A Woman Named Coral. Jane Huxley

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      THREE

      A Not so Pleasant Outing

      April was Coral’s favourite month. Though the hot Peruvian summer was over, the air was still warm, and the beauty of the trees, the hills and the sea seemed to keep body and soul in tune with one another. In April, she thought, you pretend to do as you’re told, while doing exactly as you like.

      What she liked was to ride up the steep hills, through the plains and around the plantation, faster and faster, on the magnificent horse her husband had given her as a gift.

      “There is no other horse like you, Monsieur Brown,” she shouted to him, as he jumped over a fence and bolted straight towards the pine trees he knew would lead to the creek.

      That was when they heard the shots.

      Monsieur Brown gave a frightened neigh and raised himself on his hind legs so violently Coral would have been thrown off had she not been such an expert rider.

      “Whoa,” she said. “Whoa, Monsieur Brown. Nothing to be frightened about.”

      She slipped off the horse and tied him to a tree. “You stay here,” she said. “I’m going to find out what’s going on.”

      She saw Silvio watching her as she approached. He addressed her in a tone of apology. “Didn’t frighten you, did I?”

      “Of course not,” Coral said. “Just wondered who was shooting and why.”

      He put down his rifle and looked at her with a grin. “The most beautiful woman in Perú,” he said. “And she happens to be my father’s wife.”

      The trees were utterly still. No breeze fluttered the leaves on their long branches. After a moment he addressed her again.

      “Beautiful,” he repeated, staring at the thick blond hair she had braided behind her back; her eyes, blue as a midnight sky; her sensuous lips.

      “You have a very attractive wife, Silvio,” she told him.

      “Do I?”

      “Not only attractive but seven months pregnant with your first child.”

      “So what?”

      “Is that all you have to say?”

      “That’s not all. I want to know about you.”

      “Me?”

      “Don’t you ever crave a strong naked male between your thighs?”

      Coral moved away stiffly. Within Silvio’s tight khaki pants, she could see the bulk of his erection, sheathed in dust-coloured cloth.

      “I ought to be getting back,” she said.

      “Don’t be in such a hurry. You just got here.”

      “I’m off,” she told him, and walked away.

      “Coral, wait!” he yelled.

      But she was already running away. The thought of their conversation was not only distasteful but threatening. It warned her what his intentions were and how far he might go to fulfill them.

      She untied the horse and mounted with impatience. “Let’s go, Monsieur Brown,” she said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

      As they rushed through the plains, she caught sight of a woman kneeling behind a clump of trees, half-hidden by the tall grasses.

      “Whoa, Monsieur Brown,” she yelled. “I think I know who that is.”

      She dropped down to the ground and ran towards the woman.

      “Josefa,” she shouted. “Is that you?”

      It was indeed Josefa, her maid, who had served her breakfast a few hours earlier. What had happened between then and now that caused Josefa to kneel on the grass and shiver convulsively, her arms covering her head.

      “Josefa,” she cried. “What on earth is the matter?”

      As she knelt beside her, she saw a pair of knitting needles and a lot of blood and blood clots on the ground.

      “What is it?” Coral cried. “What has happened to you?”

      “It’s over,” Josefa said. “I had to do what I did, and now it’s over.”

      Coral understood. She took the maid СКАЧАТЬ