Lure Of Eagles

Domine frowned, subjecting their guest to another puzzled appraisal. He was obviously an educated man—he spoke English with only the faintest trace of an accent—and his clothes were tailor-made and expensive. Yet for all that he was not like any man of her acquaintance. There was a single-mindedness of purpose about him that belied his studied courtesy, and although he exhibited all the refinements of Western society, Domine wondered what lay beneath the veneer. He exuded a powerful aura of cold strength and hostility, that no amount of charm or politeness could hide, and she doubted Mark’s ability to fool him about anything. He had all the contempt of the conquistadors for their victims, and recalling the little she had learned of the Spanish conquest, she knew she ought not to imagine his courteous façade was anything more than that.

Chiding herself for being so imaginative, she looked up then and found his eyes upon her. It was a disconcerting experience, particularly after her thoughts of a few moments ago, but she managed to return his stare without flinching, determined not to be intimidated by his scrutiny. He would not reduce her to the stammering wreck he had made of Mark. She had done nothing to be ashamed of, and just because he was different from the men she usually met, it did not mean he was any the less susceptible to her beauty. The conceit of her thoughts did not occur to her. She was so used to admiration, it never crossed her mind that the Peruvian might not find eyes the colour of violets appealing, or be enchanted by the coil of silvery hair that was presently confined at the nape of her slender neck.

‘Can I get you another brandy, señor?’ she suggested, meeting his gaze with enquiry, but Señor Aguilar was already rising to his feet.

‘I regret I must be leaving, Miss Temple,’ he refused politely, the faint smile that played about his thin lips belying the bland courtesy. ‘I have a long day tomorrow. There are matters which must be attended to, before I return to Peru. But perhaps you will both …’ he glanced at her brother,’ dine with me at my hotel tomorrow evening.’

Domine badly wanted to refuse. Not because she had any objection to dining with him, or indeed because she had made other arrangements, but simply to thwart him in some way. However, Mark was already accepting on their behalf, and she inclined her head with reluctant grace to signify her own acceptance of the invitation.

‘Good.’ The Peruvian walked across the room, and Mark hastened after him to open the double-panelled doors. ‘I shall look forward to it.’

His glance licked Domine like an abrasive tongue, but she was obliged to accompany them into the hall, and waited while Bayliss produced Señor Aguilar’s overcoat. His choice of dark colours accentuated the dark cast of his skin, the thick dark hair that lay smoothly over his forehead and brushed the collar of his overcoat. A kind of Mephistophelean character, she thought, giving in to her imagination again, and then stiffened when those dark eyes swept her from head to toe in a look that was as contemptuous as it was devastating. Immediately she was conscious of the off-the-shoulder neckline of her smock, and of how the belt she had tightened round her waist drew attention to the swelling fullness of her breasts. Only the long velvet skirt seemed acceptable, hiding the long slender length of her legs.

‘Until tomorrow, then.’

Señor Aguilar was already descending the flight of steps which led up to the heavy oak door with its iron facings, and Mark was acting the perfect host. She heard the sound of the hire car’s engine, and presently Mark’s words of farewell, and then, as she endeavoured to recover from the state of frozen immobility that scornful appraisal had induced, her brother came back into the hall and slammed the door with unconcealed fury. He scarcely looked at Domine. He passed her, muttering to himself, and presently she heard the sound of the decanter rattling against the rim of his glass.

Bayliss, who had been at Griffons almost as long as her grandfather and was equally old, was waiting for her instructions, and after reassuring him that there was nothing else they would need that night, Domine turned back into the drawing room. As she had anticipated, Mark had poured himself a generous measure of brandy and had thrown himself down on to the couch where she had been sitting, one leg draped carelessly over the arm. He looked up at her entrance, then swallowed the remainder of the spirit in the glass and held it out to Domine to be refilled.

‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough?’ she asked shortly, in no mood to suffer his self-pitying recriminations, and he pulled an angry face.

