The Dragon's Cave Read Free Page B

didn’t mean anything ! ’ Megan protested.
    The Spaniard gave her an impatient look. ‘I find it shocking that young women should be left defenceless to deal with young men who don’t mean anything,’ he said brutally.
    ‘ Isn’t that rather old-fashioned?’ she retorted.
    ‘Not at all. Some kinds of behaviour are a matter of taste rather than fashion.’
    Crushed, Megan sought to explain herself. ‘Alice introduced me to Tony,’ she began.
    ‘And this Alice? Is she a respectable person?’
    Megan doubted that he would consider Alice respectable in any way. ‘She’s nice,’ she compromised.
    ‘ But not respectable?’
    Megan thought of the men Alice knew and then with relief of the man she had decided to marry, a man with a title and an ex-wife lurking somewhere in the background.
    ‘ She’s marrying very well,’ she said defensively.
    The Spaniard glared at the snow falling on the road ahead of him.
    ‘She would not in Spain !’ he claimed grandly and with finality. Megan, stealing a look at his autocratic countenance, could well believe him. But then neither she nor Alice were living in Spain.
     

 
    CHAPTER II
    Megan never knew what the Spaniard said to her parents. She had spent a frui tl ess few minutes in the driveway of her parents’ home trying to persuade him that her mother and father would have gone to bed long since and that the last thing they would appreciate was being disturbed at that hour. He had not listened at all.
    ‘ I think they will wish to see me,’ he had said firmly. ‘ They will want to assure themselves that you are home and they will also be interested in something else I have to say to them.’
    ‘Something else?’
    ‘It will be better if you go straight to bed,’ he had gone on. ‘You must be tired after all your adventures.’
    ‘You mean I look awful?’ she had retorted crossly.
    He had switched on the light in the car by opening his door and had taken a good look at her.
    ‘No, not awful,’ he had said kindly. ‘ But very young and very tired.’
    ‘That means the same thing !’ Megan had sighed, hurt.
    ‘No. To look young is charming. Before you washed your face you looked awful, but not now.’
    She had blushed, suddenly aware of his dark eyes studying her face. ‘I didn’t wash for you !’ she had insisted sharply. ‘I never wear much make-up except when I’m performing!’
    He had got out of the car without further comment and had gone up to the front door, firmly ringing the bell although she had kept on telling him that she had a key of her own. When her father had come to the door, the collar of his dressing-gown all awry, the Spaniard had touched her cheek with a finger and had pointed up the stairs.
    ‘ Goodnight, Megan Meredith ,’ he had said.
    Megan had looked to her father for support, but he had looked so astonished at the sight of his visitor that Megan had known that he was not at all interested in her reactions.
    ‘ But—’ she had begun by way of protest.
    ‘ Goodnight, ni n a .’
    She had resented the endearment—at least she had supposed it was an endearment—almost as much as his imperious tone of voice.
    ‘ Goodnight, senor !’ she had answered crossly. She had started up the stairs, pausing as soon as she had thought she was out of sight.
    ‘ Senorita !’ his voice had carried up to her. ‘You want something?’
    ‘No !’ she had denied. ‘ Nothing at all ! ’
    Megan had listened in vain for some protest from her father, but apparently he had made none. Disconsolate, she had gone to her room, thinking how much she disliked her Spanish rescuer, but when she had slept, she had dreamed about him and in her dreams she had not disliked him at all.
    It was inevitable that she had overslept the next morning. She had meant to be the first one downstairs and to have taken her mother her breakfast in bed, but when she opened her eyes it was gone ten o’clock and the blue light on the ceiling had told her immediately