Who Rides the Tiger (21 page)

Dominique flushed. 'Oh, I see.'

'Until now I never suspected anything was wrong between you two, but by God! I'm glad I know now.'

'Why?'

'Well, for heaven's sake, it proves what I was afraid of all along. You were infatuated with the guy, you couldn't see that he was only playing you along. I might have known—'

'You know nothing!' cried Dominique, getting unsteadily to her feet. 'How dare you come here and attempt to interfere in my affairs! When I broke our engagement, I made no mistake, John. It's only now I'm beginning to realize what I so nearly invited! Writing to me! Telling me how much you missed me, and all the while you were having an affair with Isabella Santos!'

'It wasn't an affair,' he protested, standing too.

'Then what would you call it, John?' asked a quiet voice from behind them, and Dominique put a hand to her mouth when she saw Isabella standing there, watching them.

'Oh, Isabella!' exclaimed Dominique weakly. 'I'm so sorry you had to hear this!'

Isabella moved into the centre of the patio. 'Well, I'm not, Dominique. I'm glad. It explains so much, so much! Did I understand you aright? You were once John Harding's fiancee? You were the girl he was writing to, in England?'

'That's right,' said Dominique, nodding. 'I - I came here to marry John. But then I met Vincente - and - well, that was it!'

'He deliberately took you away from me,' said John harshly. He looked at Isabella. 'At the time I finished with you' - Isabella flinched slightly at his expression - 'at that time,' he continued, 'I expected to be fired, sent back to England. But your precious brother had a much more subtle plan for revenge, hadn't he? He wouldn't be content with just firing me. He had to destroy my life, take away from methe only girl I ever really loved.'

Dominique's fingers seemed to cling to her lips, and she was holding on to her composure with desperate strength. Put like that, so harshly and so cruelly, it seemed so probable that it almost broke her in two.

But Isabella wasn't finished yet. 'You don't really believe my brother would go to the extent of marrying a woman he didn't love, do you?' she asked John scornfully, with a little of the arrogance her brother sometimes displayed. 'He might have decided to take your girl-friend, he might have planned to do just that. It is the kind of thing Vincente would do. He would keep the vendetta. But he would not marry her. He might make love to her, seduce her, give her to you as a second-hand toy, but not marry her!'

Dominique listened, but it barely went in. She was too absorbed in her own misery. All she could hear was John saying Vincente had married her for revenge. Revenge! The word swung dizzily in her head, and she hardly registered the sound of another car accelerating into the courtyard, and the sudden stillness when the engine was switched off. But the others had heard, and Dominique saw John's face pale a little, while Isabella's flushed with something like anticipation.

There were footsteps, and the sound of Salvador's greeting, then Vincente Santos appeared in the lounge door which opened on to the patio - tall and dark, in a dark suit, his face still showing the scars of the grafting, but nonetheless impressive for all that. Dominique looked astounded, and she stared wildly at Isabella and John. They were all like dummies, carved in some scene from a play, no one moved, no one said anything.

Then, as though on cue, Isabella said: 'So they let you come home after all, Vincente,' as though she had been aware of his imminent arrival.

Vincente stepped on to the patio. He looked completely recovered, and Dominique wondered how long he had been on his feet. Obviously his time in hospital had not been spent wholly in a hospital bed. In fact he looked fit and virile.

John looked at Dominique, and said bitterly: 'Did you know he was coming?'

Dominique shook her head, not trusting herself to speak, and Vincente glanced at her thoughtfully, as though aware of her shaken emotions. Then he looked at John again.

'Why have you come here, Harding?' he asked coldly. 'Can't you leave my wife alone?'

John hunched his shoulders. 'I came because I wanted to tell her that I still love her, and now that you've finished with her, I'm willing to take her back!' He scowled. 'I didn't know you were expected, or I'd have chosen some other time!' He was deliberately provocative, both in his words and his manner.

'Who told you I did not want my wife?' asked Vincente ominously.

'No one told me. I didn't have to be
told!
It's obvious, isn't it? She hasn't exactly run after you while you've been in the hospital! I admire her spirit. It's time someone set down the mighty Santos's. Just as I did when I put you on the floor, where you belong!'

