Captive Heart (15 page)

The other women took chairs around the room and sat expectantly. JoNell faced the sea of unfamiliar faces. The fact that she had met some of these women at Del Toro's party didn't make them any less strangers to her. She chewed the inside of her lip and tried to avoid their penetrating stares.

A woman named Pachia began handing JoNell presents while Margarita made a detailed list of the gift and the giver. JoNell hesitated over the first present. It was a large box wrapped in white with a huge, white bow. She felt a wave of bitter rebellion against accepting what she knew would be expensive items, when her marriage was a sham. But, again, as she found so often these days, she did not have a choice.

As JoNell opened the presents one by one, she sensed a growing undercurrent of dissension among certain women in the room. She puzzled over this until Margarita whispered in her ear, "Now that they've sized you up, they're arguing over what you have that they don't have that made Jorge pick you over one of them."

JoNell tried to reflect her most pert smile, but inside she felt wretched. Not only had she been forced to endure the pain of a meaningless bridal shower, but she had been cast to the dogs to pick her bones clean. It was too much. The tears that she had felt on the brim of her eyelids the entire afternoon spilled over and trickled down her face.

She covered her face with her hands. A hush fell over the room.

"I do think she's overcome with happiness," piped Margarita.

Margarita's comment, combined with embarrassment at breaking down in front of a group of strangers, added more tears to the torrent.

Embarrassed coughs reached JoNell's ears. She fumbled in her purse for a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

"I—I want to thank you for all these beautiful gifts," she choked. "You really shouldn't have," she said with an earnestness she hoped no one understood, "but I do thank you."

The silence broke again into little whirlpools of gossip as the crowd began getting up and mingling for their final goodbyes of the afternoon.

JoNell sat in her chair, too miserable to get up. She was congratulated again by several guests, mostly older women.

The crowd began thinning out slowly. JoNell occupied herself by looking at her expensive gifts, pretending to enjoy their beauty to cover up her self-recrimination. Only the knowledge that Del Toro had kept his word about the large cargo plane purchase to save her parents' business kept her playing this charade. When she thought of her mother's voice on the phone that morning, she told herself the price she was paying was worth it.

"JoNell, so much has happened!" her mother had bubbled over the phone, and she had dissolved into tears. "In fact everything would be just about perfect if I had been able to attend your wedding," she choked.

"I know, Mother. I'm awfully sorry about that. Jorge persuaded me to get married right away—and I knew you wouldn't be able to leave father anyway."

"Everyone is just ecstatic over your seňor Del Toro. From what Uncle Edgar tells us, he's quite a catch."

"That's what everyone here says, too," JoNell replied, trying to keep sarcasm from her voice.

"Uncle Edgar told you about the enormous cargo plane purchase your husband has made through our company?"

"Yes."

"JoNell, do you know what that has meant to your father? He's regained his will to live. He went down to the airport this morning. It's the first time he's set foot inside the place since his heart attack. His doctor is so pleased. JoNell, only you can know what this means to us. Did you have something to do with it?"

JoNell swallowed hard. "It was strictly Jorge's idea," she said, trying to keep her voice level. "He said he needed the planes for a new cargo line he's setting up, and we might as well keep the business in the family."

"How sweet and generous! Please thank him for us, honey. He may not know it, but he's saved our business. He must be a fine and considerate man."

JoNell squeezed her eyes tight to well up a dam of bitter tears. How her mother would change her estimation of Del Toro if she knew the truth about the man!

"Crying again?" Margarita asked, breaking into JoNell's thoughts. "I always thought of
Norte Americanos
as being less emotional than we Peruvians."

JoNell forced a weak smile. "Thank you for being so helpful," she said, reaching for the list of gifts Margarita had compiled.

"On the contrary," Margarita said with a gleam in her eye. "We should be thanking you."

"For what."

"For taking Jorge Del Toro out of circulation. You can't imagine the enemies he's created among the women fighting over him. Now that he's taken, life should be more peaceful in Lima."

