Dark Ransom (20 page)

free once more. I came to tell you this myself—to make amends, if

possible, for the wrong I did you.' He took Riago's hand. 'You were

right, my brother,' he said with sober intensity. 'She was never mine.

Do you understand what I am saying to you?'

There was another silence. Everyone in the room was watching the

quiet figure in the bed. Waiting.

Charlie put a hand to her throat. Suddenly it seemed difficult to

breathe.

Melanie was free, she thought dazedly. Free, presumably to return to

her first love. Free to be with him forever—if that was what he

wanted.

And, as if answering her unspoken question as well as his brother's,

Riago's head moved on the pillow in a faint but definite nod.

No
ONE
saw Charlie leave the room.

She walked slowly and carefully to her own room. She closed the

door behind her, leaned against it and began to shake.

It was over—even before it had begun. That's what she had to

face—to come to terms with.

Dignity, she thought. I must behave with dignity.

She could be thankful now that she had never told Riago that she

loved him. Grateful, too, that he had no inkling about the baby.

There could be no division of his loyalties now, no rekindling of his

sense of honour—not now, not when the woman he loved was free

to come back into his life.

But for that she would have fought to stay with him, pleaded her

case over Philip Hughes—made him understand. Done her best to

fill the empty space in his life, even if she would only ever be

second-best at most.

But he didn't want her love, so the greatest gift she could give him

instead would be the return of his own freedom, without strings.

No protests, she told herself. No more vain attempts to justify

herself in his eyes. He'd told her to go, after all. All she had to do

was accept that dismissal—and leave.

His self-imposed exile here was coming to an end too. He would be

reconciled with his family now, and able to play a full part in its life

and business affairs. Live and work where he chose, in fact.

She had no idea what the Brazilian laws were, but she presumed

there would be a discreet and amicable divorce. And when the dust

had settled he and Melanie would be married. By which time she

herself would be long gone...

Melanie. She tasted the name. Not overtly Brazilian, she thought,

but then, why should it be? She tried to imagine what the other

woman looked like, but no image formed in her mind. She'd have to

be beautiful, she thought, to cause such havoc in people's lives.

She, on the other hand, would hardly create a ripple, she thought,

staring across the room at the slim, pale, brown-haired reflection she

saw in the mirror.

If Riago ever looked back on this time he would see it as a kind of

temporary madness, a symptom of the deeper, darker unhappiness

which the loss of Melanie had engendered.

She was glad she had the power to make him sane and happy again,

even if it was at the expense of her own needs.

It could even be a blessing in disguise. After all, she would never be

necessary to Riago in the way she wanted. If she stayed—married

him— she would occupy some shadowy position on the edge of his

world, never the centre, as she wanted. It was better, healthier in

every way to make a clean break.

As for herself, the new life she had thought about before setting off

on this adventure had now become a necessity rather than a dream.

She couldn't go home, even if she wanted to, desolate and pregnant,

to face the inevitable endless recriminations from her mother and

Sonia. She would get an excellent reference from her present

employers, so she could seek some kind of residential housekeeping

job, where she'd be able to have the baby with her.

How odd, she thought wonderingly, that she was able to stand here

and make these plans when she was mentally and emotionally

breaking apart. How strange she should look so calm and in control,

when inwardly she was screaming- disintegrating.

But a semblance of normality had to be preserved. For the time

being she was still required to act as if she was still about to become

the mistress of the house.

She would have to find out if their guests were staying or returning

to Laragosa immediately. Padre Gaspar almost certainly would be

keen to get back to the mission. He probably wouldn't be very

pleased to have been sent on a fool's errand in the first place. Jorge

da Santana should have warned him, she thought. Given him a much

stronger hint about the real purpose of his visit, and saved him a

wasted journey. But perhaps Jorge had felt the priest would

disapprove, and with good reason. He'd been summoned to conduct

a marriage, after all, not to preside over a break-up, and a re-shuffle

of the parties involved, no matter how selfless the motive.

She hoped that the visitors wouldn't want to stay, so that she could

leave on the boat with them, as Riago had indeed suggested, she

recalled with a pang. It would certainly be easier all round if she

could just... slip away while he was still sedated. It would obviate

the necessity of any awkward last confrontation with him, for one

thing, as well as the pain of actually saying goodbye.

She just hoped she could get through it all without breaking down or

making a fool of herself in any other way.

I have to learn to be strong, she thought. This is as good a start as

any.

A sharp rap on the door startled her.

'Who is it?'

'Afonza,
senhorita.
May I come in?'

The doctor. Her heart skipped a beat as she opened the door. 'Is

something wrong? Riago isn't worse?'

'No—no,' he said reassuringly. 'He has had a rough time, but he

should make an excellent recovery. No, I came to see you. Just now

you looked as if you might faint, and I was concerned.'

She gave an uneven laugh. 'I'm not really the fainting kind.'

'Yet you have been through quite an ordeal, seeing Riago with a

gunshot wound. I hear that you also acted as a midwife earlier.' His

smile was kind.

She shrugged. 'These things happen.'

'Yes, they do.' His eyes assessed her shrewdly. 'But they do not

altogether explain your pallor— the shadows beneath your eyes.' He

put a hand out and gently tipped up her face. 'The bruise on your

mouth.' He frowned. 'How did you acquire that?'

