'Bravo! Bravo!' The sardonic voice was like a douche of cold water, and the opening door slammed abruptly. Carlos Salvaje walked into the room, and everything was as it was before. his presence had destroyed the gentle intimacy which had been developing between them, and Miguel's face as he faced his father was cool and emotionless.

'What a clever girl, you are, Emma,' Carlos went on smoothly, ignoring^ the tenseness of her expression. 'I am afraid I underestimated you. When you said you could do it, I didn't believe you!'

'I didn't - that is-?' Emma stared at Carlos disbelievingly, and then glanced imploringly at her husband's face. 'Miguel, I didn't say that-'

Miguel rose to his feet. 'Whether you did or did not is not of the least importance to me,' he replied, but although his tone was cool it would have taken a mind reader to know whether or not he was angry with her.

Carlos looked at him impatiently, 'Do I take it the vigil is over?'

he asked, controlling his annoyance with obvious difficulty.

Miguel shrugged. 'How dramatic you make it sound, padre . If my seeking a little solitude is regarded as a vigil, then yes, I suppose you could say it is over.' He moved away from the piano and pulling a cord the long jade curtains were swept back to admit the brilliance of the afternoon sun.

^Carlos turned his attention to Emma. 'And what has my son been telling you to make you look so drawn, little one?' He flicked a careless hand towards her pale cheeks, but Emma flinched away from him and he smiled derisively. 'So? You are angry with me, too?

Because I teased you.' His eyes narrowed. 'Or has this been the time for confessions - for weeping on the shoulder?'

Miguel swung round irritably. 'Why have you come here, padre ?

Are there no distractions on the terrace? Are the other members of this little house party poor entertainment?'

Carlos's lips tightened. 'I should have thought you were better equipped to answer that than I!'

'What is that supposed to mean?' Miguel glared at him, ; and Emma moved uncomfortably, wishing herself far from this confrontation.

She was the outsider here, the unwanted third, and she half believed they had forgotten she was there.

Carlos folded his arms. 'You know perfectly well what I mean, Miguel. Do not pretend my wishes concerning you and Carmen were wholly the result of an overcharged imagination!'

Emma caught her breath, and the small sound that escaped her reached Miguel's ears. His flips twisted and he deliberately reached for her, dragging her close against him, within the circle of his arm.

'How unfortunate, padre? he said mockingly. 'For once, I have to disappoint you. But Emma and I are very happy, as you can see, and when our son is born I am convinced you will take to the role ofabuelo like the flamingo to the lake!'

Abuelo! Emma knew that word. It meant grandfather! She wriggled protestingly in her husband's grasp, but although to outward appearances he was looking tenderly down at her, the steel in his eyes brooked no argument.

Carlos stared at his son incredulously. 'You cannot mean-'

'But yes, padrey that is what I am saying.' He put his hand lightly but possessively on Emma's middle. 'Emma is encinta; we are going to have a child!'

'But how can this be? You have only been married a week!'

Carlos's scepticism was tinged with anxiety.

'How pasado de moda you are, padre . How old-fashioned!

Emma is a modern young woman, not a duena-escorted doncella ! We have been lovers since the beginning.'

The sun went down on that day in a blaze of glory, but Emma paid little attention to it. For the past couple of hours she had been lying on her bed staring unseeingly at the ceiling. She dreaded the moment when she would have to leave this sanctuary and join the others for dinner, particularly as she was sure that Carlos would waste no time in telling everyone of her condition.

Of Miguel, she had seen nothing since she left him in the music room after his shattering announcement. She didn't know what Carlos said after she left, she had only known that she could not stand there and listen to a discussion about a fict.i.tious pregnancy that had only been conceived in Miguel's mind.

She buried her face in the pillow, but tears would not come.

What a terrible mess! She loved a man who had married her solely to prove to his father that he had a mind and a will of his own. ..

Eventually she stirred, and after a shower dressed in one of her new gowns, a long, amber-coloured chiffon, that swathed the warm contours of her body, and hinted at the curves beneath.

Surveying herself in the mirror before leaving her room, she knew she had never looked more attractive, the hollows of anxiety giving her face a haunted beauty.

Juan was alone in the lounge when she appeared and he gave her an admiring smile. 'Marvellous!' he exclaimed. 'You look-' He kissed his fingers extravagantly.

Emma managed a smile. 'Could I have a drink, please?'

'But of course. What will you have? Cinzano? Sherry? Or something a little stronger?'

'Something a little stronger, please.' Emma moved to the long windows which opened on to the terrace. It was dark outside, but the fragrance of the garden was still in the air. She breathed deeply, calming herself, and then turned to accept the gin and vermouth Juan offered.

