Love Captive Page 2

  "And where a third of your marriages end in divorce!" Carlos shot at her with a sneer. "That's what comes of marrying for what you Americans call love! Marry today, divorce tomorrow—that's the custom, is it not? What does my sister know of this Michael except that apparently he pleases her senses? What do they have in common, tell me that? On what can they base a marriage? On the pleasures of the senses? Ah, yes! Fall in love today, get married. Fall out of love tomorrow, no matter, get a divorce. You may accept that as a pattern of living for your brother, but I reject it for my sister. The next time you see your brother just tell him that: I reject this so-called love they share, I reject his plans for my sister's future, I reject him! If he were half a man he'd meet me so I could tell him face to face!"

  Carlos drew back in his chair, sitting stiffly upright, his black eyes flashingly alive in his otherwise controlled face. Anne stared across at him feeling oddly moved and deeply upset. Was Carlos right? Would Dorrie be better off if she forgot about Michael and returned home? When Dorrie and Michael came from such disparate backgrounds, had so very little in common— Oh, dear, Anne thought, and became aware that her head now hurt, as well as her heart.

  Blinking, she swung her eyes from Carlos and glanced out across the crowded nightclub. The blue-black smoke in the air seemed even thicker, and the wailing music more discordant. Tangier, city of mystery, city of intrigue, a city where East met West, where Africa and Europe mingled. And tonight, Anne thought wryly, unhappily, a place where New World romantic independence met Old World arrogant nobility. And from this meeting would result—God only knew.

  "So?" Carlos interrupted her thoughts a moment later. "You suggested a reasonable discussion— about what, if I may ask? What more is there for us to say? I wish to meet with your brother, to try to talk sensibly with him. He agrees to meet me, then sends you instead. Where do we go from here, as you Americans so picturesquely put it?"

  Carlos once again looked directly across at her. His proud face looked, it seemed to Anne, just a slight bit tired. She felt a shiver of fatigue—and pleasure—run down her spine.

  "I don't know, Carlos, you tell me. At the moment I'm feeling dreadfully tired, far too tired to think. I've gotten practically no sleep since Michael phoned me two days ago. I've spent endless hours flying halfway around the globe. And so far, this hasn't turned out to be much of a vacation. At the moment I am suffering not only from near exhaustion but also from jet lag, not to mention a great uneasiness at finding myself in a city that I find very strange. So don't expect me to come up with any startling or brilliant suggestions, please."

  As Anne's words died away, she flashed out a quick, nervous smile. To her great pleasure, Carlos smiled back, his sensuous lips curving lazily into that wonderfully attractive smile.

  Leaning forward he said, in a quiet, friendly voice, "I know what you mean about being tired. I'm dreadfully fatigued too. Since Dolores ran away four days ago, I've scarcely slept. Believe me, I am as anxious as you to bring this whole problem to some resolution, no matter what it turns out to be. If only I could see your brother and talk to him, I'm sure we could come to some agreement. If I can't talk sense into him, possibly he can convince me of the strength of his position. Then I could return home to convince our father, and Dolores could come out of hiding, obtain a proper passport, and fly to America to be married, yes? Why does your brother so stupidly refuse to meet me?"

  As he spoke, Carlos leaned even farther forward. This brought him so close that Anne found it hard to breathe. His black eyes, no longer flashing contempt, seemed suddenly very deep, surprisingly intimate. Anne felt pleasurable shivers run through her. Besides being so incredibly handsome, surely Carlos was right. If Michael believed in what he was doing, if he believed that he and Dorrie had a right to be together and to marry, then he should talk with Dorrie's brother. It was stupid and cowardly not to do so.

  "Have you a telephone number for him?" Carlos asked in the same confidential tone. "Surely you do. Why don't you go phone him right now and tell him I'm here, still hoping to meet him? No matter how long it takes for him to get here, I'll be happy to wait. And you needn't fear I'm trying to trap you. I'll sit right here at this table, in open view, while you go to the bar to use the phone. How can this possibly hurt your brother? Please, Anne, will you phone him?"

  It was the first time he'd called her by her first name alone. Anne felt her heart jump wildly. Carlos was right, he was only asking her to do what was sensible. But still… no, he was right. Michael should agree to come.

