The Horseman

Moreland wrath.

“They’re determined to ruin us, boy!” his grandfather had said, shaking an impotent fist at the clear blue sky. The memory would always remain with him: the boy and the old man. The boy’s face hot and flushed with tears, his heart as heavy as his grandfather’s. What was to be his was no more. His inheritance, his future hopes had been swept away on a wind straight from hell.

Even in the middle of his tortured thoughts, Raul had sensed Cecile was under some strain, as intensely nervous as he was intensely on edge. He’d been observing her closely all through dinner even with her charming but frivolous friend’s voice buzzing like a bee in his ear. He rose when Tara began to giggle softly, walked to the piano knowing intuitively he could restore her nervous energy. It was all part of their subterranean communication.

The instant Cecile’s hands touched the keys, the magic of the wonderful opening bars put his somber thoughts to rest. He sat back simply to listen, to absorb the music and the spectacle of her beauty as she sat at the grand piano in her lovely chiffon dress. The color put him in mind of the jacarandas, native to the high deserts of adjoining Brazil. They grew everywhere in Argentina and in flower lit up the Montalvan estancia. He knew they flourished, too, in many parts of temperate and subtropical Australia.

She played beautifully, powerfully. More important, she had mastered to perfection the particular rhythms of Spanish music. His stepsister, Ramona, was an accomplished pianist, but nothing like this. He knew the piece she was playing. He knew practically every piano piece the composer had written, the Iberia suite well, although Ramona always said the “Malaga” was too hard for her. Ramona had played the “Suite Espanola” so often over the years he could have whistled every note. In fact, he did whistle the catchy melodies as he rode the pampas. Ramon had been the kindest and most generous of stepfathers, adopting him and lending him his name. But Ramon had his heir, Francisco, who would soon turn twenty-one. Stepbrothers, they had never grown close. There was the big difference in age. He was nearly eleven years older, and Francisco was burdened by an intensely jealous nature that came much between them. With him out of the way, perhaps Francisco could find himself and become a better man.

AS IT WAS A WEEKDAY, all the guests were ready to take their leave not long after midnight. The senator as he was leaving complimented Cecile on “a wonderful performance.” The other guests, too, as they moved out the front door expressed their enjoyment. Tara, who had come with her parents, grasped Cecile’s arm rather painfully, drawing her swiftly aside.

“He’s not married, is he?” she asked excitedly, color in her creamy cheeks.

“You mean Raul?”

“What’s wrong with you all of a sudden? Of course I mean Raul. He’s devastating!” Tara rolled her eyes.

“Don’t get your hopes up, girl. I understand he has six children. Argentinians marry early.”

Tara elbowed her in the ribs. “You’re joking! He’s not married at all. Is he?”

“He says not. Do you think we can believe him?”

“Well, I intend to.” Tara readjusted the bodice of her dress to better show off her cleavage. “Listen, Ceci, I need to see more of him. Can you arrange it? Don’t tell me now,” she whispered hurriedly. “Here he comes. I don’t want him to know we’re talking about him. Have coffee with me tomorrow, okay? I’ll ring you.”

“Fine. I look forward to it.”

Tara directed a brilliant smile and a little flutter of her hand at Raul Montalvan, calling sweetly, “Hope to see you again, Raul!”

“Is someone giving you a lift?” Cecile inquired of him politely. Fiona and Bruce had had a previous engagement, so they weren’t able to attend the dinner party.

“I don’t need a lift.” He looked down at her gravely. “Your grandfather has already asked. I intend to walk back to the house. It’s a beautiful night, and only a couple of miles to the residence. I’m used to very long treks, so a couple of miles could scarcely bother me. That said,” his handsome mouth twitched, “perhaps you can walk me to your front gate? I’ve been wanting to tell you for close on two hours how much excitement I heard in your playing. It gave me enormous pleasure.”

“Thank you.” She inclined her head. “And thank you for helping me through a nervous moment. Somehow I froze when I’m used to playing for company.”

“Perhaps I inspired the nerves, so it was necessary for me to take them away.”

“You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?” There was a spirited flash in her silver-sheened eyes.

“I could scarcely answer, sure of you!”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Only if you’ll respond.” He smiled. “Come…” He didn’t wait for her to agree to accompany him, but gently took her arm.

“Where are you off to, Ceci?” her mother called brightly from the bottom of the grand staircase.

“Ah, the mother ever ready to watch over her chick,” he sighed softly, bending his head to Cecile’s ear.

“Only to the front gate, Mother,” she replied just as blithely.

“Some mothers never really see their daughters as grownup,” he said.

“Please don’t tell anyone, okay?” she said coolly when she felt a fever coming on.

THE LAST OF THE GUESTS’ cars were in line to pull out of the open front gates, their rear lights glowing a hot red. In silence they walked down the short flight of stone steps that led away from the huge three-story, colonial-style mansion with its towering vine-wreathed white pillars and second-floor central balcony. Cecile’s heart was racing ninety to the dozen, as adrenaline poured into her blood. Now she knew what being on a “high” was. She didn’t need any drugs; she was sizzling with the fever of sexual attraction. She felt she was doing something tantalizingly illicit, yet at the same time she couldn’t and wouldn’t stop herself from going with him. There was simply no chance of stopping. It wasn’t that she was so much afraid of him. She was afraid of herself. And why not? She didn’t know herself anymore. The outwardly serene Cecile people were used to had been replaced by someone quite different. She was now a woman who was ready to take dangerous chances.

The night sky was glorious, crowded with stars that hung over the harbor. The sea breeze stirred the leaves of the trees and shook out the perfume of a million tropical flowers. They had moved beyond the wide semicircle of exterior lights from the house, but the huge lantern lights set into the massive stone pillars that supported the wrought-iron gates showed the path clearly.

“You grandfather has very kindly asked me to his flagship station, as he called it, Malagari.”

“When will this be?” She lifted her head in surprise. She didn’t know how to take it—things were moving so fast.

“Would you believe toward the end of next week?” he said smoothly. “He had to consult his diary. He told me he had promised you a trip also, that Malagari is one of your favorite places.”

“The favorite,” she said.

“I expect he will want you to come along as well.” His voice dropped deep into his chest. “Perhaps we could enjoy some marvelous Outback adventure together?”

The very thought sent cascading ripples down her spine. “There’s absolutely no way I can do that, Raul. You know I can’t!”

“But you can!”

The way he said it thrilled her. This was the moment she should pull back, but he had the speed and grace of a big cat. With one arm around her he whirled her off the driveway into the dense shadow of the trees.

“Wait! Wait, Raul! What are you doing?” Her voice shook; her body trembled violently. She might have been stripped naked.

He ran a finger down her satin cheek. “Cecile, my behavior is wholly known to you.”

It was a waste of time denying it. “That doesn’t mean it’s not wrong.” She felt herself flush deeply.

“I know that, too—” his answer was clipped “—but I can’t seem to help myself.”

“Raul, I’m engaged!” She despised herself for using it as a shield.

“I remember,” he said quietly.

“Then you must realize this shouldn’t happen.”

“Astonishingly it has!” He pulled her close. “And engaged isn’t married. I don’t much like your fiancé. I feel strongly he isn’t the man for you.”

Her agitation intensified. “I don’t know what I’m expected to say to that. He’s my fiancé. I love him. You don’t know anything about Stuart. He’s—”