Who Rides the Tiger (16 page)

Who knew what might happen in the days to come? One thing was certain, however. Sooner or later she must speak to John, discover for herself what his relationship had been with Isabella Santos, so that she was not in the dark over that affair as she was now.

Later, when all her clothes had been hung away in the wardrobes, she bathed and changed into a slim-fitting shift of turquoise linen. It was one of her plainest dresses but nonetheless attractive, and after she had combed her hair, she gathered it into a chignon on the nape of her neck as she felt too tired to attempt to put it up. Even with lipstick, her features looked pale and she felt a sense of trepidation at the prospect of the evening ahead.

When she descended the stairs, however, Vincente was not around, and when Salvador appeared in the lounge to announce that dinner was ready, she said: 'Where - where is my husband, Salvador?'

Salvador gave his usual polite bow, and said: 'Senhor Santos is dining out this evening,
senhora.'

Dominique couldn't believe her ears. After his anger earlier, combined with the fact of his not coming up to the suite to change, she had assumed he was still downstairs brooding. To find he had gone out was an affront to the trouble she had taken with her appearance.

'Where - where has he gone?' she asked carefully.

Salvador shrugged his shoulders. 'That I cannot say,
senhora.'

Dominique felt a pent-up sense of frustration. 'For goodness' sake, Salvador,' she snapped, her voice unsteady, 'couldn't this just be one occasion where you betray a confidence? I'm his
wife!'

Salvador twisted his hands together. 'But it is the truth,
senhora.
I do not know where Senhor Santos has gone.'

Dominique went across to the drinks table and poured herself a generous measure of whisky. She felt like drinking and drinking, a thing she had never done in her life before. Anything to provide a temporary sense of oblivion from the pain that was tearing her apart.

Salvador came over to her. 'I should not drink that,
senhora,'
he said quietly. 'It is very strong. It will probably make you sick.'

Dominique looked scornfully at him. 'Don't you think I've ever taken a drink before, Salvador?' she asked harshly. 'I'm not a child, you know.'

'I know you are not,
senhora,'
replied Salvador gravely. 'Nevertheless, I would advise—'

'I don't want your advice,' said Dominique bitterly, and raising the glass to her lips she swallowed half its contents at a gulp.

Immediately she almost choked, and a spasm of violent coughing racked her body, accompanied by a burning sensation in the back of her throat and the pit of her stomach. Her eyes watered, and she sought about desperately for a handkerchief. Salvador handed her his calmly, and after she had finished coughing took the drink from her unresisting fingers, and replaced it on-the tray. Then he said:

'Dinner is served in the small dining-room,
senhora.
Will you come now?'

Dominique looked at him, almost impatiently, and then with a resigned expression she preceded him out of the room.

The-meal was a silent one. Dominique ate little, and sipped the wine that Salvador provided with an absent air. Her surroundings, the warmth of the velvety night air, the scents of the stocks and the roses that grew in such profusion, meant little to her. She was absorbed with her thoughts and with the agonizing speculation as to where Vincente might be. She knew there were plenty of women willing to comfort him, to desire him to make love to them, plenty of women always ready to answer his every need. He didn't
need
her. She had merely been a passing diversion, someone different, an alien face to satisfy his ego.

Leaving the table, she walked to the narrow wall that circled the patio and sat on its edge, sighing. Last night at this time she had been in his arms, known what it was like to have Vincente for a lover. And tonight she was alone, bereft, and whether it was of her own making or not, it was merely a precipitation of the eventual state of her affairs. Sooner or later he was bound to tire of her, and then...

She wanted to cry. So badly she wanted to break down and cry, cry for herself and Vincente, but most of all for the dream that had never reached maturity. And here she was, alone and practically friendless in a strange country without the means to escape from the situation in which she now found herself. She was no longer in control of her destiny. She had forfeited that when she agreed to become Vincente Santos's wife.

It was late when eventually she sought the comfort of bed. When she reached the first-floor landing she saw Salvador emerging from the room she had used that first night at Minha Terra, and she wondered whether the door had a key. It was something she had not noticed before, but now it became of primary importance to her. After the evening she had spent she could not bear the thought of him returning home, possibly from the arms of another woman, to find her waiting patiently in the master bedroom, like some subdued slave, afraid of its master.

