Disclaimers: Fireworks owns the copyrights to the characters from the Queen of Swords. The story plot and other characters are copyright to the author: Maril Swan
Rating: PG13
Feedback: yes, please

Author's Note: This is the sequel to "The Courting of Tessa". There are also references in this story to "The King of Swords" which is located on my website.

The Blood Stone

By Maril Swan

Part Two of four

Chapter Three: The Accursed

Montoya awoke groggily, aware that his head was aching. 'As she said it would be,' he thought irritably, rubbing his eyes. 'I had hoped it was just a bad dream.' He threw off the covers and stood, slightly dizzy. 'How much of that potion did she give me?' he wondered as he gripped the bedpost to steady himself. The angrier he got, the more his head ached. He would see Dr. Helm about a remedy, right after he had shaved and dressed for the day.

As the colonel set up his shaving gear, he studied his face in the mirror and grinned. 'So she thinks she has all the cards in her hand, does she?' He chuckled as he lathered his cheeks. 'She seems to play a straight game, but ...a little cheating is expected. How can I trust her with that priceless jewel, or to deliver Orvieta to me? For all I know, they are in this together.' He skilfully shaved off the lather with his straight razor then patted his face dry with a towel. 'I have a little game of my own to play.' A self-satisfied smile spread across his lips. 'We shall see what opportunities today brings.'

Montoya had hardly finished that thought when he heard a discreet tap at his door. He opened it to find his corporal standing stiffly at attention. Confronting his colonel in his dressing gown seemed to disconcert the young soldier and he glanced away, not looking into Montoya's eyes.

"Colonel," he began apprehensively, "A señor and señorita want to speak to you most urgently." He lifted his eyes nervously to the colonel's, and added, "I am sorry to disturb you, sir. What should I tell them?"

"Have them wait in my office. I will be there directly." As the soldier clattered away and down the stairs, Montoya rubbed his hands together. 'Already, the pieces are falling into place.'

He dressed with care, taking his time to adjust his clothing to perfection, tying the cravat just so. The final addition of the silver tie-pin completed his ensemble and he was ready to meet his importunate guests. He already knew what they wanted of him.

As he entered his office, he was confronted by the sight of a young man with his arm around a young woman, consoling her. She was sobbing heartbrokenly against his dark jacket. The young man looked up as Montoya strode toward them. He moved the woman away gently, and sat her in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"Colonel Montoya," he began gravely, with a serious look on his handsome face. "We have not met. I am Tomas Orvieta. We have come to report a most appalling incident. The betrothal ring I gave my fiancée has been stolen ... right off her finger while she slept. As the law in this area, I appeal to you to help us recover this precious ring." He glanced with a sympathetic look at the young woman who sagged listlessly against the back of the chair, her handkerchief pressed to her reddened eyes. "My poor Mona is beside herself with grief. Who could have done such a dastardly thing to my dear lady?"

Orvieta touched her gently on the shoulder and Mona reached up to take his hand. The adoring look on her face spoke volumes to Montoya, and he was moved by her devotion to the scoundrel. 'Love is the undoing of us all,' he thought cynically as he took in the tender scene. 'It will be his undoing for certain.' Montoya gestured to a chair and Orvieta sat down next to Mona, keeping her hand in his. The colonel took his place behind the desk and leaned forward.

"If you will give me the particulars of this distressing event, I will begin an investigation immediately." Montoya arranged a compassionate expression on his face and asked, "When did you discover your loss, Señorita Aguilera?"

"This morning when I woke up, the ring was gone." She shuddered and said weakly, "I cannot believe someone could enter my room and take the ring from my very finger without waking me." She turned to Orvieta and pressed her face into his shoulder, sobbing, "I am so sorry, Tomas. It is my fault the ring is gone. I showed it off in town. The thief must have seen it and..."

