Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous

collection of fantastic novels by

bestselling, much loved author

ANNE MATHER

Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the

publishing industry, having written over one hundred

and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than

forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.

This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance

for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful,

passionate writing has given.

We are sure you will love them all!

I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.

I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.

These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.

We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is mystic-am@msn.com and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.

Lord of Zaracus
Anne Mather

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

SINCE leaving the main highway, seventy-five miles south-west of Veracruz, the road had deteriorated into a series of ruts and pot-holes, thickly covered with fine dust, that was swept up by the passage of the Land-Rover and almost choked its occupants. Carolyn, who had had such high hopes when she left London two days ago, felt as though any minute she might be shaken out on to the roadside, and she held on desperately, trying not to look as uncomfortable as she felt. Hot and sticky, her clothes clinging to her, she felt much different from the smoothly elegant young female who had boarded the Boeing in London, and she wondered, not for the first time, whether she had made a terrible mistake in coming. But then she remembered how delighted her father had been that she should be taking an interest in his archaeological explorations, and banished the traitorous thought. After all, life in England was becoming very boring, and Alaistair Kendrew’s attentions were beginning to annoy her.

She wiped her hands on a paper tissue and the driver of the Land-Rover glanced her way sympathetically.

‘Not far now,’ he remarked, raising her spirits a little.

Carolyn sighed. ‘Thank goodness!’ Then she smiled, and the bluff good-natured Scot, Anderson, felt the usual twinges of admiration that Carolyn’s appearance always aroused in him. He wondered whether her presence at the dig would cause more problems than even Professor Madison imagined.

‘How is my father?’ she asked now, trying to forget the soreness of her rear end.

‘Oh, Maddie’s okay.’ Professor Madison was known to all his closest associates as ‘Maddie’. ‘Naturally he’s looking forward to your visit. I think he’s afraid that you might find things rather different from your imaginings, though.’ Bill Anderson swung the wheel, narrowly avoiding a solitary cyclist as the tyres screamed round the rim of a small crater. He grinned at Carolyn’s expression. ‘Don’t be alarmed. I haven’t killed anybody yet.’

Carolyn fanned herself with her handkerchief and gave her attention to the lushness of the vegetation as the Land-Rover began the descent down a small gorge into a huge valley, bright with flame trees and other exotic plants. Running below them, along the floor of the valley, a narrow river surged coolly, and Carolyn longed to be able to soak her handkerchief in its icy depths. There seemed an abundance of trees and foliage, and the heat was quite different from the kind of temperate climate she had expected.

‘What is the name of this place?’ she asked, brushing back her long straight hair with a careless hand. Thick and silky, and the colour of honey, it caught Anderson’s eye, and he felt the faint stirrings of attraction again.

‘Oh—Zaracus,’ he answered, gathering his thoughts with some difficulty. ‘The valley belongs to Don Carlos Fernandez Monterra d’Alvarez. He has a coffee plantation, but of course a manager attends to the estate. He spends much of his time elsewhere.’

‘I see. And this find my father is excavating—it is in the valley, also?’

‘That’s right. Your father was interested in the reports made by a man called Guivas who spent many months here two years ago, investigating the possible whereabouts of another Zapotec city. As you may know, this country was overrun with various civilizations before the Spaniards came, and different parts bear witness to different civilisations, religions, cultures; you know the sort of thing. We even went so far as to visit Yucatan where the Mayan ruins were found not long ago. It’s quite fantastic really, seeing these pure white pyramids rising out of the stea***ming jungles of Yucatan. It’s all there, cities with temples and pyramids and tombs.’

Carolyn’s eyes twinkled. ‘You’re really hooked on this kind of thing, aren’t you, Bill?’

Anderson grinned. ‘I guess I am. But if you’d been there, in that massive pyramid, and seen the throne of the Mayans, built to look like a jaguar, painted red and studded with jade, and knew for a fact that it was at least fourteen or fifteen hundred years old, you’d have been impressed, just as we were. That’s why I’m hooked. I want to know how they built their cities, why they made them in a certain way, these ancient Aztec tribes.’

Carolyn was interested in spite of herself. ‘Still,’ she said, ‘I didn’t realise Dad was so far south when I agreed to come out. I always imagined Mexico had a pretty temperate climate.’

‘So it has, in parts. Mexico City, for example, but it’s so high up you practically pant if you do anything remotely energetic.’

Carolyn chuckled. ‘At least we’re not short of oxygen here.’

The valley was opening out before her eyes now, and she could distinguish the regimented lines of the coffee-bean plantation, and banana trees. The closely packed trees and foliage looked as though one might be able to walk on them looking down from this height, while the small villages set higher up from the valley floor were merely brown roofs visible among the trees. The colours and scents were an assault on the senses, while the sky above was a brilliant blue as the sun sank a little lower as the day wore on. Now and then they came upon a couple of Mexicans driving small herds of cattle indiscriminately along the highway, for all the world as though they owned that particular stretch of road. Carolyn lit a cigarette, and thought that she was flattering the mud stretch by calling it a highway, or a road.

Her royal blue crimplene slack suit, which had looked so good in London, was beginning to feel like a second skin, and she wished she had thought to change into something cooler in Veracruz. She flicked out her compact and studied her reflection, taking a paper tissue and wiping the damp make-up from her face. Her complexion, already tanned after a holiday in the south of France, required little make-up, but she experimented with various face and skin creams, and in consequence felt awfully greasy. Her eyes, wide spaced and slightly slanted, were a remarkable shade of green, while her nose was small above a mouth that was generous in proportion. She knew she was very attractive, having experienced the usual compliments men made to girls they pursued, but she was completely without conceit and treated her looks as something she was fortunate enough to possess but not exactly responsible for.

Bill Anderson watched her surreptitiously, and Carolyn, aware of his scrutiny, put away the compact and concentrated again on the ever-changing scenery. It appeared an enormous valley, stretches of it out of sight of the road as it descended to floor level. Rocky promontories towered overhead, supporting cactus plants which stood out like sentinels against the sky-line. The pass they had negotiated seemed to be the only access to the valley, and Carolyn said:

‘Doesn’t this Don Carlos whatever his name is find travelling rather arduous from this isolated place?’

Anderson crossed a narrow wooden bridge across the river which had broadened at this point and then shrugged. ‘He doesn’t use the road very often,’ he said. ‘He has a helicopter, and uses that to reach Oaxaca. He’s a very go-ahead fellow, not at all what you’d expect to find in the heart of the Mexican bush.’

‘He must be,’ remarked Carolyn, sardonically. ‘What a pity he didn’t suggest loaning you his helicopter to collect me!’

‘He doesn’t know you are coming,’ replied Anderson, frowning. ‘Your father thought it best to spring it on him. He’s very—oh, I don’t know what you’d call him—maybe, feudal, is the right word. At any rate, I don’t think the idea of a woman joining a group of males on a dig, even if her father is in charge of the expedition, would appeal to him at all. Conditions are pretty primitive, when all’s said and done, and quite frankly I was amazed when Maddie said you were coming.’

