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The Spanish Connection
Kay Thorpe


Sweet PersuasionLauren's visit to Callahora was purely to introduce her twins to the relatives they had never met. But Rafael de Quiros wanted his dead brother's sons to be raised in Spain, surrounded by their magnificent legacy. And he wanted Lauren to become his wife.Rafael had wealth, power, position - and the ability to inflame Lauren's senses. Never had she felt so powerless, nor so determined to resist… .









The Spanish Connection





Kay Thorpe











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE (#u77f665bc-b0d6-57fc-ad31-0373674b7050)

CHAPTER TWO (#ua9351b67-961a-5791-991c-b65a71b9b49d)

CHAPTER THREE (#uef2866b2-f7e8-55c3-b9d9-80bbd54d7306)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE


LOOKING back through the rear screen as they drove east along the coastal road, at the massive pile of grey rock framed against the cloudless sky, Lauren could see why it had been known to the ancient world as the Pillar of Hercules. It was difficult to believe that over thirty thousand people lived and worked in that small area. Seen from the air, the whole of Gibraltar occupied no more than two or three square miles.

César and Nicolás were fast asleep on the back seat of the luxurious limousine, dark heads close together, faces angelic in repose. More of Francisco than herself in those twin sets of well defined features, Lauren was bound to acknowledge.

If she had anything at all to do with it, those looks would be all that the two of them would inherit of their father. They were English by birth; their Spanish blood made no difference to that. Accepting Rafael’s invitation to visit the Javierre de Quiros estate in no way undermined her determination to retain their independence.

Rafael. A fancy name indeed for the kind of man Francisco had described. Not that the latter had turned out to be any paragon of virtue. Five years of marriage to a man who saw no reason to confine his sexual activities to one woman was enough to destroy every last vestige of love—if love it had ever really been.

Settling back into her seat, she stole a swift glance at the young man driving the car. Gabriel had those same devil-may-care good looks that had attracted her so wildly to Francisco, yet they did absolutely nothing to her heartstrings right now. ‘Call me Angel,’ he had said with a grin at the airport, ‘and I’ll call you little sister because I’m one year older than you.’ That made him twenty-five—ten years younger than Rafael, four between him and Francisco. His brother’s death didn’t appear to have affected him very badly. But then why should he mourn for a man he’d neither seen nor heard from in so long a time? Blood wasn’t necessarily thicker than water.

‘Rafael would have come to meet you himself,’ he said now, sensing her glance, ‘but he had business matters to attend. You know, of course, of the Quiros hotels?’

Lauren shook her head. ‘I know very little about family matters.’

It was Gabriel’s turn to cast a glance, lingering for a long moment on the pure oval of her face and heavy rope of honey-gold hair. ‘You’re a Quiros yourself now.’

Green eyes darkened a fraction. ‘Only by marriage. I’ve no intention of claiming any personal involvement.’

‘As Francisco’s widow, you’re one of the family. Rafael will insist on treating you as such.’

‘Even though he and Francisco were estranged for so many years?’

‘It was Francisco’s own choice to leave. He had no great love for anyone but himself.’

An accurate summary, Lauren reflected. Francisco hadn’t even loved the twins the way any normal father would. To him they had represented a responsibility he could well have lived without. If it hadn’t been for her pregnancy he would never have married her at all; she was only too well aware of that. She supposed she should be grateful for the fact that he had possessed at least a modicum of decency.

Meeting the handsome Spaniard at a party when she was nineteen, she had been totally bowled over by his rakish dark looks and confident manner. Francisco Javierre de Quiros—his very name had been a draw. The fact that he had appeared to be equally bowled over by her hadn’t helped her to keep a clear head. Within a week they had become lovers; three months later they were married: a register office affair, with only her closest friend in attendance. Francisco had refused to inform his brothers either of the marriage itself or the subsequent birth of their nephews. That had been left to her after the accident which had robbed her of a husband and the twins of a father—and only then after going through his papers to discover their whereabouts.

The invitation to visit had come by return of post, couched in terms she had found a little offputting at first in their formality. The costs would naturally be met, Rafael had advised. All the same, Lauren had left it several months before finally making up her mind to accept.

‘Do you really live in a castle?’ she asked now.

Gabriel smiled. ‘Only a part of one. The other part is run as a hotel. A very exclusive hotel, of course,’ he added. ‘No more than a dozen guests at a time, and those out of the top drawer, as you would say.’

Lauren laughed. ‘Your English is top-class too.’

‘I learn good,’ he said, momentarily destroying the illusion. ‘Rafael speaks French and German also.’

‘He must be very clever,’ Lauren commented, eliciting a shrug.

‘Some have the ear for other languages. I’m content with the English. Perhaps one day I’ll visit your country myself.’

‘That would be nice,’ she said. ‘You could come and stay with us.’

There was an odd expression in the dark eyes turned fleetingly towards her, a certain evasiveness in his answer. ‘Perhaps.’

Thronged with traffic, the road took much of his attention over the following hour or so. He drove too fast for Lauren’s comfort, but she couldn’t bring herself to remonstrate with someone she had only just met, brother-in-law or not. She concentrated instead on the passing scenery, from fertile coastal plain to the rugged heights where lay their eventual destination. A castle in Spain. It had such a romantic sound to it.

Francisco had never told her just why he had felt moved to leave his home and country, but the family rift had obviously been a very bad one. He had hated Rafael. Perhaps the latter would be prepared to tell her why. She needed to understand.

Estepona came and went. Lauren had read of the beautiful harbour there, but could see no sign of it from the road, just a long stretch of beach fronted by hotels and shops. With the season not yet into its stride, the tourist element wasn’t too obtrusive, although the sun was already hot enough to make her grateful for the air-conditioned comfort of the car.

It would be cooler up in the sierras, of course, especially in the evenings. She had brought sweaters for the boys, and a couple of light jackets for herself, just in case. Not that she intended their stay to be a lengthy one. She was here only because Rafael had asked her to come, and because she thought it only right for Francisco’s brothers to at least see their nephews. Curiosity had played a part too, she was bound to admit.

Some short time later, they turned away from the coast to start the climb towards Ronda. The road was narrow and winding, the traffic sparse, the emerging scenery breathtaking. A low crash barrier was the only protection against the increasingly steep drops to the left. Coming down again would be worse, Lauren thought, with the passenger-seat closest to the edge. For anyone like herself, who found the top deck of a bus too high for comfort, the thought alone was daunting. Odd that she suffered no sense of vertigo on a plane.

Ronda lay sprawled across a gently sloping plateau, the golden stone of its walled old quarter offset by the sparkling white of the slightly more modern stretch. Lauren cowered down in her seat as they drove across the bridge spanning the fearful depths of the gorge which split the town in two, although she could actually glimpse little of the actual drop from the car.

Prisoners, Gabriel informed her, had at one time been held in cells contained within the central span. With a three-hundred-foot plunge right outside the windows, there could, Lauren conceded, have been few prisons more secure.

Some fifteen minutes or so beyond the town, they turned off once more on to an even narrower road. The mountains were all about them now, softened by the lowering sun. The grass up here was emerald-green, the air itself crystal-clear, the whole landscape magnificent. A different Spain altogether from the general tourist impression, reflected Lauren.