She was unable to continue and an uncomfortable silence developed, broken only by the scratching of Montoya's pen as he scribbled down some notes. The colonel discreetly kept his eyes down on the page while Orvieta tried to calm the young woman. She was indeed grief-stricken by the loss.

Montoya glanced covertly at her from under his brows. She was a pretty girl with long, dark hair and nearly black eyes. For some time, the colonel had suspected her of being the Queen. Certainly, she had the height and colouring if not a reason to wage war against him. Her brother, Ramon, had been framed for murder. The Queen had rescued him, saving him from execution. Montoya had wondered at the time if it was Mona under that disguise. Now he was no longer sure.

He had other suspects as well who also fit the description. Carmen Villareal - a fiery tempered woman whose fiancé had died in the War of Independence. Her marriage prospects dashed, might she not have a grudge against the military? Regina Duarte del Rendon - a bit smaller than the Queen, but then heeled boots could make up the difference. Maria Theresa Alvarado - the description was right, but the temperament all wrong. Still, Señorita Alvarado could be quite an actress.

While Montoya mused over the Queen's identity, Mona finally composed herself. She wrung her hands and pleaded, "Colonel Montoya. I beg you to use all your powers to get the ring back. I will now go to the church and say a novena for its safe return." With that she stood up, assisted by Orvieta. He took her arm and led her toward the door.

"Señor Orvieta," Montoya called out. "Would you please remain a moment? I wish to speak with you."

Orvieta gave Mona a reassuring smile, squeezing her arm gently. "I will join you in your prayers in a little while, mi querida." He closed the door after she went out and returned to Montoya's desk. Wariness had crept into his eyes though outwardly his mien was cool, his smile nonchalant. "What did you wish to discuss, Colonel?"

For an answer, Montoya opened a drawer, withdrawing a page and tossing it on the desk toward him. He watched closely as Orvieta glanced at it without picking it up. The younger man's face was impassive as his eyes flicked over the drawing and description of the Blood Stone. He looked down at Montoya, an unreadable expression in his eyes. His only reaction was a muted swallow and a tightening of his jaw. Montoya had to admire his equanimity in the face of such an obvious accusation.

A heavy silence hung between them then Montoya said, "It takes a great deal of arrogance to assume that the arm of the law cannot reach so far as these colonies. By a strange coincidence, this despatch and you arrived on the same ship. Almost like Fate was dogging your footsteps. You know the legend of the Blood Stone, do you not?" The colonel waited as Orvieta seemed to be collecting his thoughts. Montoya reached into a side drawer and pulled out a gun, laying it on the desk. "I said I wanted to speak with you. As you can see, I hold all the cards. If you want to get out of this alive, you had better sit down and listen to what I propose."

Marta leapt to her feet as the door into the secret room opened. A waft of dank air swept into the room from the tunnel which connected to the stable. Tessa staggered out and leaned against the door frame for support, her whole body sagging with weariness. In her reddened eyes was such a haunting sadness that Marta could almost feel her pain. Tessa had been gone all night and Marta supposed she had been with the doctor. But her eyes did not look like she had spent her night in the raptures of love. They looked forlorn, hopeless. She reached for Tessa and took her, unresisting, into her arms. Wordlessly, she held her as she had done since Tessa was a child and needed her comfort. She pushed the mask off the younger woman's face and brushed the hair out of her eyes.

Tessa shuddered, and leaned on Marta's shoulder. "He told me not to come back, Marta."

A sudden unreasoning fury gripped Marta as she held Tessa more closely. 'Bastardo!' she thought fiercely. 'How could he hurt my Tessa like that? What was he thinking?' Marta could feel Tessa's rigidness, her affected calm. 'She is too weak to fight this now. If she gives in, it will overwhelm her. What she needs is the healing power of sleep.'

Tessa disengaged herself gently and moved a short distance away. "I'm all right, Marta." Her voice was ragged with fatigue. A tired ghost of a smile hovered over her lips. "I guess I got what I asked for, didn't I?" She sighed wearily. "I've been riding all night, thinking." She shook her head. "Poor Chico. He is so tired." She weaved slightly as she took a step and Marta threw her arm around her for support.