She entered the dressing room which adjoined the master bedroom, wishing Salvador 'good night' as she did so. Then she closed the door and leaning against it, waited until she heard him descending the stairs again. When she heardsounds, she hastened into the big bedroom, collected her nightdress, then hastily crossed the landing and entered the smaller room. The bed had been re-made and she turned back the covers smoothly.

Then she went into the bathroom to wash and clean her teeth.

However, she had not been in the bathroom above five minutes when there was a tap at the panels. She almost jumped out of her skin, and grasping a towel about her she went to unlock the door and looked out at Salvador.

'Yes?' she said, rather sharply.

'Why are you using this bathroom,
senhora
?' he asked.

Dominique straightened her shoulders. 'That isn't the sort of question one expects from a servant,' she said angrily, and instantly regretted the words as she saw Salvador's face grow withdrawn. She sighed. 'I'm sorry, but you haven't been exactly helpful to me this evening, have you, Salvador?'

Salvador relaxed.
'Senhora,
for your own good, sleep in the master bedroom. Do not be deceived into thinking you can defy him.'

Dominique bit her lip. 'If I sleep in this suite, I shall lock the door,' she said, trying to sound composed and failing miserably.

'You think perhaps a key would keep my master out?' asked Salvador sadly, shaking his head. 'Oh, no,
senhora.
Keys are for the weak man. Strategy is for the strong man!'

'Strategy?' Dominique frowned.

'Sleep in the master bedroom,' said Salvador again. 'Please.'

Dominique hesitated. 'Oh, Salvador! I wish I knew what to do.' Her voice broke.

Salvador shrugged. 'You are Santos's wife now,
senhora.
There are many things you can do.'

Dominique shook her head. 'Not the things I want to do, though. I'm not even sure what Vincente intends to do. He's as unpredictable as ever.'

Salvador gave a slight smile. 'But you,
senhora,
you will wait and find out, yes? You are not so unpredictable.'

'Perhaps it would be better if I were,' she sighed.

'No, that is not so. There is an old Chinese proverb which says: "He who rides the tiger dare not dismount". You are like that man,
senhora.
You cannot escape from your destiny.'

Dominique bit her lip. 'Can any of us?'

'No, I suppose not. But there are some who think they can control it.'

'And you think - my husband is one of these?'

'I think the Senhor does not realize what he has in his keeping. He has not yet discovered its value!'

Dominique managed a wry smile. 'Thank you, Salvador.' She folded the towel closer about her: 'I - I was afraid you'd let me down—'

'This evening? Had I known where the Senhor was, I would have told you. You are his wife - and as such, you are entitled to know his whereabouts. I am not completely without heart,
senhora.'

Dominique bit her lip. 'I can see you are not. I'm sorry if I was rude before.'

Salvador shook his head. 'Get some sleep,
senhora.
Tomorrow is another day.'

Dominique did not sleep well. The bed seemed wide and empty, and her nerves were stretched to the utmost, conscious of every strange sound, every footfall about the house. But gradually the concentrated effort exhausted her and she fell into an uneasy slumber, only to be awakened harshly some time later by the sound of a powerful engine roaring into the courtyard of the house.

Immediately she was wide awake, tense and listening, waiting for footsteps on the stairs, outside her door, in the room.

But the engine was turned off, and a door slammed, and then there was complete silence, a silence almost deafening in its intensity. Dominique clenched her fists. If he was coming to her, why didn't he come? Didn't he know the sense of fatality that was overtaking her? Couldn't he know she was positively terrified, not only of him, but of her own treacherous emotions?

The silence stretched into infinity. Her stiff body was forced to relax, and she felt slightly sick from the strain. Putting on the bedside lamp, she glanced at the watch on the table. It was a little after two o'clock. She heaved a sigh. What was he doing? Was this some more subtle means of torment? If so, it was succeeding.

