Innocent Invader

“It was.” Jason's fingers tightened on the wheel, and Sarah, glancing at him, wondered why his expression had darkened in that way. Surely it was no concern of his.

The road was curving down again now, and the sea was getting nearer. They ran down a final incline and turned between wrought iron gates, which were the entrance to the drive of the Cordova house. Sarah saw a cream, colour-washed house, over-hung with pink bougainvillea, with balconies to all the upper windows, the doors of which stood open to the clean air. Storm shutters were bolted back and a stout pair of doors with wrought iron hinges guarded the entrance. A porticoed walk stretched round the building, and its white pillars gave a Grecian touch to an otherwise Moorish-styled dwelling.

Jason stopped the Land Rover at the foot of the steps leading up to the entrance, and without waiting for any assistance Sarah clamberd out. After the drive up the dusty road, she felt travel-stained and sticky, and she wished she might have a wash and brush-up before meeting her prospective employer. The blue poplin dress which had been so crisp and fresh on the ship was now limp, and clung to her body, outlining the curves of her rounded figure. She was a tall girl, but had always been taught that any self-adulation was wrong, so consequently had no idea how attractively moulded she was. But Jason was aware of it, and knew without a doubt that Irena would find her completely unsuitable. But in this, Irena's views were immaterial. The girl was to teach Sarah's children, and if Serena liked her, and the girl herself wanted to stay, she should stay.

As Jason walked round to join her, the front doors opened and three children appeared at the top of the steps. They were all dark-haired and olive-skinned, the two girls wearing their long hair in plaits, and they were all dressed alike in red and white striped shorts and red tee-shirts. They looked remarkably clean and smart, and Jason half-smiled as he studied Sarah's reactions.

“Make the most of it,” he said, dryly. “You'll rarely see them in this condition. I left orders that they should be here to meet you on my return – that's the explanation.”

Sarah moved her shoulders deprecatingly. “I hope in future you'll often see them tidily turned out,” she remarked. “Am I to understand that they usually run wild?”

Jason grimaced. “You might say that,” he agreed smoothly. “Shall I introduce you?”

The children descended the steps slowly, eyeing Sarah cautiously. They had never had a governess before, but they knew children who did, and they were unimpressed.

The youngest, Maria, lost her composure and flung herself exuberantly at Jason, chattering furiously in Spanish, and Jason said: “No, Maria, speak English. This lady has come to improve your English among other things, and I want you always to speak English in her presence, right?”

Maria made a face at Sarah, and Sarah gave Jason a startled glance. But he shook his head slightly and stood Maria on her feet. She guessed he meant that she should take it slowly with them, and with a sigh, she turned to the others. “Now,” she said, taking their hands, “you are Eloise and Ricardo.”

The children were silent, turning mutinous faces to Jason, and Sarah felt the first trepidation about these children. She did not know what she had expected, but used as she was to being liked instinctively by young people, she was unprepared for this antagonism. Particularly as they did not even know her yet!

They quickly released themselves from her hands and as Maria had done, flung themselves upon her companion. Watching them, she wondered again who he could be. He certainly did not act like a paid employee, and yet he dressed like one of the Africans. It was all most disturbing, and she was curious to have it explained to her.

“Come,” said Jason, at last. “It's time we were going into the house. It will soon be lunch time and Miss Winter needs time to shower and freshen herself.”

The children looked up at him. “Can we go now?” asked Ricardo.

“No. You may go to your rooms until lunch is ready.”

The children stared at him, and Eloise began to talk in Spanish again, and although Sarah could not understand all she was saying it was obvious it was something very rude, and Jason looked angry. He resorted to Spanish at last, and told them they were spoiled and unpleasant sometimes, and they must learn to do as they were told.

Sarah understood a little Spanish, and could speak it in like manner, but she did not expect to be able to talk with the children, for they spoke too fast and in this mood would not alter their speech to assist her. She foresaw quite a battle in the next few days.

As they mounted the steps to the house, Jason said: “Would you prefer to have a shower before meeting the children's mother?”

Grateful for his understanding, Sarah nodded. “May I?” she asked eagerly. “I do feel hot and sticky now.”

Jason nodded his head, and led the way into the house, into the wide marble hall which Sarah admired silently. The outside of the house had been beautiful, but this was very impressive. The wrought iron rail of the staircase wound into the upper regions of the house, and the scent of flowers was everywhere. There were great vases and bowls of them placed on every available table and in every corner the gentle perfume of roses mingling with the more exotic fragrance of oleander and hibiscus. The colours, too, were startling against the mosaic of the floor and the light panelling of the walls.

Sarah's curiosity about her companion was heightened when a Negro manservant appeared through an archway behind the staircase and said: “May I show the young lady to her room, señor? And the señora is waiting to see you.”

Jason's face darkened for a moment, and as he looked at Sarah, his fingers sought the line of the scar on his cheek. Then, as if becoming conscious of his action, he drew his hand away, and bowing politely, he said: “Allow me to introduce myself, señorita. I'm Jason de Cordova.”

Sarah's face suffused with colour. She was astounded. This man then was her employer, the man who had contacted Reverend Mother; the man she had thought to be merely an employee!

A cool, amused voice broke into her reverie, and she looked up in surprise. A small but startlingly beautiful figure had walked through another archway which led to the apartments to the right of the huge hall. She was dressed in an elegant silk dress of various shades of purple which suited her dark colouring to perfection; her small dainty feet were encased in very high-heeled sandals and on her fingers and wrists and round her throat sparkled a veritable fortune in diamonds.

“My dear,” said the voice, tinklingly but icily, “I can see from your expression that you thought my husband was one of his own employees!” Sarah blushed anew in confusion and embarrassment, and the woman went on: “It's quite understandable, of course. He dresses like a peasant because he is a peasant, aren't you, querido?”

