The Flesh and the Devil (94 page)

         
'Would it have been as hard to say plainly that you loved
me?'

         
He caught his breath before he answered, and she saw him
take his lower lip between his teeth. He was standing very still, his red head
stooped under the cabin's low ceiling, his massive shoulders crowding the
confined space; he looked somehow trapped, his rigid expression that of a man
braced to endure the unspeakable without a sign. He had looked like that when
Luis probed his wound, she remembered.

         
At last he said in a quick, curt voice, 'I was as open as
any fool, once, and was scarred for it. I survived that, but I could not again
- I cannot -' He broke off, and there was silence before he added jerkily, 'Not
that from you,' and fell silent again, breathing as though he had been running'
Juana swallowed the tears in her throat, 'Then do not take exception to my
secrecy when you are as much to blame as I,' she answered starkly. 'At least I
have said openly to your face that I love you, not hidden behind ink and paper
and another's name.'

         
She was not aware that he had moved, but a single stride
brought him so close to her that she gave an involuntary gasp before he gripped
her, his long fingers digging into her flesh with unconscious cruelty. She had
a blurred impression of the goaded, reckless look in his brilliant eyes, and
then he was holding her too tightly for her to move.

         
'I love you, Juana.'

         
The words were dragged out of him like a challenge, and
then he stood still, his arms and body hurting her with their strength,
waiting.

         
For a moment she stood as motionless as he, unsure that she
had heard rightly. Then, with a choked little cry of 'Philip', she reached up
to draw his head down to hers clinging as though she sought to banish all space
between them.

         
The sun was high when Juana stirred drowsily to stretch in
the narrow bunk. For a few moments she was only aware of a glorious sense of
fulfilment and well-being; then she realized that her movement had been an
unconscious response to the sensual touch of Tristan's tongue against her bare
skin, like a lion grooming a lioness after a long coupling.

         
'Philip, you. . . .'

         
'You are in the way to becoming a good Englishwoman, Lady
Stanford,' he interrupted, his green eyes mocking, 'but you must learn to call
me "Philip" at other times, not only when we make love.'

         
She shifted a little under his seeking mouth. 'And you must
teach me some other English words,' she agreed with a touch of mischief. 'Tell
me the words that mean arrogant and
impudent
 
and
lecherous
-' Her voice faded.

         
'Do you mean to talk about yourself all the time?' he
retorted, raising himself.

         
She put out a hand to detain him and he captured it,
folding the fingers into her palm and crushing her fist in his own hand, just
hard enough to let her feel the strength of his grip.

         
'Philip, where are you going?'

         
There was anxiety in Juana's question as she watched him;
the air against her body felt as cold as if it touched a raw wound. But as he
stretched across her to pick up something from amongst his discarded clothes he
kept hold of her hand, and when he turned back to her be was smiling.

         
'Here.' He held out his hand, and she saw that be was
holding the packet that he had twice snatched back from her. 'Since we are
giving up secrets to each other, you should see this; it is the only token I
ever had from the woman I loved. Open it,' he insisted as she hesitated, 'or I
may change my mind again — you know how jealously I have kept it until now.'

         
She nodded, bending so that her hair fell forward to veil
her face from him as she unwrapped the oiled silk, but his hand came out to
thrust the blue-black mass aside. Her fingers trembled as he touched her cheek,
and then as the fraying silk fell back and she saw its contents she froze.

         
Her fingers went out to touch, softly and unbelievingly,
and the light in her eyes almost blinded him as she looked up.

         
'I thought you must have kept something of Elena's. It
seemed as though you must love her in spite of all you said, and then when you
became her lover -'

         
He silenced her with a touch, his scarred mouth wry,
self-derogatory. 'I am not such a fool as that. I might treasure what one woman
has thrown in my face, but there is something about a whore who will have a man
scarred for a jest that kills mere appetite.'

         
Juana looked down at the blue cheveril gloves again. 'But
you went back to her, as soon as I had left Luis's house.'

         
'I did not
go back
-I met her by chance, while I was
watching the Casa de Herreros for a chance to speak with you. Then, it seemed
fitting that Elena should serve my turn without knowing it; I used her to get
access to you, and then when you sent me away I felt that I had gambled and
lost.' The words were matter-offact, but his slanting eyes were bitter. 'I
thought that when I warned you of what
laviuda
 
intended, you would prefer me as a lesser evil
.
 
When I found you did not-!'

         
He broke off, then continued tonelessly, 'I was afraid. I
wanted to hide, and I walked into Francisco de Frontenera's trap without caring
whether he killed me or not. It was only when he said something that made me
think you had set him to challenge me that I resolved to survive -' his hands
stilled her start of protest -

         
'because it gave me cause enough to see you again, if I
lived.'

         
'I knew nothing of what they planned. It was Eugenio-'

         
'Yes.' He kissed her neetingly, a look of rather grim
amusement on his face.

         
'When I could think more clearly, I remembered that you
were always open to a fault about your hatreds — you could have let me die a
dozen times on the way to Cadiz, and when you did not I knew that 1 could trust
your word.'

         
'I tried to warn you, but I came too late.' Her eyes were
urgent as she gazed at him. If I had not been too much of a coward to confess
that I was to have a baby, I would never have sent you away that night. I would
never have run away from you if you had not —' she hesitated, then faltered -
'if you had not hurt me so.'

         
Tristan was briefly silent, and she saw his jaw tighten
before he answered. He said curtly, 'I was trying - that night in Luis‘s house -
to force an end to that traffic of ours, to finish all talk of debts and
payments. I had found that I had no taste for what was purchased, and I wanted
your willingness, even if I could have no more. But when I kissed you and saw
you look at me with nothing but disgust, I thought I had lost anything I might
have gained; so I went to a brothel to root you out of my mind, to prove that
one bought woman was the same as any other. I failed.' His eyes searched her
face as he spoke and she met his gaze unflinchingly, her eyes dark with a
mixture of compassion and remembered pain. 'I went back that afternoon ready to
crawl for a kind look, and then Luis gave me your letter.'

         
She made an incoherent little sound and lifted her hand to
caress the warm skin of his bared throat, and as she did so the blue gloves
slid unnoticed to the ground, the empty fingers curled like withered petals.

         
'What I said then has come true at last - the debt is
cancelled,' she said gently and drew his head down to hers.

         
The End