Fallen Angel

She rose too, then, and the scent of some perfume she was wearing rose disturbingly to his nostrils. It was fresh and slightly heady, like the lemon groves back home, and for a moment he looked down at her, his dark eyes mirroring the gentler shade of hers. Unwillingly, his senses stirred at the unconscious allure of those gold-fringed irises, pansy-soft as she gazed up at him.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and quite unselfconsciously pressed two fingers against her lips before transferring them to his mouth. ‘Daddy was right about you. You are a good man.’

What Jason would have replied to this totally unexpected provocation he hardly knew, but a sudden knocking at the door to the suite provided a welcome distraction. Of course, he thought abstractedly, it would be the governess, the woman he had been waiting to interview when this frustrating creature erupted into his life. At least the interruption would give him a breathing space, he thought savagely, furious with himself for allowing a girl—little more than a schoolgirl—to disrupt his normally controlled emotions.

‘This is going to be awkward,’ he said, putting some space between them as he spoke. ‘I imagine this is the woman I intended interviewing for the post of—of governess.’

‘Governess!’ Alexandra echoed, the violet eyes dancing now. ‘For me?’ She gurgled with laughter. ‘Oh, Jason, did you really think I would need a governess?’

Jason’s thinning mouth sobered her however. ‘It may surprise you to know that as your father never mentioned your existence, I assumed he had married since our expedition to Los Lobos. Naturally, therefore, I expected a younger child.’

‘I’m not a child,’ she pointed out, unable to let that go, but he had already turned away to open the door.

The woman who was waiting outside was reassuringly middle-aged. Jason guessed her age to be somewhere between forty-five and fifty, and her dress and appearance were in keeping with her profession. If only she had arrived first, he found himself thinking impatiently. Then perhaps he would have been more prepared to deal with his unexpectedly female ward.

‘Mr Tarrant?’ the woman was asking politely, and Jason nodded shortly, offering his hand in greeting and gesturing for the woman to come in.

‘You are Miss Holland, I take it?’ he enquired brusquely, and that lady agreed with his admission.

‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ she apologised, as he closed the door behind them, and her eyes alighted questioningly on Alexandra. ‘I—er—I couldn’t get a cab, and then the traffic …’

‘That’s quite all right, Miss Holland,’ Jason assured her curtly, his eyes flickering briefly over the slender figure by the hearth. ‘As it happens, your being late has precipitated a situation which I’m afraid alters matters considerably.’

‘Oh?’ Miss Holland’s glance lingered once more on Alexandra’s slim youthfulness, and a rather worried look crossed her homely features. It occurred to Jason that perhaps getting the job had meant a lot to this rather anxious-looking woman, and his deepening interest observed the faintly worn sleeves of her navy-blue uniform coat, and the neat but unmistakable dams in her woollen gloves.

Now he offered her a chair and after she was seated, he explained: ‘I’m afraid the post I advertised no longer exists. The—er—the boy turns out to be a girl, and she——’ he turned abruptly and indicated Alexandra, ‘as you can see, is too old to require a governess.’

Miss Holland’s worn features mirrored her disappointment. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I see.’

‘I’m sorry …’ And he was. Jason cast another impatient glance in Alexandra’s direction. Why couldn’t she have been the child he expected? Why hadn’t Durham told him the truth? He knew instinctively that Miss Holland would have taken the post, wherever it was. She had that sort of defeated air about her that smacked of too many interviews and too many disappointments. Nowadays, people wanted modern young governessess for their children, not middle-aged women, however well qualified. Miss Holland just wanted to work, and he wondered how long it was since she had done so. Still, he reflected wryly, he had enough problems of his own right now. He couldn’t be blamed for what was indisputably evident.

The woman rose to her feet again now and faced him with a touching air of confidence. ‘I’ll be going then, Mr Tarrant. Thank you for seeing me. And I’m sorry things haven’t worked out as—as you expected.’ Faint colour ran up her cheeks as she realised what she was implying, and she added hastily: ‘I mean, of course, I’m sorry. You—er—you may not be. I’m sure you’re not. That is——’

‘That’s quite all right, Miss Holland,’ Jason intervened smoothly, halting her embarrassed flow, and smiling to remove any sharpness from his words. ‘I know exactly what you mean.’

Miss Holland nodded, compressed her lips, offered a half smile of apology to Alexandra, and moved towards the door. Jason strode ahead of her, swinging open the door as she approached, and taking the hand she tentatively offered him in farewell.

‘Good luck,’ he said, as she pulled on her shabby glove, and her smile was more eloquent than any words.

