Dancing in the Shadows Read Online Free PDF Page A

sometimes, when the world was wrapped in a night stillness, a pair of lips would brush her cheek, and her throat would close on tenderness. She was aware of talking a great deal. An urgency of words bubbled from her. She had no idea what she was saying and was too dazed to worry about whether she was being indiscreet. She gabbled on and on, encouraged by soft, male murmurs. And the hand did warm, intimate things to hers. It stroked the inside of her wrist and played with her fingers.
    Then she was better, sitting up and appreciating her visitors. Feli and Rosita were among the first. Feli stared at her with shiny, grateful eyes while Rosita scrambled all over her bed, and ate her chocolates and grapes.
    â€˜I’m pleased to see the patient looking so much better,’ said Feli.
    â€˜You mean you’ve been before?’
    Feli rolled her eyes. ‘Everybody’s been before. Carlos. Mama and Papa.’ And then a small, tearing sob came from her throat. ‘How can I ever thank you, Dorcas. You saved our lives.’ She scooped up Rosita and pressed her close, as though to blot out the horror. ‘If you hadn’t insisted we move, we would have been in the part of the railway carriage that was completely wrecked. And if you hadn’t bothered with us, you could have got clear yourself and you wouldn’t be lying in hospital now.’
    Dorcas pleated the bedspread. She hated praise and didn’t know how to deal with it. She protested that she had done no more than anybody would have done in the circumstances. But Feli wouldn’t have it.
    â€˜That’s not true, Dorcas. You didn’t have one thought of self. Your only concern was for us. I feel so bad that you are having to pay so terribly for your kind deed.’
    Feli’s papa, Enrique Ruiz, came to see her next.
    He said: ‘Well, Dorcas,’ and smiled at her.
    He was not very tall. His chin sported a neatly trimmed, slightly imperious looking black beard, and his liquid black eyes contained a wily gleam. Easy to imagine him resorting to cunning and trickery and every stratagem in the book to get his own way. But at the same time there was something endearing about him so that one wouldn’t mind being inveigled by such a charming rogue. No wonder Carlos’s English mother had been won over.
    Dorcas felt at ease with him—another facet of his charm—and her shoulders relaxed perceptibly. There were so many questions she had to ask that it would be helpful to have a sympathetic ear. But first she looked at his hands. They were a gentleman’s hands with neatly clipped and manicured nails. His fingers were slim and he wore a wedding ring, in accordance with the Spanish custom, on his right hand. A hand that wasn’t much larger than her own.
    â€˜Señor, while I was ill, someone stayed with me. Was it a member of the hospital staff?’
    â€˜You have been attentively looked after by the staff, but you may be referring to my son. Carlos was anxious about you, as we
all
were.’ Did he stress this point? ‘He chose to chart your progress himself.’
    So it had been Carlos. She lay back on her pillow. She almost wished Señor Ruiz would go so that she could capture again the sweetness of those moments. And yet, she was half afraid they had never happened. Oh, Carlos had sat with her all right. But could she be sure his fingers had traced her wrist and lovingly caressed each finger in turn? How could she know that aspect of the situation had not been drug induced?
    Enrique Ruiz was saying: ‘I am right, I think, in sensing that you are not the person to want speeches and bouquets. However, I cannot let the moment pass without mentioning the depth of our gratitude. Feli is our only daughter, little Rosita is precious beyond words. Thank you, Dorcas.’ His eyes were now liquid with tears. ‘We rejoice that you are now well. Laughter was scarce in our household while you were so