JoNell winced. "I know about his reputation," she said calmly. "But a lot of it is pure exaggeration."

"Of course," Margarita smiled condescendingly. She paused. "If that is what you choose to believe."

JoNell didn't quite know what to make of Margarita. Perhaps the blond Peruvian had been one of Del Toro's conquests. Or worse still, for Margarita, maybe she hadn't! How furious she must be if she couldn't land Del Toro, but another blonde had. Perhaps Margarita's helpfulness had been designed to win JoNell's confidence so she would be in a better position to strike at JoNell's self-confidence with subtle innuendos.

JoNell experienced an overpowering urge to escape from the country club and get back to Del Toro's mansion. At least there, she knew where she stood. She had been bought and paid for, and there was no mistaking Del Toro's motives for marrying her.

JoNell excused herself as civilly as she could and hurried out to find Miguel leaning against the Rolls, waiting for her. He greeted her with a warm grin, opened the car door for her, and set about transporting the bridal shower gifts from the club room to the car.

That weekend, JoNell saw Jorge Del Toro in a new role, that of a polo star. She discovered that polo was a sport he pursued with great enthusiasm. Miguel drove her to the polo grounds where she had a seat that gave her an excellent view. It was the first time she had seen a live polo match. Whatever other feelings she had about Del Toro, she had to admit that he was a strikingly handsome figure astride a horse. His muscular shoulders and arms bulged against the white, tight-fitting polo shirt. He looked like a reincarnation of one of his fierce conquistador ancestors as he spurred his horse furiously down the field. She could see that he played the game of polo as he played the game of love and business—with ruthless determination to win. And win he did that afternoon. The other players were no match against the big, athletic conquistador who dominated his horse with fierce determination.

And that night, when he came to her bedroom, flushed with victory, he was again the ruthless conquistador, conquering the cold rebellion of her body until hate was transformed into passion—but passion that was short-lived, leaving her only the cold ashes of bitterness and regret at this charade of a marriage.

The next afternoon, JoNell sat half dozing on the veranda overlooking the garden, a magazine trailing from her slender fingers to the floor.

"Good afternoon, seňora," a masculine voice suddenly said behind her.

She dropped the magazine and turned to meet deep black eyes in an angular face. It was Rafael Garcia, the persistent young man who had so ardently pursued her the night of the party.

"Seňor Garcia! This is a surprise."

"A pleasant one, I hope. You are happy that I came?"

JoNell hesitated, groping for a way to field the question diplomatically. "It's always nice to see a friend of my husband," she murmured.

He indicated a black wrought-iron chair opposite her. "May I?"

She nodded, and he sat in the chair. "Am I not a friend of yours, too?" His penetrating gaze made her blush.

"We hardly know each other, seňor."

"My heart tells me differently."

"Did you come to see my husband on business?" she asked, trying to change the subject. She remembered how persistent his overtures had been the night of the party.

"No, seňora, I came to see you."

"Oh, that's too bad," she lied with a rush, rising from her chair, "I've just time to change before I have to leave for the country club. I have a golf lesson this afternoon."

"Forget the lesson this once." His hand reached out for her. "I came on a matter of great importance."

"Oh?"

"JoNell—I want you to marry me," he blurted out.

She stared at him, momentarily dumbfounded. Was he a mental case, she wondered with a flurry of panic. She could detect a slightly feverish look in his eyes.

"Seňor, you know I am married," she stammered. "I have already made it quite clear that I am loyal to my husband."

"But you don't love him."

She stared at him with a blank expression, trying to maintain a grasp on the troubled emotions his words had stirred.

"Seňor, this conversation has gone far enough. Now if you'll excuse me—" She rose to leave. "There is nothing more to discuss."

"Not even Consuelo Garcia?"

That stopped her dead in her tracks.

"And, perhaps you would like to know why she told you Del Toro married you just to get into the United States?"

JoNell sat down again, her knees weak.

"I am sorry to be so crude and blunt, but you were on the verge of leaving before I had a chance to explain some things I think you should know."

