some.
His reputation too would be an added attraction and he had been commissioned to paint any number of wealthy and beautiful wives and daughters. His work hung in some of the most luxurious homes in the world, and perhaps it was not surprising that he looked upon the rest of the world with arrogance and the conviction of his own importance.
She sighed again, resignedly, and looked at the blank canvas in front of her. This was not the first time she had managed to slip off alone to sit on the rocks above the sea, and she expected her tutor's wrath to descend on her any day now. She had managed to give Michael the slip several times lately, and come out here instead of joining the rest of the class.
Instead of lifting her spirits, however, her truancy had merely added to her low feeling, and she sighed deeply as she stared at the copper-coloured sand and the incredible blue glitter of the sea below her. Her head was bare and the sun was much too hot for even her thick, corn-coloured hair to be any sort of protection, and she knew she was squinting her eyes against it.
There was a despondent droop about her shoulders too, as she slumped on the little canvas stool with her slim brown legs curled away under it. The brief cotton dress she wore exposed a great deal of golden tanned skin to the scorching sun and she began to wonder if she had been unwise to sit here so long without protection.
'So, nina. You not only miss my class, you also expose yourself to too much sun!'
Sally turned sharply at the sound of the familiar voice, and frowned. Miguel Cordova stood behind her, close behind her, bare-headed, his face wearing that stern, dark look that she had learned to know as a prelude to criticism. It dismayed her, too, to feel the way her pulses were racing wildly when she realised she was alone with him again. That irrepressible sense of excitement was running away with her common sense again and she fought against its influence determinedly.
'I felt like being alone,' she said, hastily on the defensive, and he gave a short laugh.
'I seem to remember that you told me that once before, nina,' he said.
'Well, it happens to be true,' Sally insisted, hating him'for reminding her of that time. 'I like being alone sometimes, and it's such a lovely view from up here.'
'Muy hermoso,' he agreed quietly. 'But you are foolish to sit so long in the sun without a hat.' A hand rested lightly on the crown of her head for a moment, and she started almost nervously at the touch. 'You will become ill if you do not protect your head.'
Sally glanced up briefly but meaningly at his own black head. 'You never do,' she told him, and he smiled.
'I am used to the sun, mi pichon,' he said softly. 'You must accustom yourself to it gradually. Do not sit out here again without some protection for your head.'
It was the implacable way that the order was given that annoyed Sally, and she instinctively lifted her chin in defiance of it. 'I want to get brown,' she informed him. 'That's one reason for coming to Spain, after all. To go back with a good tan.'
'But not to go down with insolacion, I think,' he retorted impatiently. 'You will please do as I say in future, Sarita, and not be so stubbornly foolish about wearing a hat. Also,' he added, before she could object, 'you are here to improve your talent as an artist. I can well imagine that you find the view from here more inspiring than sitting in on one of my teaching sessions, but it is surely rather pointless for your father to pay for something of which you have no intention of taking advantage.'
'He'd understand, if he was here,' Sally informed him swiftly, unable to resist the dig. 'He'd realise I had to escape occasionally.'
'Escape?' He raised a black, expressive brow at the blank canvas before her. 'Escaping seems to have been of little use to you this morning, does it?'
Sally looked at him, her blue eyes dark with anger and reproach, her fingers tightly clenched on the brush she
His reputation too would be an added attraction and he had been commissioned to paint any number of wealthy and beautiful wives and daughters. His work hung in some of the most luxurious homes in the world, and perhaps it was not surprising that he looked upon the rest of the world with arrogance and the conviction of his own importance.
She sighed again, resignedly, and looked at the blank canvas in front of her. This was not the first time she had managed to slip off alone to sit on the rocks above the sea, and she expected her tutor's wrath to descend on her any day now. She had managed to give Michael the slip several times lately, and come out here instead of joining the rest of the class.
Instead of lifting her spirits, however, her truancy had merely added to her low feeling, and she sighed deeply as she stared at the copper-coloured sand and the incredible blue glitter of the sea below her. Her head was bare and the sun was much too hot for even her thick, corn-coloured hair to be any sort of protection, and she knew she was squinting her eyes against it.
There was a despondent droop about her shoulders too, as she slumped on the little canvas stool with her slim brown legs curled away under it. The brief cotton dress she wore exposed a great deal of golden tanned skin to the scorching sun and she began to wonder if she had been unwise to sit here so long without protection.
'So, nina. You not only miss my class, you also expose yourself to too much sun!'
Sally turned sharply at the sound of the familiar voice, and frowned. Miguel Cordova stood behind her, close behind her, bare-headed, his face wearing that stern, dark look that she had learned to know as a prelude to criticism. It dismayed her, too, to feel the way her pulses were racing wildly when she realised she was alone with him again. That irrepressible sense of excitement was running away with her common sense again and she fought against its influence determinedly.
'I felt like being alone,' she said, hastily on the defensive, and he gave a short laugh.
'I seem to remember that you told me that once before, nina,' he said.
'Well, it happens to be true,' Sally insisted, hating him'for reminding her of that time. 'I like being alone sometimes, and it's such a lovely view from up here.'
'Muy hermoso,' he agreed quietly. 'But you are foolish to sit so long in the sun without a hat.' A hand rested lightly on the crown of her head for a moment, and she started almost nervously at the touch. 'You will become ill if you do not protect your head.'
Sally glanced up briefly but meaningly at his own black head. 'You never do,' she told him, and he smiled.
'I am used to the sun, mi pichon,' he said softly. 'You must accustom yourself to it gradually. Do not sit out here again without some protection for your head.'
It was the implacable way that the order was given that annoyed Sally, and she instinctively lifted her chin in defiance of it. 'I want to get brown,' she informed him. 'That's one reason for coming to Spain, after all. To go back with a good tan.'
'But not to go down with insolacion, I think,' he retorted impatiently. 'You will please do as I say in future, Sarita, and not be so stubbornly foolish about wearing a hat. Also,' he added, before she could object, 'you are here to improve your talent as an artist. I can well imagine that you find the view from here more inspiring than sitting in on one of my teaching sessions, but it is surely rather pointless for your father to pay for something of which you have no intention of taking advantage.'
'He'd understand, if he was here,' Sally informed him swiftly, unable to resist the dig. 'He'd realise I had to escape occasionally.'
'Escape?' He raised a black, expressive brow at the blank canvas before her. 'Escaping seems to have been of little use to you this morning, does it?'
Sally looked at him, her blue eyes dark with anger and reproach, her fingers tightly clenched on the brush she
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