"Come on, Tessa. Let us get you into a warm bath and some clean clothes. Then you must rest. You can tell me everything later." Gently, she led Tessa from the room and up the cellar stairs.

In her room, Tessa turned to allow Marta to unlace the corset. Tessa unbuttoned her silk blouse and the ring on its cord swung out into view. Marta's eyebrows shot up as she glimpsed the huge red stone in its solid gold setting.

"What is that?" Marta asked, pointing to the ring.

Tessa lifted cord from around her neck and dangled it in front of her for a moment, then let it fall into Marta's cupped hands.

"Madre de dios!" Marta exclaimed as she touched the ring. She opened her hands hastily, dropping it onto the tile floor. The ring's crimson facets caught the morning sunlight making it glow with an inner radiance. Marta stared in fascination at the circle of carmine light reflected on the floor, like a pool of blood. "Where did you get that thing, Tessa?" she asked sharply. Warily, she picked the ring up and turned it around in her hands. "There is much blood on this stone. Many have died for it. How did you get it?"

Haltingly, Tessa told Marta of her visit to the Aguilera hacienda, of using one of Marta's sleeping potions to make sure Mona would not awaken during the theft, and of her visit to Montoya's residence. She left out her visit to Dr. Helm. She was not yet ready to talk about that.

Marta studied the ruby, holding the ring carefully by its cord. "So this is the ring that Señor Orvieta gave to Mona." She compressed her lips and shook her head. "Some gift," she added acerbically. "There is a curse upon it."

Tessa sighed wearily and took the ring back from Marta. "The legend of this stone is that it was part of a gem-encrusted crown owned by a Visigoth king. The main jewel in the crown, the ruby, was stolen. The king had his sorcerer create a curse upon anyone who possessed the jewel." Tessa yawned and rubbed her eyes. "It is called the Blood Stone. According to the story, anyone who looks upon this stone, craves to possess it, and then is cursed with bad luck when they acquire it."

She held the ring up by its cord, and gazed into its fiery depths. Closing her fist over the jewel, she clenched it tightly. "And now, I have it." A strange smile flickered over her face, then she yawned again. Putting on the robe that Marta handed her, Tessa laid down on her bed. In seconds, her eyes closed and she was asleep.

Marta looked with concern at the sleeping figure, watching as Tessa's face relaxed peacefully in slumber. 'She looks so young to be carrying so much pain, so many obligations.' Marta carefully removed the ring from Tessa's closed hand. Holding the cord so as not to touch the ring, she carried it from the room. After a moment's indecision, she returned to the secret room in the wine cellar and placed the Blood Stone in one of the trunks. 'At least, no one will touch it while it is hidden. Maybe the curse only works while you have it close to you.' At least, so she hoped. 'What bad luck has befallen Tessa while she had the ring? Does it break the curse when you are no longer in contact with the ring?' Marta did not know the answers. She only recalled the aura of revulsion that came over her when she touched the stone. 'A thing of evil. Tessa must get rid of it.' That much Marta was sure of.

Orvieta stood up and began to pace Montoya's office. There was an agile grace to his movements, like a caged puma. He sauntered over to the bookshelf, and leaned his arm on the bust of Napoleon, while watching Montoya with an amused glint in his eyes.

"You are accusing me of stealing this ring? Where is the proof? There is no ring. No proof, no conviction. It is that simple." Orvieta grinned at the colonel as he lounged against the bookshelf, crossing his arms on his chest. "And you want me to catch the Queen of Swords who, you say, has the ring. Would that not make her the thief? Why should I get involved?" He pushed himself off the bookshelf and began to wander around the room, stopping to look at the military pictures hanging on the walls. "Does this fit you?" he asked impudently, gesturing to a small suit of armour standing on the floor -- an obvious jibe at the colonel's lesser stature.

