Autumn Twilight

AUTUMN TWILIGHT Anne Hampson

When attractive Don Ramon Eduardo de Cabrera y Molina told Lauren, at her own engagement party, that she didn't really love Roger, she was furious. To make it even worse, Don Ramon insisted he was the right man for her. "It's destiny," he said. "You and I were meant to meet, Lauren. And, were meant to be more than acquaintances. One fights against destiny only at one's peril. Lauren should have known better, but she fought every inch of the way.

CHAPTER ONE THE party was in full swing; the most important people present were dancing in each other's arms. Lauren Warby and Roger Burden were celebrating their engagement with a dinner-dance given by Roger's mother and stepfather at their baronial mansion in Shropshire. Lauren wore an Edwardian-style evening gown of chiffon and lace, and on her finger was a beautiful diamond, the like of which she had never imagined herself wearing. But then she had never for one moment visualised herself as the wife of a man of wealth, much less a titled man. Roger was both wealthy in his own right, and titled, his father having died three years previously. 'If only Felice could do as well for herself,' Lauren's father had said more than once. 'I cannot understand why Roger picked you out at that staff dance. After all, Felice was there too.' Felice was Lauren's identical twin; she was also the elder by twenty minutes, and she had always been her father's favourite. 'When I'm married,' said Lauren seriously, 'then Felice will meet plenty of men like Roger.' 'Don't take any notice of Dad,' Felice would say. 'I'm quite happy with Edwin.' Felice and Edwin were at the party, naturally, and at the dinner-table the four sat close together. They all chatted happily, with Edwin sending Felice tender glances, and Roger and Lauren also glancing tenderly at each other from time to time. 'My darling, are you as happy as I am?' The question, softly spoken, brought Lauren's mind from her sister, and from her father's disappointment that it was not Felice who was celebrating her engagement tonight. Mr Warby worked away at times, and although

Lauren suspected he could have managed to get home for this special occasion, he had informed her that it was quite impossible. 'Of course, dearest Roger,' she replied, pressing closer to him so that her words were emphasised. 'What were you thinking about just now, when you were so far away from me?' 'I was thinking about Father, and wishing he could have been here.' Naturally she did not mention her disappointment. 'It was bad luck, certainly.' Roger paused a moment and glancing up Lauren saw that a slight frown had settled on his handsome face. 'At times, darling, I'm in some doubt about his satisfaction with regard to your marrying me.' Lauren said nothing; she listened to the soft sweet strains of The Blue Danube coming from the orchestra at the far end of the vast gold and crimson banqueting hall. And she was musing on what Roger had said, and wondering if she really had discerned a hint of arrogance and pique in his voice, or whether it was merely her imagination. Her thoughts circled and she was thinking of Roger's relationship with her father. The two men seemed to have absolutely nothing in common, so the result was that Roger rarely visited the semidetached house in which Lauren lived, simply because he was never afforded a cordial welcome by the man who was soon to become his father-inlaw. 'I'm rather warm, Roger,' she said at length, deliberately changing the subject. 'Can we go outside for a breath of fresh air ...?' Her voice trailed away to a rather startled silence as, turning her head, Lauren found herself staring into the dark face of a man who was obviously of Latin descent. Having just entered the room he was standing in the

great arched doorway, immobile as a statue, impassive yet observant. He was obviously looking for someone. She found herself staring at the face with a strange unfathomable fascination and, as if suddenly alerted by her interest, he turned his head in her direction, and his eyes—which from this distance appeared to be as black as pitch—seemed to bore into her very soul, and although she tried to draw her own away they were held as if by some magnetic spell. She was aware of the long dark face, the deep hollows below the exceptionally high cheekbones, the out-thrust line of the chin and the long aquiline nose with its accentuated nostrils— all distinctive features of an El Greco painting. 'Wh-who is it?' she breathed, bewildered by the tremor of uneasiness within her, and the tinglings that were shooting along her spine. The fine gold hairs on her forearms stood up ... as if to warn her of danger ... 'My brother's friend. I forgot to tell you that he was expected to arrive after dinner. I'll take you over to meet him—I've met him only once myself,' Roger added as, keeping hold of her hand, he began to thread his way between the dancers. 'But -' She stopped. Incredible though it seemed, she had been on the verge of making a swift protest, having no wish to meet this dark stranger whose disconcerting eyes still held hers in a cold mesmeric stare. 'Is something wrong?' Roger glanced questioningly at her and she shook her head at once. 'No, nothing ...' And yet she was still unable to withdraw her gaze from that of the man standing over there, by the door through which he had so recently entered.

