Destiny Decrees Read online

  Destiny Decrees by Margaret Mann

  When Coralie found herself in a difficult situation in a foreign country she was only too glad that there was someone competent to come to her rescue. But she was to discover, once she had resigned control of her actions to the masterful Dom Ricardo, that he was in no hurry to relinquish his authority . .

  Printed in Canada

  Original hard cover edition published in 1974 by Mills & Boon Limited.

  © Margaret Mann 1974

  ISBN 373-01519-4

  Harlequin edition published September 1974

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the Author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly Inspired by any individual known or unknown to the Author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

  The Harlequin trade mark, consisting of the word HARLEQUIN and the portrayal of a Harlequin, is registered in the United States Patent Office and in the Canada Trade Marks Office.

  CHAPTER I

  The Portuguese waterfront was alive with jostling crowds as the passenger ship from England docked at the port of Lisbon. To the slim girl leaning on the trail, Lisbon spread like a fan of pearl pink palaces, Churches and colour-washed houses, crowning a dozen hills. A scented breeze lifted her long copper-coloured hair as Coralie negotiated the steep wooden gangway, narrowing her eyes against the golden glare. She struggled down uneven wooden steps, juggling her hand-luggage in one hand while searching her handbag desperately for her sunglasses with the other. Her head reeled from the effects of the stormy voyage.

  Pausing momentarily, as she felt her feet once more on terra firma, Coralie glanced anxiously around for a porter. She stood on the glaring white quayside gazing about her with an air of bewilderment that made her face look younger than its twenty-two years. The sun turned to gold her halo of bright hair caught severely into the nape of her neck with a green ribbon that reflected the colour of her eyes. It revealed a face that looked pinched and wan as the result of a turbulent night on the water. Her stomach still churned from the motion of the ship; she had never been a good sailor, she reflected; but at last the throbbing engines had ceased and gradually the waves of nausea that had almost drowned her senses were subsiding. Only a short while ago she had wanted to curl up and die, she was so alone and miserable, but with the sea-voyage behind her she was struggling to maintain her balance and to steer herself towards the Customs sheds.

  The next moment Coralie was flung from her feet as she stumbled clumsily over someone's luggage left standing on the quayside. She felt herself gripped suddenly by a strong hand saving her the indignity of sprawling full length on to the floor. Glancing up in confusion, she was startled into awareness by a tall

  figure looming above her.

  You are ill, senhorita?' enquired a deep voice. The accent was foreign, Portuguese no doubt.

  ' I—I shall be all right,' she gasped dazedly, and had the acute sensation that the dark eyes were taking in the delicate definition of her features and the trim line of her slender figure in the crumpled travelling coat which had been eminently suitable to keep out the damp of the raw English cold at Southampton, but which felt dowdy and totally unsuitable in the warm, scented air of Portugal. As he stooped swiftly to collect the scattered belongings that had spilled from the wicker basket of her hand-luggage, Coralie noticed his sensitive brown hands jutting from the immaculate whiteness of his shirt cuffs caught at the wrists with expensive gold studs. He straightened with what she took to be an impatient gesture pushing back the shock of blue-black hair from his forehead. Coralie caught an impression of strong, almost gypsy-like features as he handed back her basket with a bow.

  Her seasickness was settling a little now, and as the dark stranger picked up the luggage over which she had stumbled, a spark of annoyance flashed in her clear green eyes.

  ' Those were your bags! ' she accused him. It's a wonder I didn't break my neck—and I thought you were being chivalrous—'

  ' My apologies, senhorita,' he broke in, and again she felt somewhat at a loss at his curt reply. Firm fingers at her elbow were propelling her towards the Customs sheds.

  ' I can manage quite well now, thank you.' The Portuguese glanced down at her from behind dark glasses, and to her intense relief released his hold.

