Destiny Decrees Page 9

  ' Surely you do not imagine that you will come face to face with a real live barbarian here, cherie!' Coralie felt herself pale at his unwitting remark. What would this realistic Frenchman say if he knew that she believed herself to be living under the same roof as

  the boldest, most daunting—and yes, she had to admit it to herself, however unwillingly—the most devastating barbarian her mind had ever conjured up. Jacques was looking strangely at her when once more she regained control of her tempestuous thoughts.

  I suppose it is useless, ma petite, to warn a girl to be on her guard against a certain man. She is interested, attracted, disturbed—all the most perverse reactions.'

  Coralie felt her pulses drumming at Jacques' keen perception. It is of yourself you warn me?' she countered.

  ' I see that you choose to misunderstand me.' On a lowered note he continued: I might add that you would do well to realise, Coralie, that you will get shaken one of these days when you use that tone of voice—you will do it once too often, I think!'

  Yet it was surely against her own unruly heart that she needed to keep guard, Coralie thought shrewdly.

  Coralie soon forgot her ruminations, so carried away was she by the atmosphere of the fair. On one bank of the river a pretty square ran beside the quay, from the market to the bridge. In the centre stood a diminutive iron bandstand surrounded by a moat full of water lilies and goldfish; while lining the square were cafés and restaurants with pavement tables made gay with coloured umbrellas. Farmers, shepherds, horsemen and cattlemen from all parts of Algarve, were thronging the town.

  Jacques! I can't believe all this is real,' she breathed. This is the first time I have felt so—so free since I came to Portugal.'

  I understand,' said Jacques. Frankly, I think that it is not at all suitable for you at the Quinta das Torres. The whole atmosphere there is too overpowering for such a sensitive young creature as yourself.'

  For some inexplicable reason, Coralie found herself leaping to Dom. Ricardo's defence.

  I don't think Dom Ricardo really means to be so—tyrannical, Jacques,' she protested quickly. It's just that he belongs to the upper end of the social scale of

  his country, and I belong to the very opposite end in mine, and I suppose I am bound to irritate him. I have little or no experience of his way of life, and I expect I must seem very naïve and stupid.'

  ' Not stupid,' Jacques corrected her. Just innocent and beautiful—and very, very desirable. Far too desirable to be at the mercy of such an embittered man as Dom Ricardo.'

  Coralie flushed at his typically extravagant remarks. Jacques was frowning as he took her arm.

  ' Ma petite anglaise, you are too loyal, and far too provocative!' he teased her, half in earnest.

  The afternoon proved to be a memorable one for Coralie. Everywhere there were booths selling traditional local pottery, home-made horn-handled knives and forks, Portuguese lace, attractive wicker and raffia baskets, articles in marble from local quarries, cork, and boxes of delicious sweets made of almonds, honey and figs with marzipan.

  She wandered excitedly among the noise and blare and colour giving little gasps of pleasure over each fresh article that caught her eye.

  ' What lovely dolls!' she cried delightedly. Before she realised what was happening, Jacques was thrusting into her arms a large doll dressed in national costume. ' Oh, Jacques, no ! ' She coloured with childish pleasure at his gesture.

  ' Come,' he said with undisguised enjoyment of her confusion, ' it is not a diamond ring I have bought you.' His eyes lazily flicked the ringless fingers on her left hand and once more Coralie felt a surge of embarrassment at having no outward symbol of Peter's love. She wondered uncertainly if she would have had a greater feeling of security if Peter had bought her an engagement ring. Certainly it would have been an additional piece of armour, not to mention a boost to her morale. She was unaware as she stood there among the gay, jostling crowd, what a unique and attractive picture she made, the costume doll clasped happily in her arms, her eyes smiling back at Jacques like green stars, her bright hair falling over slim young

  shoulders—a startling contrast to the sunburned peasants, and totally unconscious of their admiring glances.

  ' Stand still, just where you are,' Jacques commanded. Startled, Coralie watched him focusing his cine-camera. You are to be the star of our film, ma petite.' He laughed at her sudden shyness, but had taken shots of her from every conceivable angle, to the delight of the gaping crowd, before the shyness had time to mar her spontaneous gaiety.