  "All right," she said decisively. "I do have his number and I will go phone him. Excuse me, please."

  As she rose, Anne was aware she was trembling, but exerting all the control she could gather, she turned from the table and made her way through the crowd to the bar. When she asked the bartender for the use of his phone, pantomiming dialing a number, he grinned quickly at her, motioned her to the end of the bar, and placed a dial phone before her.

  As she picked up the receiver, Anne knew a moment of doubt. Was Carlos tricking her? She glanced around to see if he was keeping his word, if he was still seated at their table, but the crowd blocked her view. She bit her lip, took a deep breath, and began to dial.

  Michael answered, on the fourth ring, in a voice that sounded high and cautious. "Hello?"

  "Michael, it's me, Anne. I'm still here at the club where you sent me, and Carlos is here too. Michael, he's terribly upset that you didn't come yourself, as you'd agreed to do, and he wants very much to meet you. He says he'll wait here for you for as long as it takes you to get here. Won't you come?"

  After a marked hesitation, Michael said, "Wait a sec." He was gone for what seemed a very long time. When he picked up the phone again, he said, "Can you hear that, sis? Dorrie's crying and screaming at me, she's so upset at the mere suggestion, so there's no way I'll go there. Dorrie knows her brother and she says he's sure to have two or three hired thugs there with orders to follow me home when I leave. We'll have to think of some alternate plan."

  Eight minutes later, the call completed, Anne returned to the table. Her cheeks warming in embarrassment, she repeated to Carlos what her brother had said.

  "But he told me of another place where he's willing to meet you," Anne said slowly, her head now hurting even more; she couldn't remember ever feeling so dreadfully tired. "He says if you want to drive to… to Tay's boat, he'll meet you there. Do you know where that is?"

  Carlos's face had tightened as he listened. When Anne finished, he gave a curt nod. "Yes, I know where that is. Come along, let's go." He shot gracefully to his feet and quickly stepped around the table to take Anne's arm to help her up.

  "You… want me to go along?" Anne asked, startled by Carlos's sudden movement.

  "Of course I want you to come along," Carlos shot back, in a cold, formal voice. "I had a drink before you arrived, so I'll have to stop by the bar to pay for that, and then we'll leave." His hand clutching her arm, he pulled her through the swarming crowd, his touch as cold and formal as his voice. What had happened to the warm intimacy with which he had persuaded her to call her brother?

  He did trick me, after all, Anne thought, and she felt a deep, deep sadness sprout in her heart.

  Chapter Two

  Carlos grabbed her arm again as they left the club. He guided her down the dark sidewalk toward a small car parked at the curb. Just as she climbed into the car, Anne felt, rather than saw, some movement in the shadows. Glancing quickly around, she caught sight of a small, thin man scurrying away down the walk. Swinging completely around on the seat, she peered into the darkness behind the car but couldn't really make anything out. Still she knew. The pounding of her heart told her. And made her furious.

  Carlos climbed in behind the wheel, started the motor, pulled out from the curb. He kept his eyes straight ahead and did not speak.

  "So—your sister was right!" Anne spat at him in fury, staring at his handsome profile with rage and contempt. "You did have a hired hood
all staked out to follow Michael home if he came here to meet you. You don't really want to meet with him to talk to him at all, all you want is the chance to track him down and corner your sister!"

  "Hood?" Carlos echoed. He glanced around at her as he flashed out a hard, amused smile. "And what is this 'hood'? Oh, wait, wait, never mind, I know. American gangster slang, yes? Hood, an abbreviation of hoodlum. And I hired a hood, you say?"

  "You know perfectly well you did, at least one, maybe more." Anne swung angrily around to peer through the tiny back window. A car followed them less than half a block behind, headlights gleaming through the dark. "When we came out from the club, you must have motioned for him, or them, to follow, and that's what they're doing." She swung back around, glared at Carlos a moment, then snapped in fury, "Stop this car right away and let me out, please."

  "What?" He sounded genuinely startled, even a touch worried, as his dark eyes swung around.

