me why. You don't know me. Why this stupidity?”
Ricardo turned his back on her and walking over to the washbasins he began taking off his clothes. Sarah watched him for a moment, wondering whether he was going to prove he was different from the other two, when something warned her he was hardly likely to have been converted so easily. Her suspicions were proved when he stripped off the last of his clothes and stood naked before her. The two girls turned away, giggling helplessly, and Sarah felt a rising sense of frustration.
“Ricardo,” she said, shaking her head, “what do you intend to do now?”
“Nada!” he replied clearly, and walked to the bathroom door as though intending to walk outside.
“Now wait a minute,” exclaimed Sarah hotly. “Put on your clothes, Ricardo. You're not very amusing.”
Ricardo shrugged and leaned insolently against the bathroom door.
Sarah looked round to find that the girls were watching her with interested eyes and wondered what her best tactics would be. She was half afraid that the girls would follow his example if she did not think of something soon. To attempt to dress him would be admitting defeat when she knew full well he was quite capable of doing so himself.
“Are you going to get dressed?” she asked brightly.
Ricardo shook his head, and Sarah managed a smile. “Very well. As you seem determined to stay that way, I shan't prevent you. However, nude males, no matter how small, do not take lunch in the dining room.”
She filled one of the basins with water from the tap as she was speaking, and seeing them exchange startled glances she squeezed out a soapy face-cloth and carried it across to him. Taking him firmly by the arm, she turned his back to her and applied the face-cloth to his grimy countenance. He resisted vigorously, but Sarah was young and strong, and quite capable of handling him. After he was clean and dry, she threw the face-cloth back into the bowl.
Then, taking him by the arm, she led him out of the bathroom and into the corridor. She did not bother to ask him which was his room. She was sure he would not tell her anyway, and it was easy enough. The heap of boys’ toys in one room confirmed her belief, and she pushed him inside firmly. Keeping a tight hold on him she closed the door.
She drew down the coverlet on his bed, and lifting his struggling body she put him between the sheets and drew them up to his chin. Tears were vying with his anger now, as his dark eyes met hers over the bedclothes. But she would not allow him to see that she felt any regret whatsoever, and merely said: “If you decide you're hungry at teatime, I'm sure if you put on some clothes, you might be fed!”
Ricardo grimaced, and said: “I hate you!”
Sarah raised her eyebrows. “I'm not too keen on you either,” she retorted, and went out swiftly, closing the door.
Then she opened it again, only a few inches, and put her head round. “Oh, and if you do decide to get up and leave this room before teatime, I've got quite a firm hand with a slipper!”
She closed the door firmly, and leant back against it for a moment. What a beginning! She had hardly been here three hours and already one of the children hated her! Stiffening her shoulders, she walked back to the bathroom. Now for the other two!
Eloise and Maria were standing where she had left them, their faces revealing their mixture of anger and fear as she entered. Sarah sighed. This was not what she wanted. She wanted the children to like her, not fear her. But just now, with Ricardo, force had been the only solution. Was that how Jason de Cordova kept order? By brute force? She doubted it. The children seemed to adore him!
“Well,” she said now, “shall we get washed and go down for our lunch? If you're not hungry, I certainly am!”
When they appeared downstairs again, minus one, Serena looked surprised. “But where is Ricardo?” she asked. “Did he not want any dinner?”
“She put him to bed,” said Eloise, glaring at Sarah. “He's not going to be allowed to have any dinner.”
Dolores Diaz looked triumphantly amused, Sarah thought. “Oh, but surely, Miss Winter, you cannot starve the children!”
“In this instance, it was necessary,” replied Sarah calmly. “Please carry on with your lunch. Eloise, Maria and I can catch you up.”
Maria stared at Sarah blankly. “Aren't you going to tell them what he did?” she asked, in her small, childish treble.
Sarah shook her head. “Eat your lunch.”
Dolores could not leave it alone. “What did he do?” she persisted.
“Nothing of consequence,” replied Sarah. “This scampi is delicious, señora.”
And with that Dolores had to be content. Sarah was conscious that both Eloise and Maria exchanged glances, and she hoped they considered her action that of a friend and not an antagonist.
When lunch was over, Serena said: “If you would like to look around, please feel free to do so – outside, I mean,” she added as an afterthought.
Leaving the two other women, Sarah went out through the French doors, seeking the warm air and the sun on her shoulders. Serena had given the girls permission to leave while they were drinking their coffee, and Sarah had no idea where they were now. Serena had also told her that both she and Dolores indulged in the Spanish habit of siesta, and consequently she was free to do as she liked until five o'clock when tea was served for the children and she would be expected to supervise them.
“We take tea, too,” Serena had said, “but lunch is the only meal the children take with me. They're naturally in bed before dinner is served, and I always breakfast in my room. It's up to you whether you want to take your first meal of the day with the brats!”
Both she and Dolores had laughed at this, but Sarah thought it rather sad. Although the children were antagonistic towards her, they seemed to regard their mother with a kind of repressed admiration, and it seemed a pity that she took so little notice of them.
Leaving the formal front terrace, Sarah walked round to the rear of the building, coming upon the sweep of lawn she had seen from her bedroom window. She walked past the swimming pool which looked as though no one ever used it, and reached the copse of trees which hid the stables from the house.
She saw the African stable boy, and said: “Hello. I'm Sarah Winter. I've come to teach the children. Tell me, are there any ponies for them?”
The boy smiled his broad smile. “Me, Jacob,” he said. “No comrendo inglés, señorita!”
Sarah linked her fingers, and in halting Spanish she asked the question again, and this time he smiled firmly and drew her round to the stable doors, over which she could see the three ponies Jason had bought for his nephew and nieces.
“Oh, good!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands. Recently she had learned to ride at a stables near the convent, and perhaps the horses would provide a link between herself and her charges.
She was allowed into the stall and fed the ponies lumps of sugar which Jacob provided for her. She loved the feel of their soft noses nuzzling against her hand, and said so to Jacob, who nodded his approval.
He
