Witch's Harvest (10 page)

the basics of the cacao industry.

The oddly subdued atmosphere which had hung over the household during the latter part of the previous day had shown her

quite clearly that she had proved a disappointment in one way at least. Vasco's orders about the sleeping arrangements had

been carried out to the letter, but Abby was conscious that, afterwards, the smiles from the servants were not as ready as they

had been.

A newly married couple who chose to sleep apart were obviously a total bewilderment to the household. Abby had no idea if

Vasco had offered his staff any kind of explanation, but she suspected glumly that they would still regard it as some deficiency

on her part.

But she badly needed to make a good impression in other ways. If she could contribute to the running of the house, in spite of

the language barrier, and take an intelligent interest in the work of the plantation, surely she could make up for the fact that she
wasn't the girl her husband wanted in his bed, or his life.

As she pushed back the cover the door opened slightly, and Ana peeped cautiously in. Abby's pantomimed regret at having

slept so long was answered with a reassuring smile, then Ana went over to the massive carved wardrobe and opened the door.

While she had rested, half-sleeping, the previous day, Abby had been vaguely aware of Ana moving about quietly, unpacking for

her. Now, her attention fully alerted, she leaned forward, her jaw dropping.

The modest selection of clothes she had brought with her would only have occupied a small percentage of the space available,

whereas the hanging rail was crammed with garments. Cool day dresses in cotton and lawn, she saw incredulously, as well as

silk and satin and an array of cotton jeans with toning shirts and tops.

Ana was removing an ivory silk robe, which in no way resembled the simple cotton kimono Abby had packed in her case. As the

girl held it out to her, Abby shook her head.

'
Não
,' she protested as forcefully as possible, pointing to herself. 'Not—mine,' she enunciated carefully, trying to get her
meaning across.

Ana's face was blank with astonishment. She burst into a flood of excited gabble from which Abby managed with difficulty to

elicit the words '
patrão'
and 'Manaus'.

Della's clothes, Abby thought bleakly, as she marched to the wardrobe and found her own dressing-gown. Vasco must have

organised them as a welcome present for her, and forgotten about it in the aftermath of their separation. Well, she wanted no

part of them. She might have stepped into Della's shoes, but she was damned if she was going to wear dresses chosen for her

too!

Deliberately she selected one of her own, a simple shirtwaister in a soft shade of green, and by no means as well made or

stylish as the garments Ana was trying to persuade her into. But Abby shook her head with cool determination, indicating, as

she put the dress down on the bed, that this was her choice, and no other.

By the time she had bathed in the huge old-fashioned tub in the bathroom, and put on her clothes, she felt calmer. Ana was

waiting anxiously in the bedroom with offers of breakfast, but Abby refused gently, asking carefully for just coffee.

Left to herself, she made her way to the veranda at the front of the house and stood looking round her. The place seemed

deserted, but her arrival yesterday had shown how deceptive that could be.

She sat down on one of the cushioned chairs, nearly jumping out of her skin as a strident squawk rent the air.

'Not deserted at all,' she said aloud, as she recovered. 'I apologise for overlooking you, Don Afonso.'

The great macaw gave her a look of undisguised hostility, then lifted one set of formidable claws and began to give them a

minute examination.

Rosa came bustling out with a tray, and Abby saw with resignation that she had provided cake and some slices of papaya to

accompany the coffee.

She watched maternally as Abby poured some of the dark aromatic brew into a cup, and sipped, nodding her approval before

vanishing back into the house. Abby had eaten her papaya and refilled her cup, when she heard the sound of an engine.

She thought breathlessly, Vasco, and her hand went up nervously to push at her soft hair. So she wasn't going to spend the

entire day alone, after all. He had come back for her, and this was a whole new beginning, she thought, her heart thumping.

But the man who jumped down from the small truck and came striding up the steps was a total stranger, tall and blond. He

smiled easily at Abby, showing very white teeth.

'Hi,' he said. 'I hope I'm not pushing in any, but I'm looking for Vasco.'

Abby returned the smile rather reservedly. 'I'm Abigail da Carvalho,' she said, flushing a little as she spoke her new name aloud

for the first time. 'I'm afraid I don't know where my husband is at the moment. Perhaps the servants might be able to help.'

'Maybe they could at that.' He extended a hand. 'I'm Link Dalton. I'm running the Gonzaga place on a temporary basis—until the

kid finds his feet, that is.'

'Yes, Vasco mentioned something about it,' she said. 'Would you like to sit down?'

His grin widened. 'All the time, lady, all the time. This humidity gets me down. How about you?' He threw himself into the chair

beside her, stretching his legs out in front of him.

Abby shrugged. 'I haven't been here long enough to judge,' she said. 'It certainly isn't as bad as I expected. I thought—oh,

heavens, I don't know— that it would be much
wilder
with exotic animals, and snakes, and insects everywhere.'

'Oh, there are plenty of those,' he assured her. 'You can't judge the locality by this civilised little corner. People have been

farming the area around the Little Black River for generations, and it sure makes a difference. But you only keep the forest at

bay. You don't banish it completely.'

'Would you like some coffee?' Abby belatedly remembered her duties as a hostess.

'Why not? I'll shout Rosa for another cup.' He got up briskly and disappeared into the house, returning a few minutes later, cup

and saucer in hand. 'The girls say Vasco will be back for lunch.' He squinted up at the sky. 'Mind if I hang round till then?'

'Of course not.' Abby paused. 'To be honest, I was beginning to feel a bit like a deaf mute,' she confessed ruefully. 'I need to

learn Portuguese, and fast!'

'Get Vasco to compile a list of useful words and phrases,' her companion suggested, taking the coffee she poured for him with a

brief word of thanks. 'I'm surprised he didn't think of it.'

