Sweet Revenge (15 page)

It was hot in the valley of the upper Douro, and Toni found a piece of string and tied up her hair off her neck. Francesca's plait became heavy, too, and only the Conde in his thin silk shirt, almost open to his waist, seemed unaffected by the sun. Seeing him like this, muscular and tanned, lazy and relaxed, disturbed Toni more than his continual baiting, and she was glad Francesca's presence forestalled any overtures on his part.

After lunch, which they ate at the home of Vasco Braganca, the manager of the vineyard, they drove nearer to the coast again, where in the chalk cliffs, caves provided the natural fermenting cellars for the wine. Here there were galleries with rows of bottles and vats, and Toni wandered, amazed at the intricacies of the timbered workrooms.

'You see,' said the Conde, close beside her, 'it is no easy matter to produce a perfect wine. The grapes must be picked at the exact moment of ripening. This differs according to exposure and altitude; sometimes one vineyard is completely gathered in before another higher placed vineyard is quite ready. It is a complicated business, but when the grapes are picked, and the wine is beginning its fermentation, it is a time for rejoicing and the pickers are the most excited of all!'

'Dancing on the grapes,' said Toni, looking up at him a smile hovering about her lips.

'Exactly. It is done — still - and there is much singing and dancing, and merrymaking. You see, my people are not so downtrodden as you would have me believe !'

'I didn't say they were downtrodden,' exclaimed Toni.

'No?' he smiled. 'Perhaps not. At any rate, we will not argue today, no?'

'No,' she agreed.

Later they drove into Oporto, and in the harbour they saw the picturesque
rabelos
which the Conde told Toni were used for transporting the barrels of wine downstream from the vineyards.

'It is quite a journey,' he said, smiling. 'The craft are not large, and in the rapid waters of the Douro which lap against the rocky walls of the cliffs, it can be a very dangerous trip.'

'Have you made the trip,
senhor
?' asked Toni politely.

'Many times,' said the Conde patiently. 'I am sorry to disappoint you.-You probably thought I would never attempt anything so foolhardy. But you are wrong,
senhorita,
as you will discover!'

It was late when they arrived back at the
castelo.
They had eaten in Oporto, and both Toni and Francesca felt pleasantly tired.

'Tomorrow we will attend a bullfight,' said the Conde, as they entered the hall of the
castelo.
'You would like that, Toni?'

Toni flushed and looked at Francesca. 'Ought we not to - to commence these lessons,
senhor
?' she asked.

Francesca looked horrified, and the Conde placed a hand gendy on her head. 'No, not tomorrow, Francesca. While I am free, we will take advantage of it -
sim?'

Francesca nodded furiously, and Toni shrugged. 'As you wish,
senhor.'

'And you,
senhorita,
do you not find that sightseeing can be enjoyable, also?' He frowned. 'I had thought you enjoyed yourself today.'

'I do - I did!' Toni sighed. 'Excuse me now,
senhor.
I am tired. I want to retire.'

'Very well.' The Conde walked to the door of the lounge. 'I will see you both in the morning.'

Taking this as a dismissal of herself too, Francesca kissed her father's cheek, and accompanied Toni up the staircase. On the first landing where the corridor branched to Toni's room, Francesca said:

'You did enjoy yourself today, didn't you, Toni?' rather wistfully.

Tony could not deny this. 'Of course I did. It's been a wonderful day.'

'And tomorrow - you will come with us tomorrow?'

'I don't have any choice,' replied Toni a trifle dryly, and then, repenting, she continued: 'My position here is so nebulous, Francesca. Try to understand how I feel.'

Francesca sighed. 'You do believe that I did not - so to speak - betray you to my father, don't you?'

Toni studied the young girl. 'Nevertheless, it was strange that the Conde should return at such an unexpected moment.'

Francesca lifted her shoulders. 'Not really, Toni,' she said with a resigned sigh. 'My grandmother innocently told my father you were planning to leave. He was not in Lisbon, you understand, but staying with some friends in Coimbra before returning here. My grandmother's information gave him the opportunity to return here yesterday.'

'I see.'

'When my father is away he often telephones my grandmother to enquire about her health.'

Toni nodded. 'How did you find all this out?'

