Innocent Invader. Anne Mather

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      As she closed the door, she found herself in a book-lined room, panelled in dark wood, with a restfully coloured tawny carpet on the floor and heavy drapes of a beige colour at the long windows. Set square in the centre of the room was a heavy ebony desk with a black leather armchair behind it. In front of the desk were placed a couple of easy chairs, also in black leather; and several filing cabinets and a telephone indicated that this was a room where work was done and not merely a den. The desk was littered with papers, and a typewriter stood on a side table beside a comprehensive array of bottles containing various wines and spirits.

      A man was standing by the open French doors, his back to her, and although he was tall and dark, Sarah thought for a moment she had been mistaken in thinking that it was Jason de Cordova. But as he turned to face her, and her eyes were drawn irresistibly to the blatant scar on his cheek, she saw indeed that it was her employer. But this man looked nothing like the Jason of yesterday. He was casually but immaculately dressed in a suit of light fawn silk, and his cream shirt contrasted favourably with the tan of his skin. A dark red tie was slotted about his neck, and he looked thoroughly businesslike this morning. His rather sinister attraction was enhanced by his appearance, and Sarah felt as though she was staring quite helplessly at him. Gone was the friendly stranger of yesterday, and in his place was a man who frightened her a little by his detached manner.

      “Ah, Miss Winter,” he said, moving to the desk. “Won't you sit down, please?”

      Sarah subsided on to an armchair, feeling her earlier fears materialising again. She had thought her success with the children this morning had removed all her tension, but back it came flooding over her at the sight of this man, so cool and aloof.

      “I … er … I'm sorry I feel asleep last evening,” she ventured awkwardly. “I understand you wanted to speak to me.”

      “This morning is just as convenient,” he replied easily. “Have you met the children again?”

      Sarah had to smile. “Indeed I have,” she said impulsively. “Several times.”

      “I see. And what do you think? Can you handle them?”

      “I'm sure I can,” she said, without conceit. “I think they're lonely, that's all.”

      Jason studied her a moment and then said: “Lonely? I should never have believed it. What makes you say that?”

      “Lots of things!” She sighed. “Perhaps I'll be able to explain better when I've had more time with them. Eloise is going to be the most difficult, but I'm confident that given time I'll be able to change her.”

      Jason looked a little amused now. “And you've discovered all these things in twenty-four hours,” he said, with some sarcasm.

      “Yes.” Sarah looked down at her hands and studied the ovals of her finger nails, not wanting to look at his face, too conscious of her own vulnerability. She had never been able to hide her feelings and she did not want to see the mockery in his eyes and feel the nervous tension that it would bring.

      As though aware of her feelings, Jason said: “Would you like a cigarette?”

      Sarah looked up. It was on the tip of her tongue to explain that she did not smoke, but then she decided against it. Why not, after all? Perhaps a cigarette would rid her of some of this nervousness.

      “Thank you,” she said, and accepted one from the box he held out to her.

      He lit hers and one for himself from a gold table lighter and with some trepidation Sarah drew on the cigarette. It did not make her cough as she had been half afraid it would, but instead the room swam round dizzily. Pressing a startled hand to her throat, she sat up straight, and prayed for the feeling to pass. She had heard from other girls that a first cigarette sometimes caused this kind of reaction, but she had not believed them.

      Jason looked at her strangely. “Are you all right?”

      The room steadied, and Sarah managed a half-smile. “Of course. What suggestions have you regarding the children's lessons, señor?”

      Jason seated himself behind his desk, leaning back in his chair looking at her, and with great daring, she thought, she drew again on the cigarette.

      “You were not surprised to learn that Serena was not wholly Spanish, then,” Jason was saying, as the room swam even more giddily, and Sarah gripped the arm of her chair painfully, feeling the colour receding from her face. Leaning forward, she managed to hit the ashtray on the desk with the cigarette, and then she lay back weakly, fighting for composure. She was aware that Jason had risen from his seat and crossed to the tray of drinks on the side table. He returned with a glass full of amber liquid, and putting it in to her hand, he said quietly: “Drink this and you'll feel better”

      Gratefully, Sarah did as he asked, and immediately she felt the room begin to steady and her head stopped spinning.

      “Now,” he said, on his haunches beside her, “what's wrong?”

      His nearness disconcerted her There was in his eyes the kind of understanding that was quite overwhelming, and she had the feeling that he was again the man she had met on the quay the previous day. At close quarters the scar was an ugly sight, and as though conscious of her scrutiny, he ran his finger lightly along its length. He rose to his feet, and said: “I'm sorry if this upsets you. I suggest you try to ignore it.” His voice was cool again.

      Sarah rose too. Even as tall as she was, he was much taller, but she felt at less of a disadvantage standing. “It doesn't upset me,” he said, looking at him candidly. “It fascinates me!” Then she flushed as she realised what her impulsive tongue had said now, but was relieved when he did not appear to consider her remark personal.

      “So,” he said, looking down at her. “You will now tell me what was wrong with you.”

      Sarah sighed. “I'm not used to smoking. I'm afraid it was the cigarette; it made me dizzy.”

      Jason smiled. “Was that all?” he asked, amused.

      “Yes, why? Did you think you had an ailing governess on your hands?” Sarah laughed, albeit a little nervously.

      Jason shook his head. “You look very well to me,” he remarked, his eyes surveying her thoroughly, making her acutely conscious of the shortness of her skirt.

      Sarah subsided again, clasping her hands together. “Sh – shall we discuss the timetable as we were going to do before I acted so foolishly?”

      Jason shrugged, and moved back round the desk. “You tell me what you suggest,” he said slowly, “and I'll tell you what I think.”

      For several minutes they discussed the children. Jason told Sarah that he had had a room cleared on the first floor and three desks installed for the children and one for herself. He had also provided exercise books and textbooks and plenty of paper and pencils.

      “If there's anything else you require, you just have to ask,” he continued. “At what time of the day do you intend to work? Mornings, I think, would be the most convenient. The afternoons could then be your own until tea time, and of course after the children are in bed in the evenings, you're free to do as you wish.”

      “Thank you.” Sarah bit her lip. “Señor! Would it be all right if the children and I rode sometimes?”

      Jason СКАЧАТЬ