Montoya felt his temper beginning to rise. The rogue was baiting him, assuming in his arrogance that he could not be touched. After all, Tomas Orvieta was a minor noble, a caballero, and had the privileges of his class which must be acknowledged wherever he went. Montoya, even as military commander, was below him in rank. He must be accorded respect, deserving or not. The colonel tried another tack.

"There is a reward of one thousand reales for her capture, dead or alive." Montoya waited a moment for that disclosure to sink in. He tried to stifle the smirk that threatened as Orvieta's eyes widened slightly at the huge bounty on her head. "She has the ring. When you catch her, you may have it. I do not care about this Blood Stone, only about getting rid of the Queen of Swords. The ring and one thousand reales. All you have to do is pretend to fall into her hands and let her capture you. I will do the rest."

"You're asking me to risk my life as bait for your trap? And what happens after she is captured?" Orvieta seemed to be studying the colonel closely as he returned to stand near the desk.

"You receive your reward and disappear. And take the accursed ring with you." Montoya steepled his hands in front of him, watching the younger man through narrowed eyes.

"I am betrothed to Mona Aguilera. The wedding is in less than a month. I plan to marry her and settle down here as a don." Orvieta swaggered to his chair and dropped into it. "Yes," he said complacently. "That will suit me very well. Don Tomas Orvieta, master of a large hacienda." After a moment, he added, "Still, the reward money will be useful until I have control of the Aguilera fortune."

Montoya forced his features to remain blank when he heard the words "Aguilera fortune". 'A conflict in terms if ever there was one,' he thought in amusement. 'The Aguileras have scarcely two centavos to rub together. They live in genteel poverty.'

The colonel waited while Orvieta convinced himself to enter into the plan to capture the Queen. 'Every man has his price,' Montoya thought, 'And this one came cheaply. Especially, since he will end up with neither ring nor reward. Nor for that matter, the lovely señorita. Just a firing squad or the noose for all his cleverness.' The prospect of watching Orvieta's execution almost made his boorish company bearable. Montoya sat back in his chair and watched as greed took its accustomed course in the young man's soul.

Chapter Four: The Spellbound

Helm pulled the battered hat lower over his eyes as the sun's slanting rays made him squint. He had taken the coast road, riding southwest from the pueblo to where the hacienda lay on a large flat outcropping that skirted the ocean. The trail divided, one fork leading to the beach and the other bent away from the sea, north to the villa. Helm turned his horse to follow the north road. A few miles further on he crested a small hill and stopped. Ahead was the Alvarado villa, glowing in the distance like a small jewel of luminous adobe in the midst of its green shrubbery and flowers. He sat up straighter in the saddle and nudged his horse forward. The short ride from town had given him plenty of time to become nervous.

As he rode into the courtyard, a young man came forward to take the horse's reins. "Thank you, Carlos," Helm said somewhat absently as he dismounted. He glanced at the villa's windows, wondering if she had been watching for him. 'Apparently not,' he decided. No one came out to greet him. Stepping up to the front door, he rapped and waited. The door swung open after a few moments. Marta stood there and for a second, Helm thought he saw a cold look in her eyes. She lowered her gaze and moved aside for him.

"Buenas noches, Doctor Helm," she said. "Please come in." She turned abruptly and went inside leaving him to follow. He frowned slightly at her coolness. Not her usual reception.

She led him to the main salon and left without a word. He stood in the centre of the room with his hat in his hand, wondering what he should do next, where to put his hat. Very soon, he heard footsteps and Tessa entered, a friendly smile on her face. She looked pale and there were dark smudges under her eyes. She came forward with her hand outstretched and he took it, placing a brief kiss on the back. He swallowed nervously, feeling very ill-at-ease.

"Good evening, Doctor Helm," Tessa said as she removed her hand from his grasp. She took the hat and placed it on a nearby chair. "Would you care for some refreshments after your long ride? A glass of wine?"

