The kisses and the wine Read online

  The Kisses and the Wine - Violet Winspear

  Lise supposed she ought to be grateful to the imperious Conde Leandro de Marcos Reyes for helping her out of an awkward situation — but not so grateful that she was willing to repay him as he suggested and pretend to be his fiancée. A domineering Spanish nobleman was not her idea of a comfortable husband! However, she reluctantly agreed to the deception, just for a short time . . .

  printed in Great Britain

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the Author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the Author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

  The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and with- out a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  First published 1973

  Australian copyright 1980

  Philippine copyright 1980

  This edition 1980

  Violet Winspear 1973

  ISBN 0 263 73357 2

  CHAPTER ONE

  DASH the car! It was small and red and second-hand, and she had bought it in the Portobello Road, and her friend Cass had said at the time that it was definitely the sort of vehicle that would go wrong in the most inconvenient place and leave her stranded somewhere in the middle of southern Spain.

  Everyone had thought she was crazy making the trip alone, but for once in her twenty-two years Lise had made up her mind to take a holiday that would be organized by herself alone, her dear but bossy brother and his wife left at home while she toured the twisting, up-and-down roads of this fascinating country, stayed the night at whichever inn took her fancy, ate cheese, bread and fruit by the roadside and didn't make a formal journey of it as Audrey liked, guide book and museum catalogue in hand all the time, and a concern that the beds be well aired and the water free of germs. Audrey was a dear but a worrier, and Lise had felt the need of a carefree, solitary holiday for a long time. It worried Audrey that she was not yet engaged to be married, and Lise liked to have a game with her rather earnest sister-in-law by telling her that she had joined the women's liberation movement and planned to live a free and emancipated life, with no demanding male to run her life.

  But the truth was that right now Lise would have appreciated the masculine knowledge of cars and what made them stall on a mountain road with nightfall coming on. Lise lifted the bonnet and stared at all the complicated bits and pieces of machinery inside the car that looked so

  neat and sure of itself when the bonnet was closed. She had set out so eagerly on her aventurilla, as the Spanish called it, and the little car had been so good until now. She slid into the driving seat and tried once more to get some response from the engine, but all that resulted were cranks and grinds enough to wake the dead, and Lise began to feel that she had arrived at a place unknown to the living.

  All around her stretched the corniche road into the hills, and all was strangely silent, as if even the birds had flown off and left her alone with her predicament. She thrust a hand into the pocket of her suede driving jacket and took out a bar of nuts and raisins. She was feeling peckish and the inn at which she had planned to stay for the night was still some miles up the mountain slope. She guessed it was the tough going which had finally made the car call a halt, and with a shrug Lise ate her way through the chocolate bar and firmly told herself that it was no use getting into a panic. Someone was bound to come along soon, for she knew this road to lead to a township, and she could then ask for assistance, or a lift to the nearest garage. This part of Spain wasn't so benighted that there wouldn't be a mechanic available to put the car right. After all, she had to be in Madrid by the fifteenth to see if there was a possibility of working in that salon which Franquista had recently opened.

  Lise was an exceptionally fine needlewoman and for some time now she had worked for a well-known fashion house in London. Franquista had visited the establishment about four months ago and when she had been shown some of Lise's work she had said at once that there would always be an opening for the English girl in the salon she was planning to start on the Avenida Felipe in the busy heart of Madrid. It was her meeting with the Spanish

  couturier which had given Lise the idea for this holiday. It had seemed an excellent way for her to make the break from her brother's household and establish herself as a young woman of independence. She only joked with Audrey about entire liberation, but what she truly wanted was the adventure of working in another country and meeting people as vivacious as she had found Franquista. Bob and Audrey were inclined to treat her as if she were one of their children, and though she loved them for their concern and kindness, she was really old enough to take care of herself and make a career elsewhere than in London.

  She leaned back in the driving seat and listened carefully to the stillness, hoping to have it broken by the oncoming sound of another car.

  She glanced up at the sky and saw the first faint glimmers of starlight. Night was falling and she had never been so alone in her life before. She wasn't exactly nervous, but now those tales of primitive Latins began to seep into her mind; those warnings from her friend Cass, who had visited the Costa del Sol last year, that Spaniards had cave-men ideas about women and believed them to be pawns of pleasure rather than people.

  Lise had laughed at the time, but now as she glanced round at the dark, towering shapes of the mountains and breathed the wildly perfumed air, she sensed an atmosphere of menace and beauty that might indeed be a background for ravishment of a lone virginal traveller like herself.

  Nonsense, she chided herself, and then she stiffened in her seat as very distinctly she heard the rushing of wheels on this silent road, the oncoming velocity of a very fast car, suddenly roaring round the bend beyond which she was parked and seeming to aim itself directly at her lights

  and the small bulk of her car. There was instantly a terrific screech of wheels as the driver braked and came to a halt in a cloud of road dust only a yard or so from the small red open-top.