  By now there was quite a commotion in the crowd of fairgoers. Jacques introduced Coralie to two or three members of his film unit who had joined them. Jacques remarked teasingly that Coralie would find she had turned a film star overnight. At her look of wide-eyed alarm, he drawled, I owe her a small fee for her permission to star in our film' Aside he murmured to her, How about allowing me to rub off my debt with an evening on the town tonight?' At her brief hesitation he coaxed, Come now while your guardian is away—he expressed to me a desire that he does not wish life to be dull for his protégée during his absence.'

  ' I'd love it,' Coralie answered with dancing eyes.

  Oh!' Jacques exclaimed. ' See, there's Rafael, Dom Ricardo's cousin. He manages the stables and bulls at the Quinta das Torres.' Rafael came over to join them, his sleek, jet-black hair catching the sun, and a brilliant smile. Coralie felt a sudden chill fall on her despite the noonday heat. She discovered that these horse-dealers were very much the élite of the fair. Though hospitable to the foreign film unit and the young English girl, not everyone was accorded this privilege, she noticed. Rafael was concentrating his attention on her. Coralie bent her head to her doll to avoid the impertinent stare in the bold eyes, and the next moment she felt the breath stick in her throat as the smooth voice asked for her ear alone,

  ' Does Dom Ricardo know that you are here with his rival?'

  She felt the colour drain from her face at his words.

  When she was able to speak, she replied with as much dignity as she could muster,

  ' Dom Ricardo invited Monsieur Bourchier to accompany me in his absence,' adding icily, which, incidentally, is no concern of yours.' Rafael wore a hard, ironic smile. On a more uncertain note she asked, ' What do you mean by his rival?'

  The white teeth gleamed wickedly down at her. A dark glitter of hatred spun between them.

  ' Surely you must know, senhorita, that both men are in love with the same lady.'

  Coralie caught her breath at his tone of malicious enjoyment at the situation. He was watching her as a cat paws a mouse before devouring it. The words forced themselves from her stiff lips.

  ' To what lady do you refer?'

  ' To Dona Elvira da Silva, of course.' It was sheer hatred she saw in his eyes, she was under no false illusion about that. He took a sadistic enjoyment in watching her steel herself to control her tongue. Dom Ricardo is making sure that she does not slip through his fingers. He is, of course, insanely jealous of Jacques Bourchier. The last time the so charming Frenchman came to Portugal, he appeared to hold a dangerous fascination for the beautiful widow.' As Coralie opened her mouth to protest at his dubious disclosures, he drawled,

  ' Ah, little innocent eyes, I see there is much of which you are unaware I That is the reason why my renowned cousin will not allow Monsieur Bourchier and his team into the Quinta das Torres to make a film of its fascinating history. Naturally when he brings his intended bride to his home, he does not wish to run the risk of losing her to the glamour of a film director.' He grinned conspiratorially.

  Please leave me out of it. I won't listen to any more of your unworthy confidences,' Coralie said repressively. Rafael's implications of disloyalty drew a picture of his own seething discontent. Coralie was genuinely shocked at his traitorous attitude towards Dom Ricardo. She had been under the impression

  that affections and loyalties ran deep in these ancient Portuguese families.

  ' Keep your e
yes open and you will be surprised what mysteries you will stumble across in that old house, senhorita.' He bowed with mocking appraisal, the deep-set eyes narrowing maliciously.

  When her world stopped swinging with surprise, she was alone again, and her assailant had disappeared like a serpent into the cover of the crowd. While Coralie had been thus occupied, Jacques had been taking shots of a goatherd from the country, attired in rap and sacking and smoking a short bamboo pipe.

  He is a slingsman,' Jacques told her, in answer to Coralie's enquiring glance. If one of his goats strays, he can turn it aside with a pebble, from almost any distance.'