'Papa told me this morning, while you were changing. I told him I was very angry with him for allowing you to think I had deliberately gone behind your back to tell him you were leaving. On the contrary, I was very distressed about it all. But I would not have forced you to stay.'

'No, I see that now, Francesca. I'm sorry. I misjudged you.'

Francesca squeezed her arm. 'Nevertheless, I am glad you are staying, Toni.'

In the next few days the Conde went out of his way to disarm Toni. He and Francesca took her on several expeditions, exploring the countryside around the
castelo
more widely than she had done with Francesca alone, and seeing a little of the country's culture. They attended a bullfight, a much more humane affair than the Spanish equivalent, where the bull is not slaughtered in the ring. They spent an evening at a folk music festival in Oporto, listening to the sad, plaintive music of the
fado.
They visited museums and art galleries, and Toni was struck anew by the immense store of knowledge the Conde could display so carelessly. It was a calm and peaceful time, with no undercurrents to mar their relationship, and Toni almost began to believe that her earlier conversations with the Conde had never occurred. It didn't seem possible that he could possibly find anything of interest in her when he held an
open sesame
to the homes of so many beautiful women.

It was towards the end of the week that Laura Passamentes put in an appearance. She arrived one afternoon while Francesca and Toni were on the beach, and when they returned windswept and sunburnt from the sands they found her seated with the Conde in the lounge, drinking tea from the bone china tea service while the Conde lay lazily in a chair, a glass of whisky and water hanging carelessly from his fingers.

She frowned when she saw Toni, and gave the Conde a speculative glance. 'So,
senhorita,'
she said, 'you are still here.'

Toni nodded. 'As you can see,' she conceded slowly. Francesca hunched her shoulders, and said: 'How are you, Tia Laura?' politely. 'Very well, thank you, Francesca,' replied Laura smoothly, looking up again at the Conde who had risen at their entrance. 'Come and sit beside me and tell me what you have been doing with yourself. Estevan and I have been quite desolated. Raoul has been here a week already and he has not found time to come and visit with us.'

Francesca flushed, and Toni made for the door again just as the Condessa arrived. 'You are not leaving, are you, my dear?' she exclaimed, touching her arm gently. 'I was just coming to have tea with Laura. You must stay and have some with us, eh, Raoul?'

The Conde gave a slight movement of his shoulders, 'Of course,
mae,
if that is what you wish.'

Toni looked at him exasperatedly. 'I'd rather not,
senhor,'
she said quietly.

His thick lashes veiled his eyes. 'But you will,' he murmured, and for the first time for days Toni felt the faint stirrings of apprehension.

'All right,
senhor.'
Toni's voice was tight, and she moved back to the couch and sat where he indicated.

Laura dominated the conversation. She seemed to find the greatest enjoyment in catechizing Francesca, and Toni thought that maybe this was the only way she got candid answers to her sometimes personal questions. After all, hadn't she herself already had a sample of the Senhora's inquisition?

'And what have you been doing these last few days?' Laura was asking Francesca now. 'Did you know there was a folk music festival in Oporto?'

'Oh yes!' Francesca was enthusiastic and unthinking because of it. 'We've been there!'

'You've been?' Laura's eyes turned to Raoul. 'You went to the festival,
querido?'

The Conde looked a little bored. 'Yes, Laura, we went to the festival. It was very good.'

'And you did not ask me also?' Laura looked disturbed.

'I did not think it would interest you,' returned the Conde smoothly. 'What have you been doing with yourself?'

'Very little, and you must know I love folk music. You took Francesca - and your mother?'

The Condessa shook her head. 'What would I want with folk festivals, Laura? No, Raoul took Francesca and Senhorita West."

'Senhorita
West?'
Laura gasped.

Raoul gave her a warning look. 'Yes, Laura, Senhorita West.'

'I see.' Laura cast a malevolent glance in Toni's direction. 'And did you enjoy it,
senhorita?'

'Very much, thank you.'

Laura replaced her cup in its saucer. 'And when do you plan to leave,
senhorita?'

Toni lifted her shoulders. 'I don't know—'

'The Senhorita is to stay indefinitely,' said Francesca excitedly. 'She is going to be my governess!'