  Because for the past four months Lise had been 'busy learning the Spanish language she understood the expletive which the other driver used to describe someone who parked on the bend of a narrow road in the middle of the sierras.

  In the flare of his headlamps Lise saw his face, and the dark Latin force of the features, combined with his anger, made her heart race with panic. He looked the picture of fury, and she was a young woman all alone with him. As much as she needed help, she prayed that he would expand his anger and drive on, but abruptly he threw open the door of his long, powerful car and strode to the side of hers.

  His swift, cutting Spanish was way over her head, and though she had an inclination to cower away from his high and mighty anger, she tilted her chin and waited for a pause in his speech to explain that she had not parked here to admire the view but had trouble with her engine. All at once he stopped berating her in his incisive Spanish and stared down at her with narrowed dark eyes.

  `Of course,' he snapped out the words in perfect English, `only an outrageously confident British tourist would park in such a position and dare fate to bring disaster upon her. You do realize that if I had not applied my brakes
my car would have hurtled yours over the side of that precipice?'

  She followed the direction of his lean, sweeping hand, and it was so annoying that he should be so right. 'My car stalled, senor. I did not park here on purpose—'

  `I see.' He swept a look all around her. 'You are alone? You have no companion?'

  She swallowed dryly and hated to have to admit to this bad-tempered brute that she was all alone. But even before she answered him, she saw from the black joining of his brows that he comprehended fully her aloneness and her youth, spotlighted by the headlamps of his car directly upon her. She met his eyes and defiance flared in her light grey eyes, giving them a crystal-like quality.

  `As a driver yourself, senor, you know how these things can happen, but I won't detain you as you are so obviously in a great hurry. I can wait for another car to come along, with a driver who might be good enough to give me a lift to the nearest garage.'

  `Parked as you are, Senorita, he could well give you a push into the nether regions. Are you out of gas?'

  `No, the gauge is still registering. I think something is amiss with the engine.'

  `And so you planned to sit here in the hope that a good Samaritan would come to your aid, eh?'

  `Is such a hope impossible in Spain?' she flared, her temper ignited by his Latin scorn of what he considered female irresponsibility. 'I suppose Don Quixote is out of fashion in this day and age!'

  `It is a point to be argued, senorita, but not at this precise moment. This is not exactly the busiest road in Spain, so what if I had not come along? Don't tell me you would have ventured out on the mountain road in search of a garage?'

  `I'm not that foolish,' she rejoined. 'I'd have spent the night in the car and hoped to find assistance in the morning.'

  `You refuse to consider yourself foolish, but if you want my opinion, senorita, you are asking for trouble driving alone in this region of the country, without any real knowledge of your vehicle, and palpably unaware that it grows

  extremely cold in the mountains as the night advances. What if a wolf came along?'

  `One with two legs?' she asked flippantly, and could not help but shrink back as the tall Spaniard leant down against the open side where she sat and gave her the most explicit look of her life. It spoke volumes. It said she was an impudent child, totally devoid of common sense, and very much in danger of being hoisted from the car and thoroughly shaken. It even said more . . . that he was someone not accustomed to being sauced by a mere female of the species.

  `I am strongly tempted to drive on and leave you to face the dark, cold night alone,' he said grimly. 'It really cannot be wondered at that your country has no Don Quixote. His kind of gallantry would be wasted on headstrong females who brag of being self-sufficient, yet who lack the grace to ask politely for help when they find themselves in need of it. Well, young woman, do you want my help or do you wish to give way to your impulse to tell me to go to the devil?'

  Lise felt strongly the grip of that impulse, but she also felt the touch of the night wind against her neck and it was cold, and she had only a thin laprobe in the car to protect her against the elements.

  `I — I do need help,' she admitted, and never in her life before had it been so difficult for her to request it. 'Could you have a look at the engine and perhaps do something that might make it possible for me to reach the nearest village?'

  `I am afraid I am in a hurry and cannot afford the time to tinker with a car engine in the half-dark. You had better come with me. Come, out of the car, and bring with you your belongings.'

  `You will take me to the village?' She couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. 'I am grateful, senor.'

  'The nearest village is out of my way,' he said curtly. will take you where you can spend the night, and in the morning someone can be sent to deal with your vehicle. Come!'

  It was a most definite order and Lise felt that if she didn't obey it he would drive on and leave her alone without even a backward glance. Inwardly fuming at his autocratic manner, Lise climbed out of her red car, looked at it and took her suitcase from the boot. She had been travelling light, wearing a trouser suit and several changes of gay cotton shirts and nylon underwear. On her feet she wore kid driving-shoes, and she put their flatness down to the fact that she felt small beside the Spaniard as he escorted her to his Jaguar. He opened the passenger door and she slid inside, feeling at once the warmth and comfort after the smallness and austerity of her own car.

