Master Of El Corazon

‘Haven’t you?’

Arden took a deep breath. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘all right, this is enough. I am not going to stand here, in my own bedroom, and—and defend myself against a pack of lies!’

Lithgow sank down on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped, the very portrait of despair. ‘I’m so upset,’ he whispered. ‘Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I should have known. She asked me to stop by and accompany her to the party—’

‘I never did,’ Arden said furiously. She spun towards the stranger. ‘Dammit, do I look as if I’m going to a party?’

The green eyes narrowed and swept over her again, and even though her robe was tightly closed Aden felt as if that gaze were stripping her naked. After a moment, his eyes met hers and a muscle knotted in his cheek.

‘That depends on what kind of party you mean.’

Arden sprang forward, her hand upraised, but he caught it easily, his fingers curling around her wrist, pressing down against the nerves that lay in the soft underside so that she gasped with pain.

‘You have already miscalculated in your dealings with one man tonight, señorita. I urge you not to make the same mistake with another.’

‘You,’ she hissed, ‘you—’

The bed creaked as Lithgow rose to his feet. He walked forward slowly, then he cleared his throat.

‘Señor,’ he said, ‘have you a family? If you do, you will understand my concern for those nearest and dearest to me.’

The stranger gave a little laugh. ‘Without question, señor.’

Arden blew out her breath. ‘I don’t believe this,’ she said. ‘Has the world gone crazy? Isn’t anyone concerned about me? I’m the one who needs protecting; I’m the one who was—’

‘I should never have let this—this Jezebel lure me to her room to—to try and destroy me.’

‘He’s lying,’ Arden said angrily. “Don’t you hear it in his voice? Can’t you see it in his face?’

The stranger didn’t even look at her. ‘If you’re asking me to be discreet—’

‘Yes. Exactly. As one man to another—’

‘You have my word on it, señor.’ He turned slowly towards Arden. ‘Unless, of course, the señorita is correct, and you are lying.’ Lithgow began a sputtering protest, but the stranger silenced him with a look. He turned to Arden, who gave him a hesitant smile.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I kept hoping he couldn’t take you in, but I wasn’t—’

“There would be no point in my pledging my silence, if that is the case,’ he said softly, his eyes locked with hers, ‘since the lady will wish to call the police and press charges. Isn’t that right, señorita?’

Arden ran her tongue over her lips. ‘The police?’

‘Of course. If what you say of tonight’s events is true, you will call them and I will tell them what I saw when I first entered the room, you and this gentleman lying in each other’s arms, on that bed.’

‘We weren’t in each other’s arms,’ she said, her face white. ‘I mean, we were, but only because—because he was trying to force me to—to—’

‘Yes, so you’ve said.’ He smiled, and Arden thought it was the coldest excuse for a smile she had ever seen. ‘The question is, do you wish to make that same statement to the authorities?’

‘Yes. Of course. I—I—’

She fell silent. She would not only be making it to the authorities, she thought frantically, she would be making it to her employers also, and who would they believe, her—or one of their own?

‘Well?’

Arden looked up. The man was watching her, all attempts at pleasantry gone from his face. ‘What will it be, Senorita Miller? Shall I accept your version of Rashomon, or his?’

Her gaze flew to Lithgow; she saw the faint gleam of perspiration on his brow and told herself to remember that one sign of weakness, for she suspected it would be her only victory in this ugly encounter, and then her shoulders slumped.

‘Get out of my room,’ she whispered. ‘Both of you. Get out, do you hear me? Get out!’

Lithgow breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you, sir, thank you.’ He stuck out his hand ‘If I can ever be of assistance...?’

The stranger looked at the outstretched hand as if it were diseased. ‘I have no more use for men who ignore the rules of morality than I have for women who invite them to do so.’ He nodded to Arden. ‘Buenas noches, señorita. It is my fond wish that our paths do not cross again.’

Tears of rage blinded her as he turned and strode from the room. ‘You can count on it,’ she called out as she hurried after him. ‘You can absolutely—’ he threw open the door, stepped into the hall, and vanished. ‘Count on it,’ she whispered, her voice breaking. She fell back against the wall and put her hand to her mouth just as Edgar Lithgow came marching past.

‘You needn’t show up at the office tomorrow, Miss Miller,’ he said coldly. ‘I’ll have one of the other girls pack your things for you.’

‘You won’t get away with this,’ Arden said in a trembling voice.

Lithgow smiled. ‘I already have,’ he said as he swept out the door.

Arden closed her eyes as the door slammed shut after him.

The worst of it was, he was right.

CHAPTER THREE

A NIGHT’S fitful sleep and the bright dawning of the Costa Rican sun combined to change Arden’s perspective. Last evening’s despair gave way to indignation and then to fury. She had been treated shabbily—although there had to be a better word than that to describe what Edgar Lithgow had pulled on her.

And he’d never have been able to get away with it without the help and support of that damnable drifter. It was amazing how quickly the two men had joined forces against her. Arden’s mouth turned down as she zipped up the skirt of her blue gabardine suit. Apparently, you didn’t have to travel in the same social circle to come to the aid and assistance of a brother rat!

But Lithgow would be on his own this morning. He wouldn’t have the stranger to back him up. God, how she despised that man! She grimaced as she brushed her hair back from her face. Lithgow was bad enough, but the other man—how dared he take Lithgow’s side, all but calling her a slut and a liar?

Rashomon, indeed, she thought as she slammed the door to her room and set off down the hall. Not all the clever literary references in the world could disguise the simple truth. The man was an arrogant bastard, a male chauvinist of the worst sort. He’d shown what he thought of women during their first encounter, when he’d tried to pick her up. What had come later—his incredibly easy switch from rescuer to accuser—had only proved it to be true.

And he’d probably got an extra kick out of coming to Lithgow’s assistance. After all, she’d spurned his advances, hadn’t she, and probably wounded that delicate male ego of his—

Arden caught her breath. The door to the stranger’s room swung open just as she reached it—but it wasn’t he who stepped into the hall, it was the chambermaid, dragging her cleaning cart after her.

‘Good morning,’ Arden said with a little smile of relief.

The girl nodded. ‘Buenos dias, señorita.’

Arden glanced into the room as she walked past it. It was empty, the bed made and ready for the next guest. He was gone then, she thought, and thank God for small favours.

She had no wish to ever lay eyes on his face again. If she did, she might well finish what she’d started last night and punch him right in the jaw.

There was a lilt to her step as she marched towards the lift. More to the point, his absence was her ace in the hole.