  "You heard me!" Anne felt a sweet surge of triumph. "Stop this car and let me out. You're using me to lure my brother into a trap and I won't let you do it. If you don't stop right now, I'll open the door and throw myself out, I swear I will." Taking hold of the door handle, Anne, breathing hard, tried to gather her nerve to make good on her threat.

  With a worried expression, Carlos reached across, grabbed her hand, and pulled her away from the door. "Now calm down and behave yourself," he ordered grimly. "That car you said was following us—look back again. Where is it now?"

  Swinging her head around, Anne again stared through the tiny rearview window. Behind them the road was dark, there were no headlights anywhere in view. Swinging forward again, she felt both weak with relief and more than a little embarrassed.

  "All right, it looks as though I was wrong. And if I was, I apologize."

  "Apology accepted." Carlos laughed briefly, then threw her a friendly smile. "You, like your brother, have seen too many movies, I think. You Americans, how you dramatize, how you love to make a big, splashy production out of everything. And how you like to characterize others as cold, insensitive brutes, while you yourselves are above reproach. If one couldn't laugh about it, one would be forced to weep."

  As Carlos's deep, soft voice died away, a mask seemed to fall over his face. Again he looked straight ahead as he drove and said nothing more. Staring at him, Anne felt a hunger stir within her, a need to have those black eyes glancing at her again, even if they spat contempt. The new silence that hung heavy between them was almost more than she could bear.

  Still Carlos continued to look straight ahead and did not speak.

  In time, sighing, Anne drew her own eyes away. She rested her head back and closed her eyes. The moment she did, the image of Carlos leapt into life behind her closed lids, his proud bearing, his handsome, aristocratic features, the seemingly bottomless black eyes intently fixed on her. Sighing again, she reopened her eyes.

  "Exactly where is it that we're going?" she asked, too tired to really care but hungry to hear his voice, hoping to start a conversation.

  But all Carlos said in response was, "You'll see," and again he fell silent. His narrow, long-fingered hands held the wheel firmly yet without apparent strain. Even sitting casually as he was now, there was something unnervingly commanding about his bearing, about the way he held his head. He wore dark slacks, black loafers, a dark green turtleneck sweater. He is so incredibly handsome, Anne thought, and again forced herself to rest her head back and to close her eyes. Carlos Philip Maximilian Alvarado-Castellon, who was completely out of her reach, who would one day be a duke.

  The movement of the car lulled her, and before very long Anne drifted off into sleep. She had no real idea how long they'd driven when the car slowed, then stopped. As Anne jerked upright, blinking, she saw Carlos turn to her with a smile.

  "We're here now, my tired little friend." There was a hint of amused tenderness in his voice that immediately set Anne's pulses to racing. As his dark eyes held hers, he leaned toward her. For one electrifying moment Anne could only think that he meant to kiss her. Instead he leaned past her to throw open the door.

  As he drew back, he smiled. "You asked me to stop the car so you could climb out; now I have and you can." He smiled even more broadly, then turned away to climb out of the car.

  Shaking her head a bit to wake herself up, Anne climbed out too. It was so dark that for a moment, as she stood peering around, she could make nothing out. She felt relieved and happy as Carlos stepped up beside her.

  "It's very dark here, is it not? But this is where your brother directed us to come. If you'll wait a moment, I'll fetch a light."

  As he walked away, Anne almost cried out to him to stop, not to leave her there all alone in the dark. But, biting her lip, she held the cry back. She could hear Carlos's steps moving away, then she heard nothing. Gradually her eyes adjusted to the blackness, and peering ahead, Anne thought that possibly she could see the outline of a boat. Then she could definitely make out a swinging light, and soon Carlos was back at her side, holding a lantern that threw off a soft, flickering light.

  "Come along, Anne." Carlos took her arm and guided her forward. "We're parked near the pier where Tay's boat is moored. Now, step up here onto the pier." He held the lantern low so Anne could see where to step. They began walking along the dark pier side by side and soon Anne could clearly make out a boat.

  "It's a small cabin cruiser," Carlos informed her, "belonging to a man Dolores and I have known all our lives, Tay Dominquez. If this is where your brother wishes to meet and talk with me, so be it."