Carolyn smiled. ‘As you know my father so well, Bill, it must be painfully apparent to you that there are times when my father can be quite blissfully unaware of his surroundings, and on these digs I think this situation occurs. Besides, it was my idea to come, not his, and, poor darling, I don’t think it would occur to him to refuse me.’

Bill Anderson thought there might be a lot of truth in that. Professor Madison spoiled his youngest daughter abominably. Her two older sisters, both in their teens when she was born, had always treated her in like manner, and as their mother had died soon after Carolyn’s birth, Carolyn had been brought up by a procession of nannies, all of whom had doted on her. In consequence, she might have become a little spoiled, but her nature was so charming, she found it incredibly easy to get her own way. Professor Madison seemed unable to deny her anything, and although Anderson thought he must know that Carolyn was only coming out to Mexico to find some new kind of thrill with which to relieve her boredom he still allowed her to come. Carolyn looked at him, seeing the conflicting emotions on his face, and said with acute perspicacity:

‘You’re thinking Dad ought to have put his foot down and made me stay at home, aren’t you?’

Bill’s ruddy face was scarlet. ‘It’s nothing to do with me,’ he mumbled, awkwardly.

‘Isn’t it? Perhaps not. Oh, Bill, you think I’ve only come for kicks, don’t you?’

‘Well, haven’t you?’

‘No. I wanted to be with Dad, really I did. If only he would let me take a job, do something useful, it would be different. As it is, I spend my days either lying in bed or at some party or race-track or casino. Heavens, I’m only twenty-two, and I don’t really know of anything I particularly can look forward to.’

Bill Anderson looked thoughtful. ‘I’m sorry, Carolyn,’ he said, his smile repentant. ‘But, please, when you get here, remember we’re in the heart of a country of mainly Spanish descent, where the conventions still matter.’

Carolyn slanted her eyes at him. ‘What you mean is: don’t go around in tight slacks and low-cut dresses, don’t you?’

Bill chuckled. ‘Yes, you’ve said it,’ he said.

‘Are they all terribly conservative?’

‘Terribly. At least Don Carlos is, so far as his women are concerned.’

Carolyn’s eyes widened. ‘His women!’ she echoed. ‘How many women does he have?’

Bill grinned. ‘Oh, nothing like that, love. Perish the thought. No, he has two sisters, and then of course there is his fiancée, Louisa Morelos.’

‘I see.’ Carolyn grimaced. ‘Well, don’t worry, William. I’ll be the soul of virtue!’

Bill couldn’t imagine Carolyn in that role, but he hid his doubts and said: ‘Well, we’re almost there. We turn off here, go through this belt of trees, and then you’ll see the encampment.’

Carolyn’s eyes twinkled. ‘Encampment! Heavens, we sound like gypsies.’

‘We are, in a way. At any rate, we sleep in tents, and cook in the open most days.’

Carolyn felt those awful twinges of apprehension. ‘Sounds primitive,’ she murmured, and thought longingly of a shower.

The belt of trees that Bill had mentioned seemed, to Carolyn, like a closely confined piece of jungle. The track, overhung with flowering shrubs and undergrowth, was practically non-existent in places where the rain had combined with the sultry heat to cultivate thick creepers that hid the track from view. She thought it would be a terrible place to lose oneself at night. Beneath the trees the air seemed more humid than ever, and she was glad when the bright sunlight ahead of them heralded the end of the forest.

They emerged into comparatively open country, and now Carolyn could see the moderately large encampment of tents, several jeeps parked alongside, while a delicious smell of cooking made her realise suddenly that she was hungry.

‘Home, sweet home,’ said Bill, with some satisfaction, and Carolyn said:

‘I hope there’s plenty of water. I’m dying to rinse this awful dust off me!’

Bill gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Well, there are showering facilities,’ he remarked, slowly. ‘But I think you might find it a little different from what you’re used to.’

Carolyn spread wide her hands, stretching. ‘The way I feel at the moment, I could strip off and dive into the stream,’ she exclaimed. ‘But it will be nice to see Dad again. And I won’t make too many complaints, I promise.’

Bill brought the Land-Rover bumping across the grassy stretch to where the encampment began. Now that they were closer, Carolyn could see a definite pattern in the layout of the site. Tents, obviously used for sleeping, were grouped at one side, while the cooking and kitchen departments were housed in open-sided marquee-type dwellings. Toilet facilities were not apparently visible, and Carolyn smiled to herself with some derision. Bill had certainly been right to warn her. But she was no defeatist, and she thrust her doubts aside, and as Bill sounded his horn loudly to herald their arrival, she smiled cheerfully, and slid out of the vehicle to greet her father, who came out of one of the tents at the far side of the site, carrying his spectacles, an eye-shield pushed up his forehead. A tall, broad man with greying hair, he looked dear and lovable, and Carolyn forgot all her misgivings and sped across the dusty grass to fling her arms round him exuberantly.

Bill looked on tolerantly, while several other members of the group emerged to find out what was going on. They looked at Carolyn with some indulgence; most of them knew her, and as the majority of the party were in their forties and fifties, the sight of a pretty girl after three months in the bush was a welcome sight.

Carolyn drew back from her father, and he smiled warmly. ‘Good to see you, my dear,’ he said, looking at her with evident satisfaction. ‘You are certainly a sight for sore eyes! Did you have a good journey?’

‘So-so! It was okay until we reached Veracruz. What a terrible road we had to negotiate to get here! I thought I was going to split in two!’

Professor Madison laughed. ‘Not you. You’re not made of glass. You know I had my doubts earlier today, knowing what conditions are like here, but I really think it might be the best thing I’ve ever done for you. After all, you’ve been coddled long enough. It’s time you learned a little about the other side of the coin. Besides, you may find it interesting.’ He glanced around. ‘You remember Donald, don’t you?’ he went on, nodding to the men who were approaching; ‘and Lester, and Tom Revie.’

Carolyn nodded, and greeted the other men. There were seven or eight more on the fringes of the group who she knew less well, but she expected she would soon be familiar with all of them. She wondered what she would do, how she would fill her days, and then decided she would not think ahead, but just take every day as it came.

One of the men produced a tray of coffee, and Carolyn sat in a canvas chair, drank the coffee, smoked a cigarette, and thought things might not be so bad after all.

Her father was really pleased to see her, and they had so much to say to one another. The pride with which he introduced her to all the members of his team banished all traitorous thoughts from her mind, and she determined to show him how easily she could adapt herself to her new surroundings. At least her experiences, whatever they might turn out to be, would provide her with endless topics of conversation when she eventually returned to London.

As it was getting quite late, the men had finished their work for the day, and were quite prepared to sit around, drinking beers and smoking, and joining in the general conversation. Really, thought Carolyn, were it not for the shortage of women, they might be a group of people anywhere indulging in pre-dinner chatter.

She looked curiously at the men. Of the younger ones, she liked Bill Anderson and David Laurence best. They were both in their late twenties and unmarried. Simon Dean was young too, but as he had a wife somewhere in the background Carolyn refused to take his advances seriously. She considered him weak and self-indulgent, and felt sorry for the unfortunate Mrs. Dean wherever she might be. The older men were easier to know and easier to get along with. Donald Graham and Tom Revie she had known for a long time, and usually accompanied the professor everywhere. Young and old alike they had something in common, she decided; a love of the outdoor life, discovering ancient relics, and brown, sunburnt complexions. Dressed in open-necked shirts and either cream denims or shorts, they looked cool and relaxed, and Carolyn wished she felt the same. That was the trouble with men, she thought, they didn’t seem to realise that what a woman wanted most after a journey like she had experienced was a cool shower, and a change of clothes.

