It was the first of many similar requests that she was to have before the day passed. She found herself promising to speak for Institutions and Ministries, for orphanages and schools, for welfare services and even for new sanitation and drainage schemes.

The day proved exhausting.

There was never a moment when the yacht was not filled with people and when she was not offering hospitality of some sort or another and trying at the same time not to worry too obviously about El Diablo.

He insisted on getting up to sit under the awning on deck, holding meetings, giving interviews, issuing instructions until his face was grey with fatigue and they had almost to carry him back to his bed.

Skye saw him alone for a few minutes just before Evans shut him up for the night.

He was looking very tired. She knew, at the same time, that he was content.

“Things are shaping well,” he told her. “There are plenty of good men to do the jobs. It was only that they were afraid to come to the front so long as Alejo was there.”

“You are not in pain?” she asked.

He put out his hand to take hers.

“Worrying about me?” he asked. “You ought to be pleased that I am too busy to love to you.”

She felt herself flush and then his fingers tightened on hers.

“You are looking very lovely,” he said, “and a great many of my callers told me how kind you had been to them.”

“I listened to their pet schemes,” Skye said. “They all imagine that I have a lot of influence with you.”

“And haven’t you?”

She smiled at that.

“I don’t think even a bulldozer would move you once you had made up your mind on a course of action,” she replied, “and I am certainly not going to try.”

“I have told Juan to bring your clothes back from the cave.”

“Fancy you remembering to do that,” Skye exclaimed and added, “I suppose we won’t be going there for some time?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“We?” he questioned.

She looked away from him, her eyes on the brown hand that held hers, on the long fingers and well-kept nails. They could, she knew, be both brutally strong and surprisingly gentle.

“I am being sworn in as President on Thursday,” El Diablo said after a moment. “There will be a reception that evening at the Palace. I want you to come to it.”

“Of course. But Thursday is only three days ahead – will you be strong enough?”

“I shall be well by then,” he answered, “but I admit to feeling tired at the moment.”

She waited for him to demand that she kissed him goodnight, but Evans came into the cabin.

He let go of her hand.

“Sleep well, Skye.”

She was dismissed and although she longed to stay, she could think of no excuse as to why she should do so.

*