  Goodbye, senhorita.' He inclined his shapely head towards her and was immediately swallowed up in the crowds of early holidaymakers thronging the barriers. He had vanished as quickly as he had appeared, leaving Coralie feeling strangely at a loss without the reassuring strength of his masculine arm in this unfamiliar land. She had deduced that his knowledge

  of English must have been vague if not practically non-existent when she remembered the almost churlish way in which he had dealt with her, she decided as she waited wearily at the long Customs counter for her luggage to arrive.

  It was not until the crowd had cleared their way through the Customs that the awful truth dawned upon Coralie. Her luggage was lost! As in a night. mare she heard the mechanical tones of the Customs officer as he took particulars of her name, Coralie Grey, and destination; she gave him an address in the Algarve, her mind suddenly projecting to a quaint white fishing village she had seen on postcards where Peter, her fiancé, would be waiting for her, but how was she to reach him when her money, along with the rest of her few belongings, was somewhere on the route between Southampton and Lisbon? she agonised.

  Her only currency was a handful of escudos that she had exchanged on the ship for a five-pound note, barely enough for one day's expenses. The full realisation of her folly in leaving the traveller's cheques in her cases dawned upon her with sudden impact.

  ' But what am Ito do?' Coralie beseeched the apparently impervious Customs officer. She was on the verge of tears, and only his uncommittal response, goading her to anger, enabled Coralie to retain her dignity in a desperate situation. In her dazed anxiety she hadn't noticed a tall figure loom up beside her until he spoke.

  ' In difficulties over luggage once more, senhorita?'

  Coralie started in amazement as she recognised the voice. She thought she detected a hint of amusement in his tone, making her feel like a child who didn't know how to look after itself.

  ' I thought you'd disappeared long ago with the crowd,' she said testily.

  ' Might I not say the same of you, senhorita?' he returned, still unruffled. ' I have been delayed on account of my camera which is being held until the officials ascertain whether or not it is stolen property. They will contact me later after having made certain

  enquiries.' She saw a tiny musle at the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement at her transparent reaction to this news. His smile was taunting. ' You've already labelled me, " smuggler of stolen goods!" ' He seemed unperturbed at the notion and indeed Coralie could not understand why he had not been taken into custody by now, if this were so.

  ' I see you are a newcomer to Portugal, and as such cannot be expected to comprehend this matter. Come, do I understand that your luggage is lost?' he demanded.

  Despite herself Coralie told him something of her plight, her words disjointed, seemingly making little sense in her apparent distress, her cheeks burning beneath the stranger's shrewd regard of her. Yet in no time he had taken control of the situation. She listened to his authoritative voice speaking fluently in Portuguese with the Customs officer. Then she found herself being propelled along against her will out into the teeming throng that was Lisbon.

  ' Where are we going?' Coralie asked uncertainly of the tall man at her side. For answer he firmly withdrew her from the noise and bustle of the crowds, and ushered her into one of the many small waterside cafes, where he settled her in a quiet corner seat.<
br />
  ' We will have breakfast, then we will discuss your " desperate situation ".' His lips twisted into something of a smile as he regarded her, his disturbing glance on her red-gold hair. As he withdrew his dark glasses Coralie found herself staring into the darkest pair of eyes she had ever seen. She caught her breath, dropping her gaze in confusion. She was bewildered that she had thrown caution aside to the length of allowing herself to be monopolised by this arrogant stranger.

  He had still volunteered no information whatever concerning himself, and Coralie was becoming more and more uneasy in his presence, her mind full of things her teaching friends had warned her concerning Portuguese men, when they knew she was making a lone journey to join her fiancé. Here she was, caught up with one of these impassioned Latins, the moment

  she had set foot in this strange country.

  I—I'm not at all hungry,' she faltered as he motioned to the waiter.

  ' Well, I am ! ' he rejoined. And while we eat, you can tell me why you are roaming so far from home all alone.'

  I am of age, senhor,' she retorted, a dash of temper sparking her green eyes, ' and I refuse to commit myself further to a complete stranger; I know nothing about you, not even your name, and yet you demand my confidence.'

