‘Señorita, you don’t like the food I prepare for you?’
Gemma swung round and looked down at the hurt expression in Maria’s eyes as she stood in the hallway. For a few seconds she was dazed by the statement and then she understood.
‘No, Maria, it wasn’t that. I’m just too hot and tired to eat at the moment. I’m sorry you went to the trouble.’
She wished she’d eaten, not for her own sake but Maria’s. It was mid-afternoon and probably the custom here, as in most hot countries, to take siesta. Maria had gone out of her way to prepare food for her when she should have been resting.
‘It’s no trouble. You eat with Felipe later, si?’
‘No!’ Her retort came too quickly and Maria frowned. Gemma smiled and softened her voice. ‘I want to rest and…and…’ And what? She needed space and time to think, that was what. Somehow she had to get out of this hateful predicament.
‘Si, I understand,’ grinned Maria. ‘Later I bring you food.’ She ambled away into the shadowy depths of a corridor. Relieved, Gemma ran up the rest of the stairs to her room.
She stripped off her clothes, showered, wrapped herself in a towel and slumped on the bed. Her head ached miserably from the heated exchange between her and Felipe. He’d said it all in that brief but painful altercation. This was a Gemma Soames he knew nothing about. But was it any wonder? Once she had been happy and carefree, but lately she had been morose and bitter, and it was all his fault.
How very little they did know of each other. They were familiar with each other’s bodies but that was all. She would never have believed him capable of such cruelty. The very idea of him bringing her here to make her suffer was quite astonishing. He believed she had rejected him, his Hispanic descent had taken that as a personal humiliation and now he was determined to humiliate her in return.
Gemma buried her face in the cool lace bedspread. She felt sick and weary and wished with all her heart she had listened to her mother and not taken this assignment.
When she finally raised herself out of a deep sleep it was dark. Amber candle lights glowed softly in wrought-iron fixtures on the wall. The fan above the bed whirred softly. For a second Gemma wasn’t sure where she was and then it all folded over her, a black cloud of depression.
She got up, splashed her face with water, and found her white satin robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, freshly ironed.
She slid into it and found that Maria had unpacked for her, ironed all her clothes and put them away.
‘You are awake,’ Maria said as she stepped softly into the room. ‘Felipe would like you to go down for dinner but he said not to worry if you have the lag jet.’
Such thoughtfulness from Felipe would have gone unnoticed before, but now it throbbed with suspicion. But maybe he’d had time to think how unreasonable he had been.
‘I feel a little better, Maria, but not enough to dress and go down for dinner. Is Se?or de Navas back yet?’
‘No, not for a few days yet,’ Maria told her, straightening the bedspread.
Pity, thought Gemma, she would have made the effort for him, her father. The thought didn’t excite her any more, just speared regret through her. She shouldn’t have come.
So she had a few days to kill before he came back. Under any other circumstances she would have welcomed the wait. It would give her the chance to fully recover from her ‘lag jet’ and emotionally prepare her for coming face to face with her real father. Now, with Felipe around to torment her, the waiting could be doubly insufferable. Depression washed over her in a fresh wave of despair.
‘Señorita…’ Maria started, but suddenly she became tongue-tied and a slight flush rose to her cheeks.
‘Please call me Gemma,’ Gemma said, trying to put her at her ease.
Maria smiled, ‘Gemma,’ she repeated, having difficulty with the soft G, and it came out as if she had something stuck in the back of her throat. ‘Felipe, he tell me why you are here…’
Gemma froze, her hand suspended over her head as she was brushing her hair. Surely he hadn’t confided in the housekeeper, told her they had been lovers and the reason he had engineered this commission?
‘Is my daughter, Christina. She love the Americano and he one day go back home and maybe he take my daughter with him…she is all I have. Maybe…you have time to do a…to do a small picture…’ Suddenly she shook her head. ‘No, I should not ask…’
Gemma grinned, half with relief, half with pleasure. ‘Oh, Maria, you want me to paint your daughter?’
Maria shook her head again, twisted her hands in front of her. ‘I should not ask…’
‘I’d love to do it,’ Gemma laughed with relief. It was a marvellous idea. It would keep her occupied and soothe her ravaged thoughts and how could she refuse such a heart-rending request?
‘I pay,’ Maria smiled, relief flooding her motherly features.
‘You won’t!’ Gemma protested. ‘It will be a gift from me to you. It will be a pleasure to do it,’ she told the woman, lightly squeezing her arm to prove she meant it.
Flushed with pleasure Maria turned away and stopped at the door. ‘I bring you food. You must eat and I tell Christina. She will be much excited.’
Gemma finished brushing her hair and wished she could brush away the depression with it. Well, at least, that was one problem solved—what to do with herself while she waited for Agustªn de Navas. Would Felipe mind? She presumed that Maria’s daughter also worked here but there was no reason why the girl couldn’t sit for her in her spare time. But what had it to do with Felipe anyway—this was Agustªn’s home, wasn’t it? But Felipe lived here and Maria addressed him as if he was the head of the household in Agustªn’s absence.
She frowned in bewilderment as she lay her brush down on the dressing table. Why did Felipe live here anyway? True, only some of the time, but he was here now, none the less. She knew he had something to do with finance in the oil-field sector. Was he an adviser to her father…to Agustªn? The remoteness of the sprawling hacienda would warrant a long stay if Agustªn operated his empire from home. But that was only a presumption. The truth she longed to know but would it make any difference to the terrible predicament she found herself in?
The blackness outside her bedroom window gave no answers as she stared bleakly out, holding back the drapes with one hand. Strange how life twisted and turned, forever catching you unawares. She had come out here with trepidation in her heart at the thought of coming face to face with the man who was her father. Now that trepidation was for another man, her one-time lover, Felipe Santos. The fear of what he had in mind for her now outweighed the apprehension she felt at meeting Agustªn de Navas.
‘I’m sorry you don’t feel well enough to join me downstairs for dinner. The mountain comes to Mahomet, as you probably intended.’
His voice was raw with sarcasm and Gemma swung to face him.
‘That wasn’t the intention.’ She scowled as he put a tray of food down on one of the sideboards. ‘I’m not playing games as you suppose. I could hardly anticipate your doing such a menial task as bringing my dinner up, could I?’
‘Nothing surprises me about you. You’re sharp enough to realise that I would be annoyed by your stubbornness and not let it pass.’
‘I was under the impression I had a choice—to join you downstairs or to eat in my room,’ Gemma retorted. ‘In