'Come, then.' Leaving go of her hand, Roger took her arm possessively as he approached his brother's friend. On reaching him he said, 'Lauren, let me introduce Don Ramón Eduardo de Cabrera y Molina.' 'Your fiancée...?' A second's silence before he added, 'I'm happy to meet you, senorita." The voice, carrying the hint of an accent, was suave and faintly arrogant; the face of the speaker was inscrutable as he added, 'My congratulations on your engagement.' But, somehow, Lauren sensed a total lack of sincerity in the words, mainly, she supposed, owing to the tense, unsmiling countenance of the Spaniard who, standing a good two or three inches above Roger—who himself was by no means a small man—was seeming to tower above her in the most disturbing way. 'My brother's over there -' Roger indicated with his hand. 'Dancing with the young lady in green who, incidentally, is the twin sister of my fiancée.' 'Twin sister?' The black eyes flickered strangely. 'So there are two of you? How very interesting. I must meet your sister, senorita.' Lauren frowned, arid glanced at Roger. He appeared not to notice anything unusual about the Spaniard. 'I'll fetch Paul and Felice over,' offered Roger and, smilingly excusing himself, he left Lauren and Don Ramon together. She found herself swallowing hard, trying to remove the indefinable something that was preventing speech. Don Ramon spoke presently, asking how long she had known her fiancé. 'Just over six months,' she replied, wondering if this detached voice was really hers.

'Six months,' he repeated, after which there was an interlude of reflection. She knew without any doubt at all that he was doing a mental calculation, trying to recall what he himself was doing at the time she and Roger met. What a strange impression for her to have! And stranger still was that tremor of uneasiness that was again passing through her as she saw the unpleasant gleam that had come into his eyes. 'And when is the wedding to be?' he inquired, his eyes roving her face, taking in the firm classical features, the beauty of her russet-gold hair and the smoky-blue eyes. Her full sensitive mouth quivered slightly, a giveaway of the nervousness that was affecting her. Her dress, fitting her delectable curves to perfection, was cut low at the neck and the sudden movement of his eyes brought a vivid flush to her cheeks, and his brow lifted quizzically as he said, 'You're shy, senorita. How charmingly refreshing.' Considerably put out of countenance, she glanced towards the place where she had last seen her sister dancing with Paul. Roger was with them, she noted with relief, and soon Felice was meeting the Spaniard. Watching her sister, Lauren had to smile, for just as she herself had been mesmerised by the man, so was Felice undergoing the same experience now. Her hand was .taken in his, but not held unnecessarily long, as had been the case with Lauren. Presently Edwin came up, and as this freed Paul, he and his Spanish friend went off in the direction of the room in which was to be found the cocktail bar. 'Well,' grinned Roger, taking Lauren in his arms again and swinging her into the dance, 'what do you think of our Spanish guest?' 'He intrigues me,' was her frank reply. 'Paul's never mentioned him— at least, I don't recall his doing so.' 'They're business associates rather than close friends,' explained Roger. 'Don Ramon is a millionaire industrialist—although he comes

from a titled family,' he added, digressing for the moment. 'His greatgrand- father on his mother's side was no less than a duke. However, to get back to the relationship between him and Paul: he owns several factories and also extensive vineyards in Andalusia, his grapes being cultivated in terraces that run the full length of an extensive valley. Paul says that although he's a reserved man, and a haughty one, he admires him greatly and in consequence does a great deal of business with him. Paul's beep his guest several times at the Casa de Cabrera, the Renaissance-colonial palace in which the Don lives. It must be a fantastic place, for Paul talks of extensive grounds looking on to the sierra, of gardens laid out with pools at different levels, of fountains and marble statuary, and long cypress-shaded walks. 'Perhaps one day you and I will pay the Don a visit,' he added, looking down to see what effect this would have upon her. She knew she had paled slightly, and her eyes were not quite as bright as usual. In fact, Roger perceived no eagerness in her manner at all and a slight frown appeared between his eyes. 'Don't you like the Don?' he inquired unexpectedly and, taken by surprise in this way, Lauren sent him a startled look. 'What makes you say that, Roger?' 'I don't know ...' He became thoughtful for a space. - 'I should have expected you to show a rather extraordinary amount of enthusiasm for the suggestion I was making just now.' 'Is it possible that we can visit the Don?' she asked, playing for time. 'It's quite possible. Paul visits him and so he has only to mention that you would like to see the palace and I'm sure you and I would receive an invitation to do so.' She shrugged her shoulders in a gesture meant to convey to her fiancé that she would rather not pursue the matter. And yet, before

