The Abducted Heart (Sweetly Contemporary Collection) (21 page)

It was Pépé, his invitation a model of decorum, who succeeded in prying her from Doña Isabel’s side. He was helped considerably by the reappearance of Ramón. As Anne caught sight of him making his way toward them around the dance floor, she knew a moment of unreasoning panic which drove her out onto the floor.

It was when Irene’s fiancé took her in his arms that Anne discovered why he was so careful in his speech, so studied in his movements. He was somewhat the worse for drink. His tongue had a tendency to betray him by slurring his consonants if he spoke too quickly. Though he had not reached the point where he was unsteady on his feet, he was close to it. His breath smelled strongly of alcohol. He had also the delusion of the intoxicated about his singing ability, for he insisted on crooning the words to the music into Anne’s ear.

“Are you certain you want to dance?” Anne asked with a shade of annoyance as he stepped on her toes for the third time.

“Thousand apologies,” he murmured.
"Si, si,
I must dance. My Irene told me to go away and amuse myself, and I like to dance with pretty Americans.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but I don’t think you are in any shape to dance with anyone,” Anne told him.

The drinks that were being circulated by the waiters were not, she knew, strong enough to account for Pépé’s condition. She strongly suspected him of carrying his own flask or having access to a supply in his automobile outside.

He drew himself up as straight as he was able. “Are you saying I may be drunk?” he inquired.

“That is exactly what I am saying,” Anne assured him.

He considered that. “You may be right,” he said with a wise nod.

With the press of people in the room, the french doors which lined one side of them had been thrown open. Through these stole the faint ghost of a breeze to fan Anne’s heated cheeks.

Drawing a deep breath, Anne said pointedly, “Don’t you think we should sit down then?”

“To sit idle and watch my Irene dancing with Señor Castillo?” he asked, tilting his head to the area of the flora where Irene was just moving into Ramón’s arms. “No, that is too much the tame dog. I will not. I will go outside, that is what I will do. Outside, where the air is fresh,” a grin, half-foolish, half-pained, curled around his thin lips. “Will you step out with me into the patio?”

His suggestion seemed suddenly reasonable to Anne. She, too, could use a breath of untainted air. In addition, she felt sorry for Irene’s fiancé. His position — being used as a handy face-saver for the Mexican woman — was not an enviable one. If he cared at all for her, there was some excuse for his over-indulgence.

“All right,” she agreed wearily, “but only for a moment.

After the smoke-filled, over-heated closeness of the sala, the cool air of the patio was like mountain-cooled wine. Anne needed no urging to stroll along the arcade, away from the loud music and the confusion of voices. She even found herself grateful to Pépé for his suggestion. Getting away from the responsibility of being the guest of honor, constantly on view, was an unexpected relief.

“Señorita Matthews?” Pépé said, ambling to a halt.

“Yes?” Anne replied.

“You — like me, señorita?”

“What do you mean?” Anne asked, made wary by something she could not identify in his manner.

“As a man!” he exclaimed, his expression in the dim light from the curtain windows plainly showing that he found her dense.

“How can you expect me to answer that,” Anne edged, “when you know I am engaged to Ramón?”

“I did not expect you to come outside with me because you are the
novia
of Ramón, and yet, here you are.”

“Oh? I had not realized it was — indiscreet. I suspect we had better go back inside,” Anne said, swinging around.

“No, no,” he said, reaching out to catch her arm. “I did not mean to make you angry. I only — I only wanted an answer to my question. Irene has said to me that I am lucky she wishes to make herself my wife. She says I am not the kind of man who is attractive to many women.”

Her attention caught, Anne turned back. “Surely you must have met many young women who were — who responded to the compliments you paid them?”

“Yes, but perhaps they were only pretending,” he said in a quiet tone, a scowl crumbling his face as though he was trying to keep from crying.

If he had been sober, Anne thought swiftly, he would have died before saying such a thing aloud. She did not need to ask if Irene had planted that doubt also. Why would she say such cruel things? What kind of person was she to want him to follow like a tame dog at her heels, grateful for the bones of affection she might throw him? What a terrible ego she must have.

On impulse she covered Pépé fingers with her own where they clutched at her arm. “Pay no heed to Irene, Pépé. There are many women who could love you.”

“Ah, Señorita,” he said, his voice husky. “I knew you were kind ... and generous—”

With a quickness and rawhide strength belied by his appearance, he pulled her into his arms. Surprise held her immobile while his lips slid across her cheek to her mouth. An instant later, she broke his grip, stepping back to arm’s length.

“You...” she began, fumbling for words in her incoherent anger.

She never completed the sentence.

“Well, Ramón?” Irene, her voice dripping satisfaction like honey, spoke from the open french window. “It looks as though we have both been made to look like fools.”

Pépé recovered first, starting forward. “Irene, my love, my heart, let me explain.”

“Explain?” she jeered. “Pray tell me how? Are you going to ask me to doubt the evidence of my own eyes?”

She stepped out into the shadowed arcade, leaving a dear view of Ramón just behind her with Doña Isabel at his side. The sight of his host seemed to throw Pépé’s befuddled mind into greater confusion, and he made an abortive movement as though he would protect Anne from Ramón’s wrath.

The gesture enraged Irene. “No doubt you mean to give yourself time to think up a plausible lie? You can save yourself the trouble. Neither Ramón nor I will be stupid enough to believe you. Will we, my dear Ramón?”

Feeling as though she was caught in a nightmare, Anne turned toward the man in the doorway. Surely he would put a stop to Irene’s relentless browbeating of the young man.

The contempt that blazed in his eyes as they raked over her came as a complete shock. She was too numb to wonder at the whiteness about his compressed lips or the pulsating nerve that rippled the skin of his clenched jaw.