Juan stood beside her, holding a gla.s.s of tequila rather absently, studying her averted face. 'Something is wrong,' he said. 'Do you want to talk about it?'

Emma sighed, tracing the rim of her gla.s.s with her forefinger. 'I met Miguel's mother today.'

'I know you did.' Juan frowned. 'It has upset you?'

'Not in the way I think you mean.' She looked up, her eyes wide and distressed. 'Oh, why do Miguel and his father seem to hate one another?'

'They don't hate one another.' Juan shook his head. 'Emma, I know this is hard for you to understand, but it is because they are so much alike that Carlos and Miguel are constantly in conflict.

Unfortunately, I feel, Miguel feels a strong sense of loyalty towards his mother, and it is this that from time to time erupts into violence in his relationships.'

'Unfortunately?' Emma was confused. 'Why should it be unfortunate that Miguel feels loyalty towards his mother? Surely it's the most natural thing in the world?'

Juan sighed. 'As I say, it is difficult for you to understand, Emma. Our customs are not your customs, and what happened thirty-three years ago should not be allowed to destroy the present. Carlos is a possessive man so far as Miguel is concerned, you must know this is true, and he resents any attempt on Miguel's part to thwart that possessiveness.' He studied the liquid in his gla.s.s thoughtfully.

'Perhaps he hoped that Miguel would never learn the truth of his parentage, but Elissa saw to it that he did.'

'Elissa?' Emma frowned now. 'Who is Elissa?'

'Elissa was Don Carlos's wife. She died almost twenty-five years ago.'

'Oh, yes. He told me his wife was dead.'

'That is correct. She was not well for many years. She became mean and embittered,' He swallowed a little of his tequila. 'Not that I am excusing what happened. No one could do that. But you have no doubt gathered, even in this short time, that what Don Carlos wants he invariably gets, and in this instance it was a son.'

'You mean - Miguel's father took - took Maria as his mistress?'

'Yes.' Juan was obviously finding it difficult to go on, but he persevered. 'Maria was already of a marriageable age. She was sixteen, and here one marries so much younger. Her family were farmers, not rich, you understand, but not peasants either. They were of poor Spanish descent, and very proud. Alfaro was working for Don Carlos at this time. He is what is called a mestizo, that is a person of.

mixed Spanish and Indian blood. After - after Don Carlos's son was born, he persuaded her parents to allow Maria to marry Alfaro. He gave them money and a house, on the understanding that none of this should ever come out. The child was to be brought up as Don Carlos's son, he was legally adopted, and although Elissa had obviously hated the whole affair, she made no immediate objections.' Juan shrugged.

'Perhaps the baby, small and defenceless, was not something to hate.

Only as Miguel began to grow, as he developed his father's characteristics, did Elissa turn against him. When he was seven, she told him who his mother really was.' He swallowed the remainder of his drink in a gulp. 'I do not think Miguel has ever really got over it.'

'I see.' Emma realized she had not touched her drink and raised the gla.s.s automatically to her lips. 'And Don Carlos?'

'He was furious, as you can imagine, but Elissa died soon afterwards and so escaped his wrath.'

'And I suppose Miguel wanted to spend time with his mother - with his half-brothers and sisters?'

Juan nodded. 'Of course. Knowing Miguel as you do, you must know he is not a man to avoid problems simply because it is easier to do so.

Don Carlos objected, of course, but what could he do, short of beating the boy? And he loved him, that was the most important thing.' He made an involuntary gesture. 'Perhaps he loves him too much.'

The sound of footsteps in the hall precluded any further discussion and Juan moved away towards the centre of the floor as Carmen Silveiro came into the room. Tonight the Spanish girl was wearing black, and the smooth flesh of her throat rising from the low-cut bodice had the creamy thickness of magnolia petals.

She really was quite startlingly beautiful and Emma felt her throat tighten in despair.

How could she ever have hoped to challenge a woman like this?

A woman- confident and sophisticated and overwhelmingly sure of herself and of her position in this household? And what other reason could Miguel have for rejecting her except ah insane desire to oppose his father?

Carmen glanced indifferently at Emma, a.s.sessing her and dismissing her, and then looked at Juan. 'Where is Miguel this evening?' she inquired mockingly. 'Surely as he ate no lunch, he must need food! Or has love -' the word was a sneer, '-destroyed his appet.i.te?'

'Miguel is dining out this evening,' observed Carlos, entering the room behind her, suave" and handsome in his evening clothes.

