had been conceived; the sweetness of night-scented stocks, those timid, almost insipid flowers that only revealed their true beauty during the hours of darkness when their perfume filled the night air.
If she remembered rightly, beyond the patio was a swimming pool. She had swum in it once with Ruy. She pushed the thought aside, unwilling to remember the warmth of Ruy’s arms around her as he pulled her down beneath the silken water, only releasing her when her lips had been subjected to a masterful, demanding kiss. Then she had thought that he loved her. She had not known about Carmelita.
The sala connected with a smaller room which had been turned into a tiny kitchen, presumably so that Ruy could be completely independent of the rest of the household if he wished, and Davina sensed intuitively that there must be many times when his pride could no longer bear the lash of enduring the silent pity of the rest of his family; when he must prefer to be hidden from the world to suffer alone. And yet he had insisted that she and Jamie were to share his suite, to share his torment…
Beyond the kitchen was a room which had been converted into a bedroom, opulently rich in its furnishings, but it was the huge double bed which drew Davina’s eyes, fear hidden in their amethyst depths as she stared at it.
‘Where’s my bed?’ Jamie demanded suddenly, breaking the silence. ‘And where’s my mummy’s bed?’
‘Your mummy’s bed is here,’ Ruy said silkily, turning aside to murmur something to Rodriguez, who disappeared in soft-footed silence through a door at the far end of the room.
‘Through that door is the bathroom,’ Ruy told Davina when he had gone, ‘and beyond that a dressing room. Jamie shall sleep there for the time being.’
‘And I shall sleep with him,’ Davina said bravely. At home she had only a very small flat, and Jamie’s small bed was in the same room as hers. It would frighten the small boy to find himself sleeping alone, but when she attempted to explain this to Ruy he cut across her explanation, his voice harsh as he said cruelly, ‘You will sleep here in this room in my bed, Davina, otherwise Jamie will be banished to another part of the house. Do you understand me?’
‘Why?’
His eyes searched her face, and for the first time she saw the true extent of his bitterness.
‘Why? Because you are my wife,’ he said softly. ‘Because I will not endure the pitying glances of my servants and my family when it becomes known that my wife has returned to me only because she knows she will no longer be expected to undergo the degradation of sharing my bed. That was what you once called it, wasn’t it?’ he continued unmercifully. ‘Degradation of the very worst sort? You don’t even begin to know what it means, but you will learn, sharing this room with me, being forced to witness all the thousand and one indignities that my… my disability forces upon me. In fact…’ his eyes roamed her set white face, ‘I think you should take the place of Rodriguez.’
His fingers snaked out, grasping her wrist and making her gasp with pain, unable to believe that their hard, vibrant warmth belonged to a man who was no longer fully in control of his own body. ‘It hurts? You should be grateful that you can feel pain,’ he concluded grimly. ‘Madre de Dios, I wish I could!’
Davina swallowed a lump in her throat. Despite his desire to hurt and wound her, she could not prevent pity welling up inside her. Dear God, what torment he must be in, this man who had always taken for granted his male power. To find it cut off like this must surely be the worst blow fate could have dealt him. She knew she ought to feel some sense of satisfaction, some pleasure in knowing that he was now suffering as he had once caused her to suffer, but all she could feel was an overwhelming desire to reach out and brush the silky black hair off his forehead, to hold and comfort him as she might have done Jamie… The thought stunned her, rooting her to the spot as she stared blindly around her, not seeing the elegant room with its rich furnishings, the carved bed, the Persian carpets, the antique furniture, the elegant graciousness of a house that had been inhabited by Ruy’s family for generation after generation; children brought up in a tradition, children of whom her son was the latest.
The door opened suddenly, and Rodriguez appeared with her luggage. Without looking at Ruy Davina followed him through the bathroom with its sunken bath in jade green malachite, the taps in the same material, azulejo tiles adorning the floor.
Beyond it was a small plainly furnished room overlooking the courtyard, with a single bed and a carved chest of drawers. When they were alone Davina undressed Jamie, before taking him back to the bathroom to wash his hands and face before she put him to bed. He chattered continuously, and she answered his questions almost mechanically, her mind still in that other bedroom with the man whose child Jamie was.
As though on cue, the moment Jamie was installed in bed the door opened again, and this time a woman came in carrying a tray, steaming fragrantly.
Jamie was not a fussy eater, and he tucked into the paella with such obvious relish that Davina had to repress a small smile. Contrary to her expectations Jamie seemed to be adapting very well to his new surroundings—far better than she was likely to do herself.
Only when she was quite sure that he was asleep did she return to the other room, unable to repress her feeling of relief when she saw Sebastian in the room, talking to Ruy.
‘Ruy, will you not reconsider?’ Davina heard him saying in a low voice as she re-entered the room. ‘Surely you wish to spare Davina the…’
‘The sight of my crippled limbs?’ Ruy said harshly. ‘Why? Am I spared them? Am I spared anything? No, it will do no good to plead for compassion for my wife, Sebastian,’ he added cruelly. ‘Or is it guilt that brings you to this room, little brother? After all, had you provided Madre with her grandson, there would be no need for Davina to be here, would there?’
A small sound must have betrayed Davina’s presence, for both men turned at the same time.
‘Ah, there you are,’ Ruy drawled in a false parody of tenderness. ‘Just in time to help me change for dinner.’
‘I don’t want any dinner,’ Davina began, but her protest was overruled by Sebastian’s angry protest.
‘You cannot do this!’ he told Ruy. ‘You cannot mean to subject your wife to such indignity… Have you no compassion, Ruy? How is Jamie?’ he asked Davina, turning to her. ‘Has he settled down all right?’
‘Better than I expected,’ Davina told him. There was guilt and embarrassment in his eyes, and she thought she knew now why he had been so offhand with her at the airport. It was obvious that his mother had told him to say nothing of Ruy’s condition, to her, and now he felt guilty about the way his brother was treating her.
‘Rosita had better be careful,’ Ruy commented sardonically when Sebastian had gone. ‘My little brother’s concern for you is most touching. I trust you have something better than that to wear for dinner,’ he added, giving her slender figure a disparaging glance: ‘You will not have forgotten that we observe the formalities here at the Palacio.’
She hadn’t. Since Jamie’s birth and her flight to England there hadn’t been any money for luxuries like evening dresses, but she still had the clothes Ruy had insisted on buying for her after their marriage—when he had realised that he was irrevocably tied to her, and had tried to make the best of their mesalliance. Her mouth twisted a little bitterly and for the first time she realised that she had been handed a weapon which she could use to gain reparation in full for all the hurt Ruy had caused her, if she chose to use it. She was to take the place of his manservant, or so he had commanded, and if she chose, she could make the performance of those small intimate tasks which would be required of her as humiliatingly agonising for Ruy as he had once made her life for her!
‘You will go and prepare yourself for dinner,’ Ruy commanded her curtly, frowning when she made no attempt to move.
‘Don’t you want me to help you first?’
Something in the soft tone of her voice must have made him suspicious, because he frowned darkly, manoeuvring his chair past