she quite knew it, she was asking if the Don was married, and frowning the next second as she pondered what had prompted the question. 'No. As a matter of fact, Paul is of the opinion that he isn't interested in a permanent partnership with a woman.' 'He's handsome,' commented Lauren,' and again she had no idea what had prompted the words. 'Undoubtedly,' agreed Roger. 'That bronzed skin and those Latin features.' 'He has an air of the aristocrat—but I expect that's due to his ancestry.' 'Quite the nobleman,' returned Roger. 'And he walks with the grace of a born athlete.' 'In fact,' said Lauren as if speaking to herself, 'the pattern of perfection.' At this Roger held her from him and laughed down into her eyes. 'You're more than ordinarily interested in our Spaniard,' he teased. 'Any more comments like that and I shall find myself suffering pangs of jealousy!' She laughed then ... but her thoughts were spiralling, leaving Roger and centring on another man, a man with Latin features and eyes that without effort could compel hers to meet them.

It was about an hour later that, having danced with Paul and then with Edwin, Lauren decided to step outside, on to the verandah,

where tables had been placed, with chairs around them. Several couples were there already, some chatting, others sitting close and holding hands across the table. For some reason Lauren desired a little time on her own, and on thinking about this desire she supposed it to be quite natural, since the excitement of the evening had been a little tiring, to say the least. The congratulations from all the guests as they arrived, the unmistakable glances of envy from girls who had previously cherished hopes of becoming the wife of one of the most eligible bachelors in the county, the admiring glances of the men— and at times their flattering comments on her beauty. All this, though pleasant, was bound in the end to tell on her and she decided that the more secluded atmosphere of the gardens would be preferable to that of the verandah where, she knew, she would be brought into someone's conversation. She had strolled away from the house, when, finding a seat in a sweetly perfumed arbour, she sat down, taking a deep breath and leaning back against the hard dead branches from which the rustic seat had been fashioned. The air was inexpressibly soft and sweet, the vast vault of the night sky a compound of moonlight and starlight and deep purple velvet. The garden, bathed in a silver effulgence, and encompassed in silence, drowsed lazily, lulled by the gentle strains of the music which could be heard coming from the open- windowed, brilliantly lighted banqueting hall of her future mother-in-law's ancestral home. . 'Oh, but I'm happy,' she murmured with an indrawn breath of content. 'And I'm lucky, too. I still don't know how Roger came to notice me—out of all those girls at the staff dance -' Suddenly she stiffened, aware of an onrush of tension as her ears caught the sound of footsteps—firm footsteps despite their quietness on the gravel path just a couple of yards from where she was sitting. She was stunned by her own swift perception as the words 'Don Ramón' leapt to her lips even before she saw him.

'Senorita ...' Soft the tone ... soft as a caress, she thought, then frowned heavily that such an idea should have entered her head. 'May I sit down beside you?' She caught her breath, hesitating and yet vitally aware of the compelling mastery of the man as he stood close to her, towering above her, his face in the shadows but his profile obdurate and austere. 'I—I ...' She tailed off, groping helplessly for an excuse to offer for a refusal of her consent for him to share the seat with her. 'I was wanting to be quiet,' she added lamely, hoping that she did not sound rude but feeling sure that she had not been very tactful at. all. However, Don Ramon appeared not to take offence —nor to be rebuffed by her manner. For he said in the same soft and easy tones, 'I shall not disturb your peace, senorita. On the contrary, I myself desire to sit in silence.' A frown touched her forehead. Don Ramon was the last person with whom she would have chosen to spend a quiet interlude. She would feel awkward, gauche, since he had such an air of confidence and superiority. She racked her brains to find some excuse for sending him away, but soon admitted that it was incumbent on her to be pleasant and cordial to a business associate of her brother-in-law. 'Very well, senor.' But almost immediately she added, before he could even make a move to sit down beside her, 'I'd rather walk, though—if you don't mind?' A silence, and a sardonic curve of his lips and then, 'If that is what you prefer, senorita.'

