Who Rides the Tiger (7 page)

His eyes were slightly narrowed against the glare of the sun, and she noticed how long and thick were his lashes. With his free hand he lifted the dark glasses from her nose and threw them on the parcel shelf.

'Don't you know the answer to that either?' he murmured lazily.

'No! No, of course not!' Dominique was swift to answer him.

He lifted a handful of her hair and wound it round his fingers and then drew her towards him, slowly and persistently. 'Your hair is beautiful,' he said huskily.

'Please,' she began unsteadily. 'I -I must get back.'

'Must you?'

His fingers slid her blouse from one creamy shoulder and then she felt the warmth of his mouth caressing her skin. Her whole body seemed to be a mass of unfamiliar emotions, most persistent of all was a desire for him to go on caressing her.

'Vincente,' she murmured achingly. 'This is crazy!' Her breath was swift and uneven.

'Yes, isn't it?' he muttered, caressing her bare arm with his hard fingers while his mouth sought the nape of her neck. 'You smell divine, Dominique, put your arms round my neck.'

'No,' she said, managing to turn her face away by a great effort of will power.

'Yes,' he commanded a trifle thickly, and with hard deliberate hands he pressed her mouth to his, his fingers in the silky mass of her hair. She tried to push him away, but her hands came up against the hard strength of his bare chest and seemed unwilling to obey the dictates of her brain. Instead, they slid round his neck, drawing him even closer, and she found herself clinging to him, allowing the force of his passion to destroy all her inhibitions.

John had never kissed her in this way, so that she seemed to be drowning in feeling, sensual feeling. In fact she wasn't, at all sure he was capable of doing so. There was something wholly primitive about Vincente Santos's emotions that seemed to penetrate her whole being, seducing her to complete submission.

Then, firmly, he put her away from him, and merely sat looking at her with lazy eyes as she confusedly fastened the buttons of her blouse and endeavoured to restore some order to her tousled hair.

'No, don't,' he said huskily. 'Leave it. I like it the way it is. You look very desirable. Come back to the house - my house - now.'

Dominique did not trust herself to speak. She merely shook her head wildly, aware that something terrible had happened and she must not allow it to continue.

'Dominique,' he said persuasively. 'Don't be afraid! You know you want to.'

'No,' she said jerkily. 'No, you're wrong!'

'Prove it,' he said, his voice harder now.

'How?' she looked at him with eyes that were still a trifle glazed from her emotions.

'Come and have lunch with me!'

She shook her head again. 'No.
Nol'
Opening the car door she slid out and without another word she set off to run down the road towards the Rawlings' house. The heat was intense now and the unfamiliar exercise brought a film of sweat out all over her body, but she had to get away, and she knew
^x
he wouldn't allow her to do so without a struggle. The trouble was that the biggest struggle was taking place inside herself. She had wanted to go with him, he had been right!

Once she glanced back, but the car was still parked where she had left him. To turn he would have to make a good many moves, and she knew he would not take the trouble. He had no need. He thought that sooner or later she would give in.

What frightened her most was the realization that she thought so, too.

D
OMINIQUE
slowed her steps before she reached the Raw- lings' house, but even so, she felt hot and uncomfortable, a feeling that was heightened when she recognized John sitting on the veranda with Harry and Marion, drinking lager and smoking cigarettes. She wondered desperately whether Marion had made any insinuative remarks concerning herself and Vincente Santos, and it was difficult to appear casual with so many disturbing thoughts on her mind.

'Enjoy your walk?' asked Marion silkily, observing Dominique with her usual intensity.

'Thank you, yes. Hello, John, you're early!' She managed to give a faint smile that included Harry. 'Gosh, it's hot now!'

'Have you been running, Dominique?' asked John, in surprise. 'You needn't have done. You're not late.'

Dominique seized this remark, and said: 'I wasn't sure what time it was, and I wanted to get changed before you arrived.'

Marion tapped ash from her cigarette into the ashtray. 'Er - did you see Mr. Santos?' she asked casually.

John looked questioningly at her. 'Why should Dominique see Santos?' he asked.