  Intrigued, Coralie asked if she might see the sling. At a word from Jacques the little man immediately handed it to her, shiny with use and made from the plaited fibres of a cactus. After handing it back to him, the goatherd proceeded to give another demonstration of his prowess. Picking up a jagged stone, he placed it in the widest part of the sling, then whirling it round he let one end slip free, and the piece of rock shot off like a cannon ball, sailing past the monastery wall, shattering the top of an olive tree in the orchard a number of yards from where they stood breathlessly watching—aghast in case someone happened to be standing underneath. He seemed eager to give yet a further demonstration of his skill, but Jacques thrust a few escudos into the gnarled hand and propelled Coralie towards one of the mobile restaurants, where they lunched seated at a table under an awning. Jacques ordered chicken which they washed down with ice-cold vinho verde, almost as fizzy as champagne. The bubbles seemed to go to Coralie's head, and she was vividly reminded of the evening she had dined alone with the master of the Quinta das Torres. She felt decidedly gay and more alive than she had done for many months.

  Over lunch Jacques told her more about his work.

  Coralie tried to appear suitably impressed, giving him only half her attention, her delighted eyes flickering backwards and forwards with pleasure at her surroundings.

  ' This time we have a further purpose to our filming,' he explained, studying her intently as she twisted the stem of her wineglass, remembering Rafael's words. We hope to sell our films to property developers.'

  Coralie's eyes shimmered rather oddly in the long silence. ' You don't mean that you are negotiating with property merchants intending to develop on Dom Ricardo's land—hoping he will sell ?'

  ' But naturally. In the name of progress—'

  ' He will never sell! ' Coralie cried vehemently, remembering the dark look in the Senhor's eyes whenever he spoke of his heritage.

  Jacques was looking at her strangely. ' That is where you come in.' His manner seemed to convey a challenge. ' I am relying on you to use your charms on Dom Ricardo, to persuade him of my point of view.'

  Coralie's high-spirited eyes flashed fire. ' That kind of thing is against my principles,' she turned on him ' I would never have believed you could be such a traitor I ' she protested, feeling her hard protective shell once more dose about her. The joy had gone from her day. Jacques was using her, even as Dom Ricardo Carvalho was using her—two men playing widely differing games, and she was nothing but their pawn.

  And whatever makes you think that he would have listened to me?' she asked dryly.

  ' My time in Portugal is short. It is not so much a matter of intrigue as you interpret it as of necessity that Dom Ricardo be made to see reason the quickest way possible—and you, cherie, are a very endearing female.' The Frenchman smiled bleakly and gave a weary sigh. ' Please do not upset yourself, Coralie. I shall not refer to the matter again.'

  They were just preparing to move on when a figure seemed to spring from the shadows outside; a flash of teeth, and they were again confronted by Rafael. In marked contrast to his pale face was the vivid gash of

  a newly made flesh wound, jagged and bleeding at his temple; his immaculate white shirt already stained from the gash.

  ' I fancy you hired a slingsman to secure your retaliation,' Rafael drawled in Coralie's ear, while Jacques ordered him a lager. She was staring aghast at the wound caused innocently by the rock from the goatherd's sling.

  I—it wasn't done purposely,' she stammered, her eyes wide and startled.

  ' I would suggest it was too much of a coincidence so soon after our—er—tete-a-tete.' Rafael still fixed her with his rakish smile, but Coralie could not help the uneasy feeling that his words were not meant in jest and this man undoubtedly could be a dangerous enemy.

  Apart from the fair, there was much to see in Tavira. After lunch, with Jacques she explored the old castle nearby, and wandered through the green and placid gardens that were once its keep; the views were delightful. Later they drove out to Santa Luzia, a village on the lagoon a mile or so away. They had tea in the little square, embowered by mimosa and jacaranda. The beauty of the afternoon helped to dispel Coralie's earlier disillusionment. As dusk fell, Jacques drove her back into Tavira.