"Gracias, señorita. A glass of wine would be very welcome." His voice croaked and he saw her smile briefly as she turned. He admired her graceful movements as she moved to the sideboard to pour from the decanter. 'The wine is already decanted, the sign of an expected guest.' He began to relax a little as he took the glass from her. At that moment, Marta came in and stood watching him, her dark eyes unreadable. Unaccountably, his nervousness returned and he fidgeted with his wine glass.

"Would you like some wine, Marta?" Tessa turned with a warm smile for her servant, her hand still holding the wine bottle. As she poured a glass for herself and Marta, Helm narrowed his eyes slightly at this unaccustomed switch of roles. The line between mistress and servant did not seem to exist between these women in their home, only in public. He would have to tread carefully until he understood this relationship better.

A uncomfortable silence developed for a few seconds, then Marta said, "The dinner will be ready in about ten minutes." Carrying her wineglass, its contents untasted, she went to stand by the window and gaze outside.

Helm glanced at Tessa and she gave him a slightly chagrined smile. She seemed weary, not her usual animated self and Helm felt a little nag of worry. The doctor in him wanted to ask if she was well, but he was not there in that capacity tonight. It would be too forward to mention her health unless she brought up the subject.

"Why don't we wait in the garden?" Tessa said suddenly with seemingly forced brightness. "I can show you my new roses. They are coming along quite well in spite of the heat." With that she led Helm outside through the patio doors and onto the verandah. Marta followed like a silent shadow.

"These came from Monterrey," Tessa said gesturing at a row of short shrubby plants. Their thorns looked red and sharp but the blossoms were a bright sunny yellow. "My mother loved roses. This garden was once the envy of the whole area. Marta and I have been trying to restore it but it takes a lot of time."

Helm felt Marta's eyes upon him and wondered once again why she seemed so cool toward him. 'Perhaps she thinks I'm another fortune-hunter like de Sallas, only after Tessa's wealth.' He took a sip of his wine, swallowing carefully. With a smile, he said, "My mother, Lady Helm, also loved gardening. Of course," he chuckled, "The gardener did most of the work. My mother supervised." He felt pleased by the surprised lift of Tessa's brows, but turning to Marta he met a disapproving look. 'Great,' he thought. 'Now she thinks I'm bragging about my wealth.'

"Tell me about your mother's garden," Tessa interjected. She seemed determined to fill the uncomfortable gaps in the conversation.

'If she's as nervous as I am, she doesn't show it.' His estimation of Tessa went up a few notches. She was the soul of gracious hospitality.

He swallowed some more wine and continued, "Our manor was surrounded by the gardens. They had been planted many years before my mother was there, but she really made a showplace of them. The garden walk meandered for a long way among daffodils, dahlias, hollyhocks, hedges and shrubs." Helm laughed. "Far too many for me to remember all their names. At intervals, there were benches to sit on and enjoy the sound of bees humming among the flowers. And the scents were incredible." He was gratified by the wistful smile on her face, as if she was imagining herself on that garden path. 'With me?' he wondered. His heart gave a strange surge at that thought.

As Tessa was about to speak, Rosa, the housekeeper came onto the verandah to announce dinner.

Helm was surprised to see the table set for two. "Is Marta not joining us?" he asked, then wished he could have called the words back. Tessa arched her eyebrows slightly as if he had said something absurd.

"Marta will join us for coffee," she said as she moved toward the table. Helm quickly pulled her chair out and seated her before taking his own place across from her. A pair of candles had been lit and flickered brightly on the dishes and silver.

The last crimson rays of the sun cast a warm glow over Tessa's face, and glittered on the jet necklace and earrings she wore. Her dark hair hung loosely about her bare shoulders. She wore a black satin dress, very tight across the bodice emphasizing her breasts, and closely fitted around the waist.

