Debra hadn't been so fair-minded she would have taken an instant dislike to Sharon Chandler, but there was no denying the girl's good looks and the lissom charm of her figure in the dress that glistened like golden moonlight on water.
'They are well matched,' she murmured.
'Made for each other,' Stuart said drily. 'I see Lenora bearing down on them . . . Holy James, she's actually smiling!'
Debra took a quick look and saw Lenora kissing the girl on the cheek. Rodare stood looking on and Debra had her gaze upon him just a second too long . . . suddenly his eyes had hold of hers, then they raked over her in Stuart's arms and she could have sworn that mockery flicked the edge of his lip.
Debra felt herself tingle with resentment. Did he expect her to sit in one of the alcoves like Jane Eyre, eyes cast down and looking a picture of demure servility? Was that why he had wanted her at the party, so she could see him with Sharon Chandler?
She wanted to walk out of the room, but if she did depart he might assume that she was envious. Obviously she was meant to feel like the little typist whom his sister Zandra hadn't felt worthy of an invitation. Already she had caught the sharp attention of Zandra, who looked rather like a tigress in a dress of honey and brown stripes. The raven-dark hair was bunched at her nape in a diamond circlet and there were diamonds in her earlobes.
'I—I didn't want to come to this party.' Debra couldn't quite keep the tremor out of her voice. ' He insisted.'
'El Rodare?' Stuart raised an eyebrow so high it almost reached into his hairline. 'You mean he got you on your own and insisted?'
'He came to my bedroom—' Debra broke off, realising at once that the words sounded invidious. 'What I mean—'
'I think I know what you mean.' Stuart stared down at her, seeing her as if through the eyes of the other man, the one who was master of the house. She didn't dazzle the male eye with blonde hair and the kind of blue eyes that clung to a man as if he were the god of light. Debra had a more subtle attraction . . . that of unalloyed innocence.
'Did he try to push his way in?' Stuart was scowling, and at the same time leading her off the floor in the direction of the buffet.
'No—nothing like that,' she protested. 'As if he would!'
'I bet it was on his mind!' Stuart reached for two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to Debra. 'Come on, you don't imagine he's any different from other men just because he gives you all that high-and-mighty talk about the honour of the Spaniard being bound up with hospitality. That's just his line and bound to get to an innocent like you, who has probably read all about the noble Knights of the Round Table and other romantic tales. They talked a lot about honour, but that didn't stop Lancelot and Tristan from seducing the fair ladies.'
'I don't intend to be seduced by anyone,' Debra said indignantly. 'Just because it's always on your mind!'
'That's slander,' he said, but without rancour. 'Mmmm, this is splendid champagne— nothing but the best for the Salvadors. What they've splashed out on Krug and caviar tonight would keep me in lunches for quite a few weeks. Let's go to the buffet and help ourselves to some of that delicious food.'
What was laid out on the long white-clothed table made Debra feel hungry, and following Stuart's example she took a plate and a fork and helped herself to whatever took her fancy. From the moment Rodare Salvador had looked at her in that mocking way, Debra had decided to look as if she was having the time of her life. She would gobble down this plate of food even if it made her feel bilious; she would laugh at Stuart's nonsense, and dance whenever he asked her to.
They were standing side by side, sampling the caviar, when Zandra made her way towards them with a tigerish glitter in her eyes. 'I expected you to come and say good-evening,' she snapped at Stuart, and the glare she gave Debra was enough to curl the
'They are well matched,' she murmured.
'Made for each other,' Stuart said drily. 'I see Lenora bearing down on them . . . Holy James, she's actually smiling!'
Debra took a quick look and saw Lenora kissing the girl on the cheek. Rodare stood looking on and Debra had her gaze upon him just a second too long . . . suddenly his eyes had hold of hers, then they raked over her in Stuart's arms and she could have sworn that mockery flicked the edge of his lip.
Debra felt herself tingle with resentment. Did he expect her to sit in one of the alcoves like Jane Eyre, eyes cast down and looking a picture of demure servility? Was that why he had wanted her at the party, so she could see him with Sharon Chandler?
She wanted to walk out of the room, but if she did depart he might assume that she was envious. Obviously she was meant to feel like the little typist whom his sister Zandra hadn't felt worthy of an invitation. Already she had caught the sharp attention of Zandra, who looked rather like a tigress in a dress of honey and brown stripes. The raven-dark hair was bunched at her nape in a diamond circlet and there were diamonds in her earlobes.
'I—I didn't want to come to this party.' Debra couldn't quite keep the tremor out of her voice. ' He insisted.'
'El Rodare?' Stuart raised an eyebrow so high it almost reached into his hairline. 'You mean he got you on your own and insisted?'
'He came to my bedroom—' Debra broke off, realising at once that the words sounded invidious. 'What I mean—'
'I think I know what you mean.' Stuart stared down at her, seeing her as if through the eyes of the other man, the one who was master of the house. She didn't dazzle the male eye with blonde hair and the kind of blue eyes that clung to a man as if he were the god of light. Debra had a more subtle attraction . . . that of unalloyed innocence.
'Did he try to push his way in?' Stuart was scowling, and at the same time leading her off the floor in the direction of the buffet.
'No—nothing like that,' she protested. 'As if he would!'
'I bet it was on his mind!' Stuart reached for two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to Debra. 'Come on, you don't imagine he's any different from other men just because he gives you all that high-and-mighty talk about the honour of the Spaniard being bound up with hospitality. That's just his line and bound to get to an innocent like you, who has probably read all about the noble Knights of the Round Table and other romantic tales. They talked a lot about honour, but that didn't stop Lancelot and Tristan from seducing the fair ladies.'
'I don't intend to be seduced by anyone,' Debra said indignantly. 'Just because it's always on your mind!'
'That's slander,' he said, but without rancour. 'Mmmm, this is splendid champagne— nothing but the best for the Salvadors. What they've splashed out on Krug and caviar tonight would keep me in lunches for quite a few weeks. Let's go to the buffet and help ourselves to some of that delicious food.'
What was laid out on the long white-clothed table made Debra feel hungry, and following Stuart's example she took a plate and a fork and helped herself to whatever took her fancy. From the moment Rodare Salvador had looked at her in that mocking way, Debra had decided to look as if she was having the time of her life. She would gobble down this plate of food even if it made her feel bilious; she would laugh at Stuart's nonsense, and dance whenever he asked her to.
They were standing side by side, sampling the caviar, when Zandra made her way towards them with a tigerish glitter in her eyes. 'I expected you to come and say good-evening,' she snapped at Stuart, and the glare she gave Debra was enough to curl the
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