Authors: Jacqueline Hope
They stepped through a heavy, beautifully carved, polished wood door into a magnificent entry hall, a room so large and high-ceilinged it took Anne's breath away. To the right was a wide stone stairway, and Carlos led her toward it, walking as lightly and quietly as possible.
"My father's now reached an age," he whispered to her, "where he sleeps very poorly. The slightest noise seems to awaken him. I don't know why that should be because he's seventy-two years old and his hearing is failing, though he's too proud to admit it. Tomorrow when you meet him try to stand on the right side, for his right ear's his good one. He's almost completely deaf on the left."
As they crept quietly up the stairs, Anne whispered back, in surprise, "Your father's seventy-two?" Her own parents, had they still been living, would have been in their mid-fifties. Dorrie had said that Carlos was thirty-one. Anne had imagined their father, the duke, as a man in vigorous middle age.
Carlos glanced around with a small, amused smile. "Yes. He didn't marry until he was forty, which has always seemed to the men of our line the proper age to settle down. I doubt very much that I shall many before that age."
But you enjoy yourself with long-legged models and voluptuous actresses in the meantime
, Anne thought with a touch of scorn. She dropped her eyes, making no further comment.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Carlos motioned her toward the first door on their right. "That's my sister's room," he whispered, a hint of urgency in his voice. "Possibly she has returned since the last time we phoned. I want to check."
As Carlos stepped quietly over to the door, Anne followed on his heels. His hand slid over the doorknob and turned it. He glanced at Anne over his shoulder, frowning. "It's not locked. Dolores always locked it when she retired for the night, but maybe she's gotten less hostile. I'm going to peek in to see."
After noiselessly pushing the door open, Carlos stepped through it, disappearing into the gloom inside. Anne waited in the hall, shivering slightly with apprehension. Within a minute or two, Carlos returned, stepping back into the hall and closing the door.
"The room is empty. No sign of her. Obviously they haven't returned."
As Carlos motioned her to follow him along the wide, high-ceilinged corridor, Anne felt her pulse skip anxiously. She hurried her step to catch up and whispered nervously, "But, Carlos, the week you gave them is already up. Does that mean—will you go to the police tomorrow?"
Carlos stopped walking and faced Anne directly, his black eyes looking a slight bit startled. "Tomorrow? Well, no, probably not tomorrow."
"Then—you mean you plan to give them a little more time?"
Carlos hesitated before answering. A look of rather embarrassed amusement came into his eyes. He shrugged slightly, smiling. "Yes, I'll give them a bit more time. A few days perhaps, or a week. But come along. The guest room I'm putting you in is right down here."
The room Carlos led her to was warm, spacious, magnificently furnished, by far the most beautiful room Anne had ever slept in. The high ceiling was decorated by an endless variety of cherub faces, each in its own framed square. When Carlos saw her staring up, he told her that though there were over two hundred faces in the ceiling, no two were exactly alike. The high walls were hung with colorful woven tapestries that Carlos mentioned were centuries old and priceless. The furniture was made of solid oak, intricately carved and polished to a lovely sheen.
"This is the French room," Carlos murmured softly with a grin, "which will have to do as we don't have an American room. When the kings of France came here to visit, this is the room in which the queen slept. Tomorrow you'll be able to say that you slept in the bed of French queens."
With a low chuckle, Carlos set her suitcase on the bed and walked quietly back to the polished wood door. He blew her a kiss good night and pulled the heavy door closed.
Anne, still glancing around in awe, could hardly believe her surroundings. She felt almost as though she'd been transported back centuries, into the Middle Ages. Had she really lived in the Middle Ages, she thought rather wryly, she would no doubt have been the lowliest surf, bedding down on filthy straw in an unheated, mud hut. But here in Carlos's home she was being treated like visiting royalty, sleeping in the bed of queens. With a tired but excited grin, she opened the suitcase on her bed and prepared to undress.
In spite of the long hours she had slept while they were traveling, she had barely crawled into bed before she fell fast asleep. Blessed oblivion. A deep sleep in which she was not even bothered by dreams.