Her beauty was making him tongue-tied and Helm searched for something interesting or witty to say. He looked away, trying not to stare at her. When he glanced back, he caught an amused look on her face. She seemed aware of the effect she was having on him and was enjoying it. Helm laughed self-consciously.

"I'm not usually so much at a loss for words, señorita. I find myself unable to think of anything except ...how lovely you look tonight." With a wry smile, he saluted her with his wine. He was gratified to see her colour heighten and a pleased expression cross her face. He feared he was being too bold.

"Why don't you call me Tessa? That will be more friendly, don't you think, Doctor?" She lifted her glass and sipped it, never taking her eyes from his.

"Only if you stop calling me doctor. My name is Robert." His gaze rested on her face as if he could not get enough of looking at her. A rustle of cloth drew his attention to the doorway.

Rosa bustled in with a tray on which were two bowls of clear soup. The scent made Helm's mouth water and he suddenly realised how hungry he was.

The doctor fell to with a good appetite but Tessa spooned a few mouthfuls only and sipped at her wine. Conversation began haltingly but soon it flowed more comfortably. The housekeeper removed the soup dishes, replacing them with the golden paella. Helm had finished most of his meal before he realised Tessa was just picking at hers. She seemed distracted as she stirred the rice and ate a few morsels. Finally, he said, "I thought paella was your favourite dish. Is this not to your liking?"

She looked up a little sheepishly. "It is delicious, is it not? But I seem to have no appetite tonight. Don't tell Marta. She worked very hard to make this dish perfect."

"It will be our secret." Helm reached across the table and picked up her plate, then pushed most of her paella onto his. He winked as he set her nearly empty plate before her and began to finish his meal. "She'll never know you didn't eat your dinner." He grinned at the slightly shocked look on her face. Then she laughed, a sound which sent a thrill through him.

"It is good to see you enjoying the meal so much, Doc... Robert. Marta will be pleased."

Helm wondered if she would be. For some reason, her attitude toward him had been bordering on cold since he had arrived. Even though Marta was not in the room, her presence seemed all-pervasive. He wondered again about this woman who had so much influence on her mistress. 'Like a governess in a wealthy English household,' he decided. 'But Marta is almost like a member of the family, perhaps all the family Tessa has. Certainly, she has no one else here with both her parents gone.' He wondered what kind of childhood she had, growing up in Spain during a war with no parents, only Marta.

Suddenly, the strains of a violin floated into the room from somewhere in the house. He looked up to see a wistful smile on Tessa's face. His own face must have shown some surprise.

"Marta plays the violin beautifully ...when she is in the mood," Tessa added with a light laugh.

Helm wondered what kind of mood Marta was in as the music was hauntingly lovely but melancholy. He stopped eating and listened. He had heard the Gypsy violin could break your heart and now he understood what they meant. He sighed as the plaintive sounds seemed evoke all the sadness of his lonely life and all the regrets of things done or not done.

Tessa broke into his reverie with a chuckle. "I must ask Marta to play something more lively. She is making us depressed." She laid her utensils down when she saw he had stopped eating. "Let us go into the salon for our coffee. Rosa will bring it to us there." She waited while he came around to her chair to pull it back for her, then stood up.

In the salon, the doctor took the brocade easy chair while Tessa perched on the edge of the sofa. She seemed suddenly nervous as she glanced at the mantle clock. He wondered if he was overstaying his welcome, but it was only just after eight o'clock. Surely, she didn't expect him to eat and leave immediately. Ruefully, he reminded himself that he had wangled this invitation. Maybe he should offer to go.

Just then, Rosa waddled in with the tray of coffee and sweets. She poured a cup of the fragrant black drink for each and handed them out carefully. "Will there be anything else, señorita?" the woman asked.

"No, Rosa. Please tell Marta we are having coffee and to join us. Buenas noches y gracias." As Rosa was leaving, Marta entered the room and helped herself to a cup of coffee from the carafe. She joined Tessa on the sofa.

