Tender Triumph by Judith McNaught

  Ramon was speaking to the priest in a calm voice when Katie entered the cottage wrapped in the blan­ket. He held his arm out to her and drew her com­fortingly close to his side, but his first words were laced with reproof. "Why did you not keep your ap­pointment with Padre Gregorio, Katie?"

  Katie's chin lifted defensively as she looked at the priest. Bald at the crown, his head was circled with a wide rim of white hair. His bushy white eyebrows slanted up at the ends, giving him a satanic look, which Katie thought was entirely appropriate for an old devil! Nevertheless, her eyes wavered when they collided with his piercing blue ones. "I forgot it."

  Katie could actually feel Ramon's narrowed gaze aimed at her head.

  "In that case," Padre Gregorio said in a cool, uncompromising voice, "Perhaps you would care to make another—for four o'clock tomorrow after­noon."

  Katie agreed to this command performance with an ungracious, "Very well.''

  "I will drive you back to the village, Padre," Ramon said.

  Katie nearly dropped through the floor when, after nodding his acceptance, the priest directed a meaningful look at her over the rim of his wire spec­tacles. "I am certain that Senorita Connelly wants to return to Gabriella's now. It is growing late."

  Without waiting for Ramon to reply, Katie turned abruptly and walked into the bathroom, closing the door. In a state of suffocating humiliation, she struggled into her damp clothing and combed her fingers through her hair.

  Pulling open the door, she walked right into Ramon who was standing in the doorway, his hands braced high against the frame on either side of her. The wry amusement in his expression chafed against her already lacerated emotions. "Katie, he thinks he is protecting your virtue from my lecherous inten­tions."

  Katie, who was suddenly perilously close to tears, stared at the cleft in Ramon's chin. "He doesn't believe for one minute that I have any virtue! Now please let's go, I want to get out of here. I—I'm tired."

  As Katie stalked toward Padre Gregorio who was standing at the car, her soaked canvas shoes made a loud, squishing noise and her denim Levi's slapped wetly against her legs. This indisputable proof that her clothes had truly been soaked brought a flicker­ing smile of approval to the priest's lips, but Katie merely gave him a frosty look and slid into the car. On the way to the village, he made two attempts to converse with her, which Katie discouraged by re­plying in monosyllables.

  After leaving the priest in the village, they pulled up at Gabriella's house. Fifteen minutes later, when Katie emerged from her bedroom in dry clothes, Ra­mon was standing in the living room talking with Gabriella's husband, Eduardo. The moment he saw her, Ramon excused himself and invited Katie out­side. Most of the ill effects from her encounter with Padre Gregorio had evaporated, but Katie was vaguely uneasy about Ramon's mood.

  In heavy silence, they strolled through the neat lit­tle backyard. At the far end of it, Katie stopped and leaned her shoulders against a tree trunk. Ramon's hands came down on either side of her, imprisoning her. Katie saw the determination in his jaw and the cool speculation in his intent gaze. "Why did you not go to see Padre Gregorio this afternoon, Katie?"

  Completely taken aback, Katie stammered. "I—I told you, I forget."

  "I reminded you this morning when I came to see you, before I left for work. How could you forget it a few hours later?"

  "I forgot it," she said defensively, "because I was busy doing what I've been doing for four days—try­ing to buy everything you need for your house."

  "Why do you always refer to it as my house in­stead of our house?" he persisted relentlessly.

  "Why are you suddenly asking me all these ques­tions?" Katie burst out.

  "Because when I ask myself the questions, I do not like the answers that occur to me." Moving back a step, he calmly extracted a thin cigar and lighter from his pocket. With his hands cupped over the flame he lit it, watching an uncomfortable Katie through the haze of aromatic smoke. "Padre Gregorio is the only possible obstacle to our getting mar­ried in ten days, is he not?''

  Katie felt as if he were verbally stalking her, back­ing her into a corner. "I suppose so, yes."

  "Tell me something," he said with casual curiosi­ty, "Are you planning to keep your appointment with him tomorrow?"