Eventually, her father rose to his feet. ‘Well, time’s getting on,’ he said, ‘and I expect you’d like a shower and a change of clothes before dinner, wouldn’t you, Carolyn?’

Carolyn smiled. ‘I thought you’d never guess,’ she said.

The professor put an arm across her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry. But you’ve no idea how delightful it is, hearing news of England first hand. After all, the papers we get here are a week old before we read them.’

Carolyn rose also, and said: ‘Where am I to sleep, then?’

Professor Madison led her across the grassy stretch to where several tents were grouped. He lifted the flap of one and said: ‘This has been allotted to you, my dear, and I’m just next door. It looks spartan, but it’s quite comfortable really. These air-beds are remarkably comfortable.’

Carolyn stepped inside. As her father had said, it did look spartan, the bare earth partly covered by a cotton rug beside a low camp bed. Near by was a rough wood table, and a chair, and a polythene erection served as a wardrobe. Electricity was supplied from their own generator, her father explained, which was an extension of the one owned by Don Carlos, the owner of the valley.

‘I expect Bill told you about Don Carlos, didn’t he?’ went on the professor, smiling and nodding as two Mexicans came in carrying Carolyn’s cases and boxes.

‘He did mention him,’ agreed Carolyn, sitting on the bed to test it. ‘Sounds quite a character, by all accounts. Tell me,’ she stood up, rubbing the seat of her pants, ‘who supplies all this equipment?’

‘We do. Lord, Carolyn, how many cases have you brought? You must have paid out a fortune in excess baggage!’

Carolyn grimaced. ‘I did rather,’ she nodded. ‘But, darling, I couldn’t come all this way, into a climate like this, without having at least two changes of clothes for every day.’

‘Every day of the time you’ll be here, by the looks of things,’ remarked Professor Madison, dryly. ‘And what’s that? A record player?’

‘Of course. Heavens, I had to provide myself with some entertainment! Besides, it will be fun in the evenings, if we can dance or something—–’

‘Dance!’ Her father stared at her. ‘Now look here, Carolyn, let’s get one or two things straight first of all: to begin with, as you are the only woman in a camp of over twenty men, including the Indian helpers, of course, I want you to behave yourself. How on earth could you conduct a dance here, with every man on the site competing for your favours? No, Carolyn, that is definitely out. And another thing, I know you’re used to running wild back in London, but here, in Zaracus, things are very different, and I want you to act with some degree of decorum, and finally, I do not wish you to get involved in any way with any of the men on the site. No’—as Carolyn would have protested—‘nobody! Is that understood?’

Carolyn’s cheeks were red. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she exclaimed hotly. ‘Heavens, you’re acting as though I was the original Mata Hari, or something! I’ve never given you any reason to speak to me like that! I didn’t come here to disrupt the expedition, I came to see you, to be with you. Now you’re making me wish I’d never come!’

‘Oh, Carolyn, that was not my intention, although I must admit that when I saw you arriving I had some uncertainty as to the wiseness of such an intrusion. But you’re here now, and I want you to feel at home and get completely acclimatised before you meet Don Carlos. Bill may have told you that he does not know of your arrival. Needless to say, I expect a little antipathy on his part; after all, he is of Spanish descent, and they do not treat their women as equals. Certainly not as equals in an adventure of this kind. It is fortunate that he is away at the moment, which will give you the opportunity to settle in before he discovers your presence here.’

‘Oh heavens!’ Carolyn raised her dark eyebrows in exasperation. ‘What does it matter what he thinks? He’s not in charge of the expedition, you are! How can he dictate what you do?’

‘Carolyn, this is Mexico, not England, and this valley belongs to Don Carlos. In the eyes of the Mexicans, he is the lord of Zaracus, and as such, his word is law! We rely a great deal on his assistance; he supplies us with the very necessary help we need for much of the labouring involved in this dig. Should he refuse us the labour, or even order us to leave the valley, we should be sunk. Surely you can see the position I am in.’

‘Well, I think it all sounds positively feudal, like Bill said,’ retorted Carolyn, frowning. ‘But all right, Dad. We’ll play it your way. Just don’t expect too much all at once, will you?’

The professor laughed. ‘No, I won’t do that,’ he said. ‘Now come along, and I’ll show you where the shower is. It’s rather primitive, too, but no doubt it will serve the purpose.’

The shower was accommodated in a wooden shed, which Carolyn supposed was an improvement on the canvas tents. It comprised quite simply an overhead tank which was filled with rainwater, and sprayed an icy scattering of water when the catch was released. The professor laughed at Carolyn’s expression, and then left her to her ablutions.

Carolyn stripped off her clothes, thrusting them carelessly into the bag she had brought with her. She laid a huge orange bath towel and her clean change of clothes over two hooks which protruded from the wooden walls. She released the plug and almost screamed with shock as the icy water fell on to her overheated body. But after a few moments the spray became quite enjoyable, and she rinsed all the dust and perspiration from her skin with appreciation. After the exhausting day she had experienced it was wonderful to feel clean and cool again, and it was amazing how her doubts and anxieties fell away with the advent of this feeling of well-being. She was about to turn off the water when looking down she saw an enormous beetle crawling across the muddy floor at her feet.

Ordinarily, she would have behaved quite sensibly and stepped out of its way, but in her still overstimulated condition it seemed the last straw. Panic over-riding all her natural inhibitions she let out a sharp cry, and grabbed at the orange towel desperately. Winding it unceremoniously around her, she thrust open the door, almost falling out in her haste, and then found herself grasped roughly by a man who had narrowly avoided being hit by the carelessly opened door.

Carolyn struggled wildly, almost dislodging the indifferently fastened towel, as she looked up into the man’s face. There was no doubt that he was one of the Mexicans with his darkly tanned skin and dark eyes, and she did not care just then who he was. She wanted to be free, to get as far away from that revolting insect, if such a huge thing could be called an insect, as possible.

‘Let me go!’ she commanded, angrily. ‘Let me go!’

‘Calm yourself,’ said the man, coldly, but Carolyn did not notice that he had spoken in English.

‘I won’t calm myself,’ she exclaimed, furiously.

‘Excuse me!’ The sarcasm in the man’s voice was lost on Carolyn, as he stepped past her and secured the catch of the tank, thus preventing the remains of its contents from being lost. Carolyn had forgotten to turn it off in her haste. Then he looked back at her and Carolyn gathered the towel closer about her, as she became aware of the scarcity of her attire. Her damp hair was in disorder about her shoulders, and for the first time in her life she felt unable to cope with the situation. She realised she must appear very foolish and her anger overrode her common decency.

‘How you—you people can live in such appalling circumstances is beyond me!’ she exploded. ‘Like—like animals! Do you realise I could have been eaten alive by the bugs in that ghastly hell-hole!’