'This is so, Raoul?' Laura was astounded.

'Yes.' The Conde was abrupt. 'But this can be of no interest to you, Laura. Come, I will show you the painting I bought in Coimbra ten days ago. It is a Miro, and should appeal to you.'

'But this is of interest to me,
caro,'
insisted Laura. 'After all, your mother must think it strange that the Senhorita should be able to give up her job in England without giving notice.'

Raoul gave her a darkening look. 'It is not your affair, Laura. If - if the Senhorita chooses to stay here, then we are all delighted, are we not? Surely you can have no objections to Francesca acquiring a governess to whom she has so obviously taken?'

Laura frowned. 'It is a little unorthodox, that is all. Do you not think so, dear Condessa?'

The old Condessa seemed unmoved by this exchange and seemed totally intent on helping herself to a cup of tea. 'Whatever Janet decides I shall be entirely in agreement,' she said, absently studying the spoon in her hand. 'Did I put sugar in my tea, or did I not? You see, Laura, you have confused me!'

Laura rose impatiently to her feet. 'I will see the Miro, Raoul,' she said shortly, and walked to the door without another word.

After they had gone Toni relaxed and lay back against the soft upholstery. Francesca gave her a conspiratorial smile, but Toni was too engrossed with her own thoughts to pay much attention to the younger girl. With the Conde's peremptory command had returned all her misgivings, and she wondered, with a sense of dismay, how much longer he intended to stay at the
castelo.

The following morning Toni rose earlier than usual. She had slept badly again and there were dark rings round her eyes. She thought a bathe in the warm waters of the Atlantic might banish the faint stirrings of a headache that probed the back of her mind, so she donned a bathing suit and her beach dress and after collecting a towel made her way down to the beach. The sand was already warming in the heat of the new day, but it was still cool enough to cause her to shiver as she ran to plunge into the waves. She swam, forcing her mind to remain blank, floating on her back with her hair around her in the water like seaweed. Then she swam back to the shallows and walked up the sand wringing the water out of her hair.

She stopped short at the sight of the Conde lounging lazily on the sands near her beach dress and towel and sandals. Then, with slower steps, she approached him.

'Good morning,
senhor,'
she said politely. 'I did not expect to find you here.'

'Perhaps not; and perhaps it would be as well if you were to call me Raoul when we are alone. I do not care for you .to be so formal.'

'I prefer formality,
senhor
,' replied Toni deliberately, bending to lift her towel.

He caught her wrist in a vice-like grip, pulling her down beside him so that she overbalanced and fell in the sand. Then he leant over her, pinning her to the sand with both hands, looking down at her with eyes that had darkened with passion. Toni struggled to free herself, and he said:

'Why do you persistently fight me? For once, at least, submit!'

Toni turned her head from side to side. 'I hate you, I hate you!'

'What is it you hate?' he exclaimed harshly, 'the man - or the scar?'

Toni's eyes rested on the scar for a moment. Curiously, she realized that she had grown accustomed to its presence. It did not disturb her except in a strangely vulnerable way. She stopped struggling.

'Your scar doesn't bother me,' she said breathlessly, only aware of him: his warmth and passion, the heavy muscularity of his body, and most of all his eyes and mouth. She wanted him to kiss her, she realized again. As before, his overwhelming attraction had thrust her own inhibitions aside.

'You do not think perhaps that my mind is distorted because my face is distorted also,' he murmured huskily, caressing the nape of her neck with one hand.

'Raoul—' she groaned, unable to prevent herself, and with a half-triumphant exclamation he bent his head and parted her lips with his mouth.

'So,' he murmured, burying his face in her neck, 'you do not hate me after all,
cara.'

It was very quiet on the beach, only the early morning cries of the sea-birds wheeling overhead, and the gentle thunder of the waves upon the rocks to break the stillness. Toni felt a growing feeling of inertia overtaking her, as he continued to kiss her with persistent passion. As she had once imagined in her foolishness, he was expert at getting what he wanted, and just now he wanted her. The awful danger was that she was beginning to want him, too, and that was something she had never before experienced. She had never felt this aching heightening of her senses so that she longed to hold him even closer until their bodies were moulded together.