  As Carlos fell silent again, Anne could hear the lapping of the water against the pier. Even as the sound calmed and soothed her, it excited her too. Suddenly she could think of nothing more poignantly romantic than to be right here where she was, with an incredibly handsome Spanish nobleman at her side, in Tangier, Morocco. Suddenly Anne grinned to herself, remembering what Carlos had said in the car. If he had the least notion of what she was thinking about at this moment, he would surely burst out laughing. Then he would probably lecture her on how Americans, seeing far too many movies, were not only painfully melodramatic but hopelessly romantic as well. And… he'd be right.

  When they reached the boat, Carlos climbed aboard first, then hung the lantern on a pole and turned back to help her on. As she stepped aboard, he momentarily held her by both arms, smiling down at her.

  "All we need is a full moon, and this is the perfect setting for romance, no?" His black eyes intently fixed on her, he started to lean down to kiss her. Before he had done so, however, a shadow crossed his face and he drew back again. "But possibly you have no romantic notions about a man like me—one who does not believe in true love," he remarked, and his hands dropped from holding her arms.

  Swinging away, again taking the lantern, he started down the side of the boat, motioning for her to follow. They traversed a narrow passageway until they reached some stairs. After they'd descended the stairs, Carlos clicked on a light and led Anne into a small cabin.

  Glancing around, Anne noticed that the cabin was beautifully appointed, with warm polished wood almost everywhere. There were double-decker beds against one wall, a closet, a half-open door leading into a washroom. In the center of the room there was a small table with four chairs. Carlos motioned her to one of the chairs.

  "Are you hungry? This isn't my boat, as I've mentioned, but there's surely food in the galley with which I can make us a snack. Or a cup of coffee perhaps?"

  "I'd love some coffee, thank you," Anne murmured, still feeling wistfully sad over the kiss that they had almost shared.

  Excusing himself, Carlos left the cabin. Anne went into the washroom. She worked to repair her makeup and combed her straight, shoulder-length hair until it shone. She stepped back into the cabin just as Carlos returned holding a mug of steaming coffee in each hand.

  Without speaking, he placed the two mugs down on the table and seated himself. Again Anne watched in fascination at how elegantly graceful his
movements were. He picked up his mug in both hands, blew off steam, and began to sip. "Ah, just right," he murmured with a quick little smile. "Hot and strong. I hope that's how you like it too."

  "Yes, thank you, I do." Anne seated herself across from him and, picking up her mug in both hands, began to sip too. Over the rim of her mug she looked directly at Carlos. His dark eyes circled up to meet her pale blue ones. They sat for several moments looking intently at each other, then, frowning, Carlos lowered his eyes and his mug.

  "You're a very pretty girl, Anne McCullough, a real American beauty. I suppose that means that your brother is a remarkably handsome man. And my foolish young sister, delighted with your brother's appearance, can't distinguish between physical infatuation and proper affection, which stems from a common background and heritage. And on this superficial, fleeting feeling of physical attraction, she stupidly thinks she can build a marriage."

  "Which lots of people manage to do!" Anne replied heatedly, stung by Carlos's words. "Some American marriages end in divorce, I grant you that, but that doesn't mean that most of them do. And for two people to marry for any reason other than love is—is exploitative and opportunistic!"

  "Well, well," Carlos answered, flipping out a coolly contemptuous smile. "Those are strong words. Exploitative and opportunistic, you say? If I had a fortune-hunting scoundrel of a brother, I don't believe I'd use those words quite so glibly and freely. The one way my sister Dolores can protect herself from being exploited, from being married for her name and fortune, is by marrying a man whose position and fortune are equal to hers. If anyone is an opportunist, it is your brother, not I."

  Anne blinked against sudden hot tears. She knew she had been bested in the exchange, but still she couldn't resist continuing the argument. "You just absolutely refuse to believe that the two of them fell sincerely in love, don't you? You just won't admit that that's what happened. That my brother Michael might be, and is, a wonderful young man fully deserving of your sister's love, and that Dorrie, far from being duped, knows exactly what she wants and what she is doing. That possibility absolutely escapes you, doesn't it?"