Pale Dawn Dark Sunset. Anne Mather
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mean?” she asked in surprise. “Didn’t you telephone.”
Rafael cast her an impatient look. “There are no telephones in the high valleys of the Chiapas, señorita.“ He shrugged. “No doubt both he and my mother have convinced themselves by now that I have either run the Mustang off the highway, or crashed the helicopter!”
Miranda bit her lip, looking at him anxiously, and in the fleeting light of the moon she saw the amusement touching his mouth. She smiled suddenly, and a gulp of laughter escaped her.
“It is not funny,” he asserted, straightening his lips, but her smile was infectious and in spite of himself he grinned back.
“You look so much nicer when you smile,” she exclaimed impulsively, and he was glad that they had reached the Landrover and thus was not obliged to make any response.
Gerardo slung the luggage into the back and raised his hand in farewell, and then they bumped off across the grassy sward that led to the track. The scent of pine and underbrush filled the air, mingling with the baser scents of earth and humanity. Rafael handled the Landrover expertly, accelerating as they left the airstrip behind and began the ascent into the foothills.
The Hacienda Cueras looked particularly beautiful in the light cast from its many windows, and Miranda exclaimed at the mosaic tiling on the stone fountain in the forecourt which he usually took for granted. He found the sound of its falling waters cooling on a hot afternoon, but that was all.
He had hardly stopped the vehicle before the shallow steps which led up to the shadowed portico when the mesh door was opened and his mother stood silhouetted against the light beyond. She spread her hands welcomingly and came hurrying down the steps towards him as he stepped from the Landrover.
“Rafael! Oh, Rafael!” she exclaimed weakly. “Dios gracias, estas aqui! De donde—”
“No ahora, Madrecita,” said Rafael soothingly. “Estoy seguro.” He took her clinging arms from around his neck, glancing back to where Miranda Lord was just getting out of the Landrover. “Esta Miss Lord, Madrecita. Miss Miranda Lord.”
Doña Isabella’s eyes widened in surprise as she took in the informally clad girl behind him. “This is—the child’s aunt from England?” she asked in that language.
Rafael hid his amusement at his mother’s astonishment. If he had been surprised, his mother was shocked.
“That is correct,” he agreed. “Miss Lord, this is my mother, Doña Isabella Cueras.”
Miranda held out her hand and Doña Isabella shook it politely, but her expression was far from welcoming. However, politeness was an inbred instinct, and she managed to say: “I hope you had a good journey, señorita.”
Miranda nodded. “Reasonably so. The flight was delayed twenty-four hours in Jamaica through engine trouble. I’m sorry if you’ve been worried, but your son did send a message.”
Doña Isabella’s dark eyes turned to her son. “Is this so, Rafael?”
“Of course. Gerardo told me you did not receive it.”
Doña Isabella made an impatient sound. “No, we did not. We have been most concerned about you, Rafael. And—and about you, too, of course, señorita.“ This last was clearly an afterthought.
Rafael leaned into the back of the Landrover and hauled out Miranda’s belongings. “Well, it is over now. We are arrived safely. And if you will excuse me, there are matters which require my immediate attention.”
Miranda stared at him in dismay. “You’re—leaving?”
Rafael made her a slight bow. “I am afraid so. As I told you, señorita, I do not live at the hacienda. My mother will take care of you and presently my brother will show himself.”
She made a helpless gesture. “But—”
Rafael turned away from the appeal in her eyes and ignoring his mother’s reproachful: “Rafael!” he climbed back into the Landrover. “Adios, amigos. Nos hablaremos pronto. Adios!”
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