  Katie raked her hair off her forehead in an agitat­ed gesture. "Yes, I'm going to keep it. But you may as well know right now that he doesn't like me, and I think he's nothing but a tyrannical busybody."

  Ramon dismissed this with a noncommittal shrug. "I believe it is customary, even in the States, for a priest to assure himself that an engaged couple is reasonably suited to each other and has a good chance of making a successful marriage. That is all he wishes to do."

  "He's not going to believe that about us! He's al­ready decided the opposite."

  "No, he has not," Ramon stated implacably. He moved closer and Katie unconsciously pressed back against the rough bark of the tree. His gaze roamed her face, calculating her answer to his next question before he even asked it. "Do you want him to decide we are not suited, Katie?"

  "No!" Katie whispered.

  "Tell me about your first marriage," he com­manded abruptly.

  "I will not!" Katie flung back, her whole body stiffening with anger. "Don't ever ask me to do that, because I won't. I try never to think about it."

  "If you had truly recovered from it without scars," Ramon continued, "you should be able to talk about it without pain."

  "Talk about it?!" Katie exploded in stunned rage. "Talk about it?" The violence of her own reaction momentarily shocked Katie into silence. Drawing a deep breath, she gained control of her stampeding emotions. With an apologetic smile at Ramon who was studying her like a specimen under a microscope, she said, "It's only that I don't want the ugliness of the past to spoil the present, and it would. Surely you can see that?"

  The ghost of a reluctant smile touched Ramon's face as he gazed down at the smooth perfection of her glowing features. "I can see," he sighed softly. His hands slid up her arms in a gentle caress, tightening to draw her close against his heart. "I can see that you have a beautiful smile, and that you look tired.''

  Katie twined her arms around his neck. She knew he wasn't satisfied with her explanation, and she was grateful beyond words that he wasn't going to pursue it further. "I am a little tired. I think I'll go to bed."

  "And when you are lying in bed, what do you think about?" he asked, his voice husky and teas­ing.

  Katie's eyes held an answering sparkle. "A color scheme for the kitchen," she lied.

  "Oh, is that right?" he breathed softly. Katie nodded, a slow smile touching her lips.

  "What do you think about?"

  "The wholesale price of pineapples."

  "Liar," she whispered, her gaze on the sensual mouth that had moved tantalizingly close to hers. "Yellow," he breathed against her lips.

  "You mean the pineapples?" Katie murmured absently.

  "I mean the kitchen."

  "I thought green," she said, her heart pounding with anticipation.

  Ramon drew back abruptly, his entire expression friendly and thoughtful. "Perhaps you are right. Green is a lively color, and one rarely becomes tired of it." He turned her and headed her toward the house with an affectionate pat on her derriere. "You think about it in bed tonight."

  Katie took a few surprised steps, then turned to look at Ramon with puzzled disappointment.

  His even white teeth flashed in a lazy grin as he quirked a brow at her. "Did you want something more? Something better to think about in bed, per­haps?"

  Katie felt the sexual magnetism he was exuding as if it were some primitive force against which she had no resistance.

  Even his velvet voice seemed to reach out and touch her. "Come here, Katie, and I will give it to you."

  Katie's whole body felt flushed as she walked into his crushing embrace. The turmoil of the last hour, the wild fluctuations of mood from desire to humili­ation to anger and now to
teasing, had twisted Katie into a mass of raw emotion that exploded the instant Ramon's arms closed around her.

  Driven by a desperate need to somehow reassure Ramon—and herself—that everything was going to be all right, she kissed him with an unleashed ur­gency, a deep passion that sent a tremor through his powerful frame and made his arms tighten convulsively.

  Ramon pulled his lips from hers and kissed her face, her forehead, her eyes, her neck.

  And just before his mouth sought hers for one last stormy kiss, she thought he whispered, "Katie, I love you."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Katie and Gabriella spent the morning and most of the afternoon combing through shops in two neighboring villages. Katie liked Gabriella immense­ly. Besides being a wonderful companion, she was a tireless shopper. At times she was more enthusiastic about what Katie was doing than Katie was. But then, endless shopping with hundreds of things to buy and no time to do it was not Katie's idea of pleasure.