"What things?" JoNell asked faintly.

"Consuelo is plotting to break up your marriage to Del Toro."

"How do you know all these things?"

"I am Consuelo's brother, after all."

"Her
brother
!"

"Yes. You did not link our last names?"

"It didn't occur to me. Garcia is a very common name. And you look nothing like Consuelo."

"That is true. Consuelo is fair and I am dark." He smiled. "We always said she inherited the royal Spanish blood from our ancestors while I inherited the Inca blood."

JoNell tried to assimilate this bit of surprising information. "But why have you come here to tell me about Consuelo?"

"Because I truly love you," he said with great emotion. "When Consuelo found out about Del Toro's marriage to you, she was beside herself with anger and grief. She vowed to stop at nothing to get him back. She even persuaded me to help her. That's why I sought you out at the party. I'm ashamed to admit it now, but I followed you to the balcony to woo you for my sister's sake. She is my own flesh and blood sister, but I have to be frank and say she is a determined woman who will use any method to get what she wants."

"We'll agree on that point," JoNell said dryly. "And are you here now for her sake?"

"Oh, no!" he said emphatically. "Consuelo would scratch my eyes out if she knew I was telling you the truth. You see, not only does Consuelo want Del Toro for herself, but our family needs his money."

"His money? Whatever for? Your family is equally rich, is it not?"

"That once was true, but sad to say, it is no longer that way. The family fortune has dwindled over the years. Our name and reputation have provided us with a mantle of artificial wealth. We have clung to the hope that our fortune would be restored when Consuelo and Del Toro married. But then you came along—"

"And threw a monkey wrench in the works," she concluded in English.

"I did not want to be a party to wooing a woman away from her husband so my sister could have the husband," Rafael continued, using his native language. "But Consuelo was very persuasive. I finally agreed to try—but I got caught in my own trap."

"What do you mean?"

"When I saw you on the veranda, how delicate and lovely you were, I was glad I had agreed to my sister's plan. Then, as we talked, I sensed a special quality about you that I have never before found in any other woman. What started out as stock flattering phrases that roll easily off the tongue of any Peruvian man, turned into true expressions of my feelings for you. JoNell, I have fallen in love with you. My heart bleeds because you do not return my love. I want you more than you can imagine. I cannot offer you the riches that Del Toro has, but I offer you something he can never give you. My love. Del Toro does not love you. He loves no one but himself."

"Not true," she thought. "He loves Consuelo. And she knows it. But she is not content to wait out the year. Perhaps she's afraid he'll change his mind about her. She wants him
now
, and she wants his fortune for herself and her family. And she had the nerve to call
me
a gold digger!"

A cloud of mental confusion swept over JoNell. Conflicting thoughts wrestled in her mind. She had to admit to herself that she was attracted to the young man sitting opposite her. He was sincere, compassion-ate and kind, nothing like the egotistical Del Toro who thought nothing of buying another human being to serve his own purpose. With a man like Rafael, she would be loved for herself and cared for tenderly. It would be possible to grow to love a man such as this. But Rafael was not in a position to help her parents as Del Toro was. For their sake, she had to be practical and materialistic. Besides, she had made a pact with Del Toro, and she meant to keep her end of the bargain for the next year. Until the year was up, she would put all thought of love out of her heart.

"Rafael," she said as kindly as she could manage. "In other circumstances, I would be happy to have you care for me. But it is impossible. I am not the kind of person you think I am. I am not nearly good enough for you."

"Now you ridicule me," Rafael said sadly.

"No—not at all. I am highly flattered by your attention. But you deserve a finer person than I am."

"There is no finer person than you, JoNell!"

JoNell flushed. "Rafael, thank you for what you have told me—about your feelings and about your sister, Consuelo. What you have told me is important to me. But now I'm dreadfully tired. Please be kind enough to excuse me."

Reluctantly, he arose. "Very well. I'll leave you now. But I haven't given up. I'll be back. One day you'll realize the truth about Del Toro. When that time comes, I'll be there to claim you."