The Daughter of Doctor Moreau(46)

She felt odd, being watched by two pairs of eyes, and odder still to be walking with Eduardo. She thought it was as if the men were observing the courtship ritual of a colorful bird. She was there to provide a spectacle.

“You’ve been quiet today,” Eduardo said. “I am worried I’ve displeased you.”

“Here I was thinking the same.”

“But how could you when you are enchanting?”

“Your cousin does not seem to like me,” she whispered.

“He’s upset. His hand aches.”

“I am truly sorry. But you must believe me when I said Cachito is a kind boy. We’ve grown up together.”

“You’ve grown up with those fearsome creatures?” Eduardo asked.

How strange to hear Eduardo referring to them as “fearsome creatures” when she thought of them as her friends. Aj Kaab had lifted her in the air, making her squeal with delight when she was a little girl; she had played hide-and-seek with Cachito and Lupe, and she’d taught the others the rhymes she read in books. Their prognathous jaws, strangely placed eyes, and malformed hands inspired in her no surprise.

However, she supposed it was not unexpected that Eduardo would regard the hybrids as fearsome. Montgomery himself had been flabbergasted by their appearance in the beginning, and yet now he joked and merrily worked with them. “You don’t know them, but if you did, you’d see they are not to be feared,” she said.

“That wolf thing has teeth that could tear through a man’s neck in seconds. That doesn’t bother you?”

Parda did have big teeth, they protruded from her snout, and her eyes were small and sharp, but she gnawed at her fur when it itched; she did not bite anyone else.

Carlota shook her head. “No. What’s more, I couldn’t ever imagine being parted from them.”

“At some point they’ll be sent to Vista Hermosa or another hacienda.”

“Why?”

“They are to be workers, are they not?”

She knew that her father made the hybrids to please Hernando Lizalde and that ultimately he’d want them in his haciendas, yet she never thought they’d abandon the confines of Yaxaktun. Her father’s research was not where it needed to be to allow that, and besides, she had lulled herself into a sense of safety.

“And you will also have to abandon Yaxaktun,” Eduardo added.

“Why would I?” she asked, alarmed.

“What about the great cities of the world? Do you not wish to see them and explore distant shores? I could not wait to leave Mérida.”

“You wanted to leave your father?”

“If you knew my father, you wouldn’t want to be near him,” Eduardo said sourly.

“Does he treat you poorly?”

“He’s…Everything must be done his way. He dictates the steps of the dance and we must all follow. Surely you do not always wish to do what your father says.”

“A daughter must be obedient,” she answered quickly. But it was the force of habit that made her string the words together and she frowned, chafing at the thought of the blind deference that ordinarily came easily to her. “But I must admit, I’d also like to have my say sometimes.”

“In what ways?”

“I want to care for my father, for the hybrids, for this place. I love my home, but it is…Sometimes my father dictates too many steps, like yours,” she explained, looking up at him.

His fingers brushed her knuckles. “You are wasted here.”

“How so?”

“If you were in Mérida, you’d be invited to a multitude of parties.”

She knew of Mérida, of course. She knew about its great houses with their colonnaded porticos, the curving iron gates, the calesas drawn by beautiful horses, the alameda shaded by rows of trees where one might promenade when the day’s heat gave way to the cool of the evening. But what of it? The cool of the evening also soothed her in Yaxaktun, in the inner courtyard with the potted plants.

“Mexico City is grander, of course. I enjoyed studying there. We have a house in the capital, obviously, and though I have not managed to visit Paris I expect to do so within a year or two. Surely you must want to see Paris? Your father is, after all, a Frenchman.”

“I like it when my father talks about Paris, because I want to learn about it. I also like it when Mr. Laughton tells me of England or the islands he’s seen. But I don’t think there’d be anything I’d love in Paris,” she said as she sat down at the edge of the fountain and dipped her fingers in the water.

“I must admit I’m puzzled. Every young woman I’ve ever met would want to be seen and admired by the greatest number of people possible.”

Carlota shook her head demurely. “I feel as if Yaxaktun is a beautiful dream and I wish to dream it forever.”

“But in the tale of the Sleeping Beauty the prince kisses the princess awake,” Eduardo said, sitting close to her, his hand falling upon her own.

How easily he could raise a blush on her cheeks. Through the corner of her eye she could see her father had departed, but Montgomery remained rooted to his spot, his cigarette shining like a firefly in the dusk. “Mr. Laughton is watching us,” she whispered.

Eduardo nodded. “He’s a hawk. I’m tired of fathers and chaperones. Come.”