  With a shrug, he finished his coffee at leisure before answering her.

  People are not always easy to know,' he began, with a brooding look. Suddenly he met her eyes across the table. ' However, let me introduce myself. I am Dom Ricardo Casimiro Carvalho, owner of estates in the Algarve.' His tone was imperious. ' I am returning from a brief business trip to London, as I must be back home in time for the spring planting, the busiest time of the year in the Algarve. So you see, Senhorita Grey,' he must have learned her name from the labels on her hand-luggage—' destiny decrees that you and I travel to the same destination—the Algarve, or " Land Beyond " as it translates into English.'

  Her eyes took on a dreamy look. ' The Land Beyond?' she murmured. ' What an enchanting name, senhor, like—like somewhere over the rainbow—' she said impulsively.

  ' You romantic child.' His sudden sardonic smile was disconcerting, and Coralie blushed hotly, wishing she had not given herself away so easily to this arrogant Portuguese overlord. She was keenly aware of the fascination of the man, and instinct warned her of the impossibility of escaping the strength of his personality.

  You are looking doubtful again, Miss Grey. Do you not believe in destiny, fate or what you will?' When she did not answer he continued, ' Surely it was destined that we travelled here on the same ship for the same destination—'

  ' And that I was destined to fall flat on my face over

  your luggage?' Coralie gave him an impatient look, ' Really, senhor, give me credit for a little more intelligence! I have no faith in such pagan beliefs.'

  He frowned darkly at her scepticism. ' The English are noted for their conventional outlook, I should have remembered, yet—' he gave her a curious look, ' in Portugal we do not regard it as conventional for a young lady to travel unescorted in a foreign land. Come, Miss Grey, it is your turn to explain yourself.'

  His eyes looking into hers told her plainly that here was a man who was impatient of irresponsible women. Despite herself Coralie found herself giving the brief facts of her own story; how she was on her way to the Algarve to join her fiancé, Peter Radford, an art student she had met during her first year of teaching in London.

  ' I had hoped to hire a car and drive down to the Algarve today, but how am I to reach him now?'

  Ignoring her entreaty he asked curtly, ' Then you are engaged to be married?'

  To her dismay he gave her a hard cold look; a look that held something of contempt. His eyes plainly told her that he deplored the idea of such emancipation that allowed a young girl to wander alone in pursuit of a man—even though he were her intended. He was most unfair! she thought, striving to guard her own fury at his arrogance. There was a moment's silence—then :

  ' A desperate plight for one so young and inexperienced,' he continued, assuming a mask of cool indifference. ' You have only the clothes you stand up in and

  very little money. Am I correct?' he demanded abruptly. Coralie hesitated, startled by the directness of his remark, and colouring under his unnerving scrutiny. ' Oh, come now, answer me! As you yourself said, you are not a child, and I am merely trying

  to help you.' With a direct look that defied her to mistrust his motives he went on abruptly, I will book you in at my hotel for tonight.' Coralie could not

  have been more dismayed at his suggestion. At her exclamation of protest he commanded, ' Be quiet!' as

  curious glances were cast in their direction.

  ' No, I know what you are about to say, Miss Grey; I will not lend you money to hire a car in which to continue your journey to the Algarve today. You must contain your impatience to be with your fiancé a while longer, I am afraid.' Again his tone bridled her, and she saw the black gaze slant over the disarray of her auburn hair, and crumpled travel coat. She lowered her eyes. She was aware that she didn't possess the glamour that Dom Ricardo was no doubt used to escorting.

  ' Let me make myself quite clear. In your condition, looking as if you could fade through the floor at any moment with fatigue, it would be suicide to allow you to travel further before you are fully rested.' As an afterthought he added, ' Meanwhile I will attend to the business of securing your luggage, but I must warn you it may take some weeks before you recover all your belongings.'

