The Stand-In Bride Page 8

  ‘No, but my father-in-law was a natural moaner,’ Maggie said with feeling. ‘He would hold the floor for hours, complaining about the national government, the regional government-this was wrong, that was wrong-and nobody else could ever get a word in edgeways.’

  The waltz was ending. Immediately the band struck up a tango, which Sebastian swept her into without a pause. Like everything else, he did this well, but so did she. It was like the skiing all over again, a subtle battle for mastery, with the honours even. They were both breathless and smiling when the music ended.

  ‘You dance well,’ he said. ‘But I always knew you would.’

  A wise woman wouldn’t answer that. His eyes were dangerous. So was the heat that came from his body, so powerfully that she could feel it.

  ‘I think we should sit down,’ she murmured.

  ‘Not until we’ve had another waltz.’

  But to waltz in his arms, held close against him, wasn’t for her. She wanted it too much. She must walk away from him, ignoring the tempting look in his eyes. She must be strong. She must.

  ‘Margarita,’ he said softly.

  ‘Stop this. Stop it.’

  ‘You stop it. Be strong for both of us.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes.’ But she didn’t know what she was saying any more.

  Suddenly the cry went up, ‘There they are!’ And suddenly everyone was hurrying off the dance floor and crowding the windows that looked out onto the street below. Maggie and Sebastian were swept along with the crowd. Catalina was also on her feet, waving to attract their attention.

  ‘What is it?’ Maggie asked, bewildered.

  ‘Santa Claus,’ Catalina told her excitedly. ‘Every night until Christmas he has a torchlit procession, and tonight is the first one. Come along.’

  In her eagerness she seized Sebastian’s hand and pulled him after her, leaving Maggie to follow more sedately. Someone opened the doors to the balcony and they all crowded out into the night air.

  Far up the mountain they could see the glint of coloured lights against the darkness, making a long, wavy tail speeding down the slope. As it neared, the lights seemed to separate, revealing that each one was fixed to the head of a skier. There were fifty skiers, in fancy dress, some elves, some angels, some fairies, forming a guard of honour to a sleigh, drawn by more skiers, wearing horns to suggest reindeer.

  The sleigh itself was magnificent, decorated with tinsel that reflected back every light, the back filled with sacks and parcels. And there, holding the reins, was a big, red-garbed, white-bearded, ho-ho-hoing Santa Claus. Swiftly they came on, growing bigger as they reached the village and glided through the main street, a long stream of glittering colour.

  Everywhere doors and windows were open and people came out to look, to cheer and applaud while the procession swept on in glory.

  And then it was gone, and there were only the lights fading in the distance, until they had vanished altogether. A collective sigh went up, and the spectators suddenly seemed to realise how cold it was. They retreated back into their well-lit buildings, with only memories of the beauty that had lived so briefly.

  And that was how it would have been, Maggie realised, if she’d yielded to the pounding in her blood. Sebastian had said she must be strong for both of them, and for a brief instant strength had seemed too hard.

  She could have had her moment, but it would have been like the torchlit procession-beautiful, brilliant, fleeting, leaving only a memory in the darkness.

  Thank heavens all this would soon be over. Isabella was returning, Sebastian and Catalina would be married, and she could return to her humdrum life in England, and forget.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A S HER wedding grew closer Catalina’s mood veered wildly. Sometimes she was calm, and almost indifferent, at other times she would indulge in bursts of tears.

  She entered a lively dispute with Sebastian about their honeymoon. Catalina’s choice was a trip to New York. Sebastian’s idea was a slow tour of his estates, introducing her to his people, and also her new duties. Maggie threw up her hands in despair at this notion of a honeymoon, and she came within an ace of kicking Sebastian’s shins before he belatedly saw sense, and gave in.

  Isabella arrived amid much rejoicing, and after another week in hospital she was well enough to move into Sebastian’s house, with two nurses.

