Who Rides the Tiger (12 page)

Salvador shook his head. 'No. But I would get Maurice's wife to come to you.'

Dominique shook her head. 'It won't be necessary, thank you. I'd - I'd rather be alone. How - how will I get to the church? Will Senhor Santos—'

'Senhor Rivas has kindly offered to drive you there in his car,' replied Salvador smoothly.

'Senhor Rivas!' echoed Dominique. 'Oh, heavens, Salvador! What will everyone think? I came here to marry Mr. Harding!'

'But you chose a better man,' replied Salvador simply, and left her.

Later, her hair wound into its braids, with two tendrils curling by her ears, Dominique put on the lace wedding dress. It was the most beautiful dress she had ever worn, and it moulded her figure perfectly. She reflected that Vincente must have a very good eye for size, or maybe he was just very experienced in buying women's clothes, she thought disturbingly.

The tiara was last. It fitted over the coronet of her hair, and the veil was circular and of the finest hand-worked silk. She knew she had never looked lovelier, her tan complemented by the purity of her gown.

As she was standing, shivering slightly, in front of the mirror, there was another tap at her door. Thinking it was Salvador, she called: 'Come!' but it was not Salvador, it was Alicia Rivas.

'Senhora Rivas!' she exclaimed, in surprise.

Alicia came across to her. 'Oh, Dominique!' she exclaimed, her tone slightly awed. 'My dear child, you look absolutely exquisite!'

Dominique swung round. 'You think so?'

'Of course.' Alicia smiled. 'Frederick is ready and waiting for you downstairs. I told Salvador I would bring you down.'

Dominique hesitated a moment. 'Senhora Rivas! Please - you - you don't think I'm completely crazy, do you?'

Alicia Rivas studied her for a minute. 'Crazy, Dominique?' she murmured. 'I think we are all a little crazy when we are in love!'

Dominique twisted her fingers together. 'But what will people think? I came here to marry John. And now ...' She spread her hands.

Alicia took her arm, drawing her out of the room. 'My child, there was no good in marrying Mr. Harding if you do not love him. Besides, Vincente is a law unto himself, surely

you have realized this by now!'

Had she? Dominique could have smiled. Only too well!

They descended the stairs together. Frederick Rivas and Salvador stood together in the hall, Salvador strangely sombre in a dark suit, and grey tie.

'Well!' said Frederick, with a low whistle of approval. 'This is an unexpected pleasure.'

Dominique reached his level and smiled rather tremulously. 'I expect it is,' she said awkwardly. 'After all - yesterday—'

'Yesterday is a million years away,' said Frederick sincerely. 'I am glad my friend Vincente has found a woman to share his life with him.'

Dominique compressed her lips. 'You're all so kind. I don't know what to say!' Her voice broke a little.

'Don't say anything,' remarked Salvador dryly. 'It is almost three o'clock. You do not wish to be late for your bridegroom, do you?'

Her bridegroom! Dominique shivered again. Had any girl ever had a more rapid courtship? Or a stranger wedding day?

A huge black limousine waited on the courtyard outside. Today in daylight, Dominique could appreciate the view more fully, but her nerves were too tense to allow her to enjoy it. Instead she was seated in the back of the limousine with Alicia Rivas, while Salvador took the wheel with Frederick Rivas beside him.

The descent to the valley floor was hair-raising on such roads, and for a few minutes Dominique forgot her perturbation at the wedding in the pure thrill of excitement that gripped her as she looked back at the house which was soon to be her home. Her home? She shook her head as though to dislodge the sense of unreality she was feeling.

The church of St. Michel stood on the outskirts of Bela Vista, a grey stone building with a tall tower in which bells chimed the hour. It could have been a church anywhere, thought Dominique, in surprise, were it not for the hanging bougainvillea around its doors, and the climbing liana that threaded its old walls. But it had a warmth of feeling, a sense of security, that was at variance with everything else she knew about Vincente Santos.

As her feet encountered the gravelled forecourt, she had the strongest urge to escape, but it was not from Vincente that she wanted to escape. It was from the eyes of the congregation who must certainly consider this the most peculiar wedding of all time.

