The Abducted Heart (Sweetly Contemporary Collection) (13 page)

The scrape of a footstep behind her caused a sensation like the approach of danger to ripple over her skin. She did not turn, though she knew he was beside her.

“What is it? Are you all right?” he asked.

“Of course I’m all right,” she said, trying to smile though she did not quite meet his eyes.

“Some people find out they are affected by heights only after they reach the top of the ladder,” he explained his concern. “You don’t have to be brave about it.”

“I’m not being brave,” she replied, her voice more positive as she hit on a way to distract his attention from herself. “Tell me how these pyramids were used in the Indian religion.” After a moment he complied.

“Little is known about the Teotihuacán, but if, as is suspected, they set the pattern for the Aztecs who came several hundred years later, they worshiped the powers of nature, the sun and the moon, the wind and the rain. Without these things they could not live, and so it was necessary for the spirits of these gods to remain strong. They had to be nourished, and what better nourishment than the spirits of men that were enclosed in their hearts?”

“You mean — human sacrifice.”

“Yes. The sacrifice of the hearts of enemy warriors torn living from their open breasts. The hearts of the bravest of the enemy warriors were the hardest to acquire, and because of it, were more valuable. War could not be won without sacrifice, sacrifice was not possible without captive warriors, captives were not available without military victory. It was an unending cycle.”

“A terrible one,” Anne commented tightly.

“Was it? In a time when so-called civilized nations sacked towns and put the entire population to the sword? When men and women in Europe were being tortured and burned for no more than the religious beliefs of those in power? In Indochina in the last few years hundreds of thousands have been killed solely because of their political views. Human beings have never been noted for their kindness to their enemies.”

When she still looked doubtful, he went on in a reflective tone. “I’m not condoning human sacrifice, only pointing out that barbarity depends on your viewpoint. For instance, the Aztecs never struck a child in punishment until he was of an age to understand what he had done wrong, at eight years old. And criminals were not imprisoned; they were enslaved to the person they had injured most so they could repair the damage done as well as expiate their crimes.”

“Both of those make sense,” Anne was forced to admit.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is
,"
Ramón said slowly, “don’t judge another culture, another people, too quickly. Get to know them before you make up your mind.”

Was there a hidden meaning in his words? Anne would have liked to think so, but was afraid it was only in her own mind.

They remained on the pyramid for some time, talking idly. With a question or two Anne drew more of the details of the life style of the Aztecs from Ramón and from there he was launched into the history of their conquest by Cortes.

Tiring of standing, they took a seat on the top step of the great staircase and Anne sat with elbows on her knees, listening in fascination. It was true, as Doña Isabel had said. Ramón was proud of his Indian heritage. But he was just as mindful of his Spanish blood also and gave equal credit to the bravery and daring of the men who had voyaged so far to pillage another civilization. She heard for the first time of Doña Marina, the Aztec maiden who had betrayed her people for the sake of her love for Cortes, and sitting there in the growing purple dusk, on the site of an Indian temple, it seemed as if it could have happened only yesterday instead of five hundred years ago.

At last Ramón got to his feet and held out his hand. “We had better go before it gets too dark to get down without breaking our necks.”

Anne agreed with reluctance. It had been so companionable sitting there. With the return to responsibility Ramón’s attitude had changed, become casual and at the same time distant. The feel of his fingers drawing her to her feet was electric, but something in his manner made her move carefully, resisting the impulse to lean on his strength. She was just as careful going down the steep stone stairway. She felt instinctively that if he should stumble she would be in danger of more than a broken neck.

When they reached the bottom, Ramón broke the increasingly tense silence. “Tired?” he asked.

“A little.”

“A reservation was made for us at the restaurant here as planned, but we need not keep it if you would rather return to town.”

The reservation was a concession, she realized. The evening was still much too early for Ramón to be thinking of dinner. Used to the late hours kept in his country, his appetite would not begin to awaken for another two hours or more. Anne, though she was growing used to late breakfast and luncheon, could not seem to control a wistful longing for her supper when evening came. She had not realized that Ramón knew, however.

“Are you certain you want to eat so early?” she asked, aware in the back of her mind of an inclination to prolong the day.

“It shall be as you like,” he said, a smile softening the formality of the reply.

“Then I would like it very much,” she answered.

Grilled beef was their main dish, served with potatoes that had been browned, then steamed with peppers and onion. Tasting it carefully, Anne decided the meat had also been rubbed with pepper before grilling.

“We will send it back to the kitchen if it is not to your liking and order something else,” Ramón said, noticing her look of concentration. The explanation of what she was doing started a conversation on food that led to her job with Metcalf. Before she realized it, Anne found herself telling him about her relationship with Joe and Iva, her position in the business, some of the perils and pleasures of catering, and one or two of the more humorous incidents that had occurred.

“You enjoyed your job?” he asked, an odd inflection in his voice.

“Yes — yes, I did,” Anne said, her smile fading. “That is, I do.” Her chin came up as she realized that she had been in danger of forgetting Ramón’s suspicion of her. No doubt he had expected to find that she hated working at Metcalf’s, that she was desperate to get away. He would be disappointed, no doubt, to find it wasn’t so. Though she hated to acknowledge it even to herself, there was something else she had come close to forgetting. That was the fact that she would be returning to Metcalf’s when this Mexican episode was over.

Not long afterward, Ramón signaled for their check and they left the restaurant.

The drive home was uneventful. Once or twice Ramón spoke, but she made such short answers that he did not persist. She thought he glanced at her in the dim light of the dashboard instruments, but she kept her eyes straight ahead, stating at the highway unwinding before them.

