The Spanish Connection. Kay Thorpe
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