Dark Paradise (20 page)

Kate turned away. She didn't want to look into his eyes. 'Perhaps.'

She heard him sigh with something like exasperation. 'Then it's something you're going to have to come to terms with. You've managed so far. Why is it suddenly so difficult?' He was standing so close to her that she could feel the warmth from his body, breathe the faint scent from the soap he had used.

She wanted to scream at him, 'Because I was hoping and praying that this was going to be the beginning of the beginning for us, and instead it's the beginning of the end, and I don't think I can bear it!'

A sigh wrenched itself up from the soles of her feet, and she turned slowly to face him. And past him, over his shoulder she saw Leanne watching them, the beautiful face predatory and triumphant, and anything she might have said, any link she could have forged between them seemed to freeze in her throat.

Her voice shook. 'Because I'm sick and tired of this stupid game we've been playing. I want to get back to real life—my life—again.'

The blue eyes glinted suddenly. 'And to this man— this Drew, whoever he is?'

He meant Clive, she thought, but it didn't matter. Each was as unimportant as the other. At least her time with Matt had taught her that. Drew had done her a mischief, but because she had been young and vulnerable she had built it up in her mind into a major tragedy. Drew's treatment of her had been like a wasp-sting—painful but transitory. But with Matt, any wound would be mortal.

'Why not?' she said, and shrugged, aware that the damned dress was slipping again. 'He wants me—and it's good to be wanted,' she added recklessly.

Matt's mouth curled. 'Tell me about it some time,' he invited thickly, and walked away from her.

Kate sipped her drink, more shaken by the little encounter than she cared to admit. She watched Matt walk across the room to Leanne, and saw her lips part in a welcoming smile. She was smitten with a spasm of jealousy, almost physical in its impact. Her teeth sank into the softness of her inner lip, and her fingers tightened round her glass. She turned abruptly, and ran head-on into Jethro Alvarez's frankly appraising stare. He lifted a massive hand and beckoned to her. Reluctantly Kate crossed the room to his side, and took the chair he indicated.

'Relax,' the deep voice told her with a trace of amusement. 'Use all the chair, not just the edge. Believe me, Miss Marston, I mean you no harm. But there are—circumstances which force me to protect myself. I wish I could explain more fully, but at present it is not possible.'

'You don't need to explain anything to me.' Kate shook her head. 'It's my own fault that I'm here.'

'Not wholly.' Alvarez stroked his upper lip. 'My friend Lincoln can be—most persuasive, I know.' His tone was dry. He didn't appear to be watching Matt with Leanne, but Kate knew that he would be aware of every look, every gesture, even if he could not hear what they were saying. The shrewd eyes returned to Kate's face. 'You have—known him long?'

Without considering her words, she said, 'All my life, I think,' then paused, a hectic flush running up under her skin. 'I mean…'

'I know what you mean, and it is nothing to be ashamed of.' His voice was quiet, almost reflective. 'Does that surprise you? Had you written me off as a sick old man, a failure, living on past dreams?'

'In no way,' Kate denied with a vehemence that surprised her.

'Good,' said Jethro Alvarez, and grinned at her. 'Now what do you propose to do with yourself while Matthew attempts to talk me into being interviewed by him? You wish to paint? I can get you canvas—colours. Tell me what you want.' He gave her a sly look.

'Perhaps I should commission you—a portrait of my beautiful wife maybe. What do you say?'

Kate said diplomatically, 'I'm not really into portraiture!' She smiled. 'But if you ever decide to write your autobiography, then I'll be glad to design the jacket.'

'Autobiography!' Alvarez made it sound like a dirty word. 'That is an occupation for those whose lives are over. Mine is not—yet. I may still amaze the world. Do you find that hard to believe?'

'While you're hiding here, pretending that you're dead—yes,' Kate said daringly.

For a moment, the heavy brows drew together in a frown, and she waited for some kind of explosion. Then he said softly, half to himself, 'Yes, it was a mistake. But then I was so very tired of it all. I no longer wanted to fight to stay the top man. I wanted some peace in my life, some privacy. I imagined how it could be—but, naturally, I was deluding myself. We cannot escape reality. It must be faced—survived.' His voice lowered almost to a growl, and for a moment he sat staring in front of him. Then he moved, levering his heavy body out of the chair. 'Come, we will go in to dinner. You must eat, my child. You are too thin—even in your own clothes!'

He kept her beside him at dinner, talking to her, drawing her out, asking her opinion on books, current films, and the political situation in Europe. She didn't fool herself that he really wanted to know what she thought, but their conversation engaged her attention and stopped her from looking too often at the other end of the table where Leanne was talking to Matt, her voice intimately lowered, her eyes gleaming into his, her fingers stroking caressingly at the sleeve of his jacket.

Alvarez's face was impassive, but Kate knew that he must be just as aware of what was going on. Perhaps Leanne was right, and her ways of diverting herself no longer mattered to him, but Kate wasn't sure she believed that. In spite of Alvarez' frequent references to himself as an old man, as being tired and sick, she sensed a raw energy in him that in no way matched his self-denigration.