Her first glimpse of the castle was awe-inspiring. Built of the same warm stone as the old Ronda township, it sat in a commanding position overlooking a sweeping amphitheatre of a valley. The high square turrets and castellated walls looked as solid and impregnable as the day they had been erected. There was even a portcullis spanning the entrance archway, she noted as they approached, raised at present but still in use if one were to judge from its appearance in passing beneath.

It was closed each night for total security, Gabriel confirmed, though from what or whom she was left to guess.

The twins awoke as the car came to a halt in the big square courtyard.

‘Is this the castle?’ asked Nicolás, hoisting himself upright to look out of the window. ‘It wasn’t very far.’

‘This is it,’ Lauren confirmed. ‘You slept the whole way here, that’s why it didn’t seem to take long.’

She got out of the car to open the rear door, steadying the two of them as they tumbled eagerly out. ‘Best behaviour, remember,’ she warned them, only too well aware of the havoc they could wreak between them if not kept in strict check. It was quite normal for twins to be more mischievous than most, she had been assured by numerous people, simply because there were two of them together. And especially boys. She could only hope that Rafael would prove tolerant where children were concerned, and not expect too much. Seen but not heard was all very well in theory; in practice the ‘but not’ tended to be replaced by ‘and’.

‘Your luggage will be brought in,’ said Gabriel. ‘Rafael will be waiting to meet you.’

‘I thought you said he was out on business?’ Lauren queried.

‘His car is here,’ indicating a low-slung coupé parked under the lee of a wall alongside several more vehicles, ‘so he must be too. He will have hurried matters along in order to be back for your arrival.’

Lauren would have much preferred the time and opportunity for a shower and change of clothing before meeting her other brother-in-law, but didn’t like to suggest it. Given its function as an exclusive hotel, the castle had to have every mod con installed.

‘You’d better lead on, then,’ she said resignedly.

She took one small hand firmly in each of hers as they entered through the iron-clad door into a large vaulted hall. The floor beneath her feet would in all probability be stone-flagged like the courtyard outside, she guessed, but it was carpeted now in deep ruby-red with pile so thick that her heels sank right in. The walls were stone, though hardly bare, their length and much of their height festooned with displays of armour and painted battle scenes, the latter interspersed with ancient portraits of high-ranking military personnel. The heavily carved dark wood table stretching almost the full length of the room held a huge centre-piece in what was surely solid silver, while above the great open fireplace hung a silver shield bearing what Lauren took to be the family crest.

‘I didn’t realise you had a military background,’ she commented as Gabriel made for a door at the far end of the hall.

‘It ended two generations ago,’ he replied, ‘but it is a source of some pride still. Our ancestors fought many famous battles. I brought you through this way in order to show you the splendour, but our private quarters have a separate entrance which you should use in the future. You and the children are to sleep in the east tower. You’ll find the views from your rooms very good.’

Lauren was sure of it. The views from any angle could only be spectacular. If the rest of the castle was of the same standard as that she had seen up to now, the hotel must rank among the finest in the country.

The door gave on to an inner hall somewhat smaller than the first. A fine carved staircase rose to an open gallery. Gabriel made for another door to the left marked ‘private’, ushering the three of them through ahead of him. The short corridor beyond was also carpeted. It in turn opened out into yet another small hall.

Quiet up until now, César tugged at Lauren’s hand. ‘I’m thirsty,’ he declared.

‘Me too,’ claimed Nicolás promptly.

‘Just a few minutes more,’ Lauren promised, hoping it would be no more than that. ‘We’re going to see your other uncle now.’

‘I don’t want to,’ said César mutinously. ‘I want to go home.’

‘Me too,’ Nicolás agreed. ‘When are we going home, Mummy?’

‘We only just got here.’ Lauren glanced apologetically at Gabriel. ‘It’s been a long day for them.’

‘Perhaps it would be better if you meet with Rafael alone for now,’ he suggested. ‘I’ll take them to find a drink and something to eat.’

Expecting protests, Lauren was surprised when neither boy hesitated in taking the hands Gabriel held out to them. Ranged together, the family resemblance was unmistakable. Lauren knew a sudden inexplicable sense of foreboding—a feeling that she alone was the outsider here.

‘Rafael will be in the salón,’ Gabriel advised. ‘That door over there. I’ll bring the children back in half an hour.’

Left alone, she took a deep breath before opening the door indicated, to find herself in a large and airy room lit by three tall windows. The walls in here were plastered plain white and hung with more portraits and landscapes, the furnishings heavy and ornate. The man seated on one of the vast sofas flanking an even vaster fireplace came lithely to his feet on her entry, dropping the sheaf of papers he had been studying on to a side-table.

Rafael was an inch or two taller than either of his brothers at around six feet, shoulders broad and powerful, hips lean. He was clad in plain black shirt and trousers, the former open at the throat to reveal a glint of gold from the small medallion nestled there. Facially, he possessed the same devastating bone-structure, the same sensuous line of mouth, yet the jaunty quality shared by both Francisco and Gabriel was missing, replaced by what Lauren could only describe to herself as arrogance. She felt an instant and purely instinctive antipathy.

‘I trust you had a comfortable journey?’ he said.

‘Very, thank you,’ she replied formally. ‘It was good of you to make all the arrangements.’

One dark eyebrow lifted. ‘I’d scarcely have left you to make your own.’

‘Oh, I’m quite capable,’ she declared. ‘English women are used to doing things for themselves.’

‘Doubtless.’ His tone was dry. ‘This, however, is not England.’ Eyes as black as coal appraised her, moving with deliberation from her face to take in every detail of her slim though shapely figure in the beige trouser suit. ‘Francisco showed remarkably good taste,’ he observed. ‘You’re not at all what I anticipated.’

‘And what was that?’ Lauren asked.

He shrugged dismissively. ‘It’s of no importance now. I take it that you left the children with Gabriel?’

‘They were thirsty,’ she said. ‘It’s been a long journey for them.’

The dark head inclined. ‘Of course. In the meantime, we have a great deal to discuss.’ He indicated the sofa from which he had risen. ‘Please make yourself comfortable. You would like something to drink yourself, perhaps?’

Lauren shook her head, moving forward to perch self-consciously on the very edge of the sofa and as far away as possible from the man still standing. ‘Not at the moment, thanks.’

‘To eat, then?’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘We eat our main meal of the day very late by your standards,’ Rafael advised. ‘I’ll have something light brought to you between times. The children, of course, will take their meal at a time suited to their retirement.’ He paused, making no attempt to take a seat himself. ‘You said in your letter that Francisco left provision enough for the three of you. That was less than the truth, I believe?’

Lauren bit her lip. ‘You’ve been making enquiries about us?’

‘There was a need,’ he agreed imperturbably. ‘How else was I to know that your claim was genuine?’

‘I’m not here to make any claim!’ she denied. ‘We have a home of our own, and an income adequate to our needs.’

‘A home mortgaged up to the limit and an income scarcely adequate to cover the repayments, much less anything else,’ came the unmoved response. ‘Francisco left Spain with capital sufficient to provide security for the rest of his life if wisely invested, but there is, I gather, little of it left. From where, may I ask, will come money for education, to name but one future requirement?’

‘Education,’ Lauren answered tautly, ‘is free in England.’

‘Not the kind I’m speaking of. Unless, of course, you wish less than the best for your sons?’

‘Of course I don’t. No mother would!’

‘In which case, you have little choice but to accept assistance from the only family you have.’

