The Spanish Connection. Kay Thorpe
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