She thought in a kind of agony, 'Matt—be careful!'

They began the meal with stuffed crab, and went on to slices of smoky duck breast cooked with pears in a rich sauce. Kate murmured appreciatively about the food, and swallowed it without really knowing what she was eating, thankful for the wine which enabled her to wash it down past the solid knot of misery which had formed in her throat. When the fruit sorbet which had completed the meal had been cleared away, Alvarez announced that coffee would 'be served on the patio. He took Kate's hand benevolently. 'And then? You can watch the latest Spielberg movie in my projection room, or there could be music'

What she really wanted was to go to her room. She needed a sanctuary in which to lick her wounds—those already inflicted, and those to come. But it was clear she wasn't going to be allowed to run away just yet, so she smiled and opted for the music.

It drifted into the night air from concealed speakers, not loud but with a slow insidious beat. Leanne was on her feet almost at once.

Kate steeled herself, waiting for Matt to rise and take Leanne in his arms. She was moving to the music, her body sinuous in the cerise dress, her smile a challenge and an invitation.

Alvarez said drily, 'My wife finds it impossible to forget her days as a cabaret artist.' He smiled slowly. 'She must find the restricted life here—dull.' He lifted a hand, signalling imperiously to Matt to come and sit beside him. As Matt obeyed, Alvarez looked at him, sighing deeply. 'Ah, my friend. What am I to do with you?'

'I'd say the choice was give me my interview, or send me on my way.' Matt leaned back in his chair with indolent grace, his blue eyes fixed on the older man's swarthy face.

'If only it were that simple!' Alvarez shook his head, as if genuinely regretful. 'But I have others to consider.

How can I expose my wife to danger? My only son? Once my enemies know where I am, I am a dead man.'

'Your security has always seemed pretty impregnable in the past,' Matt observed, putting his coffee cup down on a side table.

'I thought so, yet you have managed to penetrate it.'

'Yes,' Matt agreed, 'I did. I'm still wondering how it happened.'

Alvarez shrugged, 'One should never take anything for granted. The lapse will be investigated, you may be sure.'

'I'm no longer sure of anything.' Matt lifted his brandy glass, watching the swirl of the liquid in the bowl as if it fascinated him.

Alvarez laughed. 'Now that is an admission,' he said with open satisfaction. 'And I confess that I am intrigued too. That is why you are still here, and why I remain also. Of what interest can I be to anyone any more? I am finished. My life is over. What questions could you possibly ask me?'

'I can think of several,' said Matt. Top of the list— what happened to the Santo Cristo treasury?'

Alvarez's shoulders shook. 'Treasury, my friend? It never existed. My poor bankrupt country survived on hand-outs from wealthy nations trying to assuage their guilt about the third world—your own included.' He paused. 'Naturally, I had already made provision for my own future. But then even the lowest grade civil servant in Britain receives a pension. Why should I be different?'

'Why indeed?' said Matt with irony. He glanced round. 'This makes a pretty palatial almshouse.'

Kate was getting increasingly nervous, but Alvarez seemed amused.

'Do you grudge me my final resting place, my friend?' he asked plaintively.

'No,' Matt said. 'I simply don't believe that this is it.'

There was a long silence. Alvarez's hand came up and stroked his chin. He said softly, 'Matthew Lincoln, how I wish I knew if I could trust you!' He turned his head slowly and looked down at Kate. 'Would you trust him?'

There were so many answers she could give, she thought, suddenly frozen. 'I hardly know him,' was one; 'He fooled me into coming here with him,' another. Or there was, most damning of all, 'Your wife is planning to betray you with him.' The pain of that made her wince, but she knew what she had to do, what she wanted to do, because, right or wrong, she loved him.

She looked at Matt, seeing the guarded look in his eyes, the half-derisive curve of his mouth as he waited to hear what she would say.

She said, 'I'd trust him with my life.' And knew achingly that it was only the truth.

There was a long silence. Kate saw Matt's eyes narrow, his dark brows snap together in a frown.

Jethro said, 'You are a fortunate man, my friend, to have inspired such faith.'

Leanne's laugh was almost strident. 'How solemn you are,
querido
! And how easily beguiled. We are wasting the evening and the music with all this talk.' She was smiling, but the look she shot Kate was minatory and hostile. She held out a hand to Matt. 'Come and dance with me,' she coaxed.

'Yes,' Alvarez leaned back in his chair, smiling a little, the heavy lids closing over his eyes, 'go and dance.' He raised his voice slightly. 'Carlos!'

It wasn't until Carlos appeared from whatever corner he had been hiding in that Kate realised Alvarez intended him to dance with her. She flushed as he sulkily offered her his hand.

'I was just going up to my room.'

'Nonsense,' Alvarez dismissed bracingly. 'Dance, child. Enjoy the music. It will give me pleasure to watch you.'

She got reluctantly to her feet, conscious of the ill-fitting dress, and they began to move awkwardly together.

After a few silent moments Carlos said in a low voice, 'She is disgusting, that woman, she has no shame. How can my father bear it?'