Lauren was silent for a long moment. ‘You really have been doing some research, haven’t you?’ she said at length.

‘I know that you were brought up in a children’s home from the age of twelve after your parents were killed,’ he agreed. ‘I also know how hard you worked to make something of your life after leaving the home at eighteen. But for meeting my brother, you might well have succeeded. Judging from the date of your marriage, and that of the birth, conception took place some two months prior to the event. You were fortunate not to be left holding the baby, as it were.’

‘Oh, very.’ Lauren made no attempt to iron the bitterness from her voice. ‘Is there anything you don’t know?’

‘I’m aware that there were other women during the course of your marriage,’ he said. ‘I would have anticipated no less from my brother. No doubt he never told you the true reason why he left Spain?’

Green eyes met black, holding the penetrating gaze with an effort. ‘All I know is that there was some kind of disagreement between the two of you.’

The strong mouth twisted. ‘That is one way of putting it.’ The pause was weighted. ‘Did you love him?’

Lauren looked down at the hands locked in her lap. ‘I thought I did.’

‘But not ultimately?’

She swallowed on the hard lump in her throat. ‘I don’t suppose so.’

‘He killed whatever it was that you did feel for him, yes?’

‘Yes.’ The word was dragged from her. She rallied her emotions to add, ‘I don’t really see where this is getting us. The failure was as much my fault as his.’

‘I doubt that. Francisco was incapable of staying faithful to any one woman. You were not the first to be impregnated by him. Six years ago he took the seventeen-year-old daughter of one of our oldest family friends.’

Lauren felt numb. ‘What happened to her?’

‘She underwent a back-street abortion arranged by Francisco, and bled to death.’

The lack of emotionalism in the deep-timbred voice in no way lessened the horror of the telling. Lauren gazed at him with darkened eyes, unable to think of a single thing to say.

‘I had no idea,’ she managed at last.

‘Hardly a story he was going to impart to you himself. He suggested no such course to you?’

‘No.’

‘Then his feelings for you must have gone somewhat deeper than was usual with him. Initially, at least.’ Rafael studied her with an unreadable expression. ‘I’m sorry to be the one to tell you all this, but it was necessary for you to know the truth.’

‘It gives you even less reason to consider yourself in any way responsible for my and the twins’ welfare,’ Lauren murmured thickly.

‘The sins of the fathers cannot be visited upon the sons—nor those of the husband upon the wife. Who else is there to be responsible for your welfare?’ He held up a staying hand as she opened her mouth to speak. ‘There is nothing more to be said on the subject.’

Lauren spread her hands in a helpless little gesture, her resentment at his summary dismissal tempered by the knowledge that he was right about future security. She had spoken the truth when she said she could manage, but it was only just. If not for herself, she owed it to the twins to accept the situation.

But only providing, she vowed, that Rafael didn’t attempt to take over too much of their lives.

Watching him now as he moved to open a dark wood cabinet and extract glasses, she wondered why he was still unmarried himself. It certainly couldn’t be through lack of opportunity. Lack of desire to be tied, perhaps? All the same, he was of an age when some decision surely had to be made if he wanted a son and heir of his own.

Taking the glass of sherry from him, she was aware of a tingle like a small electric shock as their fingers momentarily came into contact. Hardly surprising, she thought, trying not to let anything show in her face. Few women could fail to be affected by such sheer male magnetism. Francisco had exuded it too, if on a rather different plane.

‘To the future,’ Rafael toasted, eyes locked on to hers.

‘The future,’ she echoed, and felt once again that faint sense of foreboding.

Gabriel’s arrival with the twins was something of a relief. Obviously tired from the journey, they were uncharacteristically subdued. Nicolás stuck his thumb in his mouth and refused to speak when greeted by his senior uncle—a habit Lauren had believed him cured of some time ago. César too was overawed enough to stick close to his mother’s skirts.

‘Had there been any doubt at all in my mind of their parentage, it would be dispelled now,’ Rafael acknowledged, looking from one to the other. ‘They very much resemble their father.’

‘In looks,’ agreed Lauren shortly, ‘if not in manner. I think it might be a good idea if we went and unpacked. They’re usually in bed by seven.’ She forbore from mentioning that sleep rarely came before nine.

‘But of course.’ Rafael glanced at his brother. ‘Gabriel will show you the way. I look forward to seeing you again at dinner.’

Rising to her feet, Lauren hesitated before saying tentatively, ‘Would it be too impolite of me to take advantage of an early night myself? It’s been rather a long day for us all.’

There was no telling anything from Rafael’s expression, though his nod was somewhat perfunctory. ‘As you prefer. A light meal will be brought to you in one hour from now. I trust you will find your rooms satisfactory.’

‘I’m sure of it,’ she said. She paused, not at all sure how to take her leave of him, tagging on lamely, ‘I’ll say goodnight, then.’

Just for a moment there was a gleam almost of amusement in the dark eyes. ‘Goodnight, Lauren.’

Her name on his lips sounded different—exotic almost. She felt a sudden tremor run through her. With the twins ranged alongside, she followed Gabriel from the room, aware the whole way across the wide expanse of floor of Rafael’s gaze on her departing back, and unnerved by the knowledge.

She must have drawn an audible breath of relief when they reached the hall again, for Gabriel looked at her with a certain understanding.

‘My brother can be intimidating,’ he said, ‘but he means what he says. Neither you nor the boys will ever want for anything again. Of that you can be assured.’

‘That isn’t why I’m here,’ Lauren protested for what seemed the umpteenth time. ‘There’s more to life than money!’

‘But little comfort without it.’ Gabriel moved across to open an arched door beyond which a narrow staircase spiralled out of sight. ‘I’m afraid we don’t have any lifts, but it’s only the next floor. Rafael thought the higher rooms would be too far for the children.’

Not just the children, Lauren could have told him. The castle was elevated to start with. From the top of the tower, the ground must look a mile away. The boys, thank heaven, didn’t appear to have inherited her fear of heights. If anything, they were a little too daring. At four years of age, they knew nothing of the laws of gravity as yet.

The stairs gave on to a central landing with three doors opening from it. Two bedrooms, with a smaller room converted to a bathroom between. Lauren was rendered speechless by the magnificence of the four-poster bed in the room she was to occupy. With a mattress level at least three feet from the floor, she would need to take a running jump to make it, she reflected.

The boys’ room had modern twin divans, much to her relief. Brought in specially for them, Gabriel informed her when she remarked on the difference in style of furnishings.

‘Rafael’s idea,’ he said. ‘He thought the original furnishings unsuitable for children of their years. This was my room when I was a boy, while Francisco had the one you’re occupying. Rafael has the upper floor to himself still.’

‘You haven’t turned out just for us, have you?’ Lauren asked anxiously.

Gabriel laughed and shook his head. ‘I chose to move my sleeping quarters years ago. Not that it would have been any penance. You can’t know how much I’ve looked forward to your coming. To think that Francisco kept you such a secret all these years!’

A fact he hadn’t been all that keen on acknowledging to anyone, Lauren could have told him, but refrained. Francisco was dead and gone. Why further debase his memory?

The luggage had already been brought up, the two cases unpacked and everything put tidily away in cupboards and drawers. One of the nightdresses Lauren had brought was laid out ready on the bed in her room. White and sheer, it drew Gabriel’s eyes like a magnet.

