Love Captive (20 page)

"If you refuse again to come down for dinner, I'll see you in the morning,
mi querida
." He leaned down for one soft farewell kiss on the cheek, then straightened up, walked to the door and was gone.

Mi querida.

Early the next morning, Anne awakened slowly, aware almost at once that she felt very happy. She lay in bed drowsily enjoying the joyful feeling when suddenly there was a shaft of pain through her joy and she asked herself sharply why she suddenly should feel so pleased with life.

Because today I am leaving here
, she told herself. This long, often tedious, bittersweet adventure was drawing to a close and she would once again be free, on her way home. As she lay quietly in bed, fully awake now, she knew that she would often think of these days. The memory of them would never fade, and quite possibly, years from now when she was a white-haired little old lady, she would look back on this time with Carlos as the happiest, most intensely alive period of her life. The pain, the hurt, the loneliness would fade and she'd remember only the marvelous joy and excitement of their day in Paris, the sweet, relaxing, fun-filled days on the Riviera, the all but unbearable intimacy of their night stranded in the mountains in Carlos's car. Even the time spent last evening here on her bed in hungry embrace—the hurt of it would fade while the sweet-ness of it, the wonder of it, would remain forever, fresh and joyful in memory. Sighing, Anne rolled over onto her side and climbed out of bed.

She was dressing after her shower when a light rap sounded on her door.

"Anne," Carlos called, "may I come in?"

Pulse instantly racing, Anne called back, "Just a moment, please." She hastily tucked her blouse inside the waistband of her suit skirt, zipped up the side, and called, "All right, Carlos, come on in."

The door opened and he stood on the threshold, superbly dressed in casual yet elegant sports clothes that emphasized his lean, totally masculine build. As always, she was struck by how incredibly handsome he was, his aristocratic face, framed by the thick, shining black hair, so very dear to her now. His black eyes, shadowed-looking, gazed back at her with a question in their depths.

"Do you still plan to leave today?" Carlos asked.

"Of course!" Anne replied with a touch of tartness, pulse racing even faster.

Carlos eyed her a moment longer, then sighed. "Well, if you must, I'll delay going in to the office and drive you to the city to arrange for your transportation. But for now, Anne, please do come downstairs to join us for breakfast."

"Who is 'us'?" Anne asked, instantly wary.

Carlos looked startled. "Why, my father, aunt, and myself, of course."

"And Maria?"

"Maria left here two days ago. I assumed you knew. We'll wait for you to join us downstairs." With that, he turned on his heel and closed the door.

A few minutes later Anne walked tensely down the stairs toward the dining room. She had no wish to face the elderly duke and his sister again but felt she had very little choice. The last thing she wanted to do now was offend Carlos, alienate him so that he changed his mind about taking her into Palencia and arranging her transportation. And one way or another she would survive breakfast with the arrogantly noble trio, she felt sure.

As she entered the dining room, Carlos, who stood by the sideboard pouring a cup of coffee, glanced around at once and smiled at her. His father, who sat at the table, glanced around too and immediately rose to his feet.
Courteous at all costs
, Anne thought, her lips twitching wryly; arrogant, cold, snobbish, but nevertheless forever courteous. With a slight, nervous smile she bowed her head to the duke and he bowed stiffly back and reseated himself. Carlos's Aunt Isabel gazed directly at Anne as she walked in but acknowledged her arrival only with a coldly self-righteous, twitching little smile.

As the elderly valet brought hot serving dishes to the table and served everyone, no word was said. Anne, whose initial discomfort had been acute, began to feel almost relaxed. Neither the duke nor his sister seemed inclined to address her or berate her, thank heavens. They seemed content simply to ignore her presence, which was fine. The food was, as always, mouthwateringly good, and an ample breakfast would stand her in good stead for her travels ahead. She found, happily enough, that she was able to ignore the company in which she found herself and enjoy her meal quite as much as if she were upstairs in her room alone. She ate with hearty appetite, and felt renewed.

She was still enjoying her last cup of coffee when Carlos's aunt rose and with an arrogant sniff excused herself, glancing at Anne with an aggrieved expression as much as to say that her unwanted presence had spoiled the meal for her. As his sister left, the elderly duke rose and excused himself too. Left alone with Carlos, Anne felt suddenly rather embarrassed. She gulped down what was left of her coffee and rose to leave as well.

"Why the sudden rush?" Carlos asked. "It's still very early and we have plenty of time. Would you mind sitting down for a moment so that I might talk with you?"

Anne did as he requested, feeling suddenly breathless. Her eyes met his. "About what?"

Carlos's black eyes stayed on hers for several moments, then with a little sigh he glanced away. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I feel as though there is so much I wish to discuss with you, but when the opportunity presents itself, I—how do you Americans put it?—I draw a blank." His eyes returned to hers and he smiled, a bemused, half-regretful smile such as Anne had never seen on his lips before. One hand lay on the table top and Anne noticed in surprise, as her eyes lowered, that the hand was drawn into a fist.

He sighed deeply again. "Well, never mind. Once you have left, once you are actually gone, I know I shall curse at myself for not having spoken out, for remaining silent. We come from such different worlds"—as he said this, Carlos's eyes again met Anne's, and he looked at her with what seemed like infinite sadness in the black depths of those eyes—"do we not,
mi querida
?" His voice was so soft as he said this that Anne, though she sat only a few feet away, had to strain to hear.