Helm stood up respectfully, not really sure if this was proper protocol. She was really just a servant after all. A quick glance at Tessa told him she was pleased by his courtesy. He said, "Thank you, Marta, for that delicious dinner. I have had paella many times in many places, but never tasted better than yours." He gave her a brief bow and a smile then sat down.

"Tell me more about your home, Doctor Helm." Tessa settled back onto the sofa, seemingly more relaxed as she smiled encouragingly.

Helm finished his coffee and looked for a place to set his cup and saucer. The table next to his chair had a shiny surface that he feared to mar, so he put the cup on the tile floor. "It's a big old pile of grey blocks with many rooms. The original manor is hundreds of years old and it has been added to many times over the years. In the winter, it's a great cold barn of a place. No wonder I love the warm countries," he laughed. "Besides the gardens, there's a wide lawn with many giant oaks and beeches, great for climbing. A clear stream runs through the estate a short distance from the house. My brother and I used to fish there for trout." He saw a flicker of amusement on her face. "Have you ever gone fishing, señorita?"

A sudden impish grin appeared on her lips, and she exchanged a look with Marta. "Marta's Uncle Tonio taught me to fish. I have caught many fish."

Helm turned his attention to Marta, wanting to include her in the conversation. "Your uncle enjoys the hobby of fishing? That is interesting."

Marta gave him an arch look. "For my uncle, fishing is not a hobby. It makes the difference between eating or not eating that day."

Helm felt the blood rise in his cheeks at the rebuke. He deserved it for that gaffe. Seeing her with Tessa, he forgot she probably grew up in the abject poverty that was the lot of the gitano in Spain. And everywhere else, for that matter. Her mention of her uncle made Helm wonder how Tessa, living in Madrid, would have been able to go fishing. He had to know.

"I have been to Madrid and didn't see anyplace that would be suitable for fishing. Where did you learn to fish?"

Again, she looked at Marta before answering. Helm saw Marta frown slightly, but Tessa just patted her friend's arm as if in reassurance. "Now and then, when Marta's band was near Madrid, we would join them for a while in their camp. Marta's mother was like a second mother to me. A wonderful woman, very kind and loving. Her band treated me like a member of their family. " She smiled warmly at Marta as if recalling a lifetime of share memories.

Helm felt excluded, an intruder in their world. The bond between them was much stronger and deeper than he realised.

"Are there any zincali, I mean gitano, in your country, Doctor Helm?" Marta asked.

Helm thought carefully before answering. Marta's temperament tonight had been prickly to say the least. He did not want to say anything that might insult her people. "Yes, there are many. They call themselves the Travelling People and live in these amazingly colourful caravans. We have had them camp on our estate many times. As a boy, I was fascinated by them. They seemed so carefree, always laughing, dancing, making music. I used to think it would be a fine thing to run away and join them. Just travel where you will with no ties to anything." He caught the tolerant look on Marta's face and knew he had been speaking foolishness. He had met gitano in Spain with the Partisans. They were among the fiercest of the fighters, many having lost everything to the invading French. Their souls seemed to burn for vengeance.

"Yes," Marta said with a light laugh. "Many envy us. Only those who have lived with us know better." She smiled at Tessa, touching her hand.

"I enjoyed your violin playing, Marta," Helm continued. "It was a lovely piece of music, but very sad. Do you know any happy tunes?"

"I do, Doctor, but not tonight. Perhaps, you could play something for us on the pianoforte." She raised her eyebrows inquiringly. Her manner seemed to have softened somewhat.

Helm smiled at the reference to the last time he had been at dinner here and Señor de Sallas had bored them to death with his piano playing. 'At my instigation,' he reminded himself with amusement. He would not fall into that particular trap.

