The Stars of San Cecilio Read Online Free PDF

inexpressibly, and she reached out and drew the small figure close to her in an almost protective hug. Then she thought she saw the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle falling into place. . . . The ravishing, red-haired woman who had dined with Dr. Fernandez, the fact that he had so little noticeable fondness for his daughter—no doubt his heart had been broken when his wife died, and man-like he had blamed the child! — and now, after nearly nine years, he was going to console himself with the cousin who was so like his wife!
    Perhaps his daughter’s plainness, when his wife had been so beautiful, offended him, too, and that was one reason why he was sharp with her. Unnecessarily sharp. . .
    But as they walked back to the car Lisa had the feeling that the villa was not such a delightful place after all, and that the overgrown garden was an offence rather than a place in which one would wish to linger. Even the sun seemed to fall less goldenly, and the pines had the effect of shutting one in.
    If she came here to live she would never leave it as she came to it — its hallmark would fall across her heart, just as the shadow of the pines cut across the flagged floor of the patio, but, unlike that shadow, leaving an indelible imprint.
    She was so sure of that that she climbed into the car in absolute silence, and Dr. Fernandez looked at her rather curiously as he started up the engine.
    C H A P T E R F O U R
    ON THE WAY back he did ask her a few questions of a strictly personal nature, and she answered them automatically, as if she was still struggling to throw off the depressing effects of those last few moments at the villa.
    ‘You must forgive me if I appear to be prying into your life,’ the doctor said, ‘but under the circumstances I would like everything to be as clear as possible. You have really no ties at all in your own country?’
    ‘No.’ She appeared to hesitate for a moment. ‘No real ties, that is. ’
    ‘What do you mean by that? ’
    ‘Well, I have only distant relatives.’ Her smile was fugitive, and struck him as a little wistful. ‘ And they hardly count, do they?’
    ‘Not in England, perhaps,’ he admitted. ‘But in Spain we are rather addicted to family gatherings, and in fact the family is very important to the heart of every Spaniard. We do not drift apart and lose touch as you people seem to do.’ He frowned at the road ahead as if the English and their methods were not altogether approved of by him, and she found herself wondering what sort of circle he moved in in Madrid, and whether that thin, clever face meant that he was at the zenith of his profession, as she strongly suspected that he was. For not only did he look clever, but the aura of exclusiveness and expensiveness that surrounded him were the usual accompaniments of success. ‘In Spain, for instance, a young woman of your age would hardly be wandering about looking for some means of supporting herself. Some member of her family would almost certainly have taken her under their wing, and she would probably be married, or arrangements for her marriage would have been carried through on her behalf. ’
    ‘Instead of which in England we prefer to make our own arrangements for marriage—if, and when, we decide we would like to be married,’ she added crisply, while he continued to stare at the road ahead as if his main absorption was his driving.
    He shrugged his shoulders slightly.
    ‘I was merely pointing out to you that in this country your position would have been more secure. However,’ as he negotiated a sudden sharp bend in the road, ‘what I was trying to find out was just how free you are to do as you choose, and whether there were any ties apart from ties of blood that might make you feel homesick for England after you had been here a few weeks?’
    ‘You mean’—she felt herself flushing brilliantly, although he was not looking at her— ‘you mean, I might be — I might be engaged?’
    ‘You wear no betrothal