The Spanish Connection

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.’