  Some of Catalina’s responsibilities came with the season. Nearby was the tiny parish church of San Nicolas, where it was a tradition for the de Santiago family to provide the crib. Sebastian drove her and Maggie the short distance to the charming little building, and played his part in setting the scene. At last, everything was finished, except for the manger, which was still empty.

  Maggie gently unwrapped the tissue paper and handed Catalina the tiny wooden figure of a child. It was exquisitely carved and painted, with a peacefully sleeping face, and she felt a sudden tremor go through her. There had been another child that had lain in her arms and slept like that. But the baby had not woken again.

  Catalina laid the baby in the manger, and turned away in answer to some remark of the priest’s. Feeling sure she was unnoticed, Maggie moved quietly forward and looked into the crib.

  ‘Isn’t it beautiful, Señora?’ Father Basilio appeared beside her.

  ‘Beautiful,’ she said softly. ‘And the real miracle was that he lived.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘All that stress, and the journey on the donkey-he was probably born early. Children sometimes die when they’re premature.’

  The old man’s eyes were kind and understanding. ‘Yes, Señora. Sometimes that happens. Was your baby blessed with any life at all?’

  ‘Just a few days,’ she whispered.

  Somebody spoke to the priest. While his attention was distracted Maggie laid her hand gently on the infant. Suddenly she couldn’t see properly. She closed her eyes and took a long breath, and when she opened them again she found Sebastian looking at her. For a moment she thought he would speak, but Catalina burst in with, ‘Maggie, isn’t it just beautiful?’

  ‘Beautiful,’ she said brightly, forcing herself back to reality.

  ‘Sebastian, don’t you think everything is perfect?’

  ‘Perfect, my dear.’

  ‘Have I performed my duties to your liking?’

  ‘You’ve done admirably,’ he said, and it might have been Maggie’s imagination, but she thought he smiled with an effort.

  Christmas passed fairly quietly, as was common in continental Europe. On Christmas Eve the entire household attended the great cathedral in Granada, and on Christmas Day they went to the little parish church.

  The time for colourful festivities was the New Year, and in particular, the Feast of The Three Kings, in January. This would be celebrated with the jollity that in England was associated with Christmas, with much wine, good food and giving of gifts. Ten days later Sebastian and Catalina would be married in Granada Cathedral, and Maggie would be free to return home.

  She was looking forward to that, she told herself many times. Once back in England she would be able to put these strange, hectic weeks behind her and get Sebastian in proportion, a man who loomed large because of his power and arrogance, but who wasn’t really very important after all.

  Between New Year and the Feast the place was a bedlam of preparation. Of all the parties in town, Don Sebastian’s celebration for his bride was the party. Anyone who was everyone had been invited. Those who hadn’t took to their beds or retired to the country to hide their shame. Even José had received an invitation, although Sebastian drew the line at Horacio.

  Extra cooks were brought in to cater for the armies of guests. An internationally famous chef was installed the week before and began the preparations for garlic soup, mussels steamed in sherry, giant prawns cooked in olive oil, roast suckling pig, almond sponge cake and marzipan coated with bitter chocolate. He had several lively discussions with the steward in charge of Sebastian’s huge cellar, and
the two of them nearly came to blows over the rival merits of Gramona Chardonnay and Solar Gran Blanco Crianza.

  Cleaners polished the place from top to bottom. Every lamp was washed until it sparkled and glowed against the tiles and mosaics. With two days to go the weather struck a warm spell and outdoor festivities became possible. Lights were hung throughout the courtyards, throwing into vivid relief the delicate arches and casting reflections in the water.

  Catalina was having a new gown created for the occasion by the same establishment that had made her wedding dress, and insisted on buying Maggie a gown also. Catalina helped her study fabrics and styles, but when it came to the fitting she would lose interest and wander out for a quick shopping trip.

  The gown was splendid, long, sweeping and made of dark crimson velvet. Most fair-haired women would have had trouble with the colour, but Maggie’s Mediterranean eyes set it off perfectly.

