Sally Wentworth - Callum

‘He didn’t go with her?’

‘No, the chauffeur took her.’

So Francesca had spiked that budding romance, Elaine thought as she stirred her tea. She wondered how Calum would feel about it, and whether he would turn against Francesca for having spoiled it for him. But it was a risk the Princess had obviously been prepared to take. A thought occurred to her. ‘Didn’t the American leave with the girl?’

‘No. They said he left later in his own car.’ Realising what that implied, Ned said, ‘So maybe he and the girl didn’t plot it between them. Maybe she used him.’

It would seem that the latter theory was right, because when the family arrived at the wine-lodge that evening the American, Sam Gallagher, was with them. He was evidently a last-minute addition to the guest-list because Elaine hadn’t been told about him. Calum sought her out as soon as he arrived and, with a wry smile, asked her to set another place. He added, interestingly, ‘At least we know about this extra person; he isn’t a gatecrasher like the last time.’

‘The last time?’ Elaine questioned.

‘Yes. It seems that Tiffany Dean crashed the garden party,’ Calum said tersely. His mouth twisted, and for a moment there was a bleak look in his eyes, but then he recovered and said, ‘I blamed you for not setting enough places, didn’t I? I’m sorry.’

She shrugged, interested to see how it had affected him. ‘It’s nothing.’

Calum gave a short, wry laugh. ‘As you say—it’s nothing.’

He went back to join his family in the big room where the tourists came to taste the wines, cleared now of the tables and stools made from old barrels, except for one central table piled high with flowers which Elaine had arranged earlier. Waiting to greet the family were all their employees at the wine-lodge, as well as a great many other local people with whom they had business dealings. The Brodeys seemed to be held in great respect, Elaine noticed as she watched from a doorway, but there was no humility among the employees; owners and workers alike greeted each other with smiles and laughter, like old friends.

As soon as everyone had shaken hands, Elaine gave a signal and the waiters went round with large trays of white port. There were a couple of speeches in Portuguese, then everyone moved out into the huge wine cellars where a special cask was to be broached. These cellars had been a revelation to Elaine: so vast, so high and old, the smell of hundreds of years of maturing wine so strong that you could feel drunk on that alone.

More wine was poured and handed round, empty glasses had to be refilled. Elaine, standing unobtrusively in the background in her neat black velvet evening skirt and short jacket, kept an alert eye on it all, making sure that everything went smoothly. She had worked hard on the setting for this meal, taking the unusual surroundings as a challenge, and transforming the gloomy cellars into a warm and inviting bistro with brightly coloured tablecloths, lamps and candles. But there was nothing cheap about it: the glass was crystal, the plates the finest bone china. And beside each place-setting there was a gift of a wine glass engraved with the date and event, parcels that she had helped wrap herself.

A band of local musicians arrived and soon everyone was dancing, including Francesca, who literally let her hair down as she whirled around the floor, joining in the local folk dances with a young Portuguese. The male Brodeys didn’t dance so much, only doing so if it was a western number, when they dutifully asked the wives of some of their guests and employees.

But Calum had no duty towards Elaine when he asked her to dance. She had come into the cellar to replace some candles which were spluttering and was about to leave when he came over to her. ‘Elaine? Would you care to dance?’

She looked at him in surprise, only now registering that the band was playing a slow number that she recognised from the charts of ten years ago. Guessing that he had again asked her out of pity, she said at once, ‘Thank you, but I’m very busy.’

She went to walk past him, but he put a hand on her arm. Giving her one of his charming smiles, he said, ‘Surely you can take a few minutes off?’

Her heart jumped a little as she thought of being held in his arms, but stubborn pride made her say curtly, ‘Sorry. No.’

The smile didn’t falter. ‘But I insist.’ His grip tightened on her arm and he took a step towards the cleared space where people were dancing, drawing her after him.

Good God, couldn’t the man take no for an answer? Did he think he was doing her a favour, playing the rich man being kind to the lonely little hireling? Her face stiffening, striving to contain her anger but failing, Elaine stood her ground. Calum looked back and became still as he saw the fire in her glance. Tersely, she said, ‘Thank you, Mr Brodey, but I don’t dance.’ And, tugging her arm from his hold, she strode quickly away.

But at the door to the cellar she couldn’t resist glancing back. She expected Calum to have moved away already, to do his duty or be kind to some other female, but he was still standing where she had left him, looking after her with a coldly surprised expression on his handsome face.

She didn’t go into the big cellar again until the members of the family had left. The band played on for a while but Elaine left them to it, arranging for the senior employee at the wine-lodge to shut up the premises when the last guest had gone. It had been a long day and she was tired. Ned and Malcolm had already left, but one of the staff from the palácio drove her back there. It would have been nice to go straight to her room and bed, but Elaine went first to Calum’s office to see if there were any messages for her; taking on a week’s celebrations like this was lucrative but it was difficult to run her own office in London from such a distance.

Several messages had come through to the house on the fax machine, and some by telephone. Only two of them were for her, one acknowledging receipt of the faxed estimate she had sent earlier, the other from her mother-in-law inviting her to a family birthday party, and adding, ‘And perhaps you might like to arrange it.’

She wouldn’t go, of course; her mother-in-law should have realised that by now. But perhaps the older woman thought it her duty to ask her and had added that last sentence to nag Elaine’s conscience, to make her think of the duty she was supposed to owe Neil’s family. But Elaine was quite sure that she owed them nothing whatsoever—not duty, and certainly not affection or love. Her face grim, she crumpled the paper into a tight ball. As she did so, the door opened and Calum came in.

He paused when he saw her. ‘I saw the light was on and wondered who was here,’ he explained. He gave her a guarded look, evidently remembering the way she’d snubbed him earlier.

‘I came to see if there were any messages for me.’

Calum gave a rueful sigh, impatient with himself. ‘I’m sorry, I said I’d look earlier today, didn’t I? I’m afraid—something happened and it went out of my mind.’ He frowned. ‘But surely you were in here this afternoon?’

‘Yes, I received that message. I wanted to see if there was any problem with my answer to it.’ She flicked the ball of paper neatly into a waste-paper basket. ‘Goodnight.’ She went to leave.

‘One moment.’ He lifted a hand to stop her.

Elaine hesitated, then turned to face him. ‘Yes? You have some instructions for me?’ she asked in her most businesslike manner.

‘No. I merely wished to say.’ His eyes, grey and quizzical, met hers. ‘Well, that I hope I didn’t offend you when I asked you to dance this evening.’

‘Offend me? No, of course not,’ she lied.