The Japanese Screen. Anne Mather

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

       CHAPTER THREE

      IN fact, Susannah did not get to speak to Fernando on the telephone. When she rang his hotel that afternoon, the receptionist politely informed her that Señor Cuevas was out and could she take a message. As Susannah could not be sure of being able to telephone at some other time she had to leave a message with the girl, but it was an unsatisfactory arrangement and she hoped it would reach him. She spent the evening chafing at the restriction she had placed on herself by deciding not to involve anyone else which prevented her from making any call from the Castana house.

      On Saturdays, Eduardo had lessons in the morning as usual, but in the afternoon if his father was at home he was taken out by his parents. It gave Susannah a couple of hours to go shopping or attend to her own personal affairs and this week she decided to wash her hair. It was thick and long and took some time to dry, but she used no hair-dryer, allowing it to dry naturally on a towel about her shoulders. Newly washed, it was smooth and silky and she decided that tonight she would leave it loose.

      It was not until Eduardo was in bed and she was changing in her room that she realized that no actual arrangement for meeting Fernando had been made. She decided to go to the end of the terrace as before and hoped that her employers would not notice that she appeared to be walking out in a long dress.

      It had taken her some time to decide what to wear. At first she had considered wearing trousers. She had several pairs of trousers that looked good when combined with a smock or a lurex tunic, but a feline desire to display a certain femininity forbade such casual attire. Instead she was wearing an amber-coloured caftan, edged with blue and green lurex braid, that dipped deeply to the cleft of her breasts in front and had wide sleeves that displayed her slender arms to advantage. She wore little make-up, adding only a green eye-shadow and a colourless lustre to her lips. Gold hoops swung out from the ashen fairness of her hair and she knew she was looking her best.

      As it was a cool evening, she wore a navy blue velvet cape over her dress as she hurried towards the corner just before eight o’clock. As before there was no sign of her escort, and she linked her arms under the cape praying that he had received her message and that he did intend meeting her.

      By ten past eight she was feeling chilled to the bone, and it wasn’t entirely due to the cold air about her. Where could he be? Should she go and find a telephone and ring his hotel? Perhaps he had not received her message after all. Perhaps he had left for Spain a day earlier than planned!

      The horror that this aroused in her frightened her a little. She was allowing things to get out of hand. Heavens, she had only been out with the man once. She could hardly count that visit to the zoo as an invitation to her. And never at any time had he given her reason to suppose that he found her more than ordinarily attractive.

      At twenty minutes past eight she gave up hope. He wasn’t coming and she hadn’t the courage to ring his hotel and find out why. She turned miserably and began walking slowly back along the terrace. Perhaps she would be able to slip indoors again without the Castanas knowing. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain why her evening had ended before it had even begun.

      She had taken only a few steps when a voice that she ought not to have been so overwhelmingly aware of shouted: ‘Susannah! Susannah! Por dios, I thought I would miss you!’

      She turned rather unsteadily. Fernando was leaping out of the gold Granada at the kerb, running towards her. She stood motionless, unable to show either delight or dismay at his sudden appearance, a choking emotion threatening to devastate her.

      ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he was saying, a smile in his voice. ‘Your London traffic is – how do you say it – el diablo, si? I have been stuck in a jam for the best part of forty minutes, and—’ He broke off, suddenly becoming aware of her quivering immobility. ‘Que? What is it? Susannah – what is wrong?’ He lifted her chin with his fingers looking down into her eyes penetratingly. ‘Dios! You are upset! I am a clumsy fool, am I not? But you knew I would come – surely you knew that!’

      Susannah couldn’t trust herself not to give her feelings away. She drew her chin away from his hand and made an indifferent little movement of her shoulders. ‘How am I supposed to know anything?’ she demanded unsteadily.

      His dark brows drew together in a frown. ‘But of course you knew. Why else would I have issued the invitation?’ He reached for her impatiently, his fingers closing over the fine bones of her shoulders, his rings digging into her flesh, giving her a little shake. ‘Do you not know how frustrated I felt, sitting in the car, unable to contact you?’

      He was close, too close. His body was only inches away from hers. His warm breath was fanning her forehead. Had her hands not been trapped within the enveloping folds of her cape she felt sure she would not have been able to prevent herself from reaching out and touching him. Instead, she looked up into his face. There was concern in the fine darkness of his eyes with their fringing of thick black lashes, concern and something else, something that caused a sudden breathlessness, a sudden inexplicable weakness in her legs.

      ‘Sagrada Maria, Susannah!’ he muttered huskily, ‘do not look at me like that! Do not make me do something we would both regret!’

      Her face flamed and she would have pulled away from him, but he shook his head a trifle grimly and with a kind of rough determination propelled her towards the car. Once inside, she averted her head and he got in beside her without a word, driving away from the quiet terrace with his usual expertise.

      As they turned into the main stream of traffic he spoke again. He had evidently got himself well under control, and his voice was cool as he said: ‘I suggest we dine at my hotel. It’s a little late to be leaving London, do you not think so?’

      Susannah made no response and he took her silence to mean acquiescence. They drove through the busy streets thronged with theatre-goers, down Shaftesbury Avenue and into the Strand. Susannah had never been into the Savoy before, and she was glad now that she had chosen to wear a long dress. Fernando for his part seemed totally unimpressed by his surroundings, but in his expensively-cut charcoal lounge suit, a dark red shirt and tie giving him a somewhat alien air, he slotted effortlessly into this background.

      He left her for a moment in the reception hall to speak to a man who looked like a manager of some sort. When he came back he put his hand beneath her elbow and led her towards the lift. She looked at him with startled eyes and his expression relaxed a little.

      ‘I thought we might dine in my suite, Susannah,’ he explained quietly. ‘Do you have any objections?’

      Susannah sought about in her mind for a suitable reply. She felt sure that in Spain he would never dream of taking a woman to dine in his suite, but she didn’t know how to make the protest.

      ‘Is – is there something wrong with dining in the restaurant?’ she inquired unevenly.

      ‘No.’ Fernando halted, looking down at her. ‘Would you prefer that?’

      Susannah pressed her lips together rather unhappily. If she was honest she would admit that she would not prefer that at all. But what respect could he have for a woman who would agree to dine in his suite?

      Now, she licked her lips and said: ‘If you would – rather not be seen with me—’

      She had never seen anyone look so angry. Without a word, he turned and walked back across the reception area, leaving her again while he spoke to the man СКАЧАТЬ