Perchance to Marry by Celine Conway Page B

of a finger at Sally’s hand. “You have not exchanged rings? How is that?”
    “We’ll get round to it,” Marcus said patiently. “When you awoke this morning you didn’t even know I was on my way, yet here you are, wanting everything to happen at once. If you’re worn out tomorrow I’ll have Carlos on my neck.”
    “But the ring is important to a woman, if not to you. Soon you must choose which of the family rings you will use for the exchange, but now ... give me my jewel-box, Marcus.”
    “I’ll do no such thing. You’ve had enough excitement.”
    “I—am—not—excited,” she said, spacing the words for emphasis. “I will not have the child under this roof one night before presenting her with a token of our family affection. Give me the box.”
    “Oh, but please,” said Sally, distressed. “I’d much rather not...”
    “Katarina!” cried the old lady sharply.
    The woman appeared magically at the inner doorway. “ Senora ?”
    “My jewel-box, Katarina.” The inlaid mahogany casket was swiftly placed on the sheet between her hands, and as Dona Inez opened it she gazed, narrow-eyed, at Marcus. “Do not look so disdainful of these things, my son. This little sapphire is a gift from me to your novia, but I wish her to wear it on the correct finger until we have chosen the betrothal ring. You yourself will put it there.”
    Marcus’ smile was an aloof mask. “Very well—later. Give it to me.”
    The old senora placed the ring in his palm. “Do it soon—tonight. I confess I am a little weary, but before you go I wish to give you both my blessing. Please take your little Sally’s hand across my bed.”
    He stood, tall and self-possessed, and looked across at Sally, stretched his hand to her. Tautly she responded, felt the firm grip on her fingers before the cool, bony hands of the old senora were clasped about the two that were locked together. Within a minute it was over and Sally had regained possession of her hand.
    “Goodnight, my dear,” Dona Inez was saying, a little weakly. “You have made me so happy ... so very happy. We will talk ... tomorrow.”
    “Goodnight, senora ,” Sally whispered.
    Marcus bent and touched his lips to the lined forehead. “It’s good to be back with you,” he said quietly. “Sleep well.”
    The bright old eyes in the weary face looked at him serenely. “ Querido mio ,” she said. “I knew that even in this matter which is close to your heart I could depend on you. Goodnight.”
    Sally walked out the way she had come. She knew Marcus had reached her side, but she couldn’t look at him.
    As she descended the steps her knees bent stiffly, but she was only three steps from the patio when she stumbled. She flung out a hand to grab at the narrow wrought-iron balustrade, caught it but hooked on to a swaying trailer of rose stem at the same time as Marcus steadied her at the other side. Pain shot through the palm of her hand and involuntarily she let out a small cry.
    “Hurt yourself?” he asked quickly.
    “It’s nothing—just a scratch. There’s plenty of light—I should have watched the steps.”
    As they reached the patio he whipped a handkerchief from his pocket, took her hand and dabbed at the splash of blood. “Didn’t grab a thorn, did you? Sure of that?”
    Tremulously she said, “Yes, I’m sure. Please let go of my hand, Marcus.”
    But his hold tightened. “Don’t take fright, there’s a good girl. You did very well up there. The senora will sleep soundly tonight.”
    “I’m glad.”
    “Don’t get wound up about it, please. If I haven’t been absolutely frank with you it’s because I felt we should keep this thing as impersonal as possible. Some time you may have to see Dona Inez alone, and I think there are one or two things I’d better tell you, before that happens.” She stood, small and straight and a little pale in the muted light from the windows, saying nothing. So he tugged gently at the wrist he held and added,