the black lace of the little headscarf he had given her
could completely hide. There were too many heads, however, swaying
restlessly between him and the object of his search.
He smiled inwardly as he thought of that rebellious little
ward of his. What an adorable little thing she was, with her round,
impish face and huge, defiant eyes! Sometimes, when she was angry,
which was practically always when he was around, that tiny upturned
nose of hers would crinkle up almost out of sight, and those budlike
lips would become all the more pronounced. She was a sensuous child,
unaware as yet of the woman dormant within her…
He checked himself. It was becoming more and more
necessary to remind himself that the girl was his ward. How different
things might be if he could court her openly. But he was a fool! Why
look on her as anything more than the spoiled brat she was? Even if he
weren't her guardian, what difference would it make? She obviously
couldn't stand the sight of him. She preferred that pale, freckle-faced
Maurice!
The boy had been polite enough when he had spoken to him
yesterday afternoon. Maurice had accepted without protest the
announcement that in the future it would be necessary to ask for
permission first before seeing Monique, but Vidal had sensed a guarded
hostility beneath the young man's courteous exterior that foreboded
possible problems. He sighed. Whatever could a girl like Monique see in
a popinjay like that?
Of course, she was still so young and inexperienced. What
did she know about judging men? He was sure she had never known such
emotions as love and desire. He wondered how she'd react if the woman
in her were really roused. She was so intense, so impulsive in
everything she did. He sensed there were great wells of passion waiting
there within her to be explored. The thought both pleased and
frightened him. Most certainly it was all the more reason to keep a
short rein on her, for the girl really did need someone to look after
her… someone to protect her not only from those around her
but from herself, as well.
He tried to catch a glimpse of her once more, and this
time he realized that the seat at the end of the row where she had been
sitting was vacant. Now where had that skittish little ward of his gone
off to this time? Perhaps she, too, had found the room overly close and
felt the need for fresh air. She might not be feeling well…
But no, if she were really ill, her sister would have accompanied her,
yet there was Celeste still sitting quietly next to her dozing
grandmother, appearing rather nervous, but not as though her older
sister might be fainting away outside.
No, Monique had probably just wanted a little fresh
air… or perhaps there was another reason?
Vidal felt the sudden urge to investigate. Knowing his
impetuous ward as he did, he found himself wondering what new mischief
she might be up to at that very moment.
Feigning a few discreet coughs into the linen handkerchief
he had been using to keep his brow dry, he murmured his excuses to the
governor and slipped off down the side aisle of the improvised church
toward the rear exit. The sonorous tones of the priest's voice
resounded throughout the room as his thunderous tirade continued to
barrage the assembly.
As Vidal reached the arched doorway he nearly collided
with the drab figure of Padre Sebastian, who was standing there staring
out into the bright morning sunlight with fixed fascination. Whatever
the friar was looking at seemed to be holding his undivided attention.
Vidal followed the Capuchin's intense gaze to where
Monique stood in the shadow of an arch engaged in earnest conversation
with a slim, sandy-haired young man whom he immediately recognized as
Maurice Foucher. In her long flowing gown of pale yellow lawn, topped
by the burst of her bright gold hair, no longer hidden beneath the
black lace of her headscarf, the young girl seemed like a blazing torch
in the dazzling light of the noonday sun.
Vidal couldn't
could completely hide. There were too many heads, however, swaying
restlessly between him and the object of his search.
He smiled inwardly as he thought of that rebellious little
ward of his. What an adorable little thing she was, with her round,
impish face and huge, defiant eyes! Sometimes, when she was angry,
which was practically always when he was around, that tiny upturned
nose of hers would crinkle up almost out of sight, and those budlike
lips would become all the more pronounced. She was a sensuous child,
unaware as yet of the woman dormant within her…
He checked himself. It was becoming more and more
necessary to remind himself that the girl was his ward. How different
things might be if he could court her openly. But he was a fool! Why
look on her as anything more than the spoiled brat she was? Even if he
weren't her guardian, what difference would it make? She obviously
couldn't stand the sight of him. She preferred that pale, freckle-faced
Maurice!
The boy had been polite enough when he had spoken to him
yesterday afternoon. Maurice had accepted without protest the
announcement that in the future it would be necessary to ask for
permission first before seeing Monique, but Vidal had sensed a guarded
hostility beneath the young man's courteous exterior that foreboded
possible problems. He sighed. Whatever could a girl like Monique see in
a popinjay like that?
Of course, she was still so young and inexperienced. What
did she know about judging men? He was sure she had never known such
emotions as love and desire. He wondered how she'd react if the woman
in her were really roused. She was so intense, so impulsive in
everything she did. He sensed there were great wells of passion waiting
there within her to be explored. The thought both pleased and
frightened him. Most certainly it was all the more reason to keep a
short rein on her, for the girl really did need someone to look after
her… someone to protect her not only from those around her
but from herself, as well.
He tried to catch a glimpse of her once more, and this
time he realized that the seat at the end of the row where she had been
sitting was vacant. Now where had that skittish little ward of his gone
off to this time? Perhaps she, too, had found the room overly close and
felt the need for fresh air. She might not be feeling well…
But no, if she were really ill, her sister would have accompanied her,
yet there was Celeste still sitting quietly next to her dozing
grandmother, appearing rather nervous, but not as though her older
sister might be fainting away outside.
No, Monique had probably just wanted a little fresh
air… or perhaps there was another reason?
Vidal felt the sudden urge to investigate. Knowing his
impetuous ward as he did, he found himself wondering what new mischief
she might be up to at that very moment.
Feigning a few discreet coughs into the linen handkerchief
he had been using to keep his brow dry, he murmured his excuses to the
governor and slipped off down the side aisle of the improvised church
toward the rear exit. The sonorous tones of the priest's voice
resounded throughout the room as his thunderous tirade continued to
barrage the assembly.
As Vidal reached the arched doorway he nearly collided
with the drab figure of Padre Sebastian, who was standing there staring
out into the bright morning sunlight with fixed fascination. Whatever
the friar was looking at seemed to be holding his undivided attention.
Vidal followed the Capuchin's intense gaze to where
Monique stood in the shadow of an arch engaged in earnest conversation
with a slim, sandy-haired young man whom he immediately recognized as
Maurice Foucher. In her long flowing gown of pale yellow lawn, topped
by the burst of her bright gold hair, no longer hidden beneath the
black lace of her headscarf, the young girl seemed like a blazing torch
in the dazzling light of the noonday sun.
Vidal couldn't
Similar Books