Then Frederick Rivas was taking her arm gently, and saying:

'Dominique! Dominique! Are you all right?'

Salvador and his wife had already entered the church and they were alone.

She looked at Frederick, saw his anxiety, and suddenly relaxed. 'Yes,' she said, 'I'm all right. Is - is he here?'

'Vincente?'

'Yes.'

'Yes, he is here. Waiting for you.'

Relief swept through her. She had half believed he intended leaving her at the altar.

Inside an organ was playing, then the congregation rose at a signal and she began to walk down the aisle on Frederick's arm. She was unconscious suddenly of anyone's eyes but those of Vincente. Her veil hid her expression, and she waited with bated breath to see him look at her.

But when she reached him, he barely glanced at her while she took in the perfection of the dark suit he was wearing, not a morning suit, but material of pure silk that rippled as he moved. His thick dark hair was smoothed back, and his eyes were enigmatic.

The service began and she tried to follow what was happening. Only the pressure of his fingers when he placed the ring on her finger got through to her, and she stared at the circle of gold in wonderment. It was a wide, heavy band that seemed to cling to her finger. But it was beautiful; the most beautiful piece of jewellery she had ever possessed.

Then the service was over, and she felt Vincente's lips on her forehead, cool and impersonal. She stared at him, trying to see in his eyes some appreciation of the picture she made, but there was nothing to distinguish, and she felt dejected.

The register was completed, and they emerged from the church together, to the peal of the church bells that echoed melodiously round the valley. People gathered, offering congratulations, rice and confetti were thrown, and Dominique managed to thank several people for their good wishes. Claudia was there, looking rather regretfully at Vincente, and on the fringe of the crowd outside the church Dominique caught a glimpse of John.

But it was only a glimpse and then he disappeared, plunging into the crowd so that Dominique lost sight of him.

Then she was hustled into the limousine, Salvador at the wheel again, but only herself and Vincente in the back. The car moved away, the guests who had been invited to the reception at the Hotel Bela Vista went to get their cars, and Dominique cast a curious glance in Vincente's direction. He was sitting in his comer, morose and solemn, and she wondered with an awful sinking feeling whether he was already regretting his actions.

Deciding she must say something or burst, she said: 'Do - do I thank you for my dress, or ask you whether you like it?'

Vincente looked across at her with brooding eyes. 'Do you think I like it?' he asked.

'I -1 don't know,' she said breathlessly.

His eyes narrowed. 'It's a beautiful dress. But I shall enjoy seeing you more - later.'

Dominique flushed. 'Don't spoil it,' she said uncomfortably.

'Spoil what?'

'Oh, you know,' she said, aware of Salvador in front of them.

Vincente glanced in Salvador's direction. 'What would you have me do?' he asked huskily. 'My friend Salvador can hear every word of this exchange. I prefer to make love in private!'

Dominique felt chastened. She couldn't believe he was serious. He was using Salvador as an excuse. But an excuse for what?

The reception at the hotel was a buffet meal, a kind of mixture of late lunch and early dinner. There were rolls and sandwiches, canapes and cocktail snacks, fruit and meat and fish. There was champagne in magnum-sized bottles and every kind of spirit imaginable. Vincente did not seem to drink much and as he and Dominique were separated by their guests she felt even more isolated than ever. Somehow she had thought he would be more lover-like. Last evening he had showed more interest in her than he was doing at present.

Deciding he was the most hateful pig imaginable, she set out to charm every man that came within range of her. Frederick Rivas seemed enchanted by her, and although she did not actually flirt with him she encouraged his attentions. Then there was a young man, called Jose Bianca, whom Vincente had pointed out to her the previous evening with Claudia. He seemed fascinated by his boss's new wife, offered her champagne cocktails and cigarettes and talked incessantly about Minha Terra, the plant and motor racing.

Dominique endeavoured to show interest, but for all her actions she had one eye firmly on her husband, and the women who seemed magnetized by his charm of manner.

Charming with everyone but me, thought Dominique angrily. Oh, why had she agreed to marry him? She had merely succeeded in. making herself completely and utterly miserable.