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_e95d0880-8765-5512-a390-721c28ca4ca2)

SARAH did not dare to look at Jason. She had never felt so de trop in all her life, and she would never have believed that such hate and passion could be conveyed in one simple sentence. The woman was obviously waiting to see what reaction her remark had had, and Sarah sought about wildly in her mind for a reply. But what was there to say?

To her relief, Jason himself spoke, but not to his wife. “Romulus, take Miss Winter to her room, please. And have Constancia go to her in half an hour to bring her down to meet Señora de Cordova. Señora Serena de Cordova.”

“Yes, señor.” They had spoken in English and Sarah moved swiftly to follow the manservant up the stairs. She had not been introduced to the woman down there in the hall, but just now she had no desire to be so. There was a bewildered feeling in her heart and stomach, and she needed time to digest the events of the last few minutes. It had been startling enough to discover Jason de Cordova's identity, without the advent of his wife and her revelations. The children had silently disappeared at the sound of Señora de Cordova's voice, and Sarah thought she did not blame them. In truth that was what she had wanted to do. How could any woman speak to her husband like that? And in front of a stranger? It was inhuman.

Romulus looked rather compassionately at her as he led her into her room which was along the left hand passage at the top of the flight of stairs. The passage was lined with portraits of earlier members of the Cordova family, but Sarah had taken little notice of them. She was too absorbed with her thoughts, and with the feeling of apprehension which had descended on her.

After Romulus had taken his departure, she looked round her room with pleasure. Unlike the rather austere quarters she had occupied at the convent, this room was positively luxurious, with a thickly waxed floor strewn with woollen rugs which she suspected had been hand-made here on the island. The rugs were in vivid colours which complemented the light Swedish furniture and the orange and yellow curtains The adjoining bathroom which Romulus had told her was for her personal use was just as luxurious, with a deep step-in bath and shower attachment, and taps of beaten gold.

Back in her bedroom she discovered the wide french doors opened on to a balcony which was at the side of the house which overlooked the stretch of lawn behind which a swimming pool glimmered greenly in the sunlight. To the right she could see the sea, blue and transparent, the line of the reef vaguely visible from this distance. Nearer, the breakers surfed in to the shore and disappeared on sands as white as Sarah's silvery hair.

She spun round, hugging herself again, unable to prevent the surge of freedom she suddenly experienced. Whatever problems she might have to cope with here, she felt sure she had done the right thing in coming. Until this moment, she realised, she had never known what it was like to be really free, free to eat when she liked and sleep when she liked and act as she liked. For although she was employed as a governess they did not own her spirit as the sisters at the convent had seemed to do, and there was no one to whom she felt she owed her existence. She would support herself, and be independent!

With great daring she stripped off her clothes and stood for a moment studying her reflection in the long wardrobe mirror. Until now, she had never considered herself attractive to men, but suddenly she realised that she was twenty-two and a woman, and that there was more to life than she had ever dreamed.

Smiling at her thoughts, she wrapped the massive orange bath-towel sarong-wise round her body, and marched into the bathroom to take a shower.

Constancia was a pleasant-faced pretty girl of obviously mixed parentage. Although she was more Spanish than African in features, her hair was as tightly curled as Romulus's, and she had a rather squat nose, but Sarah took an immediate liking to her.

Sarah had bathed and was dressed now in a loose shift of a honey-beige colour which she had made herself, and she had combed out her long hair and rewound it in the coronet of plaits. She wore only a coral lipstick for make-up and looked young and fresh and ready for anything.

“La señorita es muy hermosa,” said Constancia admiringly, and Sarah, understanding this simple phrase, replied:

“Thank you. I feel rather nervous.”

Constancia smiled. “You speak Spanish?” she asked haltingly.

“Only very little,” admitted Sarah. “Do you understand English?”

Constancia's teeth were very white as she laughed. “Si, I understand English. But I do not speak well.”

“I think you do very well,” remarked Sarah, and then glancing round the room to see that everywhere was tidy, she said: “I only brought a change of clothes in my bag with me. When will my suitcases arrive from the ship?”

Constancia spread wide her hands. “Eh, eh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That lazy pig, Abraham Smith, will send them when he gets round to it. Do not worry, señorita. If they have not arrived by … lunch … they will be sent for. The señor will not forget.”

“Thank you,” Sarah smiled. “Shall we go?”

She followed Constancia out of the room and along the corridor to the head of the stairs. As they went down, Sarah was relieved to see that the hall below was empty. She did not desire another encounter with her employer's wife for the moment. It was nearing lunch time and she wondered what the arrangements for meals would be. If there was to be a schoolroom perhaps she and the children would eat there. She expected she would be shown their rooms later.

She began wondering what the children's mother would be like. She hoped she would be far different from her employer's wife. That aspect of the situation had not occurred to her either, and it seemed that her only thoughts had been of whether she would like it here and not whether they would like her.

They passed along a marble-tiled corridor at the foot of the stairs leading to the opposite side of the house from that which the Señora de Cordova seemed to inhabit, and Sarah breathed a sigh of relief and began taking a more concentrated interest in her surroundings. There were several statuettes of saints which they passed, and a magnificent portrait of the Virgin and Child which caught her interest. That this was a Catholic household she was left in no doubt, and she wondered whether they were expecting her to be a Catholic and whether it would present any problems. Deciding not to worry about something which had not as yet happened, she stiffened her shoulders, and prayed that Serena de Cordova was a pleasant Spanish female of middle years, with no pretensions to intrigue whatsoever.

At the far end of the corridor, when Sarah was beginning to wonder how much farther they were going, Constancia stopped before a white door, and tapped gently.

“Si,” called a voice, and Constancia smiled encouragingly at Sarah.