Dominique glanced at Vincente, sensing John's desire to provoke another fight between them. He was standing, fists clenched, but when he spoke his voice was calm and cool, like Isabella's.

'You and I have some unfinished business to attend to, Harding,' he said coldly. 'Down at the refinery.'

John's handsome face turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. 'What the hell do you mean?' he blustered.

'You know damn well what I mean,' replied Vincente quietly, but with menace in his voice. 'Now - do we go?'

Whether John sensed that this time Vincente was not to be trifled with, Dominique did not know, but he moved awkwardly, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and saying: 'Anything you have to say to me can be said here.'

'Here?' Vincente shook his head. 'I prefer to fight my battles in private.'

'Why?' John seemed to think this was an admission of cowardice. 'Because you're afraid I'll make an ass of you again?'

'You will not do that, Harding,' returned Vincente silkily. 'Do you imagine I could not have defended myself had I so desired it? You are so big, so strong - but so
stupid
! Do you imagine Dominique would have reacted as she did had I decided to retaliate? If I had knocked you unconscious, what do you imagine she would have done? She would have felt pity for you -
for you!
Not for me. And that was something I could not risk.'

'Why, you—' John gasped, all his earlier hostility aroused at this slur against his strength and virility.

He charged towards Vincente, fists clenched, uncaring that his opponent was just of hospital. Dominique seemed to come to her senses and sprang forward in an effort to get between them, but John thrust her aside, intent on his revenge.

He was big and strong and powerful, but for all that, he was clumsy, and Vincente with his lithe, lean build was far more agile, and certainly more deadly in his intent. As John flailed before him, endeavouring to land a punch, he brought his hand down sharply on the other man's- shoulder so that John groaned in rage and lost his guard for a moment. In that moment Vincente brought his fist hard into John's stomach, doubling him up so that it was easy to bring down the deciding chop on the back of his neck. John slumped heavily to the ground, and lay there, inert.

Dominique stared down at him in silence, then looked up into Vincente's face. There was satisfaction there, and something else; a kind of malicious enjoyment.

She shivered. All of a sudden it was too much for her. The weeks of waiting, the continued tension of her relationship with Vincente, and now - this!

With a blind shake of her head, she brushed past Isabella and entered the lounge. In those first seconds she didn't know what she was going to do. It was not until she saw the two cars standing out front that realization came to her.

She had to get away. She could go. There was the means before her, and if she reached Rio it would not be too difficult to contact the British Embassy. As the idea formulated in her mind, she began to hurry, her steps quickening, and finally she ran.

She reached the cars, looked at Vincente's, saw the keys hanging, and slid in. With trembling fingers she started the engine, but it was not so easy to find the gears. She fumbled awkwardly, wasting valuable moments, then found the right one.

But even as the car's wheels began to move, she was conscious of voices shouting, and then Vincente's hands grabbed the car door, and he leant over and pulled the keys out of the ignition before she had time to prevent him.

'I think not,' he said heavily, leaning against the door. 'Your running days are over, Dominique,' and with that he wrenched open the door, and lifted her bodily into his arms. Dominique struggled, then saw Isabella emerging from the house. She went limp. She was defeated. There was nothing she could do. She must take Vincente's scorn and anger, and accept it.

Isabella reached them, her eyes flashing angrily. 'Haveyou taken leave of your senses, Vincente?' she exclaimed. 'Already you have fought a man, and now you attempt to . carry Dominique! Are you mad? You will be back in hospital for exhaustion. In God's name, forgive me, but you must tell Dominique about Harding.'

Vincente brushed past Isabella. 'You would have me betray her countryman? Oh, no! I have paid my debt to Harding.'

Isabella followed them, shaking her head, and when they reached the hall they encountered Salvador.

'Please to remove that - that man from the patio, Salvador,' said Vincente commandingly. 'I do not care if you have to take him back to Bela Vista, so long as he is removed immediately.'

'Yes,
senhor.'
Salvador sounded delighted.

