“Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” El Diablo said, not raising his voice, but speaking still in the quiet even tone that he had used all through dinner. “I told you to come here.”

“No!”

“It was a defiant monosyllable, but not a very steady one.

“You will learn that here I am used to getting my own way,” El Diablo said. “I expect to be obeyed. Especially by my wife.”

Skye did not move. She was staring at him, her eyes very dark against the whiteness of her face, her hands pressed against the bodice of her tulle gown where it met her naked skin.

There was a silence so poignant that it seemed to Skye that he must hear the frightened throb of her heart and then he said softly,

“It would be a pity to spoil that pretty dress.”

Slowly then, one foot dragging after another, she went towards him.

Chapter 5

Neengai’s soft Indian voice awoke Skye from a deep sleep.

“El Cabeza say you go riding with him, señora. He ready in twenty minutes.”

Skye sat up in bed, her tiredness gone, a sense of excitement rising within her.

If she was free of the imprisoning walls, there was always a chance of her finding some opportunity of escape.

She had not slept for a long time the night before but had lain awake, her mind running through the whole gamut of human emotions starting with anger so fierce and so murderous that she almost frightened herself.

And yet, once again he had left her at the door of her own room, once again she had waited fearfully as the hours had passed slowly and once again she had been left undisturbed.

When dinner was over, he had kissed her.

She writhed now as she thought of his kisses, long, fierce, passionate and possessive, that had seemed in their very ruthlessness to force her to acknowledge him her Master. He had claimed her love as she had imagined the conquerors in the Spanish invasion had with the women they had acquired through conquest.

He had flattered her and paid her compliments. He had talked of love, choosing exquisite words and exquisite phrases as only a South American could spin out one subject hour upon hour and never manage to repeat himself.

He had teased her and made her angry and then, when she would have abused him, had stopped her mouth with his kisses so that she had been unable to say anything. It was a humiliation such as she had never imagined could happen to her, or to any woman, and all the time she had felt that there was something behind the manner in which he played with her.

She could not put it into words and could not explain even to herself that strange feeling she had – and yet it was there.