  Sebastian’s expression said he thought so, on the night of the party, when she came downstairs in her glorious creation, and he gave her a heavy, solid gold antique locket, set with rubies, to wear with it.

  ‘Catalina told me how you would look, so that I could choose your gift correctly,’ he said, draping it around her neck.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said breathlessly. ‘But-it’s too much-’

  ‘Too much for all I owe you? No, Margarita. No gift is good enough for you. How wise you were to keep me at a distance. By doing so, you restored my honour. For you, I would have thrown it away-’

  ‘And regretted it.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said after a moment.

  She met his eyes. ‘Yes.’

  He didn’t answer this directly, but said with a rueful smile, ‘You were always wiser than I.’

  ‘Sebastian, can I give you a little advice?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Be kind to Catalina.’

  ‘That was always my intention.’

  ‘No, I mean more. I mean, be faithful to her. She’s young and very vulnerable. You could make her fall in love with you-’

  ‘Is it so easy to claim a woman’s love?’ he asked quietly. ‘Well, maybe I thought so once. I will do as you ask-in gratitude. And you? What will you do?’

  ‘Go home as soon as you are married.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Get another job.’

  ‘And live alone?’

  She hesitated. ‘You mustn’t ask me that. We must never talk like this again.’

  He sighed. ‘I think tonight, and the next few days, are going to be very difficult.’

  Catalina appeared. She seemed nervous and distracted, but Maggie put that down to the nature of the occasion. Afterwards she was to wonder how she could have been so blind.

  First the long receiving line, with Catalina standing beside Sebastian, smiling mechanically, looking tinier than ever. Everything seemed to swamp her, from the way her long black hair had been taken up and elaborately dressed, to the huge diamond engagement ring that flashed on her finger.

  Then everyone crowded to the long tables, with Sebastian’s immediate household on the raised top table. Isabella was there, and so was Maggie, although she wished she wasn’t. She would have been glad to blend in with the crowd, and steal a glance at Sebastian unobserved. But perhaps, she reflected, it was better for her to be near Catalina. The poor girl was looking deathly pale, almost ill.

  ‘You’re doing wonderfully,’ Maggie whispered as the meal, and the speeches came to an end. ‘Are you all right?’

  Catalina turned a distraught face to her. ‘Oh, Maggie, this is too much for me. I must be alone for a few moments.’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

  ‘No, no! I must be alone.’ She almost ran in her desire to escape.

  Soon it was time for the guests to move from one great hall into another. Here stood the tree, nearly twenty feet tall, brilliant with decorations, packed with gifts at the base, with more gifts piled on tables nearby.

  ‘Where is Catalina?’ Sebastian murmured to Maggie. ‘She must help me distribute the presents.’

  ‘She was feeling a little overwhelmed. She slipped out for a breath of fresh air.’

  ‘But that was nearly half an hour ago. Come, we must find her.’

  The search began quietly, for it seemed certain that Catalina would appear at any moment, but soon it became clear that she had really vanished, and Sebastian’s brow darkened. Worse still, some of the guests had realised what was happening and joined in the search with half-malicious interest.

  ‘Damn them!’ Sebastian said with soft violence. ‘I don’t want this all over town. Where the hell is she?’

  ‘What about those doors over there?’

  ‘They lead to the part of the house I use for business. Catalina never goes there. Besides, they’re always kept locked.’

  ‘This one isn’t,’ Maggie said, trying a handle and finding herself in a corridor.

  A plump middle-aged man called Marcos was advancing on them, an insincere smile on his face. He was a political opponent of Sebastian, and-to quote Catalina-a creep.

  ‘The poor young lady has probably gone to lie down. Is this where you keep your study? A hotbed of secrets, I’m sure.’ He headed for the next door.

  ‘No!’ Maggie cried. For suddenly everything had become clear to her, and she knew what was about to happen. If only Catalina had had the sense to lock the door behind her…

  But she hadn’t. The next moment Marcos had pulled Sebastian’s study door open, revealing Catalina standing there, locked in a passionate embrace with José.