The reception went on for hours, and it was about seven- thirty when Dominique found Vincente beside her. Ignoring him, she continued to talk to Jose Bianca, and only Jose's abrupt ending to what he had been saying when he became aware of Vincente's presence halted their conversation.

'Oh, do go on,' Dominique insisted, turning her back on her husband.

'Dominique, we are leaving!' Vincente's tone brooked no argument, and Jose looked young and embarrassed.

Dominique glanced round indifferently. 'Oh, but Jose was just explaining something to me,' she said, smiling silkily. 'I'll be with you in a moment!'

Vincente's fingers curved round the soft flesh of her upper arm. 'Now, Dominique,' he said, in a harsh tone.

Dominique looked up at him, saw the hard expression he wore, and shrugged herself away. 'Oh, very well,' she said, realizing that to antagonize him further would merely result in making herself look ridiculous. 'Where is Salvador?'

'We do not need Salvador,' replied Vincente softly. 'Come, say good-bye to our guests.'

Dominique's face was suffused with colour when they at last emerged outside into the cool darkness. Vincente put her into the front seat of the limousine, then walked round to slide in beside her. His thigh brushed against hers, but there was indifference in every line of his body. Dominique compressed her lips. She wanted to cry. It was so different from her foolish imaginings.

They drove away from the town to the road to Minha „ Terra.

'We will take our honeymoon later,' he said expressionlessly. 'We will go to Europe. You would like that, would you not?'

Dominique shrugged. 'If you like,' she said, with forced indifference.

She thought he half-smiled at this, his profile vaguely visible in the light from the dashboard, and she felt really angry. She was his wife. Why didn't he act as though he wanted it that way? He had said he wanted her. He hadn't had to marry her!

They reached Minha Terra quite swiftly. He was a comfortable driver, as well as a fast one, and soon the floodlit house came into view. He drove into the courtyard, switched off the engine, and then looked at Dominique.

'Well?' he said questioningly.

'Well what?' Her voice was taut.

'Here we are.'

'Hooray, hooray,' she replied sarcastically, and slid out without waiting for his assistance.

It was another beautiful night, the stars hanging low overhead, and a pale moon rising slowly. She felt cold suddenly in the lace dress. She wondered when she would get her other clothes from the Rawlings'. Sooner or later she would have to fetch them. Intuitively, she felt that Vincente would expect her to get them herself, if only to show that she was not afraid of their barbs.

He had left the car and was mounting the steps to the terrace.

'Come,' he said. 'I have something to show you.'

Dominique hesitated, then walked slowly across to join him. He had loosened his tie, and it hung loose, while several buttons of his shirt were open.

Her eyes on his shirt must have communicated her thoughts to him, for he said: 'It is hot, isn't it?'

'I'm cold,' she replied pointedly, and he half-smiled again.

They entered the long lounge, and crossed to the arched entrance into the hall. Although lamps were burning, there was no one about and Dominique looked at Vincente curiously. But he did not speak, and she was loath to say anything herself.

When he reached the foot of the staircase, he said: 'I trust there will be no dramatics tonight!' in a low lazy voice.

Dominique did not deign to reply. She was still seething with resentment from the reception, and when he shrugged and mounted the stairs she turned and walked back into the lounge.

She expected him to come back, to be angry with her, to force her to go with him, but he did not. And his footsteps faded as he mounted the stairs out of hearing distance.

Damn him, she thought angrily. Did he have to be so unpredictable? Going over to the drinks table, she helped herself to a generous measure of brandy and added a splash of soda. But when she tasted it, it was not pleasant, and she poured it away and made herself another, this time with only a touch of brandy. Then she seated herself on the couch and sipped it slowly.

It was very quiet in the room after the noise in the hotel, and there were shadows on the patio that moved and shifted in the faint breeze. She knew they must be the shadows of the shrubs, but even so she recalled quite clearly the screaming cry of the mountain lion the previous night and she wondered whether they ever came down near the house. It was unnerving, sitting there, thinking such thoughts, and eventually she got to her feet and going over to the French doors, closed them firmly.

Then she walked into the hall and looked up the stairs.,. Only a faint light glowed from a single lamp on the first landing, and she frowned, wondering where Vincente was and whether he intended appearing again that evening.