Island Of Pearls Read online

  "And Francisco has agreed?" Tio Garcia interrupted, startled.

  Robin patted his breast pocket. "The contract is here, vetted and signed just a few hours ago by the Marques himself."

  "You surprise me," Tio Garcia admitted, sharing an unspoken belief that had Francisco not been a man of strict honour his signature would by now have been rendered worthless. No one was more aware of this than Robin, which fact, paradoxically, caused his resentment to increase.

  "You have reached a position of responsibility very early in life," Tio Garcia appeased when Hazel made no effort to join in the conversation.

  A grin split his honest face as he denigrated his talents. "Might just have something to do with the fact that my father is a major shareholder in the company!"

  "I refuse to believe it!" Tio Garcia chuckled, his approval growing. "However, we shall find out in time. Many attempts have been made to capture the atmosphere of the caves, but although some beautiful images have resulted no one has yet managed to capture their intrinsic magic on celluloid."

  Eagerly, Robin leant forward. "What makes the caves of Drach so special ? I've heard the number of caves on this island estimated at some two hundred, so in what respect do your caves stand out from the rest ?"

  "The Cuevas del Drach are the most beautiful, the most spectacular, the most complete works of which nature is capable," Tio Garcia claimed proudly. "Formed by drops of water upon stone is a unique vault where' everything lovely unites to form a secret world of enchantment."

  Hazel felt a stirring of interest; she had gone as far as to join an expedition to the caves organized by the hotel, but at the last minute had withdrawn, too conscious of her solitary state to feel at home amongst

  family parties and close-knit couples. Tio Garcia's vivid descriptions renewed her urge to see for herself the caverns of stalactites and stalagmites thrusting and reflecting in the deep blue waters of an underground lagoon.

  "You are speaking of the Cuevas del Drach?" Francisco intervened, the flame of a match flaring above their heads as he ignited the cheroot jutting pencil black between white teeth. "Mallorca," he gave the island its native name, "according to the prophecy of one of our much-feared Spanish saints, is an empty shell. It is like a clay pot placed upside down, a pot which every time it nears a fire becomes more fragile and inflammable." When Hazel felt compelled to meet his look she sensed his following words were directed at her alone. "The day will come," he promised, "when by nearing the fire too often the pot will break and be devoured." Was he warning her not to pit her fragile strength against the heat of his temper? Her eyes dropped before the mockery in his. They thought he played a teasing game, these onlookers, but she knew he did nothing without a purpose, and fear singed along her nerves as quivering senses were subjected to a force so powerful it could have been generated by El Diablo himself!

  She cut adrift from unbearable tension by jumping to her feet. "Please excuse me, I have to look in on Carmen . . . it's a ritual, she won't sleep until I've kissed her goodnight."

  "Lucky Carmen!" Robin drawled, carefully avoiding Francisco's gimlet stare.

  "Do you mind if I come too?" Catryn unfolded from

  the settee, taking agreement for granted.

  "No, of course not. . ." Hazel paused on the edge of flight, wondering what ulterior motive lay behind the request. It was unlike Catryn to desert the company of three attractive men for that of a woman and a child who up until now had shown very little interest in her company. She discovered her suspicions were well founded when, after ministering to the drowsy child, she tiptoed outside into the passageway where Catryn, who made no attempt to even enter the bedroom, had elected to wait.

  "May I take a peep into your room?" she asked, already moving towards the ornate-handled door further along the passageway.

  Too flustered to pretend politeness, Hazel faltered, "I'd rather you didn't just now . . ." but Catryn had opened the door and was stepping inside even as the refusal was voiced.

  "God, what a set-up!" Her greedy eyes encompassed the pearl and ivory setting, trying to evaluate the priceless objects scattered indiscriminately around the bridal bower. Glazed with envy, her eyes roved, glancing once at the ornate bed, then quickly across to the door connecting with Francisco's room. The sight seemed to anger her, for she swung round to demand, diamond-bright: "What's behind all this, Nut-brown? Did you resort to blackmail, or was he pushed, because of a momentary weakness, into marrying you to protect your good name?"

