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'Nevertheless, that's what they call me.'
    'And who are "they"?'
    'My family—friends—the people I work for. Well, not all of them,'
    she amended with a slight sigh, remembering Mrs Hughes.
    'You live in a city?'
    'Heavens, no. In quite a small town—what we call a market town.'
    'And what is this work you do?'
    The Inquisition is alive, well, and living in Brazil, she thought
    resignedly.
    'I look after people,' she said shortly.
    His brows lifted. 'It must be very well paid— if you can afford a
    vacation such as this.'
    'This is a once-in-a-lifetime trip,' she said. 'From now on I'll stick to
    the Greek Islands. I've never been abducted there.'
    'You still claim that is what happened.' His smile annoyed her.
    'I'm here, aren't I?' she returned with something of a snap.
    'Without a doubt.' There was a trace of grimness in his tone. 'So,
    where did you meet with Fay? In this market town of yours?'
    She looked at him in astonishment. 'I met her here in Brazil—on the
    Manoela. She boarded at Manaus. I'd joined the boat at Belem.'
    He examined his cheroot as if it fascinated him. 'So, you had never
    met before, and you were just... travelling companions. Tell me, did
    you find a great deal to talk about together?'
    'Not really,' Charlie said wryly. 'We didn't actually have a great deal
    in common.'
    Fay certainly hadn't been a woman's woman, she thought, and he
    must know that. On the other hand, perhaps he just needed to talk
    about her.
    She found herself saying awkwardly, 'She was very beautiful. I—I
    hope you aren't too disappointed ...' She hesitated, aware that she
    was getting into deep water.
    He said silkily, 'Are you asking if I was in love with her? The
    answer is no. Does that set your mind at rest?'
    Why should it? Charlie wondered, discreetly smothering a yawn
    with her hand. His private life was none of her business. She'd just
    been trying to make conversation.
    But now the events of the day, coupled with the meal she had eaten,
    were beginning to catch up with her, and she felt desperately sleepy.
    She drank the rest of her coffee, and pushed back her chair. She said
    politely, 'I'd like to go to my room now, if you don't mind.' She gave
    him a strained smile. 'Boa noite.'
    He flicked some ash from the end of his cheroot. 'Ate logo,
    Carlotta.'
    She wasn't familiar with the phrase, but presumed it meant 'sleep
    well'.
    She said, 'I hope so very much,' and forced another smile.
    In the bedroom a lamp had been lit beside the bed, and the covers
    had been turned down. In addition to the mesh screens, shutters had
    been drawn across the windows.
    Charlie thought sadly about her light cotton pyjamas on board the
    Manoela. She'd noticed there were no nightgowns among the froth
    of silk and lace lingerie that Riago da Santana had provided for his
    lover.
    'Surplus to requirements, I suppose,' she muttered. But, whatever the
    world did, she just wasn't used to sleeping in the nude. It was just
    another aggravating aspect of this whole miserable mess, she
    thought as she slid under the fine linen sheet, determinedly closing
    her eyes.
    Yet she found sleep elusive. The rain seemed to have stopped, but
    the air was warm and still, as if threatening more storms, and this
    made her uneasy. She'd pushed away the elaborately embroidered
    coverlet, wrapping herself in the sheet alone.
    'Relax,' she told herself impatiently. 'There's nothing to worry
    about.'
    And, even as she accepted her own reassurance, the door opened
    and Riago da Santana sauntered into the room.

CHAPTER THREE
    PARALYSED, Charlie watched him approach and sit down on the edge
    of the bed. Riago da Santana was carrying, she noticed, the whisky
    bottle and two glasses.
    He said, 'I've brought you a nightcap, Carlotta. Isn't that the English
    custom?'
    'Yes—I mean, I don't know.' Charlie tried to slide further under the
    sheet, without making it too obvious. She said, her voice croaking a
    little, 'I don't really want another drink—thank you,