One of the few presents Francisco had ever bought her. White for virginity, he had said satirically at the time, because she was still a virgin at heart. She had never worn it up to now, but it was too lovely and expensive a garment to discard out of hand.

‘I’m going to have difficulty climbing up on to that bed,’ she said with a laugh in an effort to dispel the memories. ‘You don’t happen to have a ladder handy, do you?’

‘You’ll find a wooden step underneath for the purpose,’ Gabriel replied, taking her seriously. ‘Do you need help in preparing the boys for their bedtime? One of the staff can be alerted.’

‘No, thanks, I can manage fine,’ she assured him. ‘I always have up to now.’ She gave him a smile. ‘We’ll see you in the morning, then. What time is breakfast?’

‘The hotel guests are served between eight and nine,’ he said. ‘Rafael prefers to take his meal no later than seven-thirty, but you have no need to follow suit. If you wish for something more substantial than coffee and bread rolls or churros, there is a wide choice available.’

‘Just cereals for the boys, perhaps. I’ll be quite happy with coffee and rolls.’

‘I’ll tell the kitchen.’ Gabriel added, ‘And tomorrow I’ll show you the whole place.’

‘That will be nice.’ Lauren made a move towards the door. ‘I’d better go and check on what those two are up to. They’re too quiet for comfort.’

The boys were quiet, she found, because they were both of them sound asleep, curled up on their respective beds without a care in the world. Too cruel to disturb them now, she thought fondly, gazing down at the twin faces. Baths would simply have to wait until morning.

‘I’ll just take their shoes off and leave them,’ she murmured to Gabriel who was hovering in the doorway. ‘They’re not going to come to any harm sleeping in their clothes for once.’

‘No harm at all,’ he agreed. He waited until she had emerged from the room and closed the door softly behind her to add, ‘You are a very caring mother, Lauren. And a very beautiful one too. I envy Francisco the five years he spent with you.’

There was a caution in her smile. ‘You need never envy anyone anything, Gabriel. Goodnight.’

He accepted the dismissal with obvious reluctance. ‘Goodnight.’

Left alone at last, Lauren went back into her own room and closed the door, standing for a moment in silent contemplation. Three brothers, all so different. Gabriel might resemble Francisco the most in actual looks, but his was by far the softer personality. That he was attracted to her was more than apparent; he hadn’t even attempted to conceal the fact. She was going to need to be careful in the way she handled their relationship.

Rafael was another matter altogether. In some ways he frightened her. Not a physical fear, more an inner disturbance. She had a strong feeling that her stay here was going to prove anything but tranquil.




CHAPTER TWO


FIRST light came just before seven, turning the sky from black to pale grey then spreading blue. Watching from her window, Lauren thought she had never seen anything quite so beautiful as the mountains sprang into sharp silhouette, taking on colour and detail by degrees. The air was clean and sharp. She drew in deep breaths of it. A couple of weeks of this couldn’t be anything but good.

The boys had been up and about for over an hour. It was only with difficulty that she had restrained them from running riot. They were occupied now with the painting books and crayons she had brought with her from home, but the interest wouldn’t last too long. Inquisitive by nature, the two needed constant stimulation. Lauren had taught them both to read, and was justifiably proud of their prowess. With luggage limited, however, she had been unable to bring along too much in the way of reading matter, and local shops were unlikely to hold a great stock of children’s literature in the English language. Boredom spelled trouble with a capital T where the twins were concerned.

At half-past seven, with the sun just creeping over the eastern range, she took the two of them downstairs. All was silent in the hallway, all doors leading from it closed. Lauren chose the one next to the room she had been in the previous evening, to find herself in what was obviously a study-cum-library. César and Nicolás eyed the crowded bookshelves with interest, undeterred by the man who rose from his seat at the big dark wood desk. Dressed this morning in cream trousers and dark brown shirt, he was no less disturbing.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Lauren hastily. ‘I was looking for the dining-room.’

‘No matter,’ Rafael assured her. ‘The comedor is across the other side of the hall. Whatever you wish to eat, you have only to ask. We cater for all tastes.’

‘Just cereals,’ she responded. ‘For the twins, that is. We never eat anything cooked at breakfast.’

‘No more than we do ourselves.’ He glanced at the twins as they prowled along the nearest shelves. ‘Do you speak any Spanish at all?’

‘Only a word or two.’ Lauren had her eyes on the boys too. ‘Francisco rarely used it himself.’

‘Perhaps because he was all too rarely present to do so,’ came the dry return, bringing her gaze sharply back to the olive-skinned features.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You know what it means,’ he said. ‘I’ve made it my duty since first discovering your existence to explore every aspect of my brother’s lifestyle during these past years. He was, it seems, no family man. He pursued other interests.’

Neither César nor Nicolás appeared to be listening to the conversation, but Lauren knew them too well to be assured that they were taking none of it in. No matter what his faults, Francisco was their father. She wanted them to remember the good times, few though they had been, rather than those of neglect.

‘I think we’d better go and have breakfast,’ she said. ‘We’ve disturbed you long enough.’

‘No matter,’ Rafael repeated. ‘By the time you finish your meal, I’ll have finished my work. The children will be taken care of while I show you over the castle.’

‘Gabriel was going to do that,’ she claimed, and saw the firm mouth take on a slant.

‘Gabriel has other commitments today. He left for Málaga half an hour ago. This afternoon I thought you might care to visit Ronda—unless, of course, you’d prefer to take siesta? A custom I’ve little time for myself, but I have no objection to others following it.’

Lauren shook her head. ‘I’m not used to resting during the day either.’

His nod approved the reply. ‘The children, of course, will follow their usual routine. The nursemaid who will be supervising them is a very trustworthy young woman. You can leave them safely in her hands.’

‘Nursemaid?’ Lauren was too angry at the presumption to pay heed to listening ears. ‘That’s hardly necessary!’

Dark brows lifted. ‘You’d prefer that they were left to their own devices?’

‘They’ll hardly be that when I’m here with them.’

‘But you need time of your own to do the things you enjoy,’ Rafael stated firmly.

Faced with two pairs of eyes alert to the altered atmosphere in the room, Lauren bit down hard on the response trembling on her lips. ‘We’ll discuss this later,’ she said instead, low-toned.

‘By all means,’ he agreed.

‘Were you and Uncle Rafael quarrelling?’ asked César in his clear treble as they went from the room.

‘No, of course not,’ Lauren denied, too well aware that Rafael could hear every word. ‘Just talking, that’s all.’

‘About us,’ piped up Nicolás, not to be left out. ‘We’re going to have a nursemaid to play with!’

Lauren closed the door firmly behind her before answering that one. ‘I’ll play with you myself.’

‘But you’re going out with Uncle Rafael,’ said César, sounding not in the least concerned at the notion. ‘Nico and me are going to splore.’

‘Explore,’ Lauren corrected automatically. ‘And you don’t go anywhere on your own. There are people staying here who won’t want children under their feet.’

‘Don’t they like children?’ asked Nicolás.

‘Well, yes, of course they do. At least, I imagine so. It’s just that they’re unlikely to be the kind of people who...’ Lauren sighed and came to a floundering halt, sensing the pitfalls inherent in that line of explanation. ‘They’re paying guests here on holiday,’ she substituted. ‘This isn’t the kind of place you’d bring children to.’

‘You brought us,’ César pointed out with indisputable logic.