She woke very early the next morning and for a time lay still in bed, eyeing the strange and beautiful room. Was the duke awake yet? Was Carlos? With a smile she rolled out of bed and padded barefoot into the adjoining bath. Here was one room that did not confuse her senses, or make her feel she'd been caught up by a time machine and swept back untold centuries. Though the bathroom was a very luxurious one, with fixtures that seemed to be made of black marble and an oversized sunken tub, nevertheless the room was unmistakably modern. Thank goodness, Anne thought, grinning to herself. She was delighted to see that in addition to the sunken tub the room had a stall shower, and reaching in, she turned the hot water faucet on. Imagine living from the day of your birth in a fantastic home such as this one!
After she'd showered and dressed, Anne left her room, opening and closing the heavy, carved door as quietly as possible and all but tiptoeing down the hall toward the stairs. She had no idea what time it was or whether anyone else in the household was up. As she reached the downstairs hall, she ran across a valet in black trousers, white shirt, and black vest.
"Could you tell me whether anyone else is up yet?" she asked him.
He gave her a startled look. "
Perdoneme
." Then a friendly smile broke across his wrinkled old face and he motioned for her to follow him. He led her down the wide hall to where a double open door led into a large high-ceilinged dining room. As she thanked the valet and entered the room, Anne saw that a young woman stood over by a sideboard pouring herself a cup of coffee. The woman was quite tall, with shiny black hair pulled severely into a bun at the back of her neck. She had large dark eyes, thin curved brows, and a spot of high color on each cheek which Anne decided was not natural but rouged on. The woman looked startled as Anne walked in, then forced out a cool, condescending smile.
"
Buenos dias
," she murmured. "
Bienvenido
."
"Thank you," Anne murmured in embarrassment, feeling her cheeks flush warmly. "
Buenos dias
to you too."
"Oh, you're an American," the young woman said, in a faintly contemptuous tone. "You arrived here last night with Carlos, did you not? I'm Maria Carlotta Isabel Domingo-Almazan, a very close family friend. Would you like some coffee?"
"Yes, thank you, I'd love some. I'm Anne McCullough."
"And how do you take your coffee?"
"Just black, thank you."
Maria picked up a cup from the sideboard, poured Anne a cup, and handed it to her, dark eyes narrowed as they insistently surveyed her. "You did arrive here with Carlos last night, did you not?"
"Oh, yes. Yes, I did," Anne answered quickly, fearful that she'd been rude by not affirming this when Maria first asked.
"Shall we sit down?" Maria suggested. "I've already ordered breakfast and it should arrive very soon. You've been traveling with Carlos, have you?" Maria tried, it seemed to Anne, to ask this as casually as possible, to mask an intense interest she apparently had.
Anne felt her cheeks flush even more warmly. As Maria sank down on one of the high-backed chairs at the long, highly polished, gleaming table, Anne rather reluctantly sat down on an adjoining chair. She hadn't expected to be met with a grilling this early in the morning, at least not by some young woman whose relationship to Carlos's family she could not grasp. Carlos had repeatedly mentioned his father and aunt but never a single word that Anne could remember about any Maria Carlotta Whatever-it-was. Had Maria heard about Dorrie's running away or was that being kept a family secret? Maria had said she was a very close family friend-how close did that mean?
"Well, yes, I have been traveling with him," Anne murmured nervously after taking a bracing sip of the steaming hot, delicious coffee. She started to add that after leaving Paris they'd spent a few days on the Riviera but then thought better of it. Again she sipped at her coffee, saying nothing more.
"And are you an actress or something?" Maria asked a moment later, in a distinctly annoyed, impatient voice. Her thin, black brows almost drew together over her narrow-bridged, sharp nose as she gazed irritably over her coffee cup at Anne.
The poor woman can't figure me out, can't decide who I am, how I fit in
, Anne thought with a sudden spurt of amusement,
any more than I can figure out who she is
. This thought made her feel a great deal more in control and she lifted her eyes to meet Maria's with a small, friendly smile.
"Well, I don't know exactly what you mean by 'or something,'" she murmured, "but, no, I most certainly am not an actress. Back home in Baltimore, in the States, I work in a bank. I'm a teller. It's a dignified, respectable job but not very exciting, I'm afraid."
