Free Perchance to Marry by Celine Conway Page B

I,” with a pathetic brush of the hand over his bandage, “have always been the victim of atrocious luck.”
    “I think it’s possible that you go out of your way to attract it,” she said. “Don’t you live on San Palos?”
    He shook his head ruefully. “I live nowhere. I have been everywhere, even to your cold England, but I cannot settle. In that mood, I am happiest here on San Palos.”
    “Do you always stay at the hotel?”
    His smile was conspiratorial. “I start there, always. Then I meet Marcus and he invites me to Las Vinas. That is what I am hoping for now—even more,” with a kindling in his eyes, “since I have met you.”
    “Marcus may not want more guests. His grandmother has been seriously ill.”
    “But I am no trouble,” he declared warmly, “and I adore Dona Inez as if she were my own grandmother.” Almost boyishly he tacked on, “She likes me, you know. There is always a little fondness in old people for black sheep.”
    Sally found herself laughing against her will. “You’d better keep the bandage round your head until you’ve seen Marcus. It may soften him.”
    “Could you not permit me to go back with you now, for lunch?”
    “No, but I promise I’ll tell him. And I think you’d better sit down. You probably lost some blood—you’re pale.”
    “You think I look ill?” he asked urgently. “Perhaps I can depend on you to approach Marcus for me—ask that he will allow me to spend a few more days of convalescence at Las Vinas?”
    “I’ll mention it to Marcus. And now, please sit down. I’m going to the doctor’s car.”
    She gave him a distant nod and resolutely walked to the black saloon. For several minutes she sat looking ahead, at a bed of budding roses backed by giant oleanders. Then, almost without volition, she looked up at the veranda. Josef Carvallo was still there, leaning on the wall and staring down at her. He was ashen and the bandage made him look ill and somehow neglected. But his smile, when he caught her glance, was merry and companionable. He’d probably stood there willing her to look his way and felt mighty proud of himself when she’d done so! Crossly, she turned her head and looked down towards the gates. By the time Carlos arrived, full of apologies, she was able to convince herself that the young man on the veranda was just an attractive cad.
    As it happened, Carlos confirmed this conclusion. “Josef has been coming to San Palos since he was a schoolboy,” he told Sally. “At first it was to Las Vinas, for holidays, and then he would arrive whenever he felt inclined. Two years ago he came to settle; he worked as a superintendent throughout the harvest and winemaking, but as soon as the wine fiesta was over he went away again, after wrecking a betrothal between two members of good families here; he bewitched the girl and she would not marry.”
    “Good heavens. What happened to her?”
    “She teaches at a convent. Josef came back last year and the girl would not even look at him, which proves,” with a quiet laugh, “that his influence is not lasting. Perhaps that girl will yet marry her former fiancé.”
    “How does he live—Josef?”
    “He has a small allowance, and to supplement it he works occasionally. I believe that among other things he has been a journalist, a painter of ceramics and a hack violinist.”
    “Sounds a little as if he were creative. Can’t he be helped in some way?”
    Carlos shrugged. “Marcus has helped him many times, and you cannot wonder that he has grown impatient. Josef is ungrateful and without regrets. He comes now to San Palos because he is penniless and wants a new start.”
    “And he begins by getting into a fight,” she said. “He doesn’t look at all well, does he?”
    “He has been taking no care of himself,” said Carlos with a sigh. “For a very few years the body can tolerate an amount of wild living, but there arrives a time when a man must come to his senses and slow down. In years,