‘That’s different.’

He considered for a moment before asking the anticipated, ‘Why?’

‘Because it is,’ Lauren responded firmly, in no mood for an extended session. Their having intelligence quotients above the normal for their age level was all very well, but supplying rational answers to the ever-ready questions sometimes taxed her to the limit. Hyper-activity was the result of a mind over-stimulated by its thirst for knowledge, the child psychologist, whom she had consulted on the advice of her GP, had said. It would lessen as that need was appeased.

Their starting school in September would help, although she was going to miss the pair of them like crazy. Still, it would leave her free to take at least a part-time job—always providing she could find one, of course. One thing she had no intention of doing was relying on Rafael for total support.

By comparison with the other rooms she had seen, the comedor could almost be described as intimate. The table, Lauren reckoned, would seat no more than a dozen at full stretch. Packets of cereal were ranged alongside a selection of preserves and jugs of orange juice on a side-table. As she helped the boys make their choice, a door on the far side of the room opened to admit a youngish woman wearing a neat blue dress and carrying a basket of rolls along with an earthenware coffee-pot.

‘Buenos días, señora,’ she said pleasantly.

Lauren smiled and returned the greeting, deploring her accent. ‘I’m afraid I don’t speak your language,’ she apologised.

‘I speak English,’ said the other. ‘It is needed that we do so for the guests. My name is María. The coffee is freshly made, the rolls warm from the oven. Is there anything else I can fetch for you, señora?’

‘No, this is just fine,’ Lauren assured her. ‘Thank you, María.’

The woman smiled and withdrew. Seated at table, the twins polished off their cereal in short order and had two rolls apiece spread with apricot preserve. Neither of them was over-fond of coffee, but they made vast inroads into the orange juice. Freshly squeezed, Lauren had been quick to note. Everything here would be top-class, of course. The kind of guests who could afford to stay in such surroundings would expect nothing less than the best.

The view from the windows was the same one she had from her own room. With the sun now well up in the sky, the light was pure and sparkling, the distances needle-sharp. Gazing out, she knew an eagerness to be out there exploring the beckoning beauty of the Sierra.

Rafael himself was the only drawback. There was no relaxing in his presence; she felt tense again at the very thought of him. Accustomed to ruling the roost, there was no doubt, but he needn’t think he was going to do it with her. She would go along with his plans for the twins’ care and entertainment at the moment because they themselves seemed willing enough to be left, only no way was she going to abdicate from her position as parent in ultimate charge.

With breakfast over, and the boys already restless, she was at something of a loss as to where to go from here. Emerging once more into the hall, she thought at first that the beautiful dark-haired young woman, just emerging from the library with Rafael at her back, was one of the guests who had perhaps lost her way, an idea soon scotched when he introduced her as Elena Santos who would be taking care of the children.

‘I am very happy to have such a task,’ said the girl. ‘I will be very careful of their welfare, señora.’ She smiled at the two boys. ‘You would like to play a game with me?’

They answered in unison and in the affirmative, apparently quite happy themselves with the arrangement. Lauren stifled a pang as they went off without a backward glance. Such parting was something she was going to have to accept anyway when they started school, and the sooner she got used to it the better. They couldn’t spend their whole lives tied to her apron strings; she wouldn’t want them to.

‘Which leaves the two of us free to follow our own pursuits,’ declared Rafael. ‘You would like to see the rest of the castle?’

‘I don’t want to interrupt your routine in any way,’ Lauren answered, and saw that sudden disconcerting gleam in the dark eyes again.

‘What you really mean is that you’d prefer to be without my company, I think. Do you find me so undesirable a companion?’

‘No,’ she denied a little too hastily, ‘of course not! I just don’t want to put you to any trouble, that’s all.’

‘No trouble,’ he assured her. ‘Family comes before work.’

‘I’m not family,’ she said. ‘Not really.’

‘You bear the name of Quiros,’ he pointed out on a crisper note. ‘Blood is not the only measure. As the mother of my brother’s sons, you are and will remain family, whatever your feelings on the matter.’

‘I didn’t mean to imply any distaste,’ she said swiftly. ‘The name of Quiros is obviously well respected. What I don’t want is for you to feel in any way obligated towards me. I may not have the means to keep the twins in the style you have in mind, but I’m more than capable of looking after my own interests.’

‘Are you?’ His voice had lost the edge, the line of his mouth softening in a way that set her pulses beating suddenly faster. ‘I think perhaps you need to look long and hard at your prospects before making such a statement. Are jobs in England so easily gained that you could secure one at choice with no recent experience to offer?’

‘There are jobs which don’t necessarily require experience,’ she responded, trying to think of one.

‘With equally low financial return, perhaps so.’ He paused, studied her with enigmatic expression for a moment, then shrugged and dismissed the subject. ‘Come, we should make a start while the guests are still at breakfast.’

Pacing at his side as they traversed the corridor leading to the public part of the castle, Lauren was intensely aware of his closeness. He wasn’t touching her in any way, yet she could feel his body heat, catch the faint scent of aftershave or cologne, or whatever it was that Spanish men of his calibre might use; sense the latent power in that lean, lithe build. Rafael Javierre de Quiros was too much of a man for any woman to remain indifferent towards. Like his brother before him, he set her senses alight. Only it was not quite the same, because he also aroused hostility, and that was something else she was going to have to learn to deal with.

The castle was both extensive in area and superb in its upkeep. Lauren lost all sense of direction and all count of time during a tour which left out only the guest bedrooms. There was even a tiny chapel on the premises, utilising a room from which led the steps down to the dungeons.

Lauren made no attempt to conceal her emotions when shown the bare rock cells contained behind iron-barred doors, imagining the poor wretches incarcerated down here for months or even years at a time. Death would surely have been preferable to such a fate.

Death would certainly have been preferable to the agony inflicted by the instruments of torture still preserved in the chamber adjoining. She could almost hear the anguished screams echoing from the cold stained walls. To keep such gruesome relics at all was totally unnecessary in her estimation. Such cruel and barbaric times were best forgotten.

‘It represents a part of our history which should never be cast from mind,’ declared Rafael, guessing her exact thoughts with an accuracy she found even more disturbing. ‘Our guests appear to find the place fascinating.’

‘I find it repulsive,’ Lauren stated shortly. ‘I hope César and Nicolás are never brought down here.’

‘I doubt very much if they would understand the significance,’ came the seemingly indifferent reply, ‘but your objection is of course noted. I’m glad to find that you occasionally speak of them by individual name instead of the collective “twins”. They should be treated as separate persons, not two of a kind.’

‘I do regard them as individuals!’ she retorted furiously, all the more incensed by the criticism because she recognised a certain validity. ‘You might have noticed that they’re dressed differently.’

‘More for easy recognition, I think,’ he said, unmoved by her anger. ‘They’re identical in looks.’

Lauren caught herself up before she could say the words trembling on her lips. ‘Twins usually are,’ she got out instead.

‘Only where formed from the same cell. It’s quite possible to have two children born at the same time who are quite different in appearance.’

‘I don’t need any lessons in genetics, thanks,’ she shot back at him. ‘And I’ll refer to my children the way I want!’

‘Even though you know I’m right?’ The query was deceptively mild, the dark eyes revealing a glitter to match her own. ‘I thought you capable of more mature behaviour.’