Isabella touched her brother's arm. 'I will go with Salvador,' she said quietly. 'I have some shopping to do in Bela Vista.'

'Oh, no,' began Dominique, but Vincente was mounting the stairs, uncaring of the strain of carrying her weight as well as his own.

He took her to their suite and closed the door, then looked at her solemnly, before setting her on her feet again. Dominique rubbed the damp palms of her hands down her dress and said:

'I don't know what your intentions are, Vincente, but I've had just about as much as I can stand.'

'You
have had just about as much as you can stand!' he echoed- incredulously. '
Me
- I have been half out of my mind with anxiety!' His voice was angry suddenly. 'In God's name, Dominique, why did you never come back to the hospital? Why would you never answer the telephone when I fang?'

She stared at him. 'You rang?' she murmured faintly.

'But of course. After you visited me in Rio and left in such a state I rang numerous times, but always Salvador said you were out, or you would not come to the telephone.'

Dominique felt the beginnings of realization dawning on her. She stared at him disbelievingly, then said: 'And Isabella? Did you ask her, too?'

'Of course.'

Dominique shook her head, then turned away. 'Even so - even though I may not have had
all
these messages, why should you want to see me? I mean - you made it plain what you thought of me!'

'Did I?' Vincente sounded bitter. 'I doubt that. To make clear what I think of you would take a lifetime.'

She swung round, pressing her hands together. 'What - what are you trying to say?'

Vincente stared at her, then stepped forward, allowing his hands to slide up her arms to her shoulders, drawing her slowly and irrevocably towards him. He studied her face intently, his dark lashes veiling his eyes, then he said: 'I'm trying, not very successfully, to tell you I love you,' he muttered huskily. 'I know I'm not an easy man to live with - I know I've treated you abominably, but I can't help it. I didn't want to want you - to need you. It's like Marion Rawlings said - I did set out to take you away from Harding. Can you forgive me?'

Dominique stared at him. 'But - but you were so angry ...' she whispered appealingly.

'I know. I know.' He shook his head, his fingers tightening on her shoulders. 'Can you understand that? Oh, Dominique, it's no use - I've got to do this,' and he pulled her close against him and found her mouth with his own, parting her lips passionately, making her wholly aware of the need inside him.

Dominique felt as though her legs were about to give out on her, when he swung her in his arms and carried her to the bed, kneeling beside it, pressing his lips to her fingers urgently.

Dominique tried to remain coherent. It was difficult when she so badly wanted him to go on making love to her.

'Go - go on,' she murmured.

Vincente sighed, his expression .regretful. 'All right, you deserve to know it all,' he murmured achingly. 'When I met you at Galeao, I thought you were a very attractive young woman, and the task I had set myself would prove to be very enjoyable. And it was. Just how enjoyable I was forced to realize. When you fell in the swimming pool that night I think it brought me to the full realization of what had happened. But I couldn't tell you that. God, you were attracted to the glamour - not the man!'

'That's not true—' she began indignantly.

'Not now, perhaps,' he amended softly. 'Now, I'm beginning to believe that there is such a thing as love. I didn't used to. I never wanted to. And when you challenged me, I hated you. Believe me, Dominique, I could have killed you for destroying the faith I was beginning to find.'

Dominique propped herself up. 'But you could have denied it. You could have told me the truth!'

Vincente bent his head. 'I am a proud man, Dominique. That is not a proud confession, it is unfortunately the truth. I could not bear that you should believe that woman before me. I wanted to hurt you, and then - I merely succeeded in hurting myself.'

'But why did you change your mind?'

Vincente sighed. 'That day - that day you ran out of the hospital in Rio, I knew then that I had really hurt you. I wanted to run after you - to plead with you - to tell you I was sorry. But of course I could not. And I never had the chance - until now - to show you I am merely a man who loves you to distraction.'

'Oh, Vincente,' she whispered, and drew him up beside her.

For a while there was silence in the room, and Dominique was content. But later, she stroked his head as it rested on her breast, and said:

'John had something to do with the explosion at the plant, didn't he?'

Vincente shrugged his broad shoulders. 'I don't know.'