'Someone hit me,' she said. 'I think, under the circumstances, I got

off lightly.'

He continued to scrutinise her, his frown deepening. He said

abruptly, 'Are you certain there is nothing you wish to consult me

about?'

'No.' A tinge of guilty colour stole into her face. 'No, nothing,

really.'

'Ah,' he said, and paused. 'We have only just met, of course,' he

went on, giving her another long look. 'Perhaps over the next few

days,
senhorita,
you will come to trust me a little more.' He smiled

again and bowed a little. 'We shall meet at dinner, when I hope to

have good news of Riago.'

'I hope so too.' She watched him leave, the phrase 'the next few days'

still ringing unpleasantly in her ears. That didn't promise an early

return to Laragosa, she thought with dismay. Unless the other two

were going, leaving just Dr Afonza to look after Riago. She would

just have to keep her fingers crossed.

But fortune was not on her side. Dinner that evening soon revealed

that all of her guests planned to stay on for an indefinite period,

including Padre Gaspar, who explained that he intended to visit the

local settlements to perform baptisms.

'I hope we will not be a problem.' Jorge gave her an apologetic look.

'But, you understand, my brother and I have many things to discuss

as soon as he is strong enough.'

Charlie cleared her throat. 'Er—when will that be?'

'Sooner than I approve of,' Dr Afonza said drily. 'Riago does not

react well to immobility. He even wished to join us for dinner

tonight.'

'The miracles that love can do,' Jorge smiled.

Charlie winced inwardly. She supposed that Jorge, along with the

rest of Riago's family, knew that his offer of marriage to herself had

only been made from a sense of obligation, and therefore saw no

particular need to be tactful.

And it was certainly no weirder than the rest of his behaviour, she

thought ruefully. What other man could cheerfully assign a wife he

was supposed to love to someone else—especially his brother—and

after everything that had happened?

Presumably Jorge too had laid his life at this Melanie's feet and was

quite prepared to have it kicked out of the way as a result. Yet he

didn't give the impression of being a wimp.

This Melanie must be quite some lady to be able to wield such

power over both brothers, Charlie thought with wry pain.

When coffee was finished Dr Afonza got to his feet. 'I am going to

see my patient,' he announced. 'Perhaps you would like to

accompany me,
senhorita.'

It was definitely more of a command than a suggestion, so Charlie

rose reluctantly.

'You ate nothing,' he said abruptly to her as they walked down the

passage towards Riago's room. 'I watched you push the food around

your plate. It is not a good thing, especially now.'

Charlie decided it would be more prudent not to enquire into the

precise meaning of that last remark. She hurried into speech. 'I...just

wasn't hungry. Reaction probably.'

'Perhaps.' He was silent for a moment, then said gently, 'You can

confide in me. It is safe, I give you my word.'

'Then there is something I'd like to know,' Charlie said, despising

herself. She lifted her chin. 'Have—have you ever seen Melanie da

Santana?'

'Sim.'
He sent her a sideways look. 'Why?'

She shrugged evasively. 'I'd just like to know what she looks like,

that's all.'

'If that is all, then it is simple. She has a beautiful face and

wonderful body. A tall blonde with a tan from California, and those

amazing straight perfect teeth that North American women have.' It

was his turn to shrug. 'What more can I say? A fantasy woman, like

a film star—every man's dream. And not easy to forget.'

'No,' she said, her throat tightening. 'I gathered that. Thank you.'

'De nada.'
He sounded almost amused. 'An uncle of mine used to

say there are two kind of women in the world—those who break,

and those who mend. Melanie da Santana belongs definitely to the

first category.'

'I think there's a third, too,' she said quietly. 'Those who are broken

themselves.'

It was his turn to shrug. 'Well—maybe my uncle didn't know that

many women.'

He opened the door of Riago's room, and motioned her to precede

him.

To her astonishment, Riago was standing by the window. He was

wearing casual cream cotton trousers, and the upper part of his body

was bare, except for the sling that supported his injured arm.

'You ask my advice, and then you ignore it,' Dr Afonza said

resignedly. 'I told you to rest.'

'I have a hole in my shoulder,' Riago returned flatly. 'I've rested

enough.' He looked at Charlie, and bit his lip. 'Now I have to get on

with my life.'

'You'll allow your dressing to be changed, I hope.' Dr Afonza was

unruffled. 'I will go and arrange the matter with Rosita.'

The door closed gently behind him.

There was a silence, which Charlie, hot with embarrassment,

eventually broke. 'I'm sorry about this,' she said. 'It—it wasn't my

idea to come here tonight -'

'I know that,' he cut across her. 'It was mine.' He paused. 'We... have

to talk.'

'That's really not necessary,' she said hastily.

'I know that it is,' he said with a touch of grimness. 'I have done you

an injustice, Carlotta.'

'Oh, but you haven't. It's all fine—really. You mustn't blame

yourself. It's all for the best.'

She knew she was babbling inanely, and Riago stared at her,

frowning.

'What are you talking about?' he demanded. "That Hughes—that

ingles—
he struck you, tried to push you from the truck. He could

have killed you. Manoel has been here. He told me everything.'

She grimaced. 'Oh. Well, it was very much my own fault, as you

said. I was a fool to go with him. I was just...'