‘Which just goes to show how wrong first impressions can be.’ The gloom and depressing atmosphere of her surroundings were doing nothing to help Lauren regain her equilibrium. ‘I don’t think this visit is turning out to have been such a good idea. The Spanish and English obviously hold very different views.’

‘In this instance,’ he said, ‘more by reason of gender than of nationality, I believe. You resent what you regard as my interference simply because I’m a man, yes?’

‘I resent your assumption that you have the right to interfere at all.’ She said it between her teeth. ‘If that’s going to be the price of accepting help with education et cetera, then I don’t think I’ll bother. They’re my sons, not yours!’

‘If they were my sons, you would be my wife,’ came the taut response. ‘In which case you would have learned respect. Francisco obviously neglected his duty in more than the one aspect.’ He gave her no time to form a reply. ‘They’re a part of him too, and in his absence are my responsibility by proxy. I have no intention of relinquishing that responsibility.’

The gloom of the chamber seemed to Lauren to have increased. Standing there, tall and dark and unsmiling, Rafael seemed as threatening as any past inquisitor. She wanted suddenly to run from him, to snatch up her sons and escape from this man, this place, this country, while she still could. It had been a mistake to come here at all; she knew that now.

‘I think we’ll have to agree to differ,’ she said thickly. ‘I can’t be like your women.’

‘You have no concept of the ways of our womenfolk,’ he responded. ‘Nor understanding of the male in any sphere, I think.’ His tone was different, not exactly warm, but lacking the biting edge of a moment ago. ‘We’ll begin again. This time with a little more tolerance on both sides.’ He paused, gaze narrowed to her face. ‘Agreed?’

The reply was dragged from her. ‘Agreed.’

‘Good.’ He made an abrupt movement. ‘Then we’ll go and drink coffee and discuss matters in surroundings more conducive than these.’

Which wouldn’t be difficult to find, Lauren reflected wryly. This would be the very last time she ventured down here for certain. The whole place gave her the shivers.

There were a couple of guests looking round the little chapel when they emerged from the dungeon stairs. Judging from those already seen during the tour of the castle, Americans seemed to be in the majority among the present contingent.

‘We don’t have anything like this back home,’ declared the beautifully dressed and coiffured woman. ‘The whole place is unreal!’

‘My ancestors lived very real lives,’ Rafael assured her drily. ‘We do, however, have a family ghost.’

‘You do?’ Her eyes lit up. ‘Are we likely to see it?’

‘Perhaps. He walks the battlements at night when the moon is full.’

‘We missed it by a couple of weeks, then,’ said the woman’s husband, obviously not taking the story too seriously. ‘A real shame. Are those the dungeons down there? Those folks we know who stayed here last year said to be sure to see them.’

‘Then you must certainly do so,’ Rafael answered. ‘The lighting is poor, so you must watch your step.’

Lauren waited until the pair had disappeared down the winding staircase before voicing an opinion. ‘Aren’t you afraid of facing a massive lawsuit if they fall and injure themselves?’

The shrug was brief and dismissive. ‘We’re not in America. Would you prefer to take coffee outdoors or indoors?’

‘Out, please,’ she said, suddenly longing for the warmth of the sun. ‘I should go and check on the boys first, though.’

‘They’re in good hands,’ he stated flatly. ‘How can they be expected to achieve the independence necessary to their future welfare if you’re constantly with them?’

‘They’re four years old,’ she returned, ‘not fourteen!’

‘But no longer infants at the breast.’ He watched the colour come up in her cheeks with derision in the line of his mouth. ‘You find the allusion distasteful?’

‘I find your whole attitude degrading,’ she parried with an effort.

‘That was not the intention. I have your welfare at heart too. You have a life of your own to live, Lauren. Not just as a mother but as a woman, with a woman’s needs.’

His voice had softened again in that disconcerting, heart-vibrating manner of his. She found herself transfixed by the dark eyes, stomach muscles contracting.

‘I don’t need you to tell me how I should live my life,’ she said huskily. ‘I’ll do as I think fit. Right now, I’d like to see how my sons are getting on.’

Rafael made no immediate answer, just continued to study her with that same narrowed intensity. When he did speak his tone was unexpectedly mild. ‘As you prefer.’

They found boys and nurse playing a form of quoits in a small grassed courtyard. Neither César nor Nicolás appeared to have missed her at all, Lauren was bound to acknowledge, and she tried without success to stifle the pang. Rafael was probably right in that too much of her life revolved around the twins. She had to learn to loosen up.

‘I think I’d like that coffee now,’ she said on a subdued note after watching the game for a few minutes. ‘They’re obviously doing fine.’

There was no element of ‘I told you so’ in the glance Rafael gave her. He wouldn’t, she thought, waste his time on such petty emotions. A man of strong opinions and even stronger will, but one whose basic integrity was in no doubt.

‘We’ll have it served here,’ he said, indicating a cast-iron bench seat set against the near wall. ‘Sit there in the sun while I go and arrange it.’

Lauren did so, watching him go back indoors again with a dawning suspicion that this was where he had intended bringing her in the first place. Nicolás broke away from his game to come over to where she sat, his eyes shining with health and high spirits.

‘We like it here, Mummy,’ he announced, speaking collectively as always. ‘Are you having a good time too?’

‘Of course,’ she assured him. ‘I’m having a lovely time!’

Hypocrite! she told herself as the child scampered back to join his brother. Only what else could she have said on the face of it? Perhaps if she tried a little harder to get along with Rafael, she would start to find some enjoyment in this holiday after all.

Wheeled out on a trolley, the coffee arrived before he returned. There was also a jug of orange juice for the children. Elena accepted the cup Lauren poured for her without demur, but smilingly declined to take the seat also proffered, sitting down instead on the grass with the boys some distance away.

In her simple cotton dress, with her black hair rippling down her back and her face free of make-up, she looked no more than sixteen. Her parents and brother, Rafael had said, were also in his employment. No doubt, Lauren reflected, jobs here at the castle carried a certain prestige.

‘I must apologise for leaving you so long,’ he said when he did return some minutes later. ‘There was a telephone call I had to make.’

‘If you have business to attend to, I’ll be perfectly all right on my own,’ she assured him.

‘The matter is taken care of,’ he returned easily. ‘We have yet to take a walk along the battlements. From there you can see everything there is to be seen.’

Including a long drop, she thought with an inward shudder. The sensible thing would be to admit to her acrophobia, of course, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Only those who suffered the same symptoms could be relied upon to appreciate the fear.

With their juice finished, the children returned to their game. César in particular was proving to have a very good eye for distance, ringing the stake on several throws. Nicolás showed no concern over his brother’s superior performance. Jealousy was an emotion unknown between the two. Eventually, Lauren knew, they would become bored with the game and start seeking further challenge, but for the present they seemed content. Happy, certainly, to be left in Elena’s charge again.

Rafael took her up to the top of the keep via the same spiral staircase leading to her own room, bypassing both her floor and the next to emerge eventually on to a stone square not nearly large enough to afford Lauren any real sense of security. She felt the familiar tingling sensation in her ankles as she stood there gazing out through the battlements at the magnificent vista, the mounting terror at the very thought of moving away from the central block.

‘It’s possible to see Ronda itself from this side,’ said Rafael, crossing over. ‘Come, take a look.’

