'You look cross, little cousin. Has some clumsy fool stamped on your foot?' Ramon had suddenly materialised at her side, and beyond him she could see Luis advancing through the crowd.
She smiled swiftly. 'It's nothing. Dance with me, Ramon.'
He looked taken aback. 'But Luis...'
'Oh, he won't lack for partners, and you've hardly been near me all evening,' she protested with almost a pout. She put out a hand and traced some of the embroidery on his sleeve. 'I shall begin to think you dislike me as much as your mother and sister do/
Nombre de Dios,' Ramon muttered, looking suddenly anguished. 'They do not-I do not-I-oh, very well, let us dance.'
Luois had stopped and was watching them, she knew, and quite deliberately she allowed her hand to slide from Ramon's shoulder towards his collar, smiling radiantly into his face as she did so.
He looked as if he was about to have a heart attack. 'Nicola, I beg of you! Is this some game? I warn you, it is a dangerous one. Luis is my cousin and my friend, but his anger can be formidable.'
'But you're a wonderful dancer, Ramon.' She looked at him through her lashes. 'I am sure my-husband wouldn't grudge me these few minutes of pleasure at my own party.'
'If you think that, then you do not know him at all,' Ramon said bluntly. 'Let me take you to him, Nicola. Please do not provoke him further.'
'Spoilsport!' She pulled a face at him. 'Very well, if you're so frightened of him.'
'I am more frightened for you than for myself. Do you wish to begin your married life with a beating at his hands?'
'He wouldn't dare,' she said defiantly.
He gave her a despairing look. 'If you believe that, then you are forgive me-a fool. Anyway, the dancing will end soon. It is nearly time for the firework display, and when that starts it is the custom in our family for the bride to-to retire.'
'I've no intention of doing anything of the sort. I want to see the fireworks. This is supposed to be my party, and I shall enjoy every last minute of it,' Nicola said coolly. 'Customs like that belong to history, not the present day, anyway.'
Ramon's pleasant mouth set in a line which indicated that he would not be averse to starting off the prescribed beating with a box on the ears on his own account.
In a carefully neutral tone, he said, 'That is an argument which should more properly be directed to your husband, my cousin, señora. I will take you to him.'
Luis was lounging against one of the pillars of the terrace, glass in hand, as they approached. He straightened and smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes.
Ramon said, 'I have brought you your errant bride, amigo. It seems she does not care for some of our customs.' He took Nicola's hand from his arm and placed it firmly in that of Luis before moving off.
Luis raised her hand to his lips. To a casual onlooker it would have been a charming, gallant gesture, but then a casual onlooker would not have seen the cold rage in his eyes.
He said, 'And which of our conventions do you wish to flout now, chica?'
Her heart thudding painfully, Nicola said, 'Ramon told me that I would be expected to leave before the fireworks display. He said it was a family custom--but I don't see why I should do so.'
He shrugged. 'Stay, then. It was designed originally to spare the blushes of the bride, I believe, but no one who has witnessed your conduct tonight, clinging round my cousin's neck like a puta, would believe you had any blushes to spare.'
He let her hand fall and walked away, leaving her standing there, the colour fading from her cheeks. Out of the corner of her eye she could see curious glances being cast at her, some of them slightly censorious, and, what was worse, Dona Isabella bearing down on her, bristling with self-righteousness. Nicola took a deep breath, picked up her skirts and fled through the laughing, chattering groups, along the terrace and into the house.
Maria was waiting in her room. Nicola allowed her to unhook the wedding dress and take it away, and then to the girl's obvious chagrin told her that she could go.
From the noise of explosions, the flashes of light and colour, she guessed the fireworks had begun. She could hear laughter and applause as she sat in her long waist slip and scrap of a bra and looked at herself defeatedly. Luis didn't need to beat her, she thought. He could take the skin from her by his tone of voice alone. And she had stood there like a fool. Why hadn't she accused him in turn?
Furiously she blinked back the tears which for some unaccountable reason were pricking at her eyelids. Soon, when the display was over, those guests who were not being accommodated overnight in the guest wing would be leaving. Luis would say goodbye to them as a courteous host, and then, angry or not, he would come to her room. She didn't want to be found skulking at the dressing table in her undies.
Quickly she undressed and showered, then reluctantly donned the exquisite nightdress waiting for her. She brushed her hair, then on an impulse looked in her jewellery case and pinned the silver butterfly among the tawny silk strands.
She was just going to close the drawer when she saw the letter her mother had sent on. She wasn't in the mood for Tess's usual brand of cheerful chat, but on the other hand she didn't want to sit here, waiting for Luis and becoming twitchier by the moment, so she tore open the envelope and extracted the thin sheet of paper inside. The envelope had been typewritten, but she knew the writing oa the letter as soon as she saw it. It was Ewan's.
She felt sick suddenly. Ewan writing to her? It couldn't be possible! She unfolded the paper and began to read, her heart thumping slowly and painfully.
'My dearest Nicola,' she read, 'I expect I'm the last person you ever thought to hear from again. After the things we said before we parted, I'm amazed I have the guts to write to you at all, but I can't stop thinking about you, and all we meant to each other once.
'You probably don't know that I've been a widower for over six months. Greta was killed in a road accident. Her car skidded on some ice and went out of control on a bend. It was a shock, naturally, but I won't pretend it was the end of the world for me. Frankly, our marriage wasn't working out, and we'd discussed separation just before she had the accident. You know how fast she always used to drive. I always thought it was out of character, as she was quite a stick-in-the-mud in other ways.
'I was a fool to let you go--I've known that for a long time. I'm beginning to get my life together again now, and I want you back in it. I know I treated you badly, darling. Forgive me, and tell me that we can start again. Don't let one mistake ruin both our lives a second time. The way you used to feel about me, there must be something left in spite of all the hurt. Write to me, Nicky. Tell me you love me still, I need you. All my love, darling, Ewan.'
Nicola sat stunned, the words dancing crazily in front of her eyes. Ewan-Greta-could it be true? Breathing shakily, she read the letter again, then crumpled it into a ball and thrust it back into the drawer which she slammed shut.
She looked at her white-faced image in the mirror. Ewan, she thought incredulously. Ewan was free and wanted her. And lift: had played her its cruellest trick of all by allowing her to know this tonight of all nights. Her stifled laugh sounded like a sob, and she lifted her hands to her head, trying to get her thoughts into some kind of coherent order.
But Ewan- Zurich-everything that had happened there between them seemed light years away, like a half-remembered dream.
Ewan, she thought. Ewan, whom she loved, and who had hurt her so that she would never love again.
Desperately she tried to conjure his face up in her mind. Brown hair, curling slightly, blue eyes always smiling, a deep cleft in his chin, she thought feverishly. But that wasn't the image that she saw. The man in her imagination was as dark as night itself, the planes and angles of his face, harshly carved, with strength and pride in its lines. And his eyes did not smile, but looked at her with bitter scorn.
Oh God! She got up from the dressing stool and began to walk round the room, her hands pressed to suddenly heated cheeks. What did it all mean? Ewan had been her love, her only love. He had broken her heart. How could she have forgotten so soon?
The answer was a sombre one. Because Luis had made her forget. From the moment she had met him, he had occupied her thoughts to the exclusion of everything else. Each time he had kissed her, and God knew they had been few enough, each caress had been indelibly printed on her memory, making her ache with longing. Ewan hadn't been able to awaken half the dormant passion which the first brush of Luis' mouth on hers had brought searingly to life.