all fours—yes, I know.’ Ruy dismissed the notion impatiently, disgust curling the corners of his mouth. ‘Thank you, Madre, but no. You have interfered enough in my life as it is.’ His glance embraced both Davina and the child held in her arms. ‘Rodriguez, you will take me to my room. Davina.’
When her mutely imploring glance at her mother-in-law went unheeded Davina followed the manservant reluctantly down the long passage leading off the hall, to a suite of rooms she dimly remembered as being what Ruy had once described as a ‘bachelor suite’. It had been the custom for young male members of the family to live apart from their sisters and mothers after a certain age, he had told her. The custom had originated from the days when his Moorish ancestors had been jealous of their wives, and any male eyes which might look upon them.
From what she could remember the suite was quite large, built around its own patio, and as Rodriguez opened the double panelled doors leading into the sala Davina heard the sound of fountains playing outside and knew that she had not been mistaken.
In contrast to the rest of the house the room was furnished almost simply, with clean, uncluttered furniture that combined the best of antique and modern. The dark blue azulejo tiles were covered with a Persian carpet—a rich mingling of blues and scarlets, touched here and there with gold and pricelessly expensive. On a marble coffee table placed strategically next to a cream hide chesterfield were some magazines, and again Davina felt her heart twist with pity that Ruy was reduced to finding his pleasure in such a passive way.
‘You remember this part of the house?’
She refused to look at him. He had brought her to this sala after that dreadful scene with his mother, when the older woman had accused her of trapping him into marriage, of forcing him to make an honest woman of her. It was in here that he had dried her tears before leading her out on to the patio, where she had flung herself despairingly into his arms and they had walked into the orange grove and…
‘I’m hungry!’ Jamie eyed her crossly. ‘Mummy, I’m hungry!’
‘You hear that, Rodriguez?’ Ruy demanded with an upward lift of his eyebrows. ‘My son is hungry. He is not yet used to our way of life.’
A smile glimmered across the other man’s sombre features.
‘Maria shall make you a paella, and you shall have oranges picked fresh from the trees,’ Ruy promised him. ‘Only be patient for a little while.’
Davina was a little surprised at Jamie’s immediate response to the authority in his father’s voice. Perhaps it was true that all boys needed the firmness of a father’s hand. But would Ruy let his obvious bitterness against her spill out to sour his relationship with his son? Had she known that the invitation to come to Spain was not from him she knew she would never have ventured here to the Palacio, and yet having done so, she was strangely reluctant to return again to England.
The courtyard outside was all in darkness, but the patio doors had been left open to allow the scents of the night to drift in—the spicy, sharp smell of the oranges, a constant reminder of that night when Jamie had been conceived; the sweetness of night-scented stocks, those timid, almost insipid flowers that only revealed their true beauty during the hours of darkness when their perfume filled the night air.
If she remembered rightly, beyond the patio was a swimming pool. She had swum in it once with Ruy. She pushed the thought aside, unwilling to remember the warmth of Ruy’s arms around her as he pulled her down beneath the silken water, only releasing her when her lips had been subjected to a masterful, demanding kiss. Then she had thought that he loved her. She had not known about Carmelita.
The sala connected with a smaller room which had been turned into a tiny kitchen, presumably so that Ruy could be completely independent of the rest of the household if he wished, and Davina sensed intuitively that there must be many times when his pride could no longer bear the lash of enduring the silent pity of the rest of his family; when he must prefer to be hidden from the world to suffer alone. And yet he had insisted that she and Jamie were to share his suite, to share his torment…
Beyond the kitchen was a room which had been converted into a bedroom, opulently rich in its furnishings, but it was the huge double bed which drew Davina’s eyes, fear hidden in their amethyst depths as she stared at it.
‘Where’s my bed?’ Jamie demanded suddenly, breaking the silence. ‘And where’s my mummy’s bed?’
‘Your mummy’s bed is here,’ Ruy said silkily, turning aside to murmur something to Rodriguez, who disappeared in soft-footed silence through a door at the far end of the room.
‘Through that door is the bathroom,’ Ruy told Davina when he had gone, ‘and beyond that a dressing room. Jamie shall sleep there for the time being.’
‘And I shall sleep with him,’ Davina said bravely. At home she had only a very small flat, and Jamie’s small bed was in the same room as hers. It would frighten the small boy to find himself sleeping alone, but when she attempted to explain this to Ruy he cut across her explanation, his voice harsh as he said cruelly, ‘You will sleep here in this room in my bed, Davina, otherwise Jamie will be banished to another part of the house. Do you understand me?’
‘Why?’
His eyes searched her face, and for the first time she saw the true extent of his bitterness.
‘Why? Because you are my wife,’ he said softly. ‘Because I will not endure the pitying glances of my servants and my family when it becomes known that my wife has returned to me only because she knows she will no longer be expected to undergo the degradation of sharing my bed. That was what you once called it, wasn’t it?’ he continued unmercifully. ‘Degradation of the very worst sort? You don’t even begin to know what it means, but you will learn, sharing this room with me, being forced to witness all the thousand and one indignities that my… my disability forces upon me. In fact…’ his eyes roamed her set white face, ‘I think you should take the place of Rodriguez.’
His fingers snaked out, grasping her wrist and making her gasp with pain, unable to believe that their hard, vibrant warmth belonged to a man who was no longer fully in control of his own body. ‘It hurts? You should be grateful that you can feel pain,’ he concluded grimly. ‘Madre de Dios, I wish I could!’
Davina swallowed a lump in her throat. Despite his desire to hurt and wound her, she could not prevent pity welling up inside her. Dear God, what torment he must be in, this man who had always taken for granted his male power. To find it cut off like this must surely be the worst blow fate could have dealt him. She knew she ought to feel some sense of satisfaction, some pleasure in knowing that he was now suffering as he had once caused her to suffer, but all she could feel was an overwhelming desire to reach out and brush the silky black hair off his forehead, to hold and comfort him as she might have done Jamie… The thought stunned her, rooting her to the spot as she stared blindly around her, not seeing the elegant room with its rich furnishings, the carved bed, the Persian carpets, the antique furniture, the elegant graciousness of a house that had been inhabited by Ruy’s family for generation after generation; children brought up in a tradition, children of whom her son was the latest.
The door opened suddenly, and Rodriguez appeared with her luggage. Without looking at Ruy Davina followed him through the bathroom with its sunken bath in jade green malachite, the taps in the same material, azulejo tiles adorning the floor.
Beyond it was a small plainly furnished room overlooking the courtyard, with a single bed and a carved chest of drawers. When they were alone Davina undressed Jamie, before taking him back to the bathroom to wash