Somehow, she forced her legs to move, to carry her forward until she stood at his side before an embrasure that afforded a bare two feet of protection from the dizzying emptiness beyond. She was going to fall! she thought desperately. She could feel the trembling weakness spreading up through her knees, hear the buzzing in her ears.

She must have made some sound, for Rafael turned his head to look at her, taking in her white face and rigid jaw with instant comprehension. His arm came around her to draw her back from the parapet to the comparative safety of the central block again, holding her close until the trembling began to abate.

‘Why did you not tell me how you felt about heights?’ he grated in her ear. ‘Why did you allow me to bring you up here?’

‘I don’t know,’ she whispered shakily. ‘It was silly of me, I suppose.’

‘Foolish to the point of stupidity. There’s no shame in acknowledging such a frailty. A matter of balance, no more.’

Her balance, Lauren thought, was disrupted in more ways than the one at the moment. She was intensely aware of the hard muscularity of his body, of the warmth and security of the arms curving her back. Her face was on a level with his throat, bared by the open collar of his shirt. She knew a sudden and almost irresistible urge to put her lips to the smooth olive skin—to know the taste of him, the smell of him. Francisco had been dead only three months, but it was more than two years since he had touched her. Not that she had wanted him to make love to her, knowing by then how many other women there had been, but her body still craved the fulfilment denied it.

‘I’ll be all right now,’ she said shakily. ‘I’m not going to pass out, or anything.’

Rafael drew back his head to look into her face, eyes black as night and twice as impenetrable. ‘You feel capable of descending the steps?’

‘If you go first,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry to be such a nuisance.’

Something sparked in his eyes for a fleeting moment as he looked at her, shortening her breath and causing her limbs to tremor anew, then he released her. ‘Keep close at my back until we reach the lower floor,’ he instructed. ‘Hands on my shoulders as we descend.’

The steps were steep and narrow at this point, the spiral tight. Lauren was sure she would never have made it down again on her own without tumbling head first. The broad shoulders felt steady as rocks beneath her hands. Reaching the floor below, she drew a breath of pure relief. From here, as from her own floor, the steps were both wider and shallower, with handrails to grasp. She could negotiate those without difficulty.

Rafael made no attempt to continue on down, however, but drew her instead into a small but comfortably furnished salón, and bade her take a seat.

‘We’ll rest here for a moment or two,’ he said, ‘until you’re fully recovered. A little brandy, perhaps?’

Lauren shook her head. ‘I’m fine, really. The dizziness doesn’t last. Is this your private salón?’

‘Yes,’ he acknowledged. ‘I retreat here when I wish to be alone. Solitude renews the spirit.’

‘I shouldn’t have thought yours was ever low enough to need renewal,’ she said, and saw his brow lift.

‘You read me so well?’

‘No.’ She gave a wry little shrug. ‘Just that you seem so totally in control of your life.’

‘None of us can be totally in control,’ he returned. ‘Life holds many surprises.’

He hadn’t taken a seat himself. Lauren wished that he would. Standing there, hands thrust into trouser pockets, he seemed to tower over her. She could still feel the pressure of his chest against her breasts—recall the way her nipples had tingled and peaked to the contact. They were doing so again at the very memory.

‘Not always pleasant ones,’ she agreed, hoping that nothing of what she was thinking showed in her face. It was shameful to be having these feelings at all for a man she scarcely knew. Francisco’s own brother, for heaven’s sake! ‘It must be getting close to lunchtime,’ she added a little desperately. ‘I’ll need to tidy myself up.’

‘We normally eat our meal at two o’clock,’ Rafael advised, ‘but if you’re hungry now I’ll arrange for food to be brought.’

It was, Lauren realised, glancing at her watch, only just gone twelve. Hunger was the last thing on her mind—for food, at any rate.

‘My body clock is way out,’ she said with an attempt at humour. ‘I can wait, thanks. All the same, I’d like to tidy myself up.’ She came to her feet as she spoke, unsurprised to feel the unsteadiness still in her legs. Fear of a different kind this time, and one Rafael must not be allowed to guess. ‘It was good of you to spend so long with me, when I know how busy you must be.’

‘The day,’ he said, ‘is not yet over. We’re to visit Ronda this afternoon.’

‘Are you sure you have the time?’

‘Time,’ he said, ‘is the servant, not the master. We must use it to our advantage. Take care descending the steps.’

It wasn’t the steps she had to worry about, Lauren thought wryly, making her escape, so much as her own wayward emotions. From now on she must steer well clear of any physical contact at all with her brother-in-law.




CHAPTER THREE


THE twins were full of their morning. Already they had picked up one or two Spanish words, Lauren noted, listening to their breathless account. She hoped Elena wasn’t counting on a break this afternoon; it had been a long time since either of them had taken an afternoon nap.

They had stayed remarkably clean for once. Apart from a quick wash of face and hands, and the use of a hairbrush, they needed no further sprucing up for lunch. With the outing to Ronda in mind, Lauren exchanged her flowered cotton skirt and blouse for a pale blue dress, livening it up with some amber beads and holding back her hair from her face with a narrow bandeau the same colour. Francisco had considered her taste in clothes far too conservative. He had probably been right too, only miniskirts just weren’t her thing. She doubted if they were to Rafael’s taste either.

Lunch was a leisurely meal. Too leisurely for the twins, who found sitting still for even ten minutes a strain. Rafael had Elena come and take the pair of them out in the end, with instructions that they were to spend an hour resting.

‘I doubt if they’re going to sleep at all,’ said Lauren when they were gone from the room.

‘I said rest,’ Rafael pointed out. ‘At their age, they have need of a quiet recuperative period. Elena will see that they stay in their room.’

She wouldn’t, Lauren thought, like to take a bet on it! His peremptory assumption of authority rankled more than a little, even though she could see the sense in what he was saying. Given half a chance, he would have them all jumping through hoops to his command!

‘If you have something to say to me, then say it,’ he invited, watching her expression. ‘You consider it not my place to organise their day?’

‘It’s your house,’ she prevaricated. ‘Castle, I mean. I can’t blame you for not wanting them running all over the place.’

‘They need order in their lives,’ he declared. ‘I have a feeling that you tend to take the easier option.’

It was too close to the truth for comfort. Lauren could feel herself flushing. ‘It’s so easy for the uninitiated to criticise!’ she snapped back.

‘Meaning that, as a childless bachelor, I’m in no position to judge?’ There was more than a hint of mockery in the dark eyes. ‘Perhaps not. But can you honestly say that I’m wrong?’

She bit her lip, aware of being backed into a corner. ‘It isn’t all that easy dealing with two at the same time.’

‘Especially where the father takes little part. Did Francisco have no feeling at all for his sons?’

‘He didn’t pay them all that much attention,’ Lauren admitted, and immediately felt disloyal. ‘But I’m sure he loved them in his own way.’

Rafael shook his head. ‘You’ve no cause to defend my brother. His behaviour was inexcusable.’

‘He’s dead,’ she said with deliberation. ‘I’d prefer to let him rest in peace.’

The dark head inclined. ‘You’re more forgiving than I would be in your place, but I respect the sentiment.’ His tone altered. ‘Tell me, have you had the boys assessed?’

‘If you mean with regard to intelligence level, then yes,’ she acknowledged.

‘And the results?’

‘They both have extra-high IQs.’ Lauren strove to keep her voice matter-of-fact. ‘The important thing, I’m told, is not to treat them as anything special—to let them progress at their own pace.’

