“But I would like to go for a walk to get the air.”

“Excusa, señora, it is not permitted.”

The words were inflexible and there could be no arguing about them.

Skye turned with a little flounce and went back into the cave. She had expected it and yet it was humiliating to know that she was publicly branded as prisoner, guarded by men who must, amongst themselves, smile on her helplessness.

She felt her anger rising within her so that it was with difficulty that she restrained herself from rushing past the man and striving to escape.

If only she had a revolver!

She looked round the big cave with its exquisitely carved ceiling and at the granite walls, which had been chiselled smooth with infinite labour.

There was a big open fireplace in one wall and against another was a carved cabinet. Anxiously, hoping that the man at the door would not hear her movements, Skye tried to open it – it was locked!

There remained the chest that contained the diamonds and a desk under the window. There were several drawers in the desk and yet even without trying them Skye felt certain that they would be locked as well.

She was up against something more subtle than the type of man who would leave a revolver waiting for her to pick it up. If she was to gain anything, she would have to be cunning and, if her plans to escape were to succeed, she would have to make them calmly and unemotionally.

She tried to remember if El Diablo had worn a revolver when she arrived the night before, but somehow she could remember only the great height of him as he had risen from the couch on her entrance and the expression in his eyes that made her hand creep to the neck of her riding shirt.

She should have known then. No, she should have known even sooner – that time she had spoken to him about the man hanged from the tree. She had seen then an expression on his face that she did not understand.

She had encountered love in her life, she had encountered admiration, she had even been aware that men desired her, but never before had she known a man who could look at her with a disdain that seemed almost to be akin to hatred and yet desire to kiss her at the same time.

She put her hands up to her eyes as she thought of it!

The hours passed slowly. Skye walked from cave to cave and back again.

The Indian girl finished unpacking her clothes, hanging the dresses in an alcove behind one of the blankets, which made a natural wardrobe and filling the chest with diaphanous nightgowns and lace-trimmed underclothes.

“Will not the señora rest?” she asked at length, seeing Skye’s strained white face and disturbed by the restlessness of her movements.

“No – no – I am not tired.”