  Katie paid for the sheets and coverlet she had just bought, while Gabriella delicately removed herself from the procedure that involved Katie's requesting duplicate bills, each for one-half the amount of her purchase, then paying for it using equal parts of Ramon's money and her own.

  "I think Ramon will like the colors I chose for the bedroom, don't you?" Katie asked gaily as they slid into the car.

  "He should," Gabriella said, turning in the seat to look at Katie with a smile. Her thick black hair was beautifully windblown and her eyes were bright. "Everything you buy is to suit him and not yourself. I would have bought the coverlet with the ruffles."

  Katie, who was driving, glanced in the rearview mirror before pulling into the slow traffic, then she fired a wry look at Gabriella.

  "Somehow I can't quite see Ramon surrounded by dainty ruffles with pastel flowers.''

  "Eduardo is as manly as Ramon and he would not object if I chose to make our bedroom feminine.''

  Katie had to admit to herself that what Gabriella said was true; Eduardo would probably acquiesce to Gabriella's wishes with one of those faint, amused smiles he frequently gave her. In the last four days, Katie had revised her opinion of Eduardo. He didn't look at the world with stern, disapproving eyes—he only looked at Katie that way. He was always unfail­ingly courteous to her, but the moment she walked into the room the warmth left his expression.

  It might not have been so uncomfortable for Katie if he were small and homely or big and slow-witted, but the truth of the matter was that Eduardo was a very impressive man, which immediately made Katie feel that she was somehow lacking. At thirty-five, he was extremely handsome in a darkly Spanish way. He was three inches shorter than Ramon, with a power­ful build and an attitude of confident male su­premacy that alternately annoyed and intrigued Katie. He was not Ramon's equal in either looks or polish, but when the two men were together there was an easy comradery between them that made Katie acutely aware that she, and only she, failed to meet some unknown standard of Eduardo's. He treated his wife with indulgent affection; Ramon with an odd combination of friendship and admiration… and Katie with nothing more than courtesy.

  "Have I done something to offend Eduardo?" Katie asked aloud, half-expecting Gabriella to deny anything unusual in his attitude.

  "You must not pay any attention to him," Gabri­ella said with amazing candor. "Eduardo mistrusts all American girls, especially wealthy ones such as you. He thinks they are spoiled and irresponsible, among other things,"

  Katie assumed that "other things" probably in­cluded promiscuous. "What makes him think I'm wealthy?" she asked cautiously.

  Gabriella flashed an apologetic smile at her. "Your luggage. Eduardo used to work at the desk of a fancy hotel in San Juan while he was going to school. He says your luggage costs more than all the furniture in our living room."

  Before Katie could recover, Gabriella turned grave. "Eduardo likes Ramon very much for many reasons, and he is afraid that you will not adjust to being a Spanish farmer's wife. Eduardo thinks, be­cause you are a wealthy American woman, that you lack courage, that you will leave when you discover that your life here is sometimes hard; that when the crop is poor or prices are low you will flaunt your money in front of Ramon."

  Katie flushed uncomfortably and Gabriella nod­ded sagely. "That is why Eduardo must never dis­cover that you are paying for part of the furniture. He would condemn you for disobeying Ramon and he would think you are doing this because what Ramon could buy wasn't good enough for you. I do not know why you are paying for things, Katie, but I do not think it is because of that. Someday you can tell me if you wish to do so, but in the meantime Eduardo must not find out. He would tell Ramon immediately."

  "Neither of them will find out unless you say something," Katie reassured with a smile.

  "You know I will not." Gabriella glanced up at the sun. "Do you want to go to the auction at that house in Mayaguez? We are very close."

  Katie readily agreed, and three hours later she was proud owner of a dining set for the kitchen, a sofa and two chairs. The house had been owned by a wealthy bachelor who, before his death, had obviously developed an appreciation for fine wood, ex­cellent craftsmanship and solid comfort. The chairs were wing-backed, deeply tufted in a nubby cream cloth with rust threads. There were two ottomans to match. The sofa was rust with wide rolled arms and deep thick cushions. "Ramon will love it," Katie said as she paid the auctioneer and arranged to have the furniture delivered to the cottage.