His gaze flickered to Emma, and she felt peculiarly like a. fly on a pin. 'I am afraid we are ail to be deprived of his company, even Emma.' He smiled thinly, and Emma felt tense. Now it would come, now he would tell them what Miguel had said, and haw was she to answer them?.

But she was wrong. Carlos turned instead to Juan, making some comment about the estate, and the moment pa.s.sed. Nevertheless, throughout that long evening she waited with bated breath for him to reveal what he knew, and she wondered whether in fact she was underestimating him. How easy it would be to snap the tension; she could do it herself, but he knew she wouldn't, and how much more enjoyable it was for him to sit back and watch her as she waited for his move, knowing that her nerves were being stretched to screaming point ...

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE following morning, after breakfast had been brought to her room again, Emma bathed and dressed and then walked along the tiled pa.s.sage to the wide hall. Sunlight bathed everything in a golden glow, striking sparks of fire from the polished metal of the Indian lamps.

Instead of entering the lounge, she turned through the opened doors on to the terrace and stood looking at the view without any of the antic.i.p.ation she had felt the day before.

Suddenly the unexpected sound of the helicopter broke the stillness, sending the brightly plumaged macaws shrieking into the air, and as she watched the helicopter itself rose above L belt of trees, hovering like some huge bird before flying off towards the blue line of the mountains.

Emma frowned. Since their arrival two nights ago, the helicopter had been stored in a huge hangar near the stables and there had been no talk last evening of anyone leaving today.

Shrugging, she turned to walk back into the house, and as she did so Carlos appeared. Immediately, Emma stiffened. If he was about to ask her to go riding with him again, he was going to be disappointed.

'Buenos dias, Emma,' he remarked, pleasantly enough, but his smile, she thought, had a predatory quality about it.

'Good morning.' Emma was brief, and would have continued on her way had not Carlos gone on: 'You have been watching Miguel leave?'

She halted uncertainly, and looked back at him. 'What did you say?'

'I said - have you been watching Miguel leave in the helicopter?'

Carlos looked innocent, but she knew his question was not.

Taking a step back towards him, her hands thrust deep into the pockets of the denim jeans she was wearing, she said: 'Are you trying to tell me something, senor}9 'Oh! Senor! So formal!' Carlos shook his head. 'My dear, I am your father-in-law, as Miguel says - soon to be the grandfather of your child. Surely you can permit yourself to call me Carlos.'

Emma seethed with impatience. 'What do you mean by saying that Miguel has gone away?'

'Carlos!'

'All right- Carlos!' Emma gritted her teeth.

'That is better.' He smiled again. 'We should not be so formal with one another.'

'Will you please go on - Carlos?'

He sighed. 'Very well. Miguel has gone away. What could be more simple than that? You mean he didn't tell you?'

'You must know he didn't.' Emma felt tremulous, but she refused to let him see it. 'Where - where has he gone?'

'Carlos!'

'All right. Where has he gone, Carlos?' She wanted to scream with frustration.

Carlos stroked his chin thoughtfully. 'I do not know whether I should tell you. After all, Miguel may have withheld this information on purpose. It may be that he does not wish you to know. After yesterday, I am loath to interfere.'

Emma didn't believe him. She didn't believe a word he was saying.

He was merely playing with her, and her most sensible course of action would be to leave him alone to tell her in his own good time. If he thought she was interested he was likely to keep her dangling like a fish panting on a hook. Oh, yes, she thought, Miguel might well have justification for his bitterness and frustration. Right now, her strongest desire was to slap that mocking smile from his face.

Gathering her small store of composure, she managed to s remain calm. 'Well, if you really feel I shouldn't be told, then I can't force you,' she said. 'Excuse me. I was about to go to my room.'

Carlos regarded her intently, and there was a trace of irritability in his eyes. 'You think you are so clever, don't you?' h 6 said.

'Tricking my son into marrying you by the oldest method in the world!'

Emma's eyes widened. Did this mean that Carlos believed Miguel's story of her pregnancy? Did he imagine that their marriage had been her idea? Or was this merely a way of salving his own conscience? Of a.s.suring himself that Miguel would never have gone against his wishes without good cause?

Shaking her head, she moved to leave him, but his hand curved round her upper arm. Emma shook him off, but his eyes stayed her. 'You are not legally married yet, senorita,' he said, and there was no mockery in his tones now. 'A civil ceremony performed in a British register office means nothing in the eyes of my church.

You are a fool if you think you can call yourself a Salvaje before you have been married before the priest in the cathedral at Puebla!'

Emma dragged herself away. She was trembling all over and she knew that unless she left him quickly she would disgrace herself by bursting into tears in front of him.