  She was about to remind him that it wasn't her fault that they were lost when the waiter arrived with a laden breakfast tray, and despite her assertion of not feeling hungry, Coralie did justice to the meal of dainty grilled shellfish, crisp warm rolls and butter, fruit and steaming hot coffee. This was her first Portuguese meal, she reflected, and she had enjoyed it. Sipping her sweet black coffee, she studied the dark, bent head opposite; a little of her courage was returning now that the meal had revived her. It was difficult to define the expression that lay shadowed beneath the thick black hair and well defined brows. She guessed he was a man of about thirty-five, evidently used to a life of open air from the deep tan of his skin. She found herself wondering about his family. He was no doubt a married man, she guessed, from the heavily engraved ring he wore. It must surely be a most beautiful woman who could have captivated the heart of such a man

  He was watching her.

  ' I'm afraid we won't do much this morning, but when you are rested I will drive you out in my car—

  which incidentally is garaged at the hotel—and show you something of Lisbon. Then tomorrow we shall both drive south into the Algarve, and I will take you to your destination without further irritating breaks.'

  Coralie could barely restrain her impatience. She had no wish to loiter in the city. Depressed and travel-weary, she could only stare up at his dark imperious features and wonder at the quirk of fate that had delivered her, however temporarily, into his hands.

  Now what is troubling you?' He glanced keenly at her. What does it matter? Merely one more day before you are reunited with your fiancé.'

  It does matter Coralie said passionately. ' I want to continue my journey to the Algarve today—please

  He gave her a look of cool indifference. ' Your fiance can surely wait for another day. You admit that he is not expecting you. Are you afraid he might not approve of your spending a day in the company of a comparative stranger?'

  She flushed scarlet at the sardonic tone of his voice. ' I—I can't possibly stay ! Still that unreasonable panic gripped her.

  ' I am sorry my proposition does not appeal to you, Miss Grey, but in the circumstances I think you have little choice but to come with me.' And indeed, thought Coralie wearily, she was almost past caring.

  He summoned the waiter and settled the bill, not speaking again until he had ushered her into a taxi and they were on their way through the busy thoroughfare to his hotel. She had not accepted his offer of hospitality, but she had followed him
without further protest. What was the point when he imperiously took it for granted that no one should contradict him?

  Regretfully, Coralie accepted the necessity of the Senhor's arrangements. She wanted desperately to break the silence which had fallen, but was uncomfortably conscious of her companion's preoccupation. She stared through the window at the wide tree-lined avenues and smart shops lavishly displaying an abundance of Portuguese wares. Lisbon was a city of charm; of graceful buildings, gentle colours, enchant-

  ing corners

  The hotel stood in a palm-lined avenue off the main thoroughfare, its elegant facade giving Coralie a greater inferiority complex than ever. Her green eyes widened in silent appeal, her slim body tense and acutely alert.

  Relax, Miss Grey.' There was the faintest mockery at the corner of the Senhor's mouth.

  It was not yet the tourist season, and the hotel was comparatively quiet, yet as Dom Ricardo propelled her past potted palms to the reception desk, the foyer suddenly leapt into life.

  ' Born dias, Matador ! ' The receptionist flung up his outspread hands in an awed gesture of surprise, a welcoming beam lighting his features.

  With dawning realisation, Coralie noted the looks, amounting almost to reverence, that were flashed upon her escort, as suddenly the whole place seemed galvanised into action. Lift boys and hall porters were sent scurrying hither and thither at a command, as if a prince of the realm had just entered those elegant portals. Coralie gave a little gasp of dismay and stood there rooted to the spot as the full realisation of the identity of Dom Ricardo Casimiro Calvalho flooded over her.

  ' Your room is ready, Miss Grey, I expect you would like to rest now.' His tone was cool and detached and his manner remained politely aloof and withdrawn.

  Sensing the dismay of the pale silent girl at his side, Dom Ricardo glanced down into the bewildered eyes staring up at his in awed shyness.