Ramón swung the sports car through the gates in the whitewashed wall, and with precision drew up before the front door and switched off the motor. In the sudden quiet Anne felt an awkward unease. Trying to ignore it, she turned in the seat.

“Thank you for taking me to Teotihuacán. I enjoyed it very much,” she said primly.

Her right hand was on the door handle when he reached across to catch her wrist, holding her in place with his forearm.

“That was a nice little speech,” he said, “like a school girl taken to see relatives.”

“You forgot to say an orphan schoolgirl.”

He was quiet a moment. “I thought that was forgotten. What made you think of it again? We were doing so well — or at least I thought so.”

“Yes, weren’t we? You were conducting a catechism, trying to find a clue to my terrible crime of forcing myself on you, instead of believing the simple truth: that it was an accident!”

“Is that the way it seemed?” he asked, his dark gaze piercing.

Defiantly she answered. “Yes, it is!”

“But isn’t that an improvement,” he suggested, “that I look for reasons other than greed and the grasping at a rich man?”

“Not to me it isn’t,” she returned, then slanted him an uncertain look from under her lashes.

“I acquit you of wanting my money, and you say it isn’t important.”

“You still think I’m a liar,” she said, compressing her lips.

He shifted, releasing her wrist, placing his arm across the seat behind her back as she made no move to leave the car.

“But such an enchanting one,” he told her, a soft, caressing note in his voice.

She swung her head, incensed at his agreement, ready to blast him for it. The words were smothered on her lips as he slipped his arm behind her and drew her close against him. His mouth burned on hers, setting the blood to racing in her veins. The fingers of his left hand touched her cheek, then trailed down the tender curve of her neck to the pearl buttons that closed the neckline of her blouse.

Anne wanted to remain aloof, but as his kiss deepened and his firm, sure touch brought its response, her hands, pressed in restraint against his chest, lost their strength. She felt herself drawn closer and closer until her body seemed almost to merge with his and still she was not close enough. His lips explored the moist corner of her mouth and slid with sensuous fire over the smooth angle of her jawline.

“Ramón,” she breathed in a husky protest as his head dropped lower, brushing a warm kiss across the soft curves of her breasts where the vee neck of her blouse parted.

He went still. The soft whisper of their breathing was the only sound in the strained silence within the car.

With an effort that was as plain as it was controlled, he raised his head, drawing away. His hands went to her arms, moving down them to her wrists, which he crossed one over the other and placed in her lap. Anne could not see his face deafly, but she thought his rigid self-control was overlaid with the hauteur of Spanish pride. He did not speak. Opening the door on his side, he got out and walked around to open her door, holding it, making no effort to help her as she got out of the low-slung vehicle.

As they walked together up the stone walk to the entrance, Anne found herself wishing she had remained silent. His withdrawal after their closeness left her feeling bereft and with a cold feeling inside that had nothing to do with the mountain coolness of the night.

Their footsteps slowed as they reached the door and for a moment Anne thought he hesitated, on the verge of speaking, then the heavy, carved panel swung open.

The housekeeper moved back as they stepped over the threshold. Closing the door behind them, she said a soft
"Buenas noches"
and moved away with her stately tread down the hall.

Watching Mariá out of sight, Ramón sighed, then turned to Anne.

“For you, it has been a long day,” he said, picking up her hand and carrying it to lips, whose ardor had grown cool. “Too long, perhaps. It is time for you also to say goodnight.”

She did not like the hint that she was still an invalid, still less did she enjoy the implication that she was overwrought. On the other hand, she was not sure enough of her ground to argue with him about it.

“Yes,” she said, her voice a husky whisper and her eyes bright with tears of anger. “Goodnight.”

She resisted the impulse to look back as she went up the stairs. Inside her room she let her shoulders sag as she moved across to stand staring out the window. She was a fool; she must be to stay in Mexico knowing what Ramón Castillo thought of her. To let herself be swayed by an old woman, to take clothes and even jewelry from her and her grandson, what were these if not the acts of a fool? And now to allow Ramón to make love to her — what could be worse?

There was something worse, something more foolhardy.

Driving away from Teotihuacán she had looked back at those barbaric stone monuments shining in the moonlight and she had known then and was doubly certain now: it was not only the ancient Aztec warriors who had given up their hearts on the moon-silvered heights of the Pyramid of the Sun.

Six

Doña Isabel had not forgotten the engagement party. On the morning following Anne’s visit to Teotihuacàn she sent for Anne to discuss the affair. When the old lady began to sigh over the hundred and one details that must be seen to by way of preparation, Anne offered her help. As a result, she spent the next three days in close collaboration with Doña Isabel and María. Her principal function was to make endless lists. It took the best part of one day to decide who was to be invited, including the discussion of many contemporaries of the old lady who were no longer living and the chuckles the two older women indulged in over Anne’s attempts to spell the unfamiliar names. Another morning was devoted to the type and amount of food and drink that would be served. Anne was able to be of help in this area, which speeded the process of decision-making considerably, especially when it came to settling the brisk argument between Doña Isabel and her longtime housekeeper over the rival merits of pink and plain champagne. Then there was the question of the floral decorations. Doña Isabel wanted to use flowers from their own gardens, a practice María, mindful of the family honor, did not hesitate to call shabby and too much like making do. A pointed reminder of the number of gardeners employed in the household did not move the housekeeper, nor did the claim that if they used the services of a florist their entertainment would look like that of everyone else. Maria would have no part of it. Open warfare was prevented only by Anne’s rather diffident suggestion that flowers symbolic of the two countries of the principals be used. It was agreed, and an order placed for massed arrangements of American Beauty roses and bright yellow dahlias softened with greenery and white gypsophila. Anne made no objection to the last addition, but neither did she mention that in the United States the dainty white flower called gypsophila were known as baby’s breath.