Innocent Invader. Anne Mather

“Why? Do you think you couldn't handle Apollo?”

      Sarah shrugged. “I think I could,” she retorted impulsively.

      “Indeed? Then you must be a very good horsewoman. Apollo is a spirited devil at best. At worst he can act like a creature possessed. I shouldn't care to think of you riding him alone. But perhaps one day I'll find the time to ride with you, and the children, of course, and I may put you to the test.”

      “Then we may use the horses when we like?”

      “You may. Providing you ride on the beach. You can come to little harm there.”

      Sarah looked taken aback, but she did not demur. Jason studied her in his intensive way for a moment, and then he said: “Before you contracted the vapours, I asked you whether you were not surprised to learn of Serena's nationality,” he said slowly.

      Sarah flushed. “I was surprised, naturally,” she said, making a helpless gesture. “But it doesn't make any difference to me, if that's what you mean.'

      Jason leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. “Yes, that's exactly what I meant.” He relaxed again and lay back in his chair. “Is there anything else you want to know?”

      Sarah bent her head self-consciously. “There is something,” she said quietly. “Ricardo tells me the children are not allowed to use the pool – is that right?”

      Jason's expression darkened. “That's correct. Why?”

      Sarah looked up. “I was going to ask you that question.”

      “Were you indeed?” He rose to his feet, and moved round the desk restlessly. “Did Ricardo give you any reason?”

      “Yes. He said it was because they could be seen from Señora de Cordova's windows.”

      Jason's expression was unreadable. Sarah was only aware that he was annoyed about something, and she could only assume it was because of her question. “And if I tell you that this is so, what then?” he asked, from behind her chair.

      Sarah felt a tingle running up her spine. She wanted to turn round to rid herself of the feeling that he was studying her intensely. But she could not do that. She was forced to sit upright in her chair, and pray for him to return to his side of the desk.

      “W… well,” she said awkwardly, “all I can say is that it seems a waste of a beautiful pool. In my experience, beaches are for playing on, and the sea, for children at any rate, is for paddling in. The young children of my acquaintance swim in the swimming baths. At home there are public baths in most towns. Few children have the luxury of a pool in their back garden.” She swallowed hard. “These children, your nephew and nieces, seem to have neither. They tell me they may not swim in the sea without being supervised. I can understand this, but they could have such fun in the pool if you would let them …” She halted, and bent her head. “Of course, that's only my opinion.”

      “You've made your point,” he conceded, moving across to the open windows. This side of the house faced the beach and the sea, and Sarah followed his gaze out to the waving palms and coral sands beyond the gentle cliffs.

      She looked at him as he stared out to sea for a brief moment, wondering what he was thinking. She was sure he must consider her an interfering busybody. After all, that pool must have been there for years, and she really had no right to question its deployment.

      But he turned back to face her, leaning against the frame of the window. He looked a little amused now, she thought, and she rose swiftly to her feet. “Is that all, then?” she asked.

      Jason shrugged his shoulders. “What about the pool? Do you want to use it? The children as well, of course.”

      Sarah stared at him, her eyes bright and dancing. “Are you serious? May we?”

      “I think you might. After all, what's the use of having a governess if she can't be allowed the facilities provided for every English child?” His tone was a little sardonic, but Sarah could have hugged him. She was so pleased and excited. How delighted the youngsters would be!

      “Thank you,” she exclaimed, her voice revealing her inner vivacity. She turned to the door, but moving towards it she remembered her interview with Irena the previous day, and a shiver ran down her spine at the thought. There was something utterly menacing about her presence and when she found out about the swimming pool she would not be pleased.

      Turning back, she said: “Señor, may I ask you something else?”

      Jason straightened up. “By all means. What is it?”

      Sarah frowned. “Am I allowed to use the beach – I mean, am I allowed to swim in the sea?”

      Jason's fingers sought the jagged disfiguration on his cheek. “Why do you ask?” he questioned her softly. “Surely that requires no answer. You may use the beach whenever you wish, naturally.”

      “I may?” Sarah pressed a hand to her throat. “Thank you, señor.”

      She would have opened the door, but he said: “Wait,” and moved across to her side, looking down on her intently, his tawny eyes guarded. “Has Irena – my wife been speaking to you?”

      Sarah's hot cheeks provided his answer, and he ran a restless hand round the back of his neck. His nearness was doing strange things to Sarah. She had the strongest desire to get as far away from him as possible. And she knew she ought not to feel this way, just being close to him like this. But she had never experienced feelings of this kind; never been aware of a man, not only as a friend or associate, like the priests who visited the convent, but as a controlled yet primitive being, capable of gentleness and violence, love and hate. She was aware of everything about Jason de Cordova; the width of his shoulders, the lean strength of his hard body, only lightly disguised by the fine material of his suit, the indefinably male smell about him. The desire to touch him grew so overwhelming that with a kind of panic-stricken movement she opened the door, and with a brief: “Good-bye, señor