  "Katie, will you love it?'' Gabriella asked anxious­ly. "You are going to live there, too, yet you have not bought one thing just because you want it."

  "Of course I have," Katie said.

  At ten minutes to four, Gabriella stopped the car in front of Padre Gregorio's little house. It was on the east side of the village square, directly across the street from the church, easily identified by its white paint and dark green shutters. Katie took her hand­bag off the seat, threw a nervous smile at Gabriella, and slid out of the car.

  "Are you certain you don't want me to wait for you?" Gabriella asked.

  "Positive," Katie said. "It isn't a long walk to your house from here, and I'll have plenty of time to change clothes afterward and go to see Ramon at the cottage."

  Reluctantly Katie walked up to the front door. She paused to smooth the skirt of her pastel green cotton shirtwaist dress and run a shaky hand over her light red hair, which was caught into a soft chignon with tendrils at her ears. She looked, she hoped, very prim proper and composed. She felt like a nervous wreck.

  An elderly housekeeper answered Katie's knock and admitted her into the house. Following her down the dim hall, Katie felt like a condemned pris­oner walking the last steps to meet the executioner— though why she felt so upset was something that baffled her.

  Padre Gregorio stood up when she entered his study. He was thinner and shorter than she had thought last night, which was absurdly reassuring considering that they weren't going to engage in physical combat. Katie took the seat he indicated across the desk from him, and he sat down.

  For a moment they regarded one another with po­lite wariness, then he said, "Would you care for some coffee?"

  "Thank you, no," Katie replied with a fixed, courteous smile. "I haven't a great deal of time to spare." That was the wrong thing to say, Katie realized as his bushy white brows snapped together over his nose.

  "No doubt you have more important things to do," he said curtly.

  "Not for myself," Katie hastily explained, by way of a truce. “'For Ramon.''

  To her immense relief, Padre Gregorio accepted the truce offering. His tight lips relaxed into some­thing that was almost a smile as he nodded his white head. "Ramon is in a great hurry to have everything finished, and he must be keeping you extremely busy." Reaching into his desk, he pulled out some forms and picked up his pen. "Let us begin by com­pleting these forms. Your full name and age please?" Katie told him.

  "Marital status?" Before Katie could answer, he glanced up and sadly
said, "Ramon mentioned that your first husband died. How tragic for you to have been widowed in the first bloom of your marriage." Hypocrisy had never been one of Katie's faults. Politely but firmly she said, "I was 'widowed' in the first bloom of our divorce, and if there was a tragedy, it was that we were ever married at all."

  Behind the spectacles the blue eyes narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

  "I divorced him before he died."

  "For what reason?"

  "Irreconcilable differences."

  "I did not ask you for the legal grounds, I asked you the reason."

  His prying struck sparks of rebellion in Katie's breast, and she expelled a slow, calming breath. "I divorced him because I despised him."

  "Why?"

  "I would rather not discuss it."

  "I see," Padre Gregorio said. He shoved the papers aside, laid down his pen, and Katie felt the fragile truce begin to crumble. "In that case, per­haps you would not object to discussing Ramon and yourself. How long have you known each other?"

  "Only two weeks."

  "What an unusual answer," he remarked. "Where did you meet?"

  "In the States."

  "Senorita Connelly," he said in a chilling tone, "would you consider it an invasion of your privacy if I asked you to be a little more specific?"

  Katie's eyes flashed militantly. "Not at all, Padre. I met Ramon at a bar—a cantina, I think you call it here."

  He looked stunned. "Ramon met you in a cantina?"

  "Actually, it was outside."

  "Pardon?"

  "It was outside, in the parking lot. I was having some trouble and Ramon helped me."

  Padre Gregorio relaxed in his chair and nodded his complete approval. "Of course. You were hav­ing automobile trouble, and Ramon assisted you."