The man’s eyes grew colder if that was humanly possible, and for the first time Carolyn became aware of a kind of hauteur about him, and felt the first twinges of apprehension. The man was tall, much taller than most of the Mexicans she had seen since her arrival, with a lean, hard body. His features were lean also, and if not handsome he possessed a compellingly attractive countenance. His hair was thick and black as pitch, and grew rather low on his tanned neck. Dressed in a loose white shirt, and stained, cream cotton trousers who else could he be than one of the labourers?

Then, all at once, her father was there, with Donald Graham, looking hot and flustered, his expression one of annoyance when he looked at Carolyn.

‘Don Carlos,’ he was saying with some humility. ‘Whatever is going on here? Carolyn?’

Don Carlos! Carolyn’s stomach plunged. It couldn’t be true! This man, dressed like one of his own labourers, could not be the lord of Zaracus!

But he was, of course, and now Carolyn knew why her father was looking so angry. Hadn’t he only been telling her half an hour ago that their being in the valley relied on Don Carlos’s permission? But he had also said that Don Carlos was away so surely she could be forgiven for mistaking his identity. But even so, a small voice argued inside her, she had been rude, very rude, and there was no excuse for that, no matter who he was. After all, she was a visitor to his country, and as such ought to act with politeness. What had her father said? With some degree of decorum! That was it, well, she had failed, abysmally, and heaven knew what was going to happen now.

‘I’m afraid this—er—young lady seems to have encountered some difficulty while she was taking a shower,’ Don Carlos was saying, smoothly. ‘Unfortunately, I have not the knowledge of her name, or of the reason she is here.’ His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Professor Madison. ‘I gather you know the young lady.’

His accent was effortless, and Carolyn chided herself for not realising that he was no uneducated native from the bush.

Professor Madison’s face was bright red. ‘I’m sorry, Don Carlos, but I feel this is neither the time nor the place to introduce you to my daughter. Carolyn, I would suggest you find your clothes and go to your tent and put them on—at once!’

Carolyn immediately felt as though she had been reduced to about five years old, and it took the greatest amount of courage to open the shower door and retrieve her bag and stuff her clean clothes inside it. As she did so she saw the crushed bug on the floor. Obviously someone had placed their foot firmly on it, preventing any further intrusion on its part. And only one person could have had the chance to do that.

She straightened and emerged from the hut, passing the small group of men without a word, although she allowed herself one glance at Don Carlos. Her eyes met his dark enigmatic ones for one moment, and she felt a surge of fury. She was sure she could see a faint glimmer of sardonic amusement in their depths, and gathering up the ends of the orange towel she made as distinguished an exit as she could.

CHAPTER TWO

CAROLYN was dressed in a slim-fitting pale blue shift of tricel velvet, her hair combed smooth and caught up in a knot on top of her head when her father finally came to find her. He entered her tent looking dark-browed and angry, and Carolyn felt all her earlier trepidation materialise again.

‘All right, all right,’ she said, lighting a cigarette before he could say anything. ‘I’m sorry if I upset your Señ d’Alvarez, or whatever his name is!’

Professor Madison’s mouth was hard. ‘And I suppose you think that is all that is necessary,’ he said, with contempt. ‘My dear Carolyn, you simply can’t go around in this country acting so carelessly! I heard what you said—that the Mexicans lived like savages—and quite frankly it appalled me. If you felt like this, why on earth did you come?’

Carolyn lifted her slim shoulders helplessly. ‘Oh, honestly, Dad, it wasn’t like that at all. Surely, you don’t imagine I walked out of the shower and attacked the man!’

‘Well, what did happen?’

‘Didn’t Don Carlos enlighten you?’ Her tone was sarcastic.

‘Some. Obviously, as a gentleman he forbore to quote me all the distasteful details.’

‘Obviously.’

‘So go on. What did happen?’

Carolyn sighed, and drew on her cigarette deeply. ‘Well, I was having a shower, as you know, when this enormous—beetle, I suppose you would call it, came crawling across the floor like some monstrous reincarnation of a cockroach. Naturally, I was startled, to put it mildly. I think I just grabbed the towel, and dashed out, and of course, this man—Don Carlos—was outside. Well, I practically fell into his arms, and I guess I just vent my fear and anger on him.’ She flushed. ‘I didn’t even mean what I said. I just wanted to lash out at somebody, and he—was there,’ she finished lamely.

‘I see.’ Her father drew out his pipe. ‘And I suppose you realise that by—lashing out, as you put it, you jeopardised the security of all of us here!’

‘I wasn’t to know he was who he turned out to be,’ protested Carolyn. ‘Good lord, you had told me he was away. Besides, he doesn’t dress like a—like an overlord, or anything. He—he looked like one of the Mexicans I’ve seen helping around the camp.’

‘Don Carlos Fernandez Monterra d’Alvarez doesn’t have to look like anything; he just is! As you get to know him better—or perhaps I should say, if you get to know him better, you will realise that he emanates authority, with every gesture, every movement he makes. Besides, he is well liked by everyone, and in short, treats his workers with real consideration. That is why it is insufferable that you should treat him so abominably. Can’t you see that by treating him like that, no matter who you thought he was, you have insulted him, his authority, if you like. He would not care for you to speak to his lowliest peasant as you spoke to him!’

‘Oh, Dad!’ Carolyn studied the glowing tip of her cigarette. It was getting dark in the tent, and the professor leaned across to switch on the table lamp by the bed.

Her father chewed his pipe reflectively, and looked at Carolyn intently. ‘I—I may have to ask you to return to England,’ he began.

She swung round. ‘You may what!’

‘I’m sure you heard every word I said, Carolyn.’

‘But why? Dad, honestly, isn’t this getting a bit ridiculous? I mean, all right, I was rude, but heavens, the conditions are primitive. All right, I shouldn’t have said what I did, and if it makes you any happier, I’ll apologise to your Don Carlos—–’

‘That you most certainly will do, whatever happens,’ ground out her father. ‘It appears to me, Carolyn, that the freedom and lack of authority you have experienced in London have changed you from a decent, thoughtful child, into a sharp-tongued young woman, without much thought for anyone but herself.’

‘Dad!’ Carolyn sounded hurt.

‘Well, it’s true, Carolyn. I suppose I have been rather careless in my duties as your father, but I always thought you were well-cared for. I do not care for too much of this modern idea of plain speaking.’

Carolyn stubbed out her cigarette. ‘I think it’s all been taken far too seriously. I was tired and frightened. I should think anyone in my position, any woman that is, would have done the same.’

‘That is a matter of opinion. Certainly, no one in Don Carlos’s sphere would have accused him of being an animal!’

‘Oh, for goodness sake! What do you want me to say? Where is the man, and I’ll apologise?’

‘He’s gone back to his home.’

‘Why did he come, anyway?’

‘To let me know he had returned. He has been in Acapulco for the last three weeks, and only returned this morning. It is unfortunate he had to be apprised of your arrival in such a manner. As it is, I have yet to explain that I agreed for you to come. I knew your presence here would not please him. After all, it is true, digs of this kind are not suitable places for young women alone. Usually, if any women are taken along, there are at least two or three of them in the party. I really feel I have made a mistake, Carolyn.’