Rising, he went to the instrument and drew back the cover. "I don't play half so well as Señor de Sallas, but I do know a few tunes." He sat down and began a love ballad. 'Marta isn't the only one who knows sad songs,' he thought as he began to sing the verses to 'Barbara Allen'. He was nervous at first but as he sang his voice grew stronger, more sure. Tessa came over to stand behind him. The warmth of her body near his shoulder distracted him and he missed a few notes. He grinned a bit shamefacedly.

Tessa insisted he sing more songs and Helm obliged. She seemed to enjoy the lively folk songs though they were all sung in English. A while later, he noticed her covertly look at the mantle clock again. It had gone just ten, still early by Spanish standards but he decided this time to take the hint.

Replacing the cover on the keyboard, Helm stood up. "I should be going now. I want to thank you for a most enjoyable evening."

"I will have Carlos saddle the doctor's horse," Marta said and went out.

An awkward silence settled on the room. Tessa seemed to be waiting for him to do something. Finally, she said, "I will walk you out to your horse, Robert."

Her use of his given name warmed him. He picked up his hat and followed her out onto the verandah. The air was filled with night sounds. Helm breathed deeply of the salty scent of the ocean that wafted on a light breeze. It rustled the leaves and carried the fragrances from the garden. A huge moon hung over the horizon, its brilliance casting their shadows starkly onto the verandah tiles.

He stood near her, uncertainly, waiting for his horse to be brought out of the stable. He heard her sigh as she gazed at the moon. The moonlight washed out all her colour; she looked like a phantom in her black dress. As she turned to him, a shadow fell across the upper part of her face. He felt his heart stop for a moment, then she moved and the shadow was gone. It was as if he had seen an apparition – the apparition that haunted his nights and taunted him with her secrets. He was unnerved for a few seconds, then thought in relief, 'It was a trick of the light.'

Helm took her hand and placed a gentle kiss on it. "It was a pleasure to dine with such a gracious hostess. Perhaps sometime soon, I will invite you to dine with me."

Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight as she laughed softly. "And what will you cook for me, Robert?"

"Steak and kidney pie," he responded promptly. Her quizzical look made him smile.

He pulled her nearer expecting resistence. Instead she allowed him to hold her as he had done that day on the beach when de Sallas had attacked her. She seemed to be remembering that day too.

She moved back and looked earnestly into his eyes. "Don Quixote has not forgotten his Dulcinea, has he? I seem to recall only a few weeks ago you saying you had some understanding with the Queen of Swords. Has that changed?"

Her forthrightness startled him and he was at a loss how to answer her. Of course she would want to know where he stood with the Queen. Hadn't he made it clear that his heart was not really his to give. How could he tell her he had changed his loyalty in such a short time? It made him seem like a faithless cad.

"Sometimes you have to make a choice. This time it was between chaos and order in my life." Helm tried to pull her back into his arms, but she pushed away, her hand against his shoulder.

"The Queen is Chaos and I am Order? That is hardly flattering. It makes me sound very dull." She moved away from him and looked out across her lands, their surfaces sharply defined by the moonlight. "I have no male relatives to ask your intentions, Doctor Helm, and you have made it clear that you have attachments elsewhere." She turned with a sad look and added, "As I have found out, there are infatuations, attractions ...and there is true love. Perhaps before we go any further, you should decide for yourself which is which ...as I have done."

She returned to his side and placed a soft kiss on his lips. It was full of longing and sadness, like a farewell. He was about to speak but she said, "I see Carlos has your horse ready. Buenas noches, Doctor Helm."

So much was left unsaid. It would have to wait for another time. Helm gave a brief bow and strode to his horse, pushing his hat down firmly on his head. He waved and turned his horse down the trail, urging it into a trot. His mind was unsettled as he reviewed the evening. He felt Tessa was wary of him, and Marta had been less than friendly toward him. Tessa had seemed dispirited. That was the only word he could come up with. But why? He could not fault her hospitality but she seemed relieved when he left.

He considered what Tessa had said about love and infatuation. Did he know which was which?

Continued in Part Three