As Anne sipped her coffee again, so did Maria. "Then you're over here on vacation?" Maria demanded next, with open impatience. Though she sat gazing directly across at Anne, Anne still received the impression that this haughty young woman was looking down her sharp nose at her. She began to feel more than a little annoyed. And what possible business is that of yours? she wanted to answer.
Instead she merely nodded, glancing away, trying to avoid any further conversation.
Maria gulped down the last of her coffee, rose, and walked irritably over to the sideboard to refill her cup. "And you met Carlos on the Riviera, did you?" she asked next, acting thoroughly exasperated that she was having such a time extracting information from this uncooperative young commoner.
Anne felt a little smile pull on her mouth as she sipped her coffee again and took her own good time to answer. "Well, no, as a matter of fact I didn't," she murmured at last, offering nothing further.
Before Maria had a chance to pursue her questioning, steps could be heard in the hall outside and Carlos came striding into the room. As Anne glanced around to welcome him, she felt her heart leap painfully at how impossibly handsome he looked. Whenever she saw him after a lapse of time she was again astonished that any face could be so charmingly attractive, any form so lean and masculine. Carlos was elegantly yet quite casually dressed in black slacks and a light blue silk shirt, open at the neck. The blue of the shirt made his thick black hair seem even blacker. His dark eyes lit with surprise— and pleasure?—as he saw Maria and he walked quickly to her, pressing a kiss on her cheek.
"Maria," he murmured, followed by a stream of mellifluous Spanish. He had reached for Maria's hand and held it as he spoke. A moment later he turned around and noticed Anne. "Well, Anne, good morning," he said in a buoyant voice, with a quick warm smile. "So you awakened before I did. You've met Maria, I presume? What a surprise, and pleasure, to find you here. She's a very dear family friend, as possibly she mentioned."
"Yes," Anne agreed, nodding.
"And why wouldn't I have come?" Maria protested in a decidedly petulant tone. "At a time of crisis like this, of course I rushed here to offer what comfort I could. Your poor father—your aunt— Have you the least notion, dear Carlos, how worried they are, how distraught? While you have been sunning yourself on the Riviera, frolicking with your friends"—as she said this, Maria glanced resentfully over at Anne—"
I
have spent
my
days holding your poor aunt's hand, trying to get her to dry her tears. And as for your father—oh, how difficult it was to comfort him! He wanted
you
here, Carlos, he wants his beloved little Dolores back. Can you not at least imagine how it tears at the poor man's heart to fear for the safety, the very life, of his only daughter? He
needed
you, Carlos, yet where were you? Why did you not speed directly home from Paris?"
"Because I did not, that's all," Carlos responded in a tone so nonchalant Anne could scarcely believe her ears. He poured himself coffee and walked over to take a chair at the head of the table, a few feet from where Anne sat, and to Anne's even greater surprise he threw her a wink. "I told father over the phone that Dolores was perfectly all right, that there was not the least need to fear for her safety much less her life. The moment I see him this morning, I shall reassure him of this again."
"And how do you know that?" Maria cried, obviously offended by Carlos's rather casual confidence. "How do you know she's not being threatened, tortured, or raped?"
In spite of herself, Anne burst out laughing at Maria's melodramatic speech. Carlos grinned broadly and again winked at Anne.
"Bring your coffee over and join us," Carlos suggested. "Sit down and calm down, please. I spoke to Dolores over the phone, as I told father when I called, and she sounded fine. More than fine. Full of spirit and stubbornness. Anything but frightened and crushed, believe me."
The spots of color on Maria's cheeks suddenly looked even brighter. "And how do you know she wasn't being forced to say what she said to you? How do you know her kidnapper didn't hold a knife at her throat or a gun at her head? You spoke to her over the phone, indeed! What does that mean?"
"Please, Maria," Carlos answered patiently. "Do sit down and drink your coffee. In the first place, Dolores wasn't
kidnapped
in the sense you're claiming. She ran away with this man of her own free will. And as I explained to father, we now have a way to pry her loose and bring her back without our having to chase after them. When I had gotten the situation under control, I decided to enjoy a few days off, the first real vacation I've had in years. Thank you for being here with my father and aunt, but now that I am back you need not concern yourself over them. Everything's going to work out fine."