  The crude question flayed colour into Hazel's cheeks. No longer was there any pretence of friendship. Catryn's hatred could be felt, ugly and sinfully envious, snaking

  between them. She recoiled from its sting, and sick to the heart answered with as much dignity as she was able, "Francisco would never allow himself to be forced; he proposed and I accepted because I love him and for no otherreason."

  "Oh, do me a favour!" Scornful disbelief registered in Catryn's every gesture as she paraded the room. "Little Miss Butter-wouldn't-melt, whose scandalized protest against my avowed intention to marry money almost made me feel guilty for the first time in my life!" With a harsh laugh, she spun round to torment, "I believe part of your arguments, Nut-brown! Obviously, he must have asked you to become his wife, and naturally a meek little fool such as yourself would be bound to fall in love with him. But there's got to be some other reason - and when I discover what it is you'll need to watch out, old friend. A full-blooded man needs a mate worthy of his intensity; he'll soon weary of your immaturity, and when he does I'll be waiting to provide the stimulation he's so obviously missing!"

  When she swept out of the room, Hazel found she could not face the idea of returning downstairs to chat and behave as if the hateful scene had never happened. Catryn would carry on as usual, enjoying the cut and thrust of Francisco's conversation, accepting in an assured manner the admiration of men dazzled by her beauty if not by the brittleness some were acute enough to sense lay beneath the surface. She would not be missed, Hazel told herself as she prepared for bed. Tio might enquire about her absence and so might Robin, but Francisco would be content in the company of the

  woman whose impact he had felt from their first meeting.

  A cool shower did nothing to calm her. Still shocked by the verbal onslaught playing over and over on the sound-track of her mind, she pulled a listless brush through her hair, then let it drop motionless as she stared at her image reflecting pale through the gem-encrusted mirror. Her slim body, shadowed by a nightdress of ivory-coloured lace, barely made a smudge against the similarly shaded background. Her face portrayed innocence, except for the eyes which bore a woman's agony - an agony of hurt, despair and yearning to be loved.

  She was turning back the bed covers when Francisco walked in. Without warning, suddenly he was there filling the room with his domineering presence. She stared at him, questioning as once before his invasion of privacy, but she heeded an inner warning to remain silent.

  He advanced a few paces. "Did you really think I would allow you to desert your duties in such a casual fashion?"

  "My duties are done," she quivered, distrusting the smile that was making mockery of his terse words.

  She almost relaxed when he breathed softly, "So, as the little Carmen is asleep you reason that you are justified in retiring also ?"

  "Yes, why not?" she forced through chattering teeth. It was not cold, windows were closed against the chill of early spring, but her room had retained enough of the day's heat to make the lighting of a fire unnecessary. Until his entrance, she had felt no trace of cold.

  "But what of your other duties?" he reminded her. "Additional authority brings greater responsibilities and you surely have not forgotten that mere hours ago you took upon yourself the role of mistress by inviting both friend and admirer to stay here at the Casa ?"

  "I didn't invite Catryn, Tio Garcia did," she flashed. "And I'm sorry about Robin. I know you don't like him, but I would never have acted as I did if only you
hadn't jumped to all the wrong conclusions and practically accused me of being lacking in propriety!"

  He turned her fire by beginning an assessment that started at the crown of her hair, highlighted auburn under the rays of an overhead chandelier and continuing slowly downwards, taking in suspiciously damp eyes, flushed cheeks and mobile mouth, then lingering deliberately upon the rise and fall of ivory lace betraying the agitation of a heart-hammering protest against new and disturbing emotions. "Whatever your reason," he stated coolly, "the fact remains that you undertook more than you knew when you opted to relieve me of my authority. You insisted upon taking a share of control, so I must insist you implement your wifely duties by coming downstairs to see to our guests!"

  With a swish of angry skirts she swept out of reach, choking out the accusation, "When you've finished making fun of me, senor, I'd like you to leave."