Carolyn’s eyes widened. ‘You’re not going to make me go back?’ She clasped her hands. ‘Oh, please, don’t do that! At least, give me a chance to show that I am as capable as anyone else of adapting myself to my surroundings. It’s all been a storm in a tea-cup, so couldn’t we forget it?’ Her eyes were appealing.

Professor Madison shrugged his heavy shoulders, and studied his pipe thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know, Carolyn,’ he began, slowly. ‘If Don Carlos comes tomorrow and I have to tell him that you’re staying for an indefinite period, I feel I may find myself on rather uncertain ground.’

‘Don’t tell him how long I am staying. Say I was in Mexico on holiday, and decided to look you up.’

‘And you think he would believe that?’

Carolyn shrugged, but remembering Don Carlos’s dark, enigmatic eyes, she doubted it. She had the uncomfortable feeling that he would be perfectly capable of seeing through any artifice she might adopt.

‘Well, what are you going to tell him then? Am I staying? Or are you going to make me go back to that terrible modern life in London?’ She used the word deliberately, and Professor Madison sighed.

‘I don’t want to send you back,’ he agreed, thoughtfully. ‘I was glad to see you were showing a little spunk and initiative by coming here. After all, it is far removed from the life you have always known. But if you stay, you will have to find something useful to do, and something less decorative to wear.’ He surveyed her thoroughly. ‘That dress would be suitable for the cocktail bar at the Savoy, not the Mexican bush. Haven’t you brought any sensible clothes?’

‘I don’t have any sensible clothes,’ said Carolyn, a trifle moodily. ‘Honestly, what are these men? Sex maniacs, or something?’

The professor laughed at last, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘All right, Carolyn. All right. You can stay, at least for the time being. But any more exhibitions like this one, and you will have no second chances, is this understood?’

‘Yes, Dad.’

‘Good. Then I think we can join the others for dinner. We do have a very good cook, and the food is not unacceptable. Plain stuff, mostly, with plenty of soups and stews and so on, but it’s usually very tasty, and after a day at the dig, anything tastes good.’

‘Some recommendation,’ remarked Carolyn, a little dryly, as she followed him to the table.

Set out in the open, a trestle table was set about with wooden seats, and Carolyn was seated with her father on one side of her, and David Laurence on the other. David had not had much chance to speak to her before this, and smiled as she sat down, and said, in an undertone:

‘I hear you’ve had a spot of bother!’

Carolyn stifled her giggle. ‘I expect the whole camp has heard,’ she murmured. ‘But seriously, though, what a fuss! Just over losing my temper!’

‘Still, Maddie says you’re staying.’

‘I’m on probation,’ said Carolyn, wrinkling her nose. ‘What is this?’ as a kind of soup was placed in front of her by a beaming Mexican in a white overall.

‘It’s delicious,’ said David. ‘Soup with noodles and vegetables. A Mexican speciality.’

Carolyn tasted it tentatively, and found he was right. It was delicious, and she ate hers with some relish. It seemed hours since lunch at the airport in Veracruz. The dessert was a kind of paste, made of fruit and sugar, and hardened in the sun, called ate. It was a little sweet for her liking, but she managed it, and afterwards there was more delicious coffee.

The evening was warm, and sweet-scented, and after the heat of the day was very refreshing. Carolyn lay back in her chair, and smoked a cigarette, listening to the men talking about the day at the dig.

‘Where are you digging?’ she asked David, as they rose from the table and walked casually across the grass together.

‘Over there,’ he indicated a mound of earth. ‘Beyond that small mound there is lower land, and that’s where we’re working. Tomorrow you must come and see for yourself. It’s quite interesting, even for a novice.’ He grinned.

Carolyn smiled at him. He was very easy to get along with, and she supposed he was handsome in a rather boyish way. His hair was brown, flecked with a lighter colour where the sun had bleached it, and he was solidly built although not much taller than herself.

‘I doubt whether I’ll get that close to the digging,’ she remarked, leaning back against the bonnet of one of the Land-Rovers. ‘I think my father intends to keep me firmly in the background.’

David chuckled. ‘Then I should say he has quite a job in mind,’ he murmured. ‘Tell me, are you still tied up with that creep Alaistair Kendrew?’

Carolyn drew on her cigarette before replying. ‘Alaistair’s not a creep,’ she protested. ‘I admit, he can be rather a bore at times, but I’ve known him since we were infants, and I guess Merle thinks he’s safe.’ Merle was her eldest sister.

‘And his money’s good,’ remarked David, dryly.

‘Oh, David!’

‘Well, it’s true. After all, having Lord Berringdon as his uncle is quite a recommendation.’

‘Not to me,’ said Carolyn, briefly.

‘No,’ David looked repentant. ‘No, you’re right. I’m sorry, Carolyn. Come on, I’ll take you for a drive to the lake. It’s not far from here. We all go there to swim. It’s perfectly safe, and you can see Don Carlos’s hacienda from the shoreline.’ He stubbed out his cigarette. ‘It’s quite spectacular, and after the horror of the journey here, I guess you could do with some convincing that this place isn’t as barbaric as it seems.’

Carolyn hesitated. ‘Oh, David, I’d love to, but—but Dad said I hadn’t to—well—–’ Her voice trailed away.

David studied her for a moment. ‘What’s wrong? What has he said?’

‘Nothing really, except that I shouldn’t get involved—with anyone.’

‘I’m not asking you to get involved,’ said David, reasonably. ‘Go ask him then; ask him if you can take a ride in the Land-Rover.’

Carolyn sighed. ‘You’re making it terribly difficult, David.’

David grimaced. ‘Why? You know you’ll do as you like whatever he says.’

Carolyn frowned. ‘No, I shan’t! Oh, David. …’

‘Oh, David, what?’ She swung round to face Simon Dean. ‘Hello, Carolyn. What has Dave been asking you to do now?’

‘Clear off, Simon, there’s a good boy,’ said David, his light tone belying his annoyance. ‘Can’t you see, this is a private matter.’ He glared at the other man. ‘Go write a letter to your wife!’

Simon’s face darkened. ‘Mind your own business, Dave! Now what can be interesting you both? Are you trying to persuade the professor’s fair daughter into getting herself into more bother?’

Carolyn flushed at Simon’s sarcasm. ‘There’s nothing like that, Simon.’ She glanced at the broad masculine watch on her wrist. ‘Look, it’s getting late, and I’ve had a long day. I think I’ll retire and leave you two to your private arguments. Some other time, David.’

David shrugged, and turned away, and Simon said: ‘I’ll escort you to your tent, Carolyn.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ replied a familiar voice behind them, and Professor Madison took his daughter’s arm. ‘Come along, Carolyn.’ When they were out of ear-shot, he said: ‘You see, already you appear to be causing dissension.’

Carolyn looked exasperated. ‘David asked me to drive to the lake with him. He said it’s quite spectacular.’

‘Yes, Lake Magdalene. Don Carlos’s hacienda is at the far side of the lake. It is a beautiful place, but I wouldn’t advise you to go swimming at night with any of the men.’

‘We weren’t going to swim,’ exclaimed Carolyn, and then frowned. ‘At least, I don’t think we were.’