  ' I shall arrange for you an evening to remember,' he promised with a flashing smile. I happen to know where the food is good and very Portuguese.' She smiled back, succumbing once more to this Frenchman's charm. After all, it would be her first evening out in Portugal, and one could not be dispirited for long on such a night. Jacques was as good as his word. In a lively little street leading off the main square, the restaurant at which they dined was decorated to represent the street of a fishing village. It was a tourist restaurant and a gay one, the waitresses wearing national costume while serving regional dishes. Jacques led the way to an alcove table that afforded a romantic view overlooking the harbour, splashed with light as the twilight darkened.

  First they were served with a delicious soup made of cockles.

  ' The cockles are fried with cut-up chourico—the Portuguese sausage flavoured with red pepper,' Jacques explained. This was followed by sole in a delectable shellfish sauce with a wonderful orange soufflé to finish. Coralie had a languorous, contented feeling as they sipped aromatic black coffee, and watched a spectacular late-night cabaret. She was content to sit and dream time away; to forget for the time being her future that lay behind a blank door. Peter had faded somewhat for the moment, she felt, as she saw Jacques contemplating her with an ardent gleam in his eyes.

  The lights dimmed, and there was a sudden quiet. In the spotlight a man in a prim suit bent over his guitar while beside him a woman in black waited, clutching a shawl around her. The guitar began a sad, insistent rhythm; the woman, eyes raised as if to some unseen window, began to sing. The song was a vibrating cry of the inescapability of fate, of longing and of love—the fado. The intensity of the performance caught at Coralie's emotions; her gaiety was suddenly fled, replaced by a disconsolate feeling, an aching longing for she knew not what—the unattainable? a vague yearning for the unknown.

  What are you thinking about?'

  Coralie flushed in confusion at the sound of Jacques' voice. She smiled, but made no answer. ' Are you in love with him?' he challenged. The question had come suddenly like a douche of cold water to her muzzy thoughts.

  ' In love with whom?' she countered, controlling her voice to a calmness she was far from feeling

  ' Why, with your fiancé, of course. Who else would I be referring to?' His eyes regarded her shrewdly. How stupid of her not to assume immediately that he meant Peter—and yet she had the uncanny feeling that Jacques had implied someone entirely different. ' Have you heard anything more of his whereabouts?' His query cut across her thoughts.

  ' No. Dom Ricardo assures me that he is doing all

  in his power to try and trace him.'

  I doubt if he will have much time to spare while tied up with his own amorous affairs! ' Jacques laughed.

  Coralie moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. Everyone but herself seemed to have known at first hand that Dom Ricardo had gone to visit Dona Elvira, she thought irritably.

  ' You did not answer my question, cherie.' Jacques lowered voice was deliberately baiting.

  ` Of course I am.' Her quivering lips forced out the word
s.

  ` Would he tell you if he had found someone else?'

  ' I—I think he would,' she murmured, her eyes suddenly misting with tears. She was no longer certain of anything.

  ' It was not my intention to hurt you, Coralie. You are tired.' Jacques spoke kindly. Come, it is time we were going. It is almost two o'clock.'

  Coralie gave a startled exclamation when she knew it was so late. The hours had slipped by unnoticed.

  ` What is wrong? You are not worried about Dom Ricardo's displeasure, are you? He is away from home, remember, and I can assure you that his thoughts meanwhile will be centred on more important things than the hour of your bedtime,' Jacques said.

  ' It's just that I've never been out so late as this in my life before.' She looked young and uncertain as she pushed at her thick hair.

  ` Are you afraid you will be locked out?' He arched his brows wickedly. ' That would be too bad. You would have to spend the night at my cottage! '

  Coralie's eyes shot wide open at Jacques' apparently flippant remark. She most certainly would not compromise herself by sleeping at his cottage, she thought with ill-suppressed anger. If she did happen to be locked out, she would sleep in one of the outhouses before spending the night with Jacques Bouchier—or anyone else for that matter. She might be innocent, but surely he didn't think her so gullible.

  The journey back was made in comparative silence. The sparkle of the day had gone and Coralie dosed

  her eyes as the rhythm of the car lulled her into a state of drowsiness, as it sped along the moonlit road. She roused only as they drew up before the terrace of the Quinta das Torres.