Under the Brazilian Sun. CATHERINE GEORGE
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this is a long shot—I’ll even know who you are.
‘Dr Lister,’ said Roberto, coming up the summer-house steps, ‘you have worked too long—’ He stopped dead as he saw the painting.
‘Don’t worry. I know it looks a mess like that, but by the time I’ve finished your boy will look a lot better, I promise,’ she assured him and began to wrap the canvas very carefully. ‘Where will you put him overnight?’
‘In the sala. Come, I shall show you.’ Roberto took the canvas from her so reverently Katherine had to hide a smile.
‘When you first saw the painting, what appealed to you about it?’ she asked as they crossed the hall. ‘It’s not everyone’s cup of tea.’
‘Something about the subject’s face called to me very strongly, even through the medium of the Internet. I always visited art galleries whenever I could because painted portraits fascinate me. These days, I visit them through my computer.’ He paused before double doors at the end. ‘If you will open them, por favor, Katherine.’
She went before him into a large, formally furnished drawing room, where the painting to one side of the fireplace caught Katherine’s eye. The subject, a young girl in a gauzy white dress, smiled dreamily from the canvas. ‘Who is she?’
‘I do not know her provenance,’ said Roberto with regret. He crossed the room to lay his canvas down on an escritoire. ‘The label was “Portrait of a Young Girl”, artist unknown, and therefore cost little. She is charming, but to me she looks lonely.’
‘So you bought the young man as company for her?’
He nodded. ‘He would look good facing her, no?’
‘He will do when he’s been restored. Have you never researched your pretty lady?’
‘No. When I bought her I was ocupado—busy—and had no time.’
‘Whereas you’ve gone to great expense as well as time to find out more about your young man!’
Roberto nodded. ‘Because I hope I know the artist.’
‘Who?’ Katherine demanded.
His eyes danced, lighting up his face to an extent which made her blink. ‘Ah, no! I await your opinion before I risk mine, Doutora.’
‘Fair enough—you’re paying.’
‘Because this is true, I insist you rest before dinner.’ He gave her a commanding look. ‘Jorge goes with me tomorrow, but I have told Lidia to make sure you do not work too hard while I am gone.’
Had he indeed! ‘I get totally absorbed and forget the time,’ she admitted. ‘But when you see your young man again tomorrow he should look very different. Will you be away all day?’
He shook his head. ‘I shall return in time to dine with you.’
‘This is a beautiful room,’ she remarked as they moved towards the door.
‘But formal, no? I prefer my apartamento at the back of the house. I can be untidy there without risking Lidia’s wrath.’
She laughed. ‘That’s hard to imagine!’
Roberto nodded in wry agreement. ‘I am fortunate such good people care for me.’ He paused as he held the door open for her. ‘While you are here they will care for you also, and not just because it is my wish. Both Jorge and Lidia think you are a very charming young lady.’
To Katherine’s surprise, she felt her face flush. ‘How very sweet of them.’
Roberto regarded her with pleasure. ‘Que maravilha! A lady who can blush!’
‘Not something I do very often,’ she assured him, embarrassed.
‘Perhaps it is because you are tired. Rest now. You wish to dine on the varanda again?’
‘Yes, please.’ She walked quickly up the stairs, but this time turned to look down before heading for her room and, to her annoyance, found her face heating again as he gave that graceful bow of his before turning away.
In her room, Katherine stripped off her clothes impatiently. This blushing business had to stop right now. Overpoweringly attractive though her client might be, she was here purely on business. She ran a deep bath instead of a shower and lay back in it, frowning. It was only twenty-four hours since her first encounter with Roberto de Sousa. He had been put out at first because she was a woman, yet now, unless she was mistaken, he was beginning to enjoy her company. Of course that might not be such a big deal from her point of view. Maybe he’d not had much contact with women since his accident, due to the scar he was so bitter about. Yet she was so used to it, already she hardly noticed it. He must have been outrageously handsome without it—probably had to beat women off with a stick. But she was here purely to do a job. And tomorrow, by the time he came home from wherever he was spending the day, she should know whether her instinct was right about the artist. If it was, her job would be done and she could ask for transport to Viana do Castelo as her reward, a prospect which was not nearly as pleasant as it should have been.
A rest on her bed during the day was a novelty to Katherine. A lie in on Sundays was the nearest she ever came to one. But life here at the Quinta das Montanhas was dangerously addictive. It would be all too easy to get into the habit. She wondered if Roberto did the same. He’d mentioned an apartment at the back of the house so perhaps he had a ground floor bedroom—easier for his leg than tackling the beautiful stairs all the time. She was deeply curious to know what had happened, but it was pointless to get too interested in him. Once she’d finished here she would never meet Roberto de Sousa again. Besides, a man who came from a cattle-ranching background in Brazil, with a holiday home like Quinta das Montanhas at his disposal, lived on a different planet from Katherine Lister, art historian and researcher.
This conclusion did not rule out looking a bit more appealing to have dinner with Roberto. Katherine considered the sexy green dress, but in the end went for ivory linen trousers worn with heels and a bronze silk tunic. She let her newly washed hair hang loose to her shoulders, added a touch more make-up than before and, after a moment’s hesitation, decided against her glasses. She was ready and waiting when a pretty dark girl knocked on her door.
‘Pascoa,’ she announced, smiling shyly as she pointed to herself. ‘Senhor Roberto waits, Doutora.’
‘Obrigada, Pascoa,’ said Katherine, smiling, and followed the girl downstairs to the hall, where Jorge was waiting. ‘Good evening,’ she greeted him.
‘Boa tarde, Doutora. Lidia is cooking the carne de porco,’ he explained as they crossed the hall to the veranda. He opened the doors and ushered her outside. Roberto was leaning in his usual place at a pillar, his eyes on the garden. He turned quickly as she joined him, his eyes wide in involuntary shock which acted like balm on her bruised ego.
‘You look…most charming, Doctor,’ he said when he’d regained the power of speech. ‘It is hard to believe you have been working all day.’
‘Not all day. I’ve been lazing on the bed in the guest room for the past hour.’ She smiled. ‘Something I never do at home.’
Roberto pulled out a chair for her and gestured to the wine resting in its silver bucket. ‘You would like this again?’
‘I would. Thank you.’
‘So how do you spend your evenings in England?’ he asked as he filled their glasses.
‘At home alone, I make supper, do some ironing, watch television or read.’ Katherine pulled a face. ‘Nothing very exciting.’
‘And other times someone takes you out to dinner?’ he asked, easing himself down in the chair across the table.
‘Yes. Or I go out with friends—female gender,’ she added.
‘But one of your friends is a man, nao e?’