With the door closed behind her, Jason leant against it almost wearily. What now? What was he going to do with the girl? One thing was certain, he could not take her back to San Gabriel with him. Apart from Estelita, his was a masculine household, and there was no place in it for a provocative teenager just waiting to try her claws. Besides, there was nothing for a girl at his estancia. The life he led was almost spartan in its simplicity, and remote from any kind of social gathering. With a boy, it would have been different. He could have shown him the ranch, taught him to ride and rope a steer, taught him to break horses and sleep out under the stars when the yearly round-up was made; treated him like a son, in fact, the son he was never likely to have now. But a girl … In God’s name, what could he do for her?

As if aware of the turmoil inside him, Alexandra left her place by the hearth to approach him, and he stiffened as she halted some few feet away from him.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, and her eyes were guarded now. ‘What are you thinking? Do you want to change your mind about me?’

‘Change my mind?’ Jason frowned. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

Alexandra’s long lashes swept her cheeks. ‘I think you do. You’re wishing I was a boy, too, aren’t you? Just like Daddy.’ Her chin lifted, and her eyes were defiant as they sought his. ‘What is it with you two? What’s wrong with being a woman? Don’t they have their uses, too?’

Jason straightened away from the door. ‘All right,’ he admitted abruptly. ‘I don’t deny it. I was thinking along those lines. But only because your being a girl makes everything that much more complicated.’

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ A faintly mocking gleam invaded his eyes. ‘Oh, come on, Miss Durham, I don’t believe you’re that unsophisticated.’

‘Will you please stop calling me Miss Durham! My name’s Alex—Alexandra, if you like, or perhaps not, as you seem to prefer the masculine gender!’

Jason’s mouth tightened at the deliberately insolent intonation, but he let it go, saying quietly: ‘I was merely going to explain that had you been a boy, you could have accompanied me back to Santa Vittoria, and made your home with me at San Gabriel.’

‘San Gabriel?’ For a moment, she was diverted. ‘What’s that? Your house?’

‘My ranch, yes.’

‘How super!’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘Oh, yes, Jason, I’d like to do that.’

‘Now wait a minute …’ Jason was finding it increasingly difficult to control this conversation. ‘I said—had you been a boy——’

‘But what does it matter?’ she exclaimed. ‘So long as I want to go?’

‘So long as you want to go!’ Jason raised his eyes heavenward for a moment in a gesture of frustration. ‘My dear Miss—Alexandra! You know perfectly well I can’t take you to San Gabriel.’

Her dark brows arched. ‘Your wife would object?’

‘I don’t have a wife.’

‘Ah, no …’ She rubbed her nose thoughtfully with her finger. ‘You wouldn’t.’

‘What the hell do you mean?’

Jason spoke angrily, and her lips twitched. ‘Why, nothing. Only that—you’re a misogynist, aren’t you?’

‘No, damn you, I’m not!’ Jason found he was unaccountably furious. ‘I enjoy a woman’s company as well as the next man. I just don’t intend taking a promiscuous schoolgirl back to a ranch where the men don’t see a white woman from one year’s end to the next!’

A gurgle of laughter escaped her at this. ‘Make up your mind,’ she taunted him. ‘Either I’m a schoolgirl or a woman—which?’

‘You know what I mean,’ he grated severely. ‘Now, I suggest we discuss what it is you want to do with your life.’

‘I want to stay with you. Either here or at San Gabriel.’ She sighed. ‘Hmm, that’s a beautiful name, isn’t it? Is the ranch as beautiful as its name? Or is it an estancia? Isn’t that what they call ranches in South America?’

‘Alexandra!’

The warning note in his voice went unheeded as she smiled impishly up at him. ‘That’s better,’ she approved. ‘I like the way you say my name. What sort of accent would you say you have? I think it’s a sort of mid-Atlantic accent, isn’t it? Neither one thing nor the other.’

Jason turned from her to pace tensely towards the window. This was hopeless. He was getting absolutely nowhere. He half wished he had asked Miss Holland to remain during the course of this interview. Maybe she would have been able to make some constructive suggestion, explain to the girl that what she was asking was impossible. God, why had Charles done this to him? Surely he must have known the complications it would bring. What had been his intention? What had he expected Jason to do with her? Surely he could not have wanted him to take her back with him to South America. Hadn’t he cared about the dangers—the obvious temptation a girl like her would present to men starved of the company of women? And what of his erstwhile colleague? What had he really known of him, that he should feel able to entrust his daughter to his care?

‘Jason …’ Alexandra’s husky voice right behind him made him aware she had moved to join him by the window. ‘Jason, please—can’t we talk about this? I know I must have been a great shock to you, and I admit, I did leave you in ignorance deliberately, but only because—well, because I was afraid you might—you might not come …’

‘And what kind of a swine would I have been if I hadn’t?’ Jason demanded, glancing at her broodingly. ‘My God, whatever his reasons, your father has left you in my care, at least until you’re eighteen, and I should not have shirked that responsibility.’