  Time seemed to stop. In that awful pause, a gaggle of fascinated spectators crowded after them into the room. Both Catalina and José seemed too frozen to move. Her elaborately arranged hair had been torn down and hung in disarray about her shoulders. One shoulder of her dress was pushed down, almost exposing a white, beautiful breast. Her lipstick was smeared and her eyes had the cloudy look of a woman driven to madness by kisses.

  Of the two, it was the girl who pulled herself together first. Stepping forward, she faced the crowd accusingly.

  ‘What are you staring at? Have you never seen a woman in love before? This is José. He loves me and I love him. I’m going to marry him.’ She whirled on Sebastian. ‘Him, not you!’

  ‘Be silent!’ Sebastian said warningly.

  ‘I won’t be silent. Who do you think you are to bring me here and say I must marry you, whether I like it or not?’

  ‘I never-’

  ‘You did, you did! What choice did I have? The great Sebastian de Santiago favours me, and I’m supposed to faint with the honour. Well, I say no! I won’t marry you. I hate you.’

  A guffaw of laughter broke from the ever-increasing crowd. As though the sound was the last straw, Catalina’s courage collapsed and she flung herself, sobbing, into José’s arms.

  Sebastian took a step forward to Catalina, but in the same moment something snapped in Maggie. Moving quickly, she placed herself in front of the two young people.

  ‘Leave them alone,’ she told Sebastian quietly. ‘Whatever you have to say, this isn’t the time or place. And you-’ she addressed the grinning spectators ‘-have you no pity for her? She’s a child. She should never have been brought to this. How dare you stand there and enjoy her misery? You should be ashamed, all of you.’

  Sebastian was as pale as death, but when he spoke he was in command of himself. ‘As you say, this isn’t the time or the place. Please take Catalina away and look after her. You-’ he indicated José ‘-have abused the hospitality of my house and will leave immediately.’

  Maggie put a gentle arm about Catalina and led her away. José looked confused. ‘Get out of here while you’re still safe,’ Sebastian told him savagely.

  The next moment he’d become the host again, smiling, ushering everybody out, apologising for the early end to the party. It wasn’t hard to get rid of the guests. Don Sebastian de Santiago was too rich, too powerful, too handsome, n
ot to have enemies, and they were all eager to start spreading the hilarious news.

  When the last guest had gone and Maggie had finished calming first an hysterical Catalina, and then an hysterical Isabella, she returned downstairs and faced Sebastian in his study.

  She hadn’t known what to expect, but she was unprepared for what awaited her. The man whose gentle resignation had touched her heart earlier had vanished. In his place was a stranger with glittering, hate-filled eyes.

  ‘Do you think I don’t know who to blame for this?’ he said in a hard, icy voice.

  ‘The only person to blame is yourself,’ Maggie told him firmly.

  ‘Who told me that she would make this happen? Who warned me weeks ago that she would work to undermine me, and humiliate me before the world? Like a fool I didn’t believe her. I trusted her, and I tell you that never again will I trust a woman.’

  As his meaning became clear, Maggie turned on him in outrage. ‘Do you mean me?’

  ‘Who else? You threatened to do all in your power to make Catalina betray me. Don’t deny it.’

  ‘I said I’d try to open her eyes. I never meant anything like this to happen.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me!’ he said savagely. ‘You practically threw her into that pretty boy’s arms. You invited him to this house, you told him about your skiing trip so that he could follow, and when I found him there you told me it was you he was chasing.’

  ‘Because I believed it,’ she cried. Horrified, she was beginning to see how everything looked.

  ‘You told him you were going to Sol y Nieve.’

  ‘Only in passing. It wasn’t a hint for him to follow.’

  ‘To be sure, I believe you,’ he said bitterly.

  ‘How dare you call me a liar?’ Maggie snapped.

  ‘That is nothing to what I would like to call you. I’ve been insulted in front of the world, and that lies at your door, you scheming, manipulative witch.’