‘Don’t try to organise me,’ he directed, ‘just fill the glass!’ but she ignored him and went to sit in the armchair which earlier their guest had occupied.

Muttering once more, Mark levered himself up from the couch and refilled his own glass, swallowing another generous portion before returning to his previous position. Then he looked moodily at Domine across the rim, the tightness of his lips belied by the anxiety in his eyes.

‘What the hell are we going to do?’ he demanded, and it was more of an appeal than a question. ‘Dom, tell me what we’re going to do!’

Domine shrugged, running her palms over the arms of the chair, flinching a little as they encountered a trace of warmth left by its last occupant. It was odd why she had chosen to sit in this particular chair, but thoughts like those were not acceptable, and she tried instead to concentrate on what her brother was saying.

‘You could get a job,’ she pointed out now, trying to be practical, but Mark only snorted with impatience.

‘A job!’ he echoed. ‘What kind of job? At the mill, you mean? If you think I’m going to work in my own mills——’

‘They’re not your mills,’ retorted Domine firmly. ‘They belong to Lisel——’

‘To hell with Lisel!’

‘That’s not going to get you very far.’ She sighed. ‘Mark, you had a good education …’

‘A good education!’

‘Well, you did. We both did. We should be able to find some kind of work.’

‘Where? In Manchester? What on earth is there to do in Manchester? You know the job situation.’

Domine shook her head. ‘You’re just being obstructive.’

‘If it was London, now …’

‘But it’s not. This is our home, Mark. If you went to London, we would have to sell Griffons.’

Mark grimaced. ‘Well, I expect we will anyway.’

‘No!’

‘Yes, Domine. Be reasonable. How can we afford to keep a place like this going? Heavens, we can’t even afford Mrs Radcliffe’s wages any more.’

‘We could do without Mrs Radcliffe,’ exclaimed Domine, her heart plummeting at the thought of selling their home. ‘We could manage …’

‘Oh, yes?’ Mark was sceptical. ‘And who will do the housework? You? You’ve never picked up a duster in your life.’

‘That’s not true.’ Domine pursed her lips. ‘I’ve looked after my own room for years.’

‘Big deal.’ Mark hunched his shoulders. ‘That means you only have half a dozen other bedrooms to look after. Oh, and three reception rooms, of course, and the dining room, and the kitchen——’

‘All right,’ Domine broke in on him then. ‘All right, so we need some help in the house. Why shouldn’t we be able to afford it, if we both had jobs?’

Mark sniffed. ‘I do not intend taking some grubby little job, just to keep this place in cleaning fluid!’

‘Mark!’

‘I’m sorry, but I’m not.’ He was adamant. ‘All the same, something has to be done.’ He frowned. ‘I wonder what Lisel is like. Really like, I mean. Not this sainted creature Aguilar talks about.’

Domine moved her shoulders uncertainly. ‘She can’t be like Uncle Edward, or Grandpa wouldn’t have had a good word for her.’

‘She can’t be like me, you mean?’

Domine half smiled. ‘No one could be like you.’

‘Thanks!’

‘Oh, Mark …’ She got up from the chair and moved slowly across the room. ‘Couldn’t you try——’

‘Don’t say it,’ he interposed quickly. ‘Accept it. Griffons is going to have to be sold.’

‘No!’

‘Yes. Unless I can work something out.’

‘Like what?’ Domine was sceptical now.

‘I don’t know.’ Mark looked thoughtful. ‘If only I could get to meet Lisel! If only I could talk to her. I bet she’s not as virginal as Aguilar makes her out to be.’

‘Mark!’ Domine stared at him impatiently. ‘Can’t you ever consider practical solutions? It doesn’t really matter what Lisel is like, so far as I’m concerned. I have no intention of asking her for money.’

‘Not for money, no,’ remarked Mark slowly. ‘But a job, perhaps. A legal adviser. How’s that? A sort of—right-hand man.’

‘Señor Aguilar will never allow that.’