‘Dave and Simon often go down to the lake after dinner to bathe. It’s the best time of day, and the water is cool and refreshing.’

‘I see. Well, David didn’t mention that to me.’ She sighed. ‘I wouldn’t have gone, anyway. I’m not that naïve, darling.’

The professor smiled at her. ‘No, I don’t think you are,’ he agreed, nodding. ‘Now goodnight. I hope you get a good night’s sleep. I hope the crickets don’t keep you awake. We’re not greatly troubled by them here.’

‘Thank you, Dad. Goodnight.’ She kissed his cheek and entered her tent, securing the flap after her. Someone had placed a bowl of cold water on the table, and Carolyn washed before undressing. She had brought pyjamas with her, and put them on rather nervously, wondering how much protection was really provided by canvas. Then she switched out the light, and climbed into the camp bed. With its air-mattress it was quite comfortable, but it was all too new and strange for her to be able to sleep.

The darkness outside, after the men retired, was penetrating, and she thought she had never known it could be so black. She could hear the cicadas, as her father had said, and occasionally the strange screaming roar of a mountain lion, somewhere in the hills above the encampment. These sounds were unnerving; the scuffling in the undergrowth around the camp seemed close at hand, and she wondered wildly what she would do if some untamed creature hurtled into her tent.

She sat up abruptly, and reached for her handbag, extracting her cigarettes and lighter. In the small flame of the lighter, the tent seemed filled with shadows, encroaching patches of darkness hiding heaven knew what mysteries, and she hastily put out the light, preferring not to see. Then another sound came to her, a pattering and swell of sound that grew deafening. At first she had no idea what it could be, and she sat still, petrified, until suddenly she relaxed, and almost laughed out loud with relief; it was raining, heavy torrential rain, that beat against the canvas savagely.

She finished her cigarette, and lay down again, listening to the rain. The sound was a familiar one, for all her strange surroundings, and eventually she fell asleep, a faint smile on her lips.

The next morning she was awakened by her father bringing her in a cup of steaming hot tea, which was very welcome. She struggled up, brushing back her hair from her eyes, and screwing up her eyes against the glare of the sun outside.

‘Oh lord,’ she groaned, tiredly. ‘What time is it?’

‘Just after six-thirty,’ replied her father, smiling. ‘I know it’s early, but it gets very hot here after midday, and no one works in the heat of the afternoon, so we always start early. You’ll probably find you’ll take a siesta after lunch and feel completely relaxed and fresh again around four in the afternoon.’

Carolyn grimaced. ‘I didn’t get to sleep for hours last night. Did you hear that rain?’

The professor laughed. ‘No. I usually go out like a light as soon as my head touches the pillow. But I know we have had a heavy downpour by the state of the ground. Fortunately the sun dries everything up very quickly.’

Carolyn nodded in acknowledgement, and sipped the tea. ‘What am I to do this morning?’ she asked. ‘Can I see the dig?’

‘I expect so. I’ll take you along myself after breakfast. Hurry and dress, and José will have eggs and bacon ready for you—–’

‘Hold on,’ exclaimed Carolyn. ‘I don’t want eggs and bacon. I usually have a drink of orange juice and some coffee, that’s all.’

The professor looked concerned. ‘Well, you can’t possibly exist on orange juice and coffee until two in the afternoon when we usually have lunch. Okay, if you don’t want eggs and bacon, you can have a couple of tortillas, have you tried them yet? José does a delicious concoction with fried bananas, I’ll have him rustle something like that up for you.’

‘No!’ Carolyn was horrified. ‘Bananas are terribly fattening. I don’t want to look like a house-end by the time I leave here!’

‘Now, Carolyn, I’m not going to stand here arguing with you.’ The professor looked adamant. ‘This is Mexico, not London, England, and when in Rome you do as the Romans do, and in this case it means obeying my orders.’

‘Oh, Dad! Honestly, coffee will be fine.’

Professor Madison frowned. ‘Get dressed. I’ll see José and discuss it with him.’

Carolyn slid out of bed, rubbing her eyes. ‘All right. All right. But don’t be surprised if I only have coffee, anyway.’

After her father had gone, she made a cursory examination of her luggage. Last evening, the cases had been stacked in a corner, and she had only unpacked what she needed. Glancing around she realised that she would not have nearly enough space to unpack all her cases, so she contented herself by hanging a couple of crushable dresses in the polythene stand, and searched through another case for a pair of denim pants, and a pale blue shirt. With her hair tied into a pony tail, she felt more businesslike, and emerged from the tent feeling more ready to face the day.

The men greeted her in a friendly fashion, and she had a few words with Tom Revie before seating herself beside Bill Anderson.

‘How did you sleep?’ he asked, and she smiled.

‘Now I wonder why you should ask that,’ she said, lightly. ‘Do I look a physical wreck or something? There’s a shortage of mirrors around here, so I don’t know.’

Bill grinned. ‘No, you don’t look a physical wreck,’ he said. ‘You know you look great, as usual.’

‘Why, Bill! I do believe that’s a compliment,’ she teased him, and he flushed, and bent his head to his meal.

The men all seemed to favour the English breakfast, but Carolyn was relieved to find only toast and fresh orange juice beside her plate. The butter was too soft to be really enjoyable, but Bill said that she was lucky to have toast on any terms. Tortillas were the Mexican substitute for bread.

After breakfast, Professor Madison came across to Carolyn. ‘I’m going up to Don Carlos’s hacienda,’ he said, solemnly. ‘I think it might be a good idea for you to come with me. That way we can get the apology and the explanation all over in one fell swoop.’

Carolyn twisted her fingers together. ‘Have you to go? I mean, you’re not just going because of me?’

‘No. I have to go. Don Carlos has kindly given us the use of a large salon at the hacienda in which we can store all the valuable finds we make. I go up there from time to time to continue with the illustrated inventory I am making. I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me with this.’

Carolyn looked interested. ‘Oh, really? How good! I shall like having something to do.’

‘Good. I’ll just have a word with Don and then we’ll go.’

The drive to the Alvarez home took them along the borders of the tumbling, restless river which seemed deeper and wider now that they were on a level with it.

‘Much of the transport around the state is done by river steamer,’ remarked Professor Madison. ‘I believe much of the adjoining states is completely unnegotiable except by air and river steamer.’

‘Is that a fact?’ Carolyn was impressed. ‘It seems incredible in this day and age to be so out of touch with civilisation.’

‘Parts of Yucatan are still completely unexplored,’ said the professor. ‘There may yet be ruins of other Mayan cities lying hidden in the thick jungles.’ He sighed. ‘If I were a younger man, I should try to get an expedition up to explore more of central America. I find these almost prehistoric tribes, living in circumstances which have not changed for thousands of years, completely fascinating.’

Carolyn shook her head. ‘Well, I’m glad you can’t go,’ she averred, firmly. ‘There are head-hunters and cannibals among these tribes. I should be terrified you might not get back alive. I should imagine dozens of explorers have disappeared without trace.’

‘I expect many have disappeared, but imagine, Carolyn, what they may have seen before they were—well—possibly killed.’

