Читать книгу The Spanish Connection - Kay Thorpe - Страница 5

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.