Sweet Revenge by Anne Mather Page A

the expression you use, is it not? But I control this estate, and my mother's finances, and I do not intend that she should throw money away on a lazy idiot such as Paul Craig!'
    Toni's eyes were wide and indignant. Whatever Paul had done this uncle of his had no right to speak of him so contemptuously.
    'What has this to do with me?' she asked angrily.
    He gave a short mirthless laugh. 'Oh, really, senhorita, surely I do not have to tell you that! If your intention to marry my nephew has any basis on his expectations from his grandmother, then I am afraid you are going to be sadly disappointed!'
    'How dare you!' Toni stared at him furiously. He was so cool and calm and assured, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
    'Oh, you will find I dare a lot of things,' he replied indolently. 'Not least being the authority to call black black, and not a dirty shade of grey.'
    Toni stepped forward, she had never felt so angry, or so impotent, and she longed to strike that sardonic expression from his lean face. She was on the point of raising her hand, when steel-hard fingers closed round her wrist, preventing the action before it was actually motivated. 'I think not,' he murmured, looking down at her with brilliantly mocking eyes.
    'Papa!' The young voice was as unexpected as a cold shower, and as cooling. Immediately, Toni was free, rubbing her sore wrist where his hard fingers had hurt her, looking round at the puzzled, angry face of the girl who was standing just inside the door. 'Papa,' she said, more slowly, looking at Toni with blazing eyes, then continuing to speak in their own language so that Toni was completely excluded from the conversation.
    With a muffled exclamation, Toni brushed past them, uncaring then of what Francesca might think, and with legs that were none too steady she ran up the stairs to the sanctuary of her room.
     

CHAPTER FOUR
    T ONI didn't know how she was going to summon up enough courage to go downstairs for lunch. Surveying herself later in her bedroom with her face flushed and stained with hot, angry tears and her hair an untidy mess, she found her indignation giving way to a trembling awareness of something that bordered on hatred that would listen to no defence. No wonder Paul had refrained from telling her his real reasons for bringing her to Estrada. How could he have revealed such a situation? She doubted whether Janet would have agreed to come had she known the truth.
    She gave a heavy sigh. There was only one thing to do, of course. She must see Paul, it was imperative now, and explain that she wanted to leave immediately. She would not stay here to be insulted again by either the Conde or his daughter. This decision made, she felt a little better, and could not understand the faint feeling of regret she was experiencing at the knowledge she was soon to bid the castelo farewell. It could only be that she would not enjoy disappointing the old Condessa who had treated her so kindly.
    Eventually she washed, combed her hair into a knot on top of her head, and dressed in a semi-flared blue skirt and navy shirt blouse. The skirt was the shortest in her wardrobe, and she wore it deliberately. At least the Conde should not have the satisfaction of seeing that she was afraid of him.
    She descended the stairs, ignoring the jelly-like feeling in her legs with difficulty, and entered the lounge rather apprehensively. To her relief only Paul was there standing by the bar drinking a glass of wine appreciatively. He was smoking a long continental cigarette which he waved at her languidly. 'Hi, Janet,' he said. 'This wine can be really enjoyable, you know!'
    'Paul, I want to talk to you,' she said without preamble.
    He shrugged his shoulders. 'Do you? Say, I like that outfit. Makes you look really something!'
    Toni gave him an exasperated look. 'Paul, this is serious. I want to leave here today, at once!'
    Paul's expression changed from one of lazy indolence to disturbed irritation. 'Why? What