"Yes, Carlos, we do," Anne agreed, unwelcome tears coming into her eyes. "Yet at moments, at certain moments—"

"Yes?"

Anne shook her head nervously, glancing away. "Well, never mind, I have drawn a blank too. I just want you to know, Carlos, that—well, that"—she glanced back, daring to meet those black eyes again —"that at certain moments I've felt extremely close to you, and that no matter how long I live, or who I marry, there will always be a special place in my heart reserved for you. I know so well that I'll never forget you."

"Nor I you." Carlos reached out to press his hand over Anne's, still smiling the same bemused smile. "And now I suppose you'd better go up to finish packing before we depart."

"Yes, I suppose."

After she rose, Anne stepped over to Carlos's side, leaned down and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "In many ways I'm grateful to you, Carlos, and in many ways I—" She couldn't complete the sentence, say the words "I love you." Straightening up quickly, she hurried out of the room, not once glancing back.

She was descending the stairs a brief time later, carrying her one case, when the front door was thrown open and Dorrie walked in, followed by Michael. The sight of the two of them so startled Anne that she dropped her case and stopped walking, frozen to her spot on the stairs. Not only Michael, Dorrie too! The prodigals had returned.

Carlos was walking down the hall toward the front entry and saw the young couple almost at the same instant that Anne did.

"Dolores! I can't believe it!" In a few long strides he reached his sister's side, grabbing hold of her by the shoulders. "Dolores, are you well? Are you home for good? Father will be so happy to see you! And this is Michael, I presume?"

As Carlos turned to face Michael, his handsome face hardened, his expression becoming impassive, and Anne thought for a moment that he was going to refuse to shake the hand that Michael nervously extended. But good manners prevailed, and Carlos put his own hand out to momentarily shake the one offered to him.

"I was just preparing to drive your sister into the city," Carlos told Michael, cool arrogance in his voice. "She had despaired of your keeping your word and returning as you had promised to do."

By then Anne had picked up her case again and descended the last few stairs. Michael's green eyes swung around to gaze beseechingly at her.

"Anne, I'm so dreadfully sorry." As he stood gazing at her, blinking nervously, he looked and sounded extremely fatigued. "I told Dorrie a hundred times I was coming here no matter what, but she found a thousand ways to delay me. It's been a constant, never-ending battle, which doesn't excuse me, I know. I'm sure you must be terribly angry at me now, but I only hope that someday you'll get over your anger and forgive me. It's been such a frightful mess."

Suddenly, to Anne's eyes, Michael looked about five years old, a brave little boy doing his best not to cry. As he hung his head, she rushed to him, gave him a hug, and assured him she was no longer the least bit angry.

"It's just that I was so terribly worried," she told him, forgetting for the moment that she'd ever felt any anger. "And now that you're here, I'm so relieved. But, Dorrie, how are you? It's wonderful to see you too," Anne added, swinging to face the girl Michael loved, extending her hand as she smiled.

Dorrie thrust her chin a little higher into the air and for a moment angrily ignored Anne's extended hand. But then, as with her brother, training prevailed and she resentfully put her own hand out, slipping her slim, smooth palm into Anne's.

"I'm well enough," she answered coolly, "considering that I gave my heart to a man who soon proved that he felt no love for me at all. It seems that everyone else in the world matters more to him than I do."

"Dorrie, that's not true," Michael protested, his eyes fastening beseechingly on Dorrie's pale face. "You know I love you, that I'm so crazy about you—"

"Crazy, yes!" Dorrie snapped back, blinking against the sudden tears that had appeared in her eyes. "But actions speak louder than words, you know, and your actions prove what a liar you are! If you loved me we'd be in America now, we'd be married! We wouldn't be here where my father and brother can lock me up and make me their prisoner!"

In a fury Dorrie swung around and stepped toward her brother. "Here, jailor," she cried, grabbing a package out of her coat pocket and slapping it into Carlos's hands, "here are the jewels you said we stole. Now you've got what you want, Michael's got what he wants, Anne's got what she wants, everybody's got what he wants except for me!"

Saying this, Dorrie broke into tears. Dropping her face into her hands, she cried heartbrokenly, shaking with her sobs. When Carlos, looking stricken, stepped forward and tried to comfort her, she pulled angrily away. Michael, who put his arm around her, murmuring soothing words, fared no better.

"Just leave me alone, both of you, just leave me alone!" Crying, she hurried across the vast entry hall and began running up the stairs. Three pairs of eyes watched her departure, but no word was said. Only after Dorrie had disappeared down the upstairs hall did Carlos speak.

"Excuse me, please. I must go find my father and aunt to let them know that Dolores is home."

Anne and Michael sat out on the front steps, on the warm stone, quietly discussing everything that had happened. Around eleven Carlos stepped out through the heavy carved door and asked them courteously if they would please come inside.

"We're having a family conference in the sitting room," he explained, "and Dolores insists that Michael be there."

Anne rose nervously, feeling a bit unsteady. "And —you want me there too?"

"Yes, Anne, please, if you wouldn't mind."

The sitting room was very large, decorated in muted tones, a room heavy with tradition and repressive breeding, a room where loud voices and shrill argument had no place. But there's a first time for everything, Anne thought wryly, as she and Michael followed Carlos inside.