Marion shrugged her thin shoulders. 'Well, he called here, soon after she had left. I believe he wanted to assure himself that Salvador had delivered her safely.' She smiled rather mockingly.

John looked at Dominique. 'Well?' he said. 'Did you see him?' "

Dominique stiffened her shoulders. 'Yes, I saw him.'

'And?'

'And what? What's all the fuss about?' Dominique hid her nervousness in defiance.

'What did he say to you? I presume he did stop and speak to you.' John sounded furious.

'Yes, he stopped. He didn't say much at all. I expect as Marion said he wanted to assure himself that I had arrived safely.'

'Some chance!' muttered John angrily. 'Honestly, Dominique, I'll be the laughing stock of the plant if this leaks out!'

Dominique put her hands on her hips. 'If what leaks out?' she exclaimed, trembling inwardly, but outwardly appearing calm.

'Santos - coming here - looking for you! For God's sake, Dominique, why did you have to go walking today of all days? If you'd been here when he arrived it wouldn't have sounded so bad!'

Harry Rawlings interposed, 'Leave the girl alone, John! She hasn't done anything. It's not her fault that she's so damned attractive!'

Dominique felt her colour rising, and moved to the door of the house. 'Can I go and get changed, now?' she asked, with assumed nonchalance.

John shrugged. 'I suppose so. But keep away from him in future, Dominique.'

Dominique was about to protest that she had not sought Vincente Santos's company, and then decided not to bother. Already her conscience was troubling her, and she couldn't argue with John about something that still terrified her by its enormity.

However, when she emerged from the shower, she had managed to put all thoughts of Santos to the back of her mind, deliberately listening carefully to every remark John made, trying to fill her mind to the exclusion of everything else. John soon recovered his good spirits and there was,, only Marion's speculative glances to contend with. Harry Rawlings seemed to think nothing of it, although Dominique suspected this was because he himself was no innocent and he supported a policy of live and let live.

During the next few days Dominique devoted herself to her work at the apartment. She had redecorated the lounge, painting the walls a stark white and adding some hand- painted plaques she had brought with her from England and which looked wonderful against such a background.

She had explored the town quite fully now, and liked what she had seen, except for the slum areas which seemed to spring up wherever there were towns. The centre of the town was laid out with spacious avenues and parks marching side by side, and trees had been planted beside the fountains and lakes. The shops were not as comprehensive as they could have been and she did most of her shopping at a huge supermarket that supplied everything from reels of cotton to motor cars. There were few dress shops and what there were, were very expensive. Their styles were not particularly modern either, and Dominique was glad she could use a sewing machine. Once she and John were married she intended to buy one and make her own clothes as she had sometimes done when she lived with her father.

It was an easy walk from the apartment to the centre of the town and as John used the car to get out to the refinery Dominique grew used to walking everywhere. In consequence her tan deepened and in her short swinging skirts which showed a delicious length of slender leg she attracted quite a lot of attention. She had got into the habit of plaiting her hair and winding it round her head. That way it kept tidy as-well as keeping her cool.

At the end of her second week in Bela Vista John came home one evening looking rather pensive.

Immediately Dominique felt apprehensive. She had not yet got over her encounter with Vincente Santos and she sensed that something had happened and prayed it was nothing to do with herself.

What's wrong?' she asked lightly, as she served up a light omelette and salad, done in the way John liked it.

John flung himself into his chair and looked at her moodily. 'Nothing much, you might think,' he muttered broodingly. 'Here, what do you make of this?'

He flung a white envelope on the table. With trembling fingers Dominique opened it and withdrew the white card that was inside. It was an invitation - from Vincente Santos!

She looked up before reading it, conscious of John's eyes upon her. 'What is it?' she asked.

'Can't you read?' asked John sulkily. 'It's an invitation, what do you think? Mr. Vincente Santos requests the pleasure of the company of Mr. John Harding and his fiancee, Miss Dominique Mallory, at a dinner party to be held on Monday evening, etc, etc!'

Dominique glanced down, unable to meet John's eyes as her heart began to flutter rapidly. 'Oh, yes?' she said uncomfortably.