‘Very wise advice,’ Rafael agreed. ‘They need to experience all the delights of childhood.’

Something in his tone made her regard him with sudden insight. ‘You had the same problem yourself?’

‘You see advanced intelligence as a problem?’

‘In some respects. I worry about how they’ll cope in school if they have to keep pace with their actual age-group.’

‘Badly,’ he said. ‘Which is yet another reason why you have to accept help in the matter. There are schools equipped to deal with such children.’

‘The kind you attended yourself?’

The firm mouth slanted briefly. ‘My advancement was not as great. I’ll begin enquiries at once.’

‘We have until September,’ Lauren pointed out, laying delicate stress on the ‘we’. ‘There’s no immediate rush. I can gather some information myself once I’m back home.’

Something flickered in his eyes, then he shrugged. ‘Of course. And in the meantime we must see that you enjoy your stay. You are ready to leave for Ronda?’

As ready, Lauren reflected, as she would ever be. Going anywhere at all on her own with this man was likely to prove a mistake, but, short of admitting that he disturbed her too much for comfort, there was no way out of it.

They took the white coupé for the drive into the town. Dressed now in close-fitting green shirt and equally close-fitting white trousers, Rafael looked darker-skinned than ever. The loosely rolled sleeves revealed muscular forearms lightly covered in hair bleached by the sun to several shades lighter than that on his head. His wrists were sinewy, the hands holding the wheel long and fleshless, fingers tapering. Sensitive, Lauren thought, and felt a tremor run through her. This had to stop, she told herself desperately. No good could come of it.

He drove right through the modern section to park the car in the Plaza de España. A couple of coaches were off-loading tourists armed with the inevitable cameras. A cross unfortunately necessary to the prosperity of the area, Rafael returned drily when Lauren commented on the general ruination of peace and tranquillity.

‘It gets much worse than this in the summer months,’ he said. ‘The traffic is nose to tail across the bridge, with accidents a frequent occurrence. The coaches alone are a hazard. It would be better if tourists were banned from driving into the town at all, but few of them know how to walk very far. I suggest we visit the bull-ring to begin with,’ he added. ‘The oldest ring in the whole of Spain. Pedro Romero himself fought here.’ He registered her expression with a quizzical lift of a brow. ‘You disapprove of the bull-fight?’

‘I disapprove of any form of cruelty to animals,’ Lauren acknowledged. ‘And I don’t much care whose toes I tread on in saying it!’

The smile was tolerant. ‘That I can believe. However, there’s no corrida scheduled today, so you may rest easy and enjoy the architecture alone. I think you’ll find it worthy of study.’

It would be labouring the point to refuse on principle, Lauren decided. Viewing the premises was hardly akin to condoning the practice. Bull-fighting wasn’t going to be eradicated by loud-mouthed foreigners calling the odds. It would take a total change of national attitude, and that was unlikely, to say the least.

Only a step or two away from where they had parked, the Plaza de Toros was entered via a huge ornate doorway. The two coachloads of tourists had begun their sightseeing on the bridge itself, and at present there were few other people inside.

Lauren was struck by the sheer size of the ring. Standing in the middle of it, gazing up at the circling tiers of seats rising beneath double sets of finely wrought arches, she had to acknowledge the picturesque quality of the scene. The sheer clarity of light gave added depth and vibrancy to the colours of sand and stone and red-painted woodwork.

A door on the far side gave access to the museum. Lauren turned a blind eye on the many posters and photographs depicting various famous matadors in action, concentrating instead on the items of apparel displayed. The capes in particular were works of art in themselves, each one intricately embroidered in silk thread by hand, each design different.

‘They’re beautiful!’ she declared. ‘Workmanship like that has to be admired.’

‘Even for such a purpose?’ Rafael shook his head as she opened her mouth to reply. ‘No, we’ll leave it right there. Our viewpoints differ. That we must both accept.’

And not only where bull-fighting was concerned, she reflected. They were at odds on most subjects, it seemed.

From the bull-ring they traversed a traffic-free street lined both sides with shops and stalls. Either siesta was over, or the traders in general followed Rafael’s example in ignoring it, as business appeared to be going on apace. Judging from the numbers of non-nationals thronging the street, more coaches had arrived. Lauren was thankful to turn off into the quieter back streets.

‘I hadn’t anticipated so many this early in the year,’ Rafael admitted. ‘Next time we’ll make it an evening visit when the coaches have departed.’

‘You don’t have to feel under any obligation to entertain me while I’m here,’ Lauren protested. ‘You must have work to do.’

‘Nothing beyond Gabriel’s ability to take care of, for the next few days at least,’ came the smooth reply. ‘Tonight we have guests at dinner, all of them eager to meet you.’

Curious would be more like it, she thought, stifling her trepidation. It stood to reason that the sudden appearance of Francisco’s wife and children would give rise to speculation. No doubt many would believe her an opportunist, here only for what she could get from the family coffers. It shouldn’t matter what people she neither knew nor cared about thought, but it did.

They arrived back at the Plaza de España to find two of the coaches on the point of departure and few other tourists in immediate evidence.

‘Now, while it is quiet, would be the best time to take a walk across the bridge and back,’ suggested Rafael. ‘The only way to deal with vertigo is to accustom oneself gradually to heights instead of trying to avoid them altogether.’

Which was true enough, Lauren knew. The bridge itself had been there for more than two hundred years; it was hardly going to choose the very moment she set foot on it to collapse into the abyss.

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she said, trying to sound positive. ‘It’s high time I conquered it.’

All the same, the thought alone of all that empty space beneath caused her lower legs to tingle as they moved on to the bridge. Iron-railed embrasures set within the side-walls afforded dizzying glimpses of the gorge, drawing her eyes despite every effort not to look. Rafael put a steadying hand under her elbow, causing a tingle of a different nature, and brought her to a halt at the central viewpoint.

‘Stand here for a moment or two and look at the view beyond rather than below,’ he bid her.

Standing right behind her, he rested both hands on her waist, holding her firmly. She could feel his breath on her hair, his body heat at her back. Vertigo became secondary to other, more imperative responses. She had to forcibly stop herself from leaning into him.

‘I’m all right,’ she got out. ‘Really, I am!’

‘I can feel the tension in you,’ he said softly. ‘In a moment or two, as your senses adjust, it will begin to lessen.’

Not while he continued to hold her, it wouldn’t, Lauren knew. She doubted that he was unaware of her response to his touch. It probably amused him to know how he affected her.

‘Your waist is so small,’ he murmured. ‘I can almost span it between my hands. One would never guess that you had borne even one child, much less two!’

‘I suppose I’m just naturally thin,’ she countered, and sensed his smile.

‘The word suggests shapelessness, and you’re far from that.’

Her heart was thudding against her ribcage, her every sense alive to the sheer seductive quality of his tone. It meant nothing, she told herself with emphasis. She was his brother’s wife; his interest in her went no deeper than that. She just wasn’t used to compliments. These last two years, Francisco had treated her more like a piece of furniture than an attractive woman.

‘I’m all right now,’ she said abruptly. ‘You don’t need to hold me any longer. The railing is safeguard enough.’

She made herself move on as he dropped his hands, more afraid of being touched again than she was of falling. Feeling this way over a man she didn’t even like very much was not only wrong, it was disgusting! He was her brother-in-law, for heaven’s sake!




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