  The space she had created was breached in a couple of steps and two steely hands clamped her shoulders. The amusement she had taunted him with was totally absent when he swung her around to face him. "You will get dressed and present yourself downstairs in the sala in exactly five minutes. Otherwise," his menace was

  unmistakable, "I shall myself assist you, and I've no doubt you'll find the experience less than pleasant!" He shook her, riled by her expression of hurt disbelief. The scolding of her left him feeling he had thrashed a child, he had admitted in a moment of weakness, and that was exactly how she felt - physically and emotionally thrashed...!

  Hazel fought to subdue a trembling bottom lip, biting deeply, welcoming the pain that blunted the edge of his verbal dagger, and the resulting tiny spurt of blood aggravated him further. His hands relaxed their bruising grip upon her shoulders but did not release completely. She was drawn forward, hypnotised by a glint like the swift unsheathing of a sword momentarily flaring in the darkness of his eyes.

  "There is perhaps one more wifely duty I might call upon you to perform, little ardilla, if ever again you dare to disobey my wishes. The brides of Drach have all been pure, but you, amada, must claim the record for being the longest-reigning virgin bride. However, I warn you, if you wish to retain that small distinction do not goad me further!" She stiffened when his hands continued to make plainer than words his shocking intention, smoothing over curves, cruelly exploiting the grip of fear that rendered her paralysed, so forcing her to accept without murmur the utter humiliation of his touch. "You need not fear Catryn's more forceful personality, little squirrel," he murmured, his lips close to her ear. "Your restful qualities hold a surprising attraction for men who have suffered a surfeit of the polished vivacity which passes in some circles for charm. In fact, mia cara, in your own quiet way you can be

  somewhat more than disturbing, and I would not be averse to discovering what thoughts and desires seethe under that cool little brow."

  His voice deepened, as if surprised by his own words, then he pushed her away. A wave of lavender perfume was all that separated them when he grated, "Do you understand what is implied?" A great shuddering sigh was all the answer he needed. "Good!" he strode towards the door, leaving her to battle alone with rioting emotions, then lifting his wrist to check his watch, he repeated the warning, "Five minutes are all you are allowed. If by then you have not joined us downstairs I will interpret your absence as being both a challenge and an invitation ..."

  The door had barely closed before she began fumbling into her clothes. Buttons refused to stay put, zips would not respond to jerky fingers, but she battled on, seeing in her mind's eye the second hand of a clock inexorably sweeping away the precious minutes. He had left her no time for analysis, but twin emotions battled for supremacy, love and hate; desire and repugnance; fear and understanding, so that when finally she was dressed confusion was uppermost in her mind. She ran to the dressing table to flick a comb through tousled hair, but was distracted by her ghost-like image staring wide-eyed from the mirror. Had there been a grain of truth in his statement ? Had she, unwittingly, managed to worm her way into his life so that, as a familiar object is valued only when admired by others, Robin's mild attempt to flirt had aroused possessive interest?

  An approaching presence, heralded by the sound of tinkling bells as someone ascended the stairs, caused

  her to throw down the comb in panic. She rushed to the door and stumbled into the passageway almost into the arms of Francisco, who was just about to enter. Her apprehensive, appealing look caught him off guard and dispersed the grimness from around his mouth as he smiled. "Such a pity!" he mocked, pretending disappointment. "I had begun to feel quite intrigued." Declining his proffered arm, she stalked past him with head held high, but inwardly she was writhing and fiercely resentful of a wave of longing so intense she dared not analyse too closely its roots of conception.

  CHAPTER VII

  During the weeks that eased spring gently into early summer life advanced at an unexpectedly tranquil pace. Catryn's busy season had begun and the army of tourists invading the island kept her too busy to visit the Casa. Not that Hazel ever thought of inviting her, but she often wondered if Catryn's few free hours coincided with the occasions when Francisco arrived home very late and uncharacteristically benign. Robin too was absent, finding his work at the caves so engrossing that he barely came up for air before plunging back into the depths of the earth to transpose on to film an atmosphere so unique that its capture had begun to represent not so much a task as an achievement.