'I think he was keen to get back to the plantation,' Abby said. 'He—he's spent a long time away from it recently, so he's bound to
be busier than usual.'

'Let's face it, the guy's a workaholic' Link flashed her an amused look. 'If I'd just got married I'd be right here, paying my bride
some attention, not staring at a heap of cocoa beans!' He drank his coffee and set down the cup. 'That was some lightning

romance you had there. We were all glad he decided to take a European vacation—he's been working himself into the ground

here—but we didn't expect him to wind up engaged. No one had him down as the marrying kind, at least not yet.

You won't be a hit with the available chicks round here.'

'Including your employer?' The words were out before she could stop them, and Abby could have bitten her tongue in vexation.

Link appeared to give her outrageous question serious consideration. The Black Widow? Could be—although the lady claims

her heart's in the grave. But there has to be something keeping her here.'

'I wasn't serious,' Abby said hastily. 'She—she's just so—glamorous.' She plunged for a change of subject. 'What brought you

to Brazil?'

'An interest in agriculture, basically.' Link leaned back in his chair, his arms folded behind his head. 'I was doing research into
the fungus diseases which attack trees, and I fetched up here eventually. It's a good enough place to be.'

'I suppose so,' Abby agreed, with a little stifled sigh.

'You sound as if you need convincing.' He gave her a lazy look. 'I'll have to see what I can do. Next time I go into town I could

take you with me. Sometimes they show old movies in a tin shack. How do you go for
Some Like it Hot
dubbed into

Portuguese?'

She laughed aloud. 'It sounds wonderful! Thank you very much.'

'
Não importe
. In fact, my pleasure.' He put out his hand, and this time his fingers closed warmly round hers, in contrast to the
formality of his earlier greeting. 'Welcome to Riocho Negro,
senhora
.'

Abby smiled at him shyly, returning the pressure of his hand. It was oddly comforting to know that here was a potential friend—

and one, moreover, who could speak her language.

Vasco's voice said coldly, '
Bom dia
, Link. Is there something I can do for you?'

Abby jumped. She had no idea where he'd come from, but here he was suddenly standing on the veranda steps, hands on hips,

watching them. He was wearing close-fitting khaki cotton pants, and matching shirt open almost to the waist, and marked with

patches of sweat.

Link released Abby's hand unhurriedly and stood up. 'Hi, there,' he said casually. 'I called over to replace that spray we

borrowed a while back. Luisa thought you might need it.'

'That was considerate of her,' said Vasco, after a pause. His voice was level, but lacking in cordiality. 'Was that all you wanted?'

Link moved his shoulders in a negligent shrug. 'Oh, I thought I might congratulate the bridegroom on his good taste.' He smiled.

'Abigail, eh? A nice old-fashioned name, for a nice old-fashioned girl.' He frowned as if in sudden perplexity. 'Only I seem to

remember another name being mentioned—now what was it? Della, or something?'

Abby felt cold. She looked woodenly at the used cups, wondering how many more of these moments she would have to endure.

Vasco said pleasantly, 'That is the name of Abigail's cousin. It is easy to see how the confusion has arisen.'

'I guess so,' Link agreed easily. 'So, how about this spray? You want that I should give it to Agnello?'

Vasco nodded. 'If you will. He is over by the drying sheds.'

'I'll drive over there, then,' Link started down the steps. He turned and sent them both a slanting smile. 'I guess you two want to
be alone to enjoy lunch for two.'

'Later.' Vasco flexed his shoulders, easing the collar of his shirt away from his neck with a casual hand. 'I'm going to take a

shower first.' He reached down and pulled Abby up from her chair, smiling into her startled eyes. 'Come and keep me company,

querida
.'

'Lucky bastard!' Link threw laughingly over his shoulder.

As Abby moved towards the house, compelled by Vasco's inexorable arm round her waist, she heard the truck drive off. As they

reached the door she pulled herself free.

'Will you kindly tell me what's going on?' she demanded angrily.

'Not here,' Vasco said grimly. 'If you wish to quarrel with me, please wait until we are in the privacy of our room.'

Abby hung back, nervousness drying her mouth. 'I—I don't want to go to my room,' she said huskily.

'You would prefer me to carry you?' His dark eyes glinted at her. 'A romantic scene to gladden the servants' hearts, perhaps?'

'No.' She threw him a mutinous look. 'I can walk.'

'Walk, then,' he said shortly, and she went ahead of him, her chin tilted defiantly.

When they were alone, she faced him with a coolness she was far from feeling. 'Is this some kind of game?'

'How odd,' said Vasco, closing the door behind him. 'I was about to ask you the very same thing.' He was smiling slightly, but

there was no amusement in his eyes. 'I did not expect, I confess, to find you on your first day here not only entertaining a

stranger, but permitting him familiarities.'

'I was doing nothing of the sort!' Abby protested hotly.

'You consider allowing him to hold your hand a matter of common courtesy, perhaps?' he enquired glacially. 'I must tell you,

minha esposa
, that you are wrong. Although remembering how generously you gave me your favours, I suppose I should have
expected such behaviour from you,' he added unforgivably.

Bright spots of colour blazed in Abby's pale cheeks. 'How dare you!' she said chokingly. 'Oh, God, how dare you? You know

quite well…' She paused, taking a grip on herself. When she could control her voice, she said, 'Mr Dalton came here to see you. I

offered him coffee because I thought it was what you'd want me to do. He was kind and friendly, and he could see I felt—

strange, and I was grateful to him, that's all.'

'Then you demonstrate your gratitude rather too openly.' There was no softening in his manner. 'As my wife, you should be