Free House of Storms by Violet Winspear

we?'
    'What damned arrogance.' Stuart was almost snorting with temper. 'This isn't Spain, where the girls are kept behind iron grilles and expected to tease but never touch. Debra isn't a Spanish señorita !'
    'Quite so.' The Spanish eyes flicked Debra's hair and face. 'But I venture to say that neither is she very experienced where men are concerned. There is a saying, the hand always reaches for the peaches that cling to the tree.'
    'Not just my hand, I bet!'
    'Meaning?' Rodare thrust lean hands into the pockets of his doeskin trousers and the action opened his shirt a little wider across his chest, the bronzed skin firm against the muscles, holding Debra's gaze until she realised that she was gazing and quickly looked away. Stuart was right, she told herself. The man was arrogant and she didn't really appreciate being spoken about as if she hadn't long left the schoolroom and didn't know why the bee flew to the flower and why the birds built nests in the trees. Peaches, indeed!
    'Meaning,' she interjected, 'that I can take care of myself and don't need either of you snarling at each other over whether or not I go to Miss Salvador's party. She hasn't invited me, so I shan't be going.'
    'Debra,' Stuart looked annoyed, and also rather crestfallen, 'you promised—'
    'I did nothing of the sort and you know it. I'd feel out of place, anyway—'
    'And why is that?' Rodare curtly demanded.
    'Because as you said, señor , I'm employed here; I'm not a guest like Mr Coltan. It's really of no consequence; I'm quite happy to read a book, and you have an extensive library, Mr Salvador.'
    'Books!' Stuart threw up his hands. 'Honey, no wonder you have to wear those owl-rims when you're working. Soon you'll be wearing them all the time.'
    'Which should make me safe from the likes of men,' she said rather heartlessly.
    'Of course you'll go to the party.' Rodare spoke in his firmly decisive way. 'It was never in question, and I'm merely reminding Mr Coltan that while you reside beneath my roof I act in a guardian capacity and that means that if any harm came to you at the hands of a Salvador guest I would deal with him in no uncertain manner. It's a matter of honour.'
    'Holy James,' Stuart exclaimed, 'don't you ever stop being the high-and-mighty Spaniard? Zandra's right when she says you're the image of that ancestor of yours, the one in the big portrait in the hall. You make the rules and crack the whip, but I bet like him you're not above breaking a few.'
    'I make the rules that apply to this house,' Rodare declared, 'and if you feel you can't abide by them, Mr Coltan, then I suggest that you pack your belongings and leave, pronto .'
    'Of course Stuart isn't leaving!' High heels clicked on the parquet of the hall floor and Zandra joined the trio, her hand reaching out to clasp Stuart by the arm, her fingernails a deep and fiery red. 'He happens to my guest, Rod, so come down off your damned high horse and inform me what he's supposed to have done to make you breathe fire and sulphur.'
    'Your half-brother seems to think I'm out to seduce the typist,' Stuart informed her, his eyes cutting like a blue facet across Debra's face. 'All I was doing was asking her to be my date tomorrow evening—'
    'Your what?' Zandra asked, with a deadly kind of quietness.
    'Now don't you start,' Stuart laughed. 'I've got to have someone to keep me company while you're sweet-talking the producer-man.'
    'Is that a fact, Stuart?' Zandra gave him a blazing look which she suddenly turned on Debra. 'And what do you say to all this, Miss Hartway? Are you longing to keep him company while I'm unavailable?'
    Debra was longing to dash up the stairs in search of the common-sense company of Nanny Rose.
    'I think Mr Coltan is enjoying a joke at my expense,' she said quietly. 'I rarely go to parties and only when I'm invited.'
    'I have invited you.' The voice of Rodare Salvador overrode her softer tones. 'I'm perfectly aware of how hard you have been working on my