  Part of her job, Hazel had decided, was to breach the gulf of misunderstanding existing between Carmen and her uncle. She would have wished for nothing more than to spend her days in Carmen's company, delighting in the child's affection which was helping in no small way to disperse the feeling of insignificance that had plagued her all her life. But conscience nagged until, reluctantly, she decided some move would have to be made towards, if not friendship, then at least tolerance between the aloof senor and his small charge.

  She nerved herself to approach him one morning as he was enjoying breakfast set out under a shaded patio. He looked relaxed, his casual cream shirt and tan slacks

  implying freedom from ties of business. Her spirits lifted, perhaps her request was to be made at an opportune time! Soft slippers had deadened her footsteps, so she cleared her throat and waited on tenterhooks to be noticed. He was scanning a newspaper and seemed not to have heard her attempted intrusion, but just as she was about to try again he startled her by inviting lazily, "Stop hopping from one foot to the other like an uncertain sparrow and join me in a cup of coffee."

  "I... I had some earlier, thank you," she stammered, wishing she could learn to control the flame of carnation firing her cheeks. She might just as well have accepted, she realized indignantly when, ignoring her refusal, he filled a cup and indicated the seat next to him; but this was no time to show resentment; she had a favour to ask which necessitated keeping the monster mellow. So primly she did as she was ordered, avoiding after one initial glance the impact of lazily assessing eyes and a mouth unsettling in its promise to be kind.

  "I can hardly believe you have sought me out merely for the pleasure of my company?" he encouraged, laying down the paper to indicate that she had his complete attention. He watched with interest her struggle to remain composed. Since his threat she had avoided to an obsessional degree being left alone with him. Not that she thought his threat believable, but she had reasoned that the safest course to adopt was one of obscurity - how could he become angered with a flitting ghost who melted into the walls of the Casa whenever he happened to pass by? And as few words were exchanged between then, any risk arising from her unfortunate tendency to argue would be negligible.

  She knew his patience was becoming stretched when he began tapping the edge of his plate with a knife. "I wanted to ask you . . ." she swallowed hard. "Carmen would like ... I would like ..."

  "Yes? You would like..."

  "You to come down to the beach with us!" she appealed in a rush. "I know you're very busy, but it needn't be toda
y, any time that is convenient will do."

  His eyebrows rose in two questioning peaks. "Strange," he answered coolly, "I have formed an impression that the women of my household prefer to see me retreat rather than advance - can it be that I am wrong?"

  Carefully she pleated her skirt and sought a diplomatic answer. It was true that Carmen shot out of his path at every opportunity, but only because he had so often made plain his objection to her noisy high spirits. "Carmen can't swim, did you know?" she asked absently, her mind busily turning over future arguments. "I was wondering if you'd mind teaching her - there's no one else available, you see."

  "Ah, so I am a last resort! You've explored every avenue before finally deciding upon me." The dryness of his answer might have indicated hurt in any other man. "I'm sorry," he gave an irritated shrug, "I have not the time. You'll have to teach her yourself."

  Hazel's eyes rounded. "But I can't swim either!"

  Was it so incredible, not to be able to swim? He was probably half raised in the warm Mediterranean waters, but that was no reason why he should look at her with such exasperation. He heaved a sigh, then stood up, holding out a hand to pull her to her feet.

  Beside him she felt tiny and even a little precious when with a tug of a smile he capitulated. "Very well, little squirrel, if you also agree to be a pupil, I shall teach you both to swim."

  Carmen was unenthusiastic. "I don't want Tio Francisco to join us, he'll spoil our fun - and besides," she stamped, her mouth pursing obstinately, "he doesn't even like me, so why should he bother to teach me to swim?"

  Hazel called upon all her patience and tact. "Your uncle is a busy man, Carmen, so the fact that he has offered to spare you a little of his time proves he is fond of you. You must accept his offer gratefully, because by doing so you may be able to help him.'" The suggestion that her uncle should be in any need of help was an idea Carmen found intriguing - as Hazel had hoped.