Lord Of Zaracus. Anne Mather

sound of a Spanish guitar echoing round the secluded courtyard.

      She became aware of another presence, and swung round to find her father being greeted by Don Carlos. Today he was dressed in a dark-grey lounge suit, his linen startlingly white against the dark tan of his skin. His thick straight hair had been combed smoothly, but still persisted in lying partly over his forehead. He looked cool and immaculate, and completely sure of himself. In consequence, Carolyn felt a wave of inadequacy sweep over her, and felt a succeeding wave of annoyance follow it. Why should she feel inadequate? She had known plenty of men, and none of them had succeeded in making her feel like this. After all, no matter how important he was in Mexico, he was only a man, after all!

      Only a man! Carolyn swallowed hard. He was certainly that. She had never known any man emanate such an aura of masculinity, and when his cool grey eyes turned on her she felt young and rather gauche. She knew her father was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to apologise as she had said she would. But suddenly, she felt rebelliously like forgetting her promise. She remembered how he had crushed the beetle in the shower, and her colour deepened.

      With a sigh, she walked across to them. ‘Don Carlos, this is my daughter, Carolyn,’ her father was saying, and Carolyn halted and allowed her hand to be shaken in a cool, hard grip. She snatched her hand away as soon as she could, and said:

      ‘I—I suppose I should apologise, Don Carlos. I’m afraid I was very rude, the last time we met.’

      The man’s eyes narrowed a little, and she saw that his lashes were long and thick, veiling his expression. ‘I’m sure you were overwrought after your journey,’ he answered, smoothly, although there was no warmth in his voice.

      Professor Madison looked relieved. ‘That is true,’ he said, quickly. ‘And now, I suppose I should apologise for bringing Carolyn here without asking your permission.’

      Don Carlos shrugged his broad shoulders, and Carolyn saw the muscles ripple beneath the expensive material of his suit. She didn’t know why but she was aware of everything about this man, and the knowledge was not gratifying.

      ‘I think we will talk much better over coffee,’ remarked Don Carlos, suavely. ‘Come. We will go to the library.’

      Carolyn walked with her father following the man into the building through the wide glass doors. They were now in a mosaic-tiled hall with a wide marble staircase at one side, the balustrade an intricate design of white wrought iron. Don Carlos led the way across the hall, through another archway and into a long narrow room, lined with books, wide french doors opening on to a veranda which overlooked a wide stretch of glistening water.

      ‘Oh, the lake,’ exclaimed Carolyn involuntarily.

      Don Carlos pressed a button on the desk in the centre of the room, and then turned, looking at Carolyn’s animated expression. ‘Yes, Lake Magdalene. This is your first sight of the lake, Señorita?’

      ‘Yes.’ Carolyn recovered her composure. ‘It’s very beautiful.’

      ‘And not so appalling, Señorita?’ he murmured, softly, so that her father who was again lighting his pipe could not hear.

      Carolyn stared at him, and then unable to bear the unconcealed contempt in his eyes, turned away. Professor Madison had noticed nothing amiss, and a white-coated servant arrived with a tray of coffee and thin bone china. When the servant withdrew, Don Carlos looked at Carolyn.

      ‘Will you attend to the coffee?’ he asked, his tone bland again.

      Carolyn wanted to refuse, but instead she nodded, and seated herself beside the tray, asking them their preferences for cream and sugar in a tight little voice. Were it not for her father she would tell Don Carlos Fernandez Monterra d’Alvarez exactly what she thought of him!

      She was not offered a cigarette, although Don Carlos helped himself to a thin cheroot, and she felt about in her pocket for her own. Finding them, she drew them out and put one between her lips, searching about for her lighter. Don Carlos and her father were discussing the storm the night before and its possible effects on the dig. Carolyn thought she was completely unobserved, but then a gold lighter was flicked and a light applied to the end of her cigarette.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said, fuming, and her host merely shrugged and resumed his interrogation of her father.

      She looked about her for something to do, avoiding looking in their direction. The veranda outside the french doors was very inviting, and she wondered whether the Alvarez family swam in the lake. There was bound to be a private path giving them access.

      And then she found herself looking into a pair of mischievous dark eyes which were peeping round the corner of the door. Carolyn smiled in spite of herself, for she was sure she would never like any member of this family, but the eyes were irresistible. Set in a piquantly attractive face that was much too thin, surrounded by long black hair plaited into two thick braids, the girl was obviously very young.

      Surreptitiously Carolyn got to her feet, but the movement attracted Don Carlos’s gaze again, and he said: ‘Ah, Elena, I thought it was you.’ He smiled, and Carolyn stared at him, momentarily hypnotised by the transformation of his lean features. His teeth were white and even, and he was startlingly attractive. Then she forced herself to look away, back at the girl who had now tentatively entered the room, and stood just inside the doorway. She was dressed in a dark-green dress which looked much too old for her, and far too long, and Carolyn thought that in younger, shorter clothes she would be very pretty.

      ‘This is my sister, Elena,’ said Don Carlos. ‘Elena, this is Professor Madison, and his daughter Señorita Madison.’

      ‘Hola,’ said Elena, smiling. ‘Welcome to the Hacienda Alvarez.’

      Carolyn’s eyes widened. ‘You speak English,’ she said, involuntarily.

      ‘All my family have been educated in the United States,’ said Don Carlos, smoothly. ‘Unfortunately, Elena has been ill and can no longer attend school there. Instead, she has a governess.’

      Carolyn looked at Elena with gentle eyes. She did look pale and delicate, but her eyes belied any lack of spirit.

      ‘Where is Señorita Alfonso?’ asked Don Carlos, now. ‘Surely you should be at lessons.’

      Elena laughed irrepressibly. ‘I saw the professor and his daughter arrive through my window,’ she confessed. ‘I wanted to meet Señorita Madison. We so rarely have any young visitors to the hacienda, Carlos.’

      Don Carlos relaxed a little. ‘So now you have met the Señorita, you will return to your lessons, yes? Or Señorita Alfonso will be very cross.’

      Elena wrinkled her nose. ‘But the señorita cannot be interested in your dull talk, Carlos. Could I not show her the pool, and the lake? And maybe the gardens?’

      Carolyn looked at Don Carlos rather sardonically. Now what would he say?

      ‘I think, Elena, that the señorita will soon be leaving with her father. Besides, I am sure she is not particularly interested in our estate.’

      ‘Oh, but you are wrong, Señor,’ returned Carolyn, silkily, enjoying the opportunity of getting her own back. ‘I should love to see the pool and the lake and the gardens, and I am sure you and my father are not nearly finished your coffee, yet. I have.’

      Don Carlos gave a reluctant nod of his head. ‘Very well, if that is what you wish, Señorita.’ He looked at Carolyn’s father. ‘I trust you have no objections, Professor.’

      ‘None at all.’ Professor Madison smiled. ‘But before Carolyn leaves, perhaps you could tell me whether her presence here in the valley is to be permitted.’

      ‘Permitted?’ exclaimed Elena. ‘Why should it not be permitted, Carlos?’

      Don Carlos compressed his lips for a moment. ‘Elena, you know nothing about this at all. Please refrain from interrupting.’ He looked at the professor thoughtfully. ‘I cannot deny that such a permittance