“No, I doubt my opinion of my fiancée,” he grated, emphasizing the last word, “can be altered — for better or worse.”

Doña Isabel glanced from Anne’s pale, frozen features to her grandson. “My dear Ramón,” she said in a frail voice. “Things may not be as bad as they seem.”

“No,” he said, “they are probably worse.”

His words, for all their quietness, cut into Anne like the lash of a whip. In the reflex of pain, she struck back.

“Never mind, Abuelita,” she said, her voice trembling. “Trust is too much to expect of Don Ramón Carlos Castillo.”

Her words seemed to snap the iron restraint which held him. He strode forward, his fingers biting into her arms as he dragged her from Pépé’s side. She fell against his chest and he pushed her upright, giving her a hard shake.

“Trust is something you earn,” he ground out, his eyes boring into hers. “It is given as a reward to those who have proven themselves worthy of it. You, my dear Anne, my beautiful cheat, have not!”

Anne, shivering with fury and a primitive reaction to his violence that she refused to recognize, opened her mouth. But he would not let her speak.

“I was beginning to believe your innocent pose, beginning to believe you had told the truth from the first. No more...”

He got no further. Irene’s piercing shriek cut across his words, a gasping sound that went on and on.

With a shaking finger she pointed to Doña Isabel like a crumpled doll on the flagstones. Her face was the color of chalk and her breathing shallow and fast as Anne stumbled to her knees beside the still figure. Picking up her hand, she found the small, bony fingers as cold as ice.

Ramón, dropping to a crouch on the other side of his grandmother, felt for her pulse. Flicking a hard look up at Irene, he snapped, “Stop that noise! Call the doctor — Abuelita’s personal physician, not your own choice.”

With a tenderness at variance with the harsh frown on his face, he straightened Doña Isabel’s limbs, then gently lifted her in his arms. “Go ahead and make her bed ready,” he said to Anne, his voice devoid of anything other than concern for his grandmother.

Irene had stopped shrieking, but she seemed unable to move. Pépé shot a hesitant glance at her, then swallowed convulsively, putting his shoulders back. “Which doctor?” he asked.

Ramón told him. Nodding to Anne, he said, “The curtains.” When she sprang to hold them back, he carried Doña Isabel through into the sala.

A crowd had begun to gather in that end of the room. Ramón pushed through without ceremony, leaving Anne to explain the collapse as best she could.

It was Estela who provided the most acceptable explanation. Her wide eyes filling with tears, she murmured, “Poor Abuelita. The excitement must have been too much for her.”

Ramón did not appear to be moving fast, yet he had reached Doña Isabel’s bedroom before Anne caught up with him. Patiently he waited while Anne pushed open the door, then ran to throw back the covers.

He placed his burden on the bed with care, then straightened, standing once more with his fingers on her pulse.

Anne moved to the other side of the bed. She thought there was a little more color to the pale cheeks, a less pinched look about the mouth. The elderly woman’s breathing had slowed to a regular rhythm. Under Anne’s fingers her pulse felt a trifle fast, but strong.

Anne raised her eyes to the man on the other side of the bed. He did not notice. The skin tight across his cheekbones with strain, he stared down at his grandmother as if willing her to live.

The door of the bedroom swung noiselessly open as Estela, followed closely by the housekeeper, Maria, entered. “The doctor is on his way,” Ramón’s sister said in a low voice. “Most of the guests are leaving, except for a few who are waiting for news. Is she ... she’s not...”

“She is still unconscious,” Ramón said in a dipped tone.

“Your pardon, Don Ramón,” Maria murmured. “If you will permit...” Politely, but firmly Maria took Ramón’s place beside the bed.

“Perhaps we should undress her,” Estela said unhappily. “She would be more comfortable.”

“Loosen her clothing, by all means,” Ramón said, “but disturb her as little as possible until the doctor arrives.”

María nodded. “I will manage,” she said, and waited expectantly for them to leave the room while she performed this task. There seemed little reason not to comply for the moment.

On the far side of the bed, Anne was one of the last to leave the room. As she looked back she thought she saw Doña Isabel’s eyelids flutter, opening to a slit. A moment later Maria, her face impassive, stepped into Anne’s line of vision, interposing herself between the door and the figure in the bed.

They had still not been readmitted to the bedroom when the doctor arrived. His examination, conducted with only Maria present, was a lengthy one.

Emerging from the room at last, he turned to face the relatives and friends gathered in the hall. His face solemn, he gave a courteous nod of recognition to Anne and Estela, but it was to Ramón that he addressed his remarks.

“Your grandmother has had a traumatic shock combined with a fall, never a minor matter for one her age. As you know, her health has not been robust for some years, and I feel that the wisest course, at this time, is to ensure that she has complete bed rest plus total tranquility. She must not be disturbed or upset in any way. How seriously ill she is remains to be seen. For the present, I have given her a sedative which should allow her to sleep for some hours. When she awakens you may find a marked improvement, then again, you may not. I recommend a close watch upon her for the next, say, twenty-four hours, though with a minimum of visitors. There should be only one person with her at any given time. The most important thing is to see that she remains quiet.” A few more instructions, another nod, and the interview was over.

María could not be dissuaded from taking the first watch. Because of their children at home, Estela and Esteban could not stay, but Estela promised to sit with Doña Isabel during the afternoon if Ramón and Anne could manage until then.

Estela, distressed that she would not be able to contribute more to her grandmother’s care, suggested hiring a private nurse. Ramón vetoed the idea, at least until after the doctor’s stipulated twenty-four-hour period had passed. On that grave note they parted.

Ten