Red Lotus (29 page)

whether he meant to break up Philip's marriage or not, but on the eve of her wedding to Philip, Maria disappeared. She left a note. In it she said that she must go away by herself to sort out her dreadful unhappiness. She was confused and full of despair. Philip guessed that she would go to Lozaro Alto, but he did not follow her at once. He thought that she should be given time to search her own heart for the truth."

"He didn't—really believe that she was in love with Rafael?" Felicity whispered.

"No." Isabella shook her head. "He knew the truth, you see. Maria was held by no more than a
hopeless
fascination." She bit her lip. "Philip came to see Rafael. I met him. The Blessed Virgin forgive me! I showed him the letter Rafael had left for me that morning in which he said he was going to take Maria away. He asked me for his freedom, which I could never have given him. Philip knew that, and he also knew what Maria would feel, and so he acted to save her. He went to Lozaro Alto and found her dead."

Felicity stared at her, aghast.

"But—the accident?" she protested.

"The accident was to Maria and Rafael. They were coming back from Lozaro Alto in Philip's car when it went over the cliff. Maria had taken the car, as she often did when Philip was not using it, to drive to the valley, but Rafael was driving it when it crashed."

"And—Philip accepted the responsibility?"

Isabella nodded.

"It was his car," she pointed out. "That saved the situation as far as Philip saw it. No one would know that Rafael and Maria had been together. He did it for Maria, and because of your uncle, Robert Hallam. Philip owed a great deal to Maria's father, you know, and this was the way in which he sought to repay his debt. He also tried to save me the scandal." Isabella moved slowly back across the room. "Rafael had a slight concussion and a few superficial cuts and scratches from the accident, but that was all. So it was easy, you see, for Philip to send him back to Zamora on the horse he had ridden up to the valley. Rafael's own horse was returned later."

"And nothing—none of all this—came out at the inquest?"

Isabella shook her head.

"No. Philip accepted full responsibility. He was reticent about some points, and that was what led to the gossip. People said that he had been growing tired of Maria, because they had noticed how unhappy she had looked, and Philip would not stoop to contradict them. He had been exonerated from all blame by the court and that was all he cared about."

"I've been so unjust!" Felicity said in a choked whisper.

"But you love him," Isabella said. "And love and trust

must go hand in hand." She halted before she reached the

door. "You are still going to marry him?" she asked. "If he will have me."

She could not tell Isabella that she had been torn by jealousy on her account, also, because she believed that Philip loved and admired her. She felt ashamed of her former emotions and curiously humbled by the knowledge of the trust and friendship which existed between these two. Philip had been so ready to sacrifice himself in defence of Isabella's marriage, as ready as he had been to protect Maria's name from scandal after her tragic death.

It was all so easy to understand now—so simple.

After Isabella had gone she lay down obediently on the bed in her darkened room, but sleep would not come. The events of the past few hours were too close, too terrible in retrospect to let her slip easily beyond consciousness. She dozed fitfully, waking at every unusual sound, and when a

car drew up at the foot of the terrace steps she went out on to her balcony and looked down.

Julio got out from behind the wheel. He appeared strained and tired, with dark smudges beneath his eyes which suggested that he, also, had not slept.

Felicity drew back a little way, but he had already seen her. Before she could speak, before she could even think what he was about to do, he had caught hold of the gnarled old stem of the creeper which grew up the wall and drew himself to the level of the balcony rail.

"Querida!" he said. "Are you safe? Are you really safe?"

"Yes, Julio." Her heart was beating madly. "We were taken out by the helicopter you sent from La Laguna."

He swung his legs over the rail and came to stand beside her.

"I didn't mean to send it," he confessed thickly. "I

meant Philip to die. Then I discovered that you were up there with him I even meant to—leave you with him when I knew that you must love him or you would not have gone there." His words were harsh, but his voice had trembled. "Then Isabella de Barrios came to find me. She told me the truth—the truth about Maria's death. That was my real reason for hating Philip—"

"I know, Julio," she said gently. "Philip did it for Maria, and for your father, whom he loved like a son. And now he has promised to look after you and Sisa and Conchitato keep your home intact. It was what your father wished. It was what he asked me to help Philip to do. You will help us, will you not?"

"I suppose so." He looked down at his feet. "Are you going to stay with us? Are you going to marry him"

A great flood of longing rose in Felicity's heart. She wanted to marry Philip more than anything else in the world, but suddenly she knew that she wanted all his love in return. Measure for measure. Her loving demanded it. Somehow, the thought of waiting for years until Philip recognized how necessary they were to each other was like putting happiness just beyond her reach.

"I don't know," she said. "I don't know, Julio!" He backed towards the balcony rail.

"You know what you want," he said. "You ought to let Philip see."

I've already told him that I love him, Felicity thought. He knows. He ought to be sure.

The deep colour of humiliation ran up under her skin. He had shown her pity and tenderness in that moment. Nothing more.

The house was very still when she finally went down in search of the others. Philip had sent up a meal to her on a tray, but she had left much of it untouched. The siesta hour had passed and the sun was already well down the western sky. Isabella had gone, and Sisa and Conchita were nowhere to be seen.

"Felicity, will you come out here for half an hour?" She had not seen Philip standing in the shadow of the palms, but she went to him at once.

"How do you feel?" he asked. "Have you managed to sleep?"

"Not very well." She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly full of tears. "There was so much to think about." "So much of regret?" he asked.

She shook her head, turning to fumble with a spray of the trailing stephanotis which hung from the wall above them. The little star-shaped flowers sent up their perfume to fill the air between them, and Philip reached out and took her gently by the shoulders, turning her back to face him

"Of what, then?" he asked. "What has made you sad, querida?" His words were gently probing. "If you have no regrets," he said as his hands tightened on her shoulders, "does it mean that you meant what you told me at Lozaro Alto?"

She looked at him, and his eyes seemed to draw her whole soul up to meet his own.

"You said that you loved me." His voice was stronger now, more commanding. In some ways it was the old, arrogant Philip who spoke. "You said it of your own free will, in a moment when nothing else in the world mattered between us, but I want you to say it again, here, in this house, where our loving will mean so much."

"You love me?" she whispered. "You love me, Philip!"

"With all my heart." His hands slipped from her shoulders to her waist, drawing her strongly to him "I can't tell you when I knew," he said. "You must not ask me. Perhaps it was right from the beginning, when you came here with so little knowledge of this adopted country of mine but with such a brave ideal in your heart. I wanted to protect you—to take you and keep you for my own."

His lips came down on hers, gently and then possessively.

"Yes, I wanted you from the beginning," he said with absolute conviction in his voice.

"And I was foolish enough to be fascinated by—someone else at first," she whispered. "Oh, Philip! Forgive me!"

"What have I to forgive?" he asked, brushing her hair with his lips. "Nothing, querida—now that I know you are mine!"