‘I can’t see that anything like that could be worth losing your life for,’ exclaimed Carolyn.

‘Maybe not. You’re a woman.’ The professor laughed. ‘I suppose you are also one of these creatures who abhor bull-fighting.’

‘Bull-fighting? I’ve never really thought about it. I once saw one, in Madrid. It was nauseating.’

‘You see,’ the professor laughed. ‘You haven’t the stomach for it. I mention bull-fighting because here it is very popular. In Mexico City there is the largest bull-ring in the world.’

‘Of course.’ Carolyn nodded. ‘The Spanish influence. I didn’t think of that.’

‘Don Carlos has bred bulls for the bull-ring himself,’ went on her father. ‘He has also fought the bulls.’

‘Don Carlos!’

‘Yes. Do you find that surprising?’

Carolyn looked thoughtful, recalling Don Carlos’s tall, lean, hard body. There had been something savage and untamed about him. A kind of leashed violence which was not in keeping with the cold hauteur he had adopted when she had dared to defy him.

‘No,’ she said, now, shivering a little for no apparent reason. ‘I should imagine he could be cruel, and no matter what you say, fighting bulls is a cruel pastime.’

The professor chuckled. ‘I would hardly call dicing with death a pastime,’ he remarked, dryly. ‘However, as we’re almost there, we’ll leave that discussion for another time.’

The track was winding through semi-cultivated land now, through narrow stretches between the plantations. Then they emerged into the open for a moment before entering tall iron gates and penetrating a belt of tropical trees that was the entrance to the Alvarez hacienda. The scent of jacaranda was almost overpowering, and then Carolyn had her first glimpse of the huge Spanish-designed dwelling. Below the house, lawns and gardens provided a profusion of colour, while the perfumes of the flowers were heady and sensual.

The Land-Rover halted at the entrance to an inner courtyard, and Carolyn slid out, looking up at the colonnaded façade. Tiling of many-coloured mosaics caught the sunlight, and she was impressed. Through the arched entrance to the inner courtyard, she could see a central fountain spilling its sparkling contents into a shallow basin.

Professor Madison came round the Land-Rover to her side. ‘Well?’ he said, softly. ‘What do you think?’

Carolyn shook her head.

‘Not exactly what you expected, is it?’ he persisted. ‘What did you expect anyway? Mud huts?’

Carolyn smiled. ‘No, not that. But this is such an isolated spot. One can’t believe such a place exists. It’s like a small palace.’

‘It is beautiful,’ agreed her father, preceding her through the archway. ‘Come on. It’s even better inside.’

Carolyn followed him more slowly, looking about her with interest. The house was built round the central courtyard with balconies to the upper windows. There was a profusion of wrought ironwork and jalousies and shady cloistered arches. Carolyn supposed that was the Moorish influence. She had been in many beautiful houses—stately homes and town dwellings. But never had anywhere completely enthralled her as this place did. There was the bright sunlight, glinting on the fountain, the scent of the flowers, the song of the birds, and the plaintive sound of a Spanish guitar echoing round the secluded courtyard.

She became aware of another presence, and swung round to find her father being greeted by Don Carlos. Today he was dressed in a dark-grey lounge suit, his linen startlingly white against the dark tan of his skin. His thick straight hair had been combed smoothly, but still persisted in lying partly over his forehead. He looked cool and immaculate, and completely sure of himself. In consequence, Carolyn felt a wave of inadequacy sweep over her, and felt a succeeding wave of annoyance follow it. Why should she feel inadequate? She had known plenty of men, and none of them had succeeded in making her feel like this. After all, no matter how important he was in Mexico, he was only a man, after all!

Only a man! Carolyn swallowed hard. He was certainly that. She had never known any man emanate such an aura of masculinity, and when his cool grey eyes turned on her she felt young and rather gauche. She knew her father was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to apologise as she had said she would. But suddenly, she felt rebelliously like forgetting her promise. She remembered how he had crushed the beetle in the shower, and her colour deepened.

With a sigh, she walked across to them. ‘Don Carlos, this is my daughter, Carolyn,’ her father was saying, and Carolyn halted and allowed her hand to be shaken in a cool, hard grip. She snatched her hand away as soon as she could, and said:

‘I—I suppose I should apologise, Don Carlos. I’m afraid I was very rude, the last time we met.’

The man’s eyes narrowed a little, and she saw that his lashes were long and thick, veiling his expression. ‘I’m sure you were overwrought after your journey,’ he answered, smoothly, although there was no warmth in his voice.

Professor Madison looked relieved. ‘That is true,’ he said, quickly. ‘And now, I suppose I should apologise for bringing Carolyn here without asking your permission.’

Don Carlos shrugged his broad shoulders, and Carolyn saw the muscles ripple beneath the expensive material of his suit. She didn’t know why but she was aware of everything about this man, and the knowledge was not gratifying.

‘I think we will talk much better over coffee,’ remarked Don Carlos, suavely. ‘Come. We will go to the library.’

Carolyn walked with her father following the man into the building through the wide glass doors. They were now in a mosaic-tiled hall with a wide marble staircase at one side, the balustrade an intricate design of white wrought iron. Don Carlos led the way across the hall, through another archway and into a long narrow room, lined with books, wide french doors opening on to a veranda which overlooked a wide stretch of glistening water.

‘Oh, the lake,’ exclaimed Carolyn involuntarily.

Don Carlos pressed a button on the desk in the centre of the room, and then turned, looking at Carolyn’s animated expression. ‘Yes, Lake Magdalene. This is your first sight of the lake, Señorita?’

‘Yes.’ Carolyn recovered her composure. ‘It’s very beautiful.’

‘And not so appalling, Señorita?’ he murmured, softly, so that her father who was again lighting his pipe could not hear.

Carolyn stared at him, and then unable to bear the unconcealed contempt in his eyes, turned away. Professor Madison had noticed nothing amiss, and a white-coated servant arrived with a tray of coffee and thin bone china. When the servant withdrew, Don Carlos looked at Carolyn.

‘Will you attend to the coffee?’ he asked, his tone bland again.

Carolyn wanted to refuse, but instead she nodded, and seated herself beside the tray, asking them their preferences for cream and sugar in a tight little voice. Were it not for her father she would tell Don Carlos Fernandez Monterra d’Alvarez exactly what she thought of him!

She was not offered a cigarette, although Don Carlos helped himself to a thin cheroot, and she felt about in her pocket for her own. Finding them, she drew them out and put one between her lips, searching about for her lighter. Don Carlos and her father were discussing the storm the night before and its possible effects on the dig. Carolyn thought she was completely unobserved, but then a gold lighter was flicked and a light applied to the end of her cigarette.

‘Thank you,’ she said, fuming, and her host merely shrugged and resumed his interrogation of her father.

She looked about her for something to do, avoiding looking in their direction. The veranda outside the french doors was very inviting, and she wondered whether the Alvarez family swam in the lake. There was bound to be a private path giving them access.

And then she found herself looking into a pair of mischievous dark eyes which were peeping round the corner of the door. Carolyn smiled in spite of herself, for she was sure she would never like any member of this family, but the eyes were irresistible. Set in a piquantly attractive face that was much too thin, surrounded by long black hair plaited into two thick braids, the girl was obviously very young.