  He took the seat beside her and slammed the door. He turned to her a moment, took her case off her lap and tossed it to the wide back seat with a sardonic sort of carelessness. 'You might as well be as comfortable as possible,' he drawled. 'Would you like a laprobe?'

  `Gracias, no, senor. Your car is very comfortable and I am grateful to you for giving me this lift.'

  'You really should be grateful to providence that it was I who came along and not some rogue who would take advantage of your ineffable innocence.' His voice was as smooth as the action of his car, taking the uphill road as if it was borne on wings, leaving behind them the gay little car which now looked oddly pathetic. Lise glanced back, and he said at once that he would arrange to have it towed to a garage. 'If you were a Latin girl you would be named Inocencia for certain What bravado, to tour Spain all alone! And what sort of parents have you to allow it?'

  'I'm not a child,' she said stiffly. am over twenty and I

  have managed very well up until now.'

  `Over twenty, eh? I would not have taken you for that.' The car sped swiftly through the night, its headlamps showing how precipitous was the road, like a narrow ribbon encircling a dark gorge. Now and again Lise shot a glance at the man beside her and she couldn't help but admit that he had a most striking profile, the brow, nose and jaw carved with the precision which was truly Latin, with a well-groomed cap of black hair above the strong brow. A commanding face to match his voice, she thought. The face of a grandee!

  `Do I meet with your approval?' he asked suddenly, and she flushed vividly and was glad that the interior light wasn't bright enough to reveal the hot colour that came and went in her cheeks; the proof, had he need of it, that she wasn't entirely at ease with tall, dark, imperious men.

  She didn't reply to his sardonic question and neither of them spoke again until the Jaguar had put several miles between them and the place where she had stalled. But at last, because she had thought he was taking her to the nearest village so she could register for the night at the local inn, she was forced to ask him where they were going.

  `Are you nervous of me, then?' he asked, a softly mocking note in his voice.

  `No — as a matter of fact I'm rather hungry and I thought we'd have reached the nearest inn by now.' Her reply was a defiant one, for how could she help but feel nervous of a perfect stranger with hair and- eyes as dark as night, and a manner which betrayed his opinion of her as a little fool bent on getting into trouble. The fact that he was well-dressed, well-spoken, and the owner of an expensive car, was no guarantee that he wasn't one of the Spanish wolves Cass had warned her about. Cass had said that most Spaniards liked to dress well, and most of them had a certain air of

  distinction which could fool a girl. Lise tightened her hands together in her lap and for the first time in her life she was at the mercy of wondering what she would do if this man should stop the car and reach for her with those lean well-kept hands with a gemmed ring on the small finger of the left hand.

  Her heart nearly stopped as in that moment they turned a bend and he stopped beside a tall pair of gates. Even as a little cry of protest clamoured at her lips, he pressed on the horn and made it blare loudly until suddenly a light went on and revealed a sort of gatehouse, with a squat stone tower, at one side of the road beyond the closed gates. A door opened and a figure, struggling into a coat, came running to open the iron gates.

  As they clanged open the long car started up again and they swept through the aperture on to the gravel of a drive. Lise caught a glim
pse of the gatekeeper's face and she thought he looked a bit scared, or was he merely startled after being woken from his sleep by the blare of the Jaguar's horn? She hadn't realized until now how late it had grown, so that most people would be in bed, or preparing to go there, especially those who lived in the hilly regions and had none of the distractions of town life to keep them from their bed.

  Would you be as good as to tell me where we are?' she demanded. `I only came with you because I thought you were taking me to the nearest village, but this seems to be a private driveway—'

  `It assuredly is,' he agreed. 'The driveway to my house—'

  `Oh – how dare you!' she broke in on his explanation. 'I – I should never have trusted you! I knew from the first moment I looked at you that you were devilish!'

  `Just as I knew you were foolish,' he said crisply. 'It is

  said that first impressions are usually the correct ones, but I would ask you to reserve judgment of my house until you see it in the morning light. You might very well take it for Bluebeard's Castle in your present state of mind — and possibly your hunger. I assure you that I can offer you a far more comfortable bed than the local innkeeper, and also a far tastier supper.'

  `And what am I expected to offer in repayment?' she snapped, and the words were out of her mouth before she could suppress them, and they revealed very clearly the trend of her thoughts and her fears. Oh lord! She closed her eyes in momentary horror. What if he were a Spanish big-shot, with not the least intention of harming her; what if he had a wife to whom he would relate her remark and make of it a highly amusing joke between them? Lise wished to heaven that caution was part of her make-up, but she had always been rather impulsive, to the despair of Audrey, who swore that it was Lise's tendency to speak her mind which kept young men from wooing her with serious intention.

  Lise sat as still as a statue in the deep veloured seat of her rescuer's car and waited for him to berate her, or on the other hand to amusedly admit that he hoped to have a little fun with her.