for any reason.

She went slowly back to the bedroom, hoping and expecting to find it deserted. After all, Vasco had been gone for three days.

Even if he was planning to leave, he would have Agnello to see, and paperwork to catch up on.

She pushed open the bedroom door, walked in-then stopped dead.

Because Vasco was there after all. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Abby's discarded nightgown cradled across

his body, the expression on his face so agonised that it tore at her soul.

As she watched, transfixed, he lifted the soft, scented folds and buried his face in them with a sound like a sob.

Moving silently, she went to his side and put a hand on his shoulder. 'Vasco?'

He recoiled as if her touch had stung him, flinging the nightgown away and glaring at her in spite of the suspicious moisture in

his eyes.

He said tautly, 'What are you doing here? I thought you had gone.'

'I had to come back for something…'

The dark face hardened. He said, with something like contempt, 'Take it, then, and go. Leave me in peace.'

Abby didn't have any idea any more what was going on. She had nothing to follow but instinct. That, and the tormented look

she had not been supposed to see.

She said slowly, 'Is that what you want? Is that— really what you want?'

'What do you care? You have told me so often that my dreams, my problems are no longer your concern. In God's name, Abby,

have a little mercy, and go quickly,' he added harshly.

She sat down beside him on the bed. Her mouth felt dry. She said, 'What's happened? Has Della-turned you down?'

'Della?' he repeated on a note of incredulity. 'What are you talking about?'

'Please don't pretend, or—lie to me,' she appealed almost feverishly. 'She was in Manaus, and you were with her. Gerulito saw

you together, and told everyone.'

Vasco uttered a brief but pungent obscenity. 'That interfering fool!' he said with a snarl. 'What he has cost me!' He flung back his
head and looked at her. '
Sim
, she came to Manaus. Her arrival coincided with her letter informing me of her intention, so it was
too late to take some kind of avoiding action. But I never intended you should know. Della was only part of the reason for my

visit to Manaus, and a very small part.' He paused. 'I saw her once, Abby, in the presence of my lawyer. She was left in no doubt

that her journey had been a wasted one, and as far as I am aware, she took the next flight back.'

Abby shook her head. 'That can't be possible,' she protested. 'You wanted me to leave—because of her. You know you did, so

don't try and spare my feelings—please.'

'I wanted you to leave?' he repeated slowly. 'What madness is this? What did I ever say—ever do to make you think such a

thing? It was always you,
querida
, who wished to go—back to this man who waits for you in England.' His mouth hardened.

'This—Keith.'

'Keith?' she almost shrieked. 'What are you talking about?'

'About the man you love—the man you hoped to marry once, until my—intervention in your life.' Vasco touched her cheek

fleetingly. 'Don't look like that,
carinha
. I learned, even before we were married, to live with the fact that your heart did not belong
to me.' He shook his head. 'And in Manaus, Della told me that he was still waiting for you, still praying you would return to him.

She said the letter he had sent you had begged you to return to England.' His eyes held hers. 'Can you deny that?'

'Yes,' Abby said fiercely, 'I can. I'd never expected to hear from Keith again—and never wanted to either. I'd been seeing him in

London, admittedly, but it wasn't serious. I can't imagine why you thought…' She stopped. She said uncertainly, 'Or can I? Did

Della—say something?'

'That night when she found us together at your flat,' he said slowly. 'She told me then that you were madly in love with this man

Keith, but that he had very little money, so you had gone after me because I could give you more, materially, than he could. She

said I would soon find out how mercenary you were.'

'And you believed her?' She gazed at him, stricken.

'What did I really know about you,
carinha
?' His voice gentled. 'Only how sweet you were to love—little more. And I could not
escape the idea that you might have given yourself to me out of no more than sexual curiosity.' He cupped her chin in his hand

and looked searchingly into her eyes. 'At your uncle's house, long before, you had been— aware of me, hadn't you?'

Flushing, she nodded. 'It was more than that,' she confessed.

'How much more?' The dark gaze held hers gravely.

'Everything in the world,' she said, stumbling a little. 'From the first time I saw you. That's why I left—found a place of my own.

But Della knew— Della guessed. She used to—taunt me about it—about the fact that you didn't know I existed. She—threatened

to tell you, and I thought she had done—that night. I thought,' she swallowed, 'that was why you'd been so—understanding

over the terms of our marriage. That you pitied me…'

'I think you overestimate my capacity for compassion
querida
.' There was a ghost of laughter in Vasco's voice. 'If I had had the
least idea that you were in love with me after all, I would have taken you to bed that night, and every other night that followed.

Instead, I told myself to be patient. To wait until we were married, when there would be all the time in the world to woo you,

convince you that you were the wife I wanted, and we could be happy together.' He shook his head. 'If I had realised how

stubborn you would be about keeping me at arm's lengthy I would have been in despair, I think.'

Abby said with difficulty, 'But you weren't in love with me. It was Della you wanted…'