One Night in Madrid: Spanish Billionaire, Innocent Wife / The Spaniard's Defiant Virgin / The Spanish Duke's Virgin Bride

It was an effort to drag his eyes away from the photograph and they wouldn’t quite focus when he did. So Alannah’s face was still a blur, her expression indistinct when he turned to her.

‘What are you doing with a picture of Lori? Why is there a photograph of my sister in your flat?’

‘Lori gave it to me.’

Alannah’s voice seemed uneven and strangely fuzzy. Or perhaps that was because he was having difficulty concentrating as well as seeing clearly.

‘She sent it to me on my birthday.’

Of course. His sister had adored Alannah and she had been overjoyed at the prospect of having her as a sister-in-law. She had been devastated when he had had to tell her that they weren’t going to be married after all. In fact telling Lori had been one of the hardest things he had had to do. He had never forgiven Alannah for destroying his sister’s dreams along with his own when she had walked out on them.

‘You were still in touch with her?’ ‘Yes.’

There was something wrong with her answer, an edge on the words that he didn’t understand, and right now his thinking wasn’t clear enough to be able to work out anything like that. He just knew that the way she spoke grated on him, made his skin feel raw as well as his heart.

‘Do you know why she was in England? Did she come to see you?’

‘Yes.’

There it was again, that ragged, uneven note that twisted something deep inside.

‘Raul—’ she began but suddenly the dreadful thought that she might not know the full truth pushed him to cut across her words.

‘Did you know—Lori—did you know that she …?’

As he drew breath, drew strength to say the hateful word died—Lori died—Alannah moved with sudden urgency.

‘Oh, don’t! Don’t!’

Those soft fingers touched his face, covered his mouth to stop, to hold back the dreadful truth. And she was very, very close, the scent of her body surrounding him, the warmth of her skin against his.

‘You don’t have to,’ she whispered. ‘I know—at the hospital—I heard …’

‘You know?’

The relief was so intense it was almost savage. She knew—and of course she understood. She had been through this tragedy herself so recently. Of all people, she would understand so much. He had someone to share the darkness with. ‘I know.’

And this time she leaned even further forward so that her forehead rested against his own. Her breath was warm on his cheek. The soft brush of her hair against his skin was a caress that had him biting his lip against the groan of response that almost escaped him.

From darkness and emptiness his feelings suddenly leapt to burning awareness. Where there had been a sort of suspended animation, the numbness of loss and despair, suddenly a shaft of feeling, sharp and brilliant as a flash of light, delicate and painful as a stiletto, pierced the armour of restraint he had locked round himself and let life back in.

His hand closed around hers where it lay on his arm, strong fingers lacing with her finer, paler ones, and he felt her squeeze his in response to the pressure of his touch. There were no more words, just as there had been no words when he had held her as she cried out her distress in the hospital. He’d envied her those tears then, and he still felt the same way now. His eyes burned but they were dry and gritty. The release that she had found escaped him, though the storm that raged in his heart demanded the expression he couldn’t give it.

‘Gracias …’

He wasn’t quite sure what he was thanking her for. For her understanding, for her touch, for her closeness or just for her silence. The silence that meant he didn’t have to try to speak or even to think. Just for this moment he could simply rest as he had been unable to rest since the news had broken. For now, the silence was enough.

But even as he thought that he realised there was something about the silence that was not right. Something that made it not the gentle silence of comfort, of sharing. The silence between two hurting people who had suffered the same terrible loss. Instead Alannah had pulled back—just an inch or so, but she had moved away. And suddenly there was an almost dangerous edge to her stillness. An edge that scraped like sandpaper over his nerves, telling him—warning him that there was something that was wrong here; something that had to be brought into the open.

And instinctively he knew that it had to do with the reason she had brought him up here.

‘Alannah …’

His voice sounded rough and husky, as if he hadn’t used it in days.

‘No …’ she said at last, and it was almost a moan, a sound of despair. ‘No—don’t thank me. Not yet. Not until I’ve told you everything.’

‘Everything?’

Alannah’s heart sank right down to somewhere beneath the soles of her feet when she heard the way that Raul’s voice had changed, darkened, the deeply suspicious note coming back into it. She wished she could go back just a couple of minutes—retreat to the moment when she had been so close to him. When he had been grateful that she was there.

‘What the hell is everything? Just what is it you’ve been dancing around telling me? That’s obviously the reason you brought me up here and yet you insist on making coffee—doing anything other than tell me!’ ‘I’m sorry.’

It was barely a whisper. Now that the moment was here her voice threatened to fail her and the fearful race of her heart made the blood pound so loudly inside her head that she could barely hear herself speak.

‘I will tell you. I need to explain—about when I met you in the hospital, why I was there—’

‘Your brother,’ Raul inserted sharply.

‘Yes, and—there was more to it than that. Much more. And—oh, I’m sorry …’

She had his attention now, dark eyes narrowed, that burning, searching gaze fixed on her face. He must see the glimmer of tears in her eyes, the way she was having to blink them back.

‘Sorry for what?’ It was low, dangerous, intent. ‘Alannah—tell me.’

‘I’m sorry …’

Oh, if only she could stop saying that phrase! She felt sure that Raul would pounce on it again like a tiger on its prey. But the fierce scrutiny of his stunning eyes didn’t waver, and although his beautiful mouth tightened briefly he didn’t say a word. He just waited. And the dark intensity of his silence dried her throat so brutally that she had to fight to force out the words that needed to be said.

‘When I said that I knew—about Lori … that I heard in the hospital, that wasn’t quite true.’

The mention of his sister’s name had stilled him, focused him totally on one thing. If his gaze had been fierce before then now it burned like a laser. ‘And the truth is?’

‘That—that—well, I did hear at the hospital, but that was because—it was when I was there for Chris.’ ‘Your brother?’

Raul was frowning now, clearly having trouble following what she said. And she really couldn’t blame him. She was making a terrible mess of this. And it would have been so much better—kinder too—if she had just come out and said it.

‘You were at the hospital for your brother.’

‘And for Lori …’ Somehow she forced it out. ‘They were brought in there together.’

Raul’s head went back sharply as if reacting to a brutal slap. Confusion, disbelief, suspicion all crossed his face in quick succession and to Alannah’s horror it was suspicion that caught and held.

Hard hands clamped around her shoulders, holding her bruisingly tight, and he pushed her away until she was at arm’s length so that he could look into her face, probe her eyes.

‘But Lori was in a car crash—killed outright. And your brother was ill.’

‘No …’