At the Villa Massina Read Online Free Page B

is one of them whom you will have to marry.”
    It must have been Juliet’s preoccupation with the square chunk in her pocket that caused the lapse, but she had no sooner spoken than she heartily wished she hadn’t. The man froze. In the darkness she could see the lift of his chin, the pull of thin nostrils, the tautening of his jaw. Without moving, he drew away and placed a steel wall between them. Yet when he answered his tones were still calm and contemplative.
    “That is very true, senorita. Before you leave us you will learn that Spanish women are not only beautiful—they also make devoted wives.” He moved slightly towards the car. “You know that I telegraphed to Senor Colmeiro of your arrival?”
    “Yes, thank you very much.”
    “Tell me,” he said, “would you call it a good marriage—this one between your cousin and a Spaniard?”
    An hour ago Juliet would have replied swiftly and sincerely. Now she spoke cautiously. “I think so, senor.”
    “But you are not quite certain?”
    “What exactly are you asking—whether I think a mixed marriage can be successful?”
    “No, you are not competent to judge that. I was merely curious, but it has no importance.” Faintly, his heels clicked as he bowed. “Please remember that I am at your service, Miss Darrell. Goodnight.”
    She murmured an answer, and because he seemed to expect it of her she turned back towards the house. On the path she slowed, and when his car had purred away she went back to the gate, and quickly out on to the road. She remembered that they had approached the villa from the left and she took that direction, hurrying over the grass verge and taking the first down-hill turning to the right. Without thinking very much she went straight down into the town and along a narrow street into the main plaza. To an old woman who sat benignly in her doorway, Juliet said the one word she had learned from the stamps, “Correo?” She was answered volubly; no doubt the woman was informing her that the post office would be closed, but she waved blandly towards the other side of the plaza, and it was there that Juliet found a post-box. The packet disappeared into the opening.
    By the time she had climbed the steep road back to the villa she was sleepy. It had been a long day and too much had happened. She wanted to go to bed and awaken to a brilliant new day, preferably one without any complications. But she didn’t sleep too well that night. She started off by thinking only of the children and the games and sunshine they would all enjoy together, but somehow the thoughts lost direction, and an incalculable Norma came into them with the good-humoured, paternal Ruy in the background.
    And then, unaccountably, she saw the tightening of an arrogant jaw, felt the frigid, unshakable charm of Ramiro Fernandez de Velasco y Cuevora, Conde de Vallos. Really, it was too much. She didn’t know why, but she found herself thanking heaven she had a solid English head on her shoulders!

 
    CHAPTER TWO
    THINGS were different next morning, of course. Birds trilled sweetly among the trees, there were more flowers in more colors than ever, and there was a breeze which ruffled ever so slightly the blue calm of the sea. They met Anna-Maria, a sparkling-eyed fifteen-year-old, whose father sold fruit and vegetables in a shop on the waterfront, and were promised early raspberries for the weekend. They watched the blue-painted boats slide past the jetty on their way out to the fishing grounds, and paused for orange juice under one of the gay umbrellas outside a cafe.
    Today, Juliet did not encourage the children to walk far. After the tour of the village she took them round to the less frequented beach and found shade for them at the edge of the pines. They played, Tony bathed and Rina paddled, and then it was lunch and siesta time.
    During the afternoon Juliet wrote to Aunt May and pondered how to word an epistle to Norma. It was difficult to write at all to her cousin,