When she spoke of Alejo, they looked wary and, when she spoke of El Diablo, they shut up like clams. With regard to the latter there was no doubt that they knew exactly who she was talking about, but they were not going to admit it.

“Excusa, señorita, but I don’t understand.”

It was the same answer over and over again, and yet she knew that they understood her very well.

‘I will find out more if it is the last thing I ever do!’ Skye swore to herself.

When luncheon was finished, she changed her clothes, calling for Evans, the Steward, to bring her the things she wanted. Despite Aunt Hilda’s protests, she had refused to have a lady’s maid or a woman of any sort aboard the yacht.

She knew what a nuisance they could be at sea with their eternal whining and grumbling and inevitable bouts of seasickness. Evans would look after her as skilfully as any woman could have done and with far less fuss.

By the time Skye was ready a taxi was waiting to take her to the stables where she had arranged to hire riding horses during her stay in Mariposa.

The owner, a wrinkled middle-aged man, who looked out of place unless he was astride a horse, was extremely voluble about his animals.

But when Skye spoke to him of El Diablo, she saw the usual blank expression mask his face.

“Mire,” she said impatiently, “I am not asking out of idle curiosity. I don’t know whether your boys told you, but yesterday, when I was out riding with my cousins, we encountered the rude and arrogant person who, I understand, is nicknamed ‘El Diablo’.”

“So I hear, señorita. It was indiscreet for you to go so far into the interior. I was very angry with my boys for disobeying my orders.”

“But why should you give such orders?” Skye enquired. “I wish to see the country and I have every intention of doing so. Do you mean to tell me that a few hours’ ride from Jācara is as far as I am permitted to go?”

“No, señorita. Yesterday was a mistake. Today it will be different.”

“Who is this man they call El Diablo?”

“Excusa, but I have no idea, señorita. I don’t even know that he exists. But it is always best that someone so young and so beautiful as the señorita should not take risks.”

Skye was up against a blank wall and she knew it.

They were not going to tell her what she wanted to know, but she felt her temper rising at being so obviously circumvented.

She had been spoilt these last years since she had so much money and everything, except of course freedom, had been hers for the asking. She was certainly not used to people refusing her what she wanted to hear.