Surreptitiously Carolyn got to her feet, but the movement attracted Don Carlos’s gaze again, and he said: ‘Ah, Elena, I thought it was you.’ He smiled, and Carolyn stared at him, momentarily hypnotised by the transformation of his lean features. His teeth were white and even, and he was startlingly attractive. Then she forced herself to look away, back at the girl who had now tentatively entered the room, and stood just inside the doorway. She was dressed in a dark-green dress which looked much too old for her, and far too long, and Carolyn thought that in younger, shorter clothes she would be very pretty.

‘This is my sister, Elena,’ said Don Carlos. ‘Elena, this is Professor Madison, and his daughter Señorita Madison.’

‘Hola,’ said Elena, smiling. ‘Welcome to the Hacienda Alvarez.’

Carolyn’s eyes widened. ‘You speak English,’ she said, involuntarily.

‘All my family have been educated in the United States,’ said Don Carlos, smoothly. ‘Unfortunately, Elena has been ill and can no longer attend school there. Instead, she has a governess.’

Carolyn looked at Elena with gentle eyes. She did look pale and delicate, but her eyes belied any lack of spirit.

‘Where is Señorita Alfonso?’ asked Don Carlos, now. ‘Surely you should be at lessons.’

Elena laughed irrepressibly. ‘I saw the professor and his daughter arrive through my window,’ she confessed. ‘I wanted to meet Señorita Madison. We so rarely have any young visitors to the hacienda, Carlos.’

Don Carlos relaxed a little. ‘So now you have met the Señorita, you will return to your lessons, yes? Or Señorita Alfonso will be very cross.’

Elena wrinkled her nose. ‘But the señorita cannot be interested in your dull talk, Carlos. Could I not show her the pool, and the lake? And maybe the gardens?’

Carolyn looked at Don Carlos rather sardonically. Now what would he say?

‘I think, Elena, that the señorita will soon be leaving with her father. Besides, I am sure she is not particularly interested in our estate.’

‘Oh, but you are wrong, Señor,’ returned Carolyn, silkily, enjoying the opportunity of getting her own back. ‘I should love to see the pool and the lake and the gardens, and I am sure you and my father are not nearly finished your coffee, yet. I have.’

Don Carlos gave a reluctant nod of his head. ‘Very well, if that is what you wish, Señorita.’ He looked at Carolyn’s father. ‘I trust you have no objections, Professor.’

‘None at all.’ Professor Madison smiled. ‘But before Carolyn leaves, perhaps you could tell me whether her presence here in the valley is to be permitted.’

‘Permitted?’ exclaimed Elena. ‘Why should it not be permitted, Carlos?’

Don Carlos compressed his lips for a moment. ‘Elena, you know nothing about this at all. Please refrain from interrupting.’ He looked at the professor thoughtfully. ‘I cannot deny that such a permittance is against my better judgement, particularly as the valley is full of men, and I do not really think an archaeological dig is the correct background for a young person like your daughter. After all, she is little older than Elena, and I would not allow Elena to live with a crowd of older men even were I myself present. However, I must accept that the habits and conventions of your society are not as ours, and therefore if you are prepared to take all responsibility for her remaining here, I cannot raise any further objections.’

Carolyn fumed. ‘I should point out that I am a little older than Elena,’ she exclaimed, unable to prevent herself.

‘Indeed.’ He sounded disinterested.

‘Indeed, yes,’ exploded Carolyn, and then seeing her father’s face, she compressed her own lips, angrily.

Elena had watched this exchange with some amusement, and she said; ‘Can we go now, Carlos?’

He merely nodded his head, and Carolyn shrugged at her father helplessly and followed Elena from the room. Quite honestly she was beginning to feel exactly like a contemporary of the young Elena’s. Whether it was wholly Don Carlos’s attitude, or whether the shedding of her sophisticated clothes was responsible, Carolyn didn’t know, but what she did know was that Don Carlos’s attitude towards her was one of tolerance, mixed with derision, the kind he would reserve for a spoilt and precocious child.

CHAPTER THREE

OUTSIDE the two girls walked along the veranda until shallow steps led down to the grassy expanse that in turn gave on to a flight of steps leading down to the lakeside. Elena eyed her companion with some admiration, and said:

‘You are not afraid of my brother, Señorita?’

Carolyn was annoyed to find her cheeks burned suddenly. ‘No. Should I be?’

Elena shrugged. ‘I am not afraid of him, but it is usual that he intimidates strangers. He is not an easy person to know.’

Carolyn smiled. She thought Elena’s mode of talking was far in advance of her years, and she said: ‘How old are you, Elena?’

‘I am fourteen years of age,’ replied Elena, precisely. ‘And you?’

Carolyn shrugged. ‘Well, actually, I’m twenty-two, but in your brother’s eyes about sixteen, I imagine.’ She hunched her shoulders, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her pants. ‘Let’s forget about that for the time being. Tell me about your life here. Who is this Señorita Alfonso? Your governess?’

‘Yes. But she is so old!’ Elena grimaced. ‘She was Carlos’s nanny when he was a child, and that is many many years ago.’

Carolyn laughed. ‘Oh, not so many, surely.’

‘At least thirty-seven,’ replied Elena, her eyes wide.

‘You see, Papa married twice, and my mother was not Carlos’s mother; his mother was wholly Spanish. My father met her in Estoril when he was only eighteen. They were very much in love, but unfortunately she died when Carlos was born. Our father married again, I think to give Carlos the security of a complete home. Poor Carmelita, that was Carlos’s mother’s name. She could not stand the climate here, and in those days the valley was not so prosperous as it is today. Carlos has a helicopter, and he even owns a small aeroplane. It is as necessary here as a motor-car in your country. Much of this area is completely closed to traffic.’

Carolyn nodded. ‘I see. And your parents?’

‘Oh, both Papa and Mama died in an airliner when it crashed on its way to Mexico City. These mountains are treacherous. No one could survive such a disaster. That was eight years ago now. Since then Carlos and Rosa have taken over the estate. Rosa is my older sister. She is almost as old as Ramon. He is my brother. There are four of us, you see.’

‘I see.’ Carolyn nodded again, thinking that possibly this was one of the reasons Don Carlos had not wanted her to spend any time with Elena. She was a chatter-box and cared little for conventions.

They reached the foot of the steps and now Carolyn could see a boathouse and a landing stage, and further round, a diving platform. The lake looked cool and inviting, and as the sun rose higher and the day grew hotter she thought how delightful it would be to swim in its depths.

She looked down. It looked deep, even at the rim. ‘Do you swim?’ she asked Elena.

Elena shook her head. ‘Not in the lake. I am not allowed to do so since my illness. But I swim in the pool. It is always warm. The lake is icy.’

Carolyn smiled. ‘It sounds gorgeous! It gets so hot here. Does—does your brother swim in the lake?’

She asked the question compulsively. Despite her averred dislike of Don Carlos Fernandez Monterra d’Alvarez she found she was curious about him. Maybe because in other circumstances she could have found him a challenge. It would be a satisfying feeling to have him attracted to her, desiring her, and being able to subdue that arrogance scornfully.

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