'Oh, yes!' John got to his feet and swung her round to face him. 'What does it mean, Dominique?'

Dominique felt the hot colour flood her cheeks. 'What do you mean? It's nothing to do with me!'

'Isn't it? Isn't it? It just so happens I've never been invited to a dinner party at the Santos residence before! That's what it means!'

Dominique felt slightly sick. 'And - and you think he's sent this because of me?'

'Well, hasn't he? What other reason can there be? God-dammit, Dominique, what is there between you two?'

Dominique swallowed hard. 'Between us!' she echoed. 'There - there's nothing between us. I - I scarcely know the man!' Oh, God, she thought inwardly, forgive me for all these lies! But what can I say?

John flung himself across the room, and poured himself a generous measure of whisky. He flung the drink to the back of his throat, and turned to look at her again. 'Well, this settles one thing,' he muttered. 'I shan't be taking any permanent posts here!'

'John,' she began unsteadily. 'We don't have to go. We can refuse!'

'Can we? Can we? Oh, Dominique, don't be naive! We can't refuse. Vincente Santos is the chairman of the Santos Corporation!'

Dominique stared at him. 'But - but when I asked you whether he was your boss you said no!' she exclaimed.

'Well, it's true - in a way. Rivas does all the actual management. Santos works at the refinery as and when it suits him. Anyway, there are other plants about the country. He can't spend all his time in one place.'

'But why can't we refuse?'

'Oh, Dominique! Don't you realize? This is a
royal
summons! No one - but no one - refuses Santos's invitations!'

'Well, we will,' said Dominique firmly, going across to the cooker to make her own omelette. 'I'm not afraid of him!'

Yet" even as she said the words she knew they were not true. She was afraid of him - or rather of the reaction he produced in herself!

John was looking a little more amiable. 'I would have thought you would be eager to go,' he muttered reluctantly.

Dominique sighed. 'Well, I'm not,' she said shortly.

'No, I can see that.' John snorted angrily. 'But we'll still have to go.' He shrugged. 'It may not be so bad. I've wanted to see inside his place for some time.'

Dominique stared at him. 'But we can't, John!' she exclaimed.

John looked at her curiously. 'Why not?'

Dominique gave an exasperated movement. 'A moment ago you were cursing because you had to go. Now you say we're going. Why? Why? Are you afraid of him?'

'No, but he is the big man, after all.'

Dominique turned away, not trusting herself to look at him. She felt sick and confused. They were going. Santos had known they would. Oh, why was he doing this? Deliberately setting out to torment her!

John seated himself at the table and attacked his meal with enthusiasm. 'I'm glad you're not impressed by him, Dom,' he said, his mouth full of egg and lettuce. 'I might have known you weren't like the other women! Hell, half of them would give their eye-teeth for the opportunity to see inside Minha Terra.'

Dominique lifted her omelette out of the pan, her appetite diminishing. However would she be able to get through an evening in Vincente Santos's presence, with John beside her, watching her every move?

On the day of the dinner party, which as John had expected had caused much speculation among his friends, Dominique spent some time examining the contents of her wardrobe. Her clothes were mostly informal. In England almost anything would do for evening wear and she had a couple of jersey slack suits which she might have considered in London but which would be bound to look out of place here. Eventually she decided on a black tunic, straight and simple, with an overlying skirt of strands of gold lame. It was rather way-out, she thought a little dryly, as she laid it. on her bed in her room at the Rawlings', but at least it looked suitable. She had bought it in a boutique in London which she had visited with the girls from the adjoining flat to her own, and they had encouraged her to do so. Certainly it suited her, but would Vincente Santos think she had worn it for his benefit? And why did she want to look her best anyway?

But of course, she knew the answer to that!

There was a tap at her door, and without waiting for a reply, Marion entered, her eyes widening when she saw the black and gold dress.

'Well, well!' she said. 'Is that what you're going to wear tonight?'

Dominique stifled her annoyance. 'Yes. Do you think it's all right?'

Marion studied it thoughtfully. 'It's rather short, isn't it?' she asked critically, as Dominique held it against herself.