that was like a palace. For this visit she wore her Sunday dress, and was warned to be on her best behaviour. She recalled little of that meeting, save that he had been formal and distant. Soon after that she was sent to the convent school. When she emerged at sixteen her father was dead, and she found herself the ward and betrothed of a man she hardly knew.
She was still chattering as they hailed a cab to take them the short distance to the hotel, travelled up in the lift and walked along the corridor to the suite.
They found the main room almost dark, except for a small table lamp.
‘We have a cup of tea, like true English people,’ Catalina said. While she called room service, Maggie took off her coat, yawned and stretched.
‘I so envy you that dress,’ Catalina said longingly. ‘No straps and only your bosom is holding it up, so when you stretch your arms over your head it look like maybe it fall down, and maybe not. And all the men are watching and hoping. I wish I can have a dress that look like it fall down.’
‘Catalina!’ Maggie said, half-amused, half-horrified. ‘You make me out a terrible chaperone.’
Impulsively the girl hugged her. ‘I like you so much, Maggie. You have an understanding heart, I think.’
‘Well, you take my advice. Stand up to this ogre and tell him to get lost. This is the twenty-first century. You can’t be forced into marriage against your will—certainly not with an old man. One day you’ll meet a nice boy of your own age.’
Catalina chuckled. ‘I thought you believed a woman was crazy to marry a Spaniard of any age.
‘I meant any English woman. I dare say if you’re Spanish they might be just about tolerable.’
‘How kind of you,’ said an ironic voice from the shadows
They whirled and saw a man rise from the armchair by the window, and switch on a tall standard lamp. Maggie felt a frisson of alarm, and not only because of his sudden appearance, the way he seemed to loom up from nowhere. It was to do with the man himself. There was something inherently dangerous about him. She knew that by instinct, even in that brief moment.
Before she could demand to know who he was and how he came to be there, she heard Catalina whisper, ‘Sebastian!’
Oh, heavens! Maggie thought. Now the fat’s in the fire.
Obviously he’d heard every word she’d said. But that might even be a good thing. A little plain speaking was long overdue.
She surveyed him, realising that she had been seriously misled. Catalina’s notion of elderly was coloured by her own youth. This man bore no relation to the grey-beard they had been discussing. Don Sebastian de Santiago was in his thirties, perhaps his late thirties but certainly no older. He stood a good six foot two inches tall, with a lean, hard body that he carried like an athlete.
Only on his face did Maggie see what she had expected, a look of pride and arrogance that she guessed had been imprinted there at the hour of his birth. And right now, to pride and arrogance was added anger. If she’d cherished a hope that he hadn’t heard all her frank words, a look at his black, snapping eyes would have dispelled it.
But for the moment anger was just below the surface, almost concealed by a layer of cool courtesy. ‘Good evening, Catalina,’ he said calmly. ‘Will you be so kind as to introduce me to this lady?’
Catalina pulled herself together. ‘Señora Margarita Cortez, Don Sebastian de Santiago.’
Sebastian inclined his head curtly. ‘Good evening, Señora. It is a pleasure to meet you at last. I have heard much about you, although I admit that I had not expected to find you so young.’
His eyes flickered over her as he spoke, as though he were sizing her up, prior to dismissal.
Maggie raised her chin, refusing to be discomposed.
‘I was not informed of any age qualifications for my job, Señor,’ she replied crisply. ‘Only that I should speak fluent Spanish, and be able to introduce Catalina to English customs.’
He seemed a little surprised that she had turned his remark back on him. He surveyed her ironically.
‘Then permit me to say that you seem to have exceeded your brief. Was it part of the terms of your employment to criticise me to my bride, or is that an English custom I’ve never heard of before?’
‘You take a light-hearted conversation too seriously, Señor,’ Maggie said, managing to sound amused. ‘Catalina and I have enjoyed an evening at the theatre, followed by a meal, and we were in the mood to talk nonsense.’
‘I see,’ he said sardonically. ‘So you were talking nonsense when you told her that she couldn’t be forced into marriage with an ogre. I can’t tell you how greatly that relieves my mind. For if you were to seriously oppose me, I tremble to think of my fate.’
‘So do I,’ she riposted. She wasn’t going to let him get away with that.
He raised his eyebrows slightly, but otherwise didn’t deign to react.
‘It’s time for me to be going home,’ Maggie said. ‘I’ll just call a cab—’
He moved swiftly to put himself between her and the telephone. ‘Before you do, perhaps you could favour me with an account of your evening. Did you enjoy Julius Caesar?’
‘Very much,’ Catalina burst out before Maggie could stop her. ‘Such a great play, and an inspired performance. We were thrilled, weren’t we, Maggie?’
‘Yes, do tell me.’ He turned to her. ‘Did you enjoy the performance as much as Catalina—?’
Maggie’s alarm bells rang. ‘Don Sebastian—’
‘Or will you, at least, have the sense to admit the truth?’ he cut across her sharply. ‘Neither of you were there tonight.’
‘But we were,’ Catalina plunged on, unwisely. ‘Truly, we were.’
‘That’s enough,’ Maggie said, laying a hand on the girl’s arm. ‘There’s no need for this, Catalina. We’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. Perhaps it’s Don Sebastian who should be ashamed, for spying on us.’
‘That was a most unwise remark, Señora,’ he said in a hard voice. ‘I do not owe you or anyone an account of my actions, but I will tell you this. I arrived unexpectedly and decided to join you at the theatre. When it was clear that you weren’t there, I returned here to wait for you. It’s now past one in the morning, and if you know what’s good for you, you will explain exactly where you were, and who you met.’
‘How dare you?’ Maggie snapped. ‘We met nobody. Catalina has been in my company, and mine alone, the whole evening.’
‘Dressed like that?’ he asked scathingly, taking in the elegantly sexy contours of her dress. ‘I don’t think so. Women flaunt themselves for men, not each other.’
‘Piffle!’ Maggie said, losing her temper. ‘Catalina likes to dress up for the pleasure of it, as does any young girl. I dressed up to keep her company.’
‘You’ll