She turned out the light again, but eventually she must have dozed, because although she tossed and turned, and saw the faint pink rays of the sun piercing her balcony windows, morning at last came round, but he had not joined her.

She rose at seven, showered and dressed in cotton corded pants of a deep shade of purple, and a white sleeveless sweater. Then she combed her hair into a loop, pinned it in place, and descended the stairs.

There were voices in the dining room, and she paused in the doorway, nervously, seeing Vincente and Salvador talking together, Vincente seated at the table, and Salvador serving him.

Vincente rose politely at her entrance, and then as she joined him at the table, seated himself again.

'Bring more rolls and fresh coffee, Salvador,' he instructed the manservant, and Salvador withdrew after wishing Dominique 'good morning'.

Dominique said: 'Just coffee, thank you, Salvador,' in a small voice, but she doubted her ability to give him commands.

Vincente had obviously almost finished his meal, and was in the process of smoking a cheroot with a cup of strong black coffee. Dressed in a lightweight tropical suit of cream linen, he looked cool and dark and attractive, and Dominique could not prevent herself from looking at him, rather surreptitiously.

'Well?' he said, at last. 'Did you sleep well?'

'Yes, thank you,' replied Dominique politely. 'Did you?'

'Reasonably well,' he answered coolly. 'I hope the car did not wake you.'

Dominique compressed her lips. He was baiting her and she would not satisfy his sadistic amusement.

'Car?' she questioned. 'What car?'

But Vincente merely smiled sardonically, as though he was fully aware of her pitiful attempt to deceive him. Salvador returned with a dish of hot rolls, a jug of coffee, and another of hot milk. He placed them conveniently beside Dominique, asked whether they required anything else, and then with a particularly gentle smile in Dominique's direction, he withdrew.

Vincente studied his wife. 'You seem to have succeeded in stealing Salvador's allegiance,' he remarked.

'I doubt that, very much,' returned Dominique, pouring herself some coffee with hands that were quite steady considering her nervousness.

'Do you? Why? I am such a monster, it is inconceivable that a man such as Salvador should not find someone more pleasant to be his - how shall I put it? - mentor.'

'Oh, don't!' exclaimed Dominique. 'Look, this is rid-iculous! We're sitting here, talking of banalities, when all the time the subject that is closest to the surface of both our minds remains unspoken! You've got to talk to me, Vincente. I've got to know where I stand!'

'And where do I stand?' he countered, in a hard voice.

'I don't understand.'

'Do you not? I think you do. I think you understand very well. You started this, Dominique. I did not.'

'How can you say that? I only repeated to you what I had been told.'

'Hysterically,' he amended cruelly. 'You were like a woman possessed when you returned here yesterday. You were in no mood for reasonable argument. You listened to that woman - that snake - and believed her completely, even though you know she has a reputation for just this kind of thing!'

'But you didn't help me! You let me say it all! You didn't try to explain.'

'Why should I defend myself to you?' He rose abruptly to his feet. 'I do not have to explain myself to anybody!'

'I am your
wife,
Vincente!'

He gave her an eloquent look, and then walked to the window, staring out broodingly at the view. Dominique's appetite, small though it was, fled, and she pushed the rolls aside and reached for a cigarette. When it was lit, she sipped her coffee, and tried to imagine what it would be like, going through weeks, months - even years, of this kind of relationship.

She wanted to ask him where he had been last night, but she doubted he would even answer her.

Then he turned and said: 'I have to go to the refinery today. What will you do?'

Dominique flushed. 'I don't know.'

'I wish to make it clear that I do not want you to go down to Bela Vista again, without my permission.' His voice was cold as ice.

Dominique listened, felt upset, and then suddenly his words aroused her natural resilience. How dared he imagine, after all that had happened, that he could dictate her comings and goings! She looked up at him, and said:

'If I wish to go down to Bela Vista, I will go!' in a cool, composed voice, much different from the tumultuous emotionalism that was burning inside her.

Vincente leaned back against the window frame. 'You think so?'

'I know so!' Dominique sounded scornful. 'What will you do? How will you stop me? Tie me up? Lock me in my room? Are you afraid I may hear more of your shortcomings?'