'It is.' She rose rather unsteadily to her feet, vitally aware of Don Ramon as a man, and of the air of romance about the whole situation—the secluded arbour, the luminous reflection of the moon on the ornamental pool in the distance, the simple, harmonious shades of light and shade in those parts of the grounds where the foliage of trees moved in the silent breeze. 'Er—shall we walk over th-there—by the pool?' Did his lips twitch, she wondered, or had she imagined it? 'That would be most pleasant,-' was his response, made in an expressionless tone of voice, and as Lauren moved away from the shelter of the arbour he fell into step with her, and matched his pace to hers. 'I met your sister,' he commented after a long while. 'She is not like you.' 'Not -?' Lauren glanced sideways at him. 'She and I are identical,' she said. 'People who don't know us intimately have always been unable to distinguish one from the other.' 'I was not referring to physical appearances,' he said smoothly. 'It was the inner person I was meaning.' 'I'm afraid I don't understand,' she challenged in a crisp and chilling tone, because it did seem that he was comparing Felice unfavourably with Lauren herself. 'Please do not take offence, senorita,' he rejoined swiftly, 'I am not speaking of your sister in derogatory terms.' 'Then just what did you mean?' she wanted to know. 'I saw two entirely different personalities.'

She shook her head at this. 'We have similar personalities.' Don Ramon stopped and Lauren had to stop too. They had been traversing the bank of the pool but had now reached a small spinney in the middle of which was a larger tree with a seat around it. Lauren and her fiancé often came here to spend a few intimate moments away from his family—his two sisters and his younger brother, Philip, who was still at school. 'Similar personalities,' mused Don Ramón. 'Tell me about your personality, senorita?' he invited, at the same time turning his head to glance at the seat. 'Shall we sit down?' She paused hesitantly. 'I think I should be getting back -' 'Not yet.' Commanding the tone despite its softness; Lauren found herself coughing nervously to clear her throat before speaking. 'I don't think ...' Her voice faltered under the dark domination of his eyes as they looked down piercingly into hers. What was this power he had—a power so strong that she was already wavering in her decision to return to the house? Yet she must not stay out here with this man! No, she must not\ 'I'll be missed, senor,' she persevered. 'You must understand that it's not the thing for me to be away from our guests for long.' 'You have not been out many minutes, senorita,' was his cool rejoinder. 'I watched you leave the hall, and so I know what time you left.' 'You've been watching me?'

'From the moment our eyes met across that room.' She shook her head bewilderedly, scarcely knowing how to handle this situation that had come upon her. She sensed, deep down within her, that this dark and dangerous Spaniard was no mere passing acquaintance whom she would never meet again, but a man whose influence upon her life was to have far-reaching and dramatic effects. Broodingly she dwelt on these thoughts and convictions, and all at once her mind was attempting to cast them off in favour of a cool objective acceptance of common sense. The man could not possibly influence her life! He was obviously a flirt, and it would have pleased him enormously to have been able to return to his own home carrying the knowledge that he had been able to flirt with a girl who was betrothed to another man, to flirt with her at her own engagement party! She found his pomposity intolerable, the man himself insufferable, and she decided that the sooner she put him in his place the better she would feel. 'I find your interest in me rather amusing, senor,' she managed, amazed at her swift recovery from the weight of his domination. 'Amusing?' A sudden glint of danger lurked within the depths of his eyes. 'Might I inquire, senor it a, whether or not you are ridiculing me?' 'Perhaps I am,' was her intrepid reply. 'You are On dangerous ground,' he warned, and to her chagrin her eyes fell under the direct threat of his gaze. 'I am not the man to accept ridicule from anyone ... and certainly not from a woman.' 'You forget, senor,' she told him with stiff formality, 'that you have asked for it.'

His eyes flickered to a point beyond her face; she heard the owl and surmised that he was looking for its flight. 'In what way?' he inquired at length and, being unable to say outright that she considered he had been making advances towards her, she shrugged impatiently and said, deliberately injecting a note of boredom into her voice, 'Can we find some impersonal topic for discussion, senor... as we walk back to the house?' 'We are not going back yet awhile -' He motioned with his hand. 'Sit down, senorita, and let us talk for a few minutes.' She began to shake her head, then stopped, her thoughts jumbled and confused as she looked up at him in indecision. So tall and straight he stood, the moonlight on his face. And all around the scented air and peaceful garden scene, the trees waving gently, their foliage dappled with silver stolen from the moon. Don Ramon's attitude was one of waiting and when at length he did speak, once again telling her to sit down, his voice held not the smallest degree of uncertainty. Why should he be so confident? And why should she be devoid of the power to assert herself—to say without hesitancy that she was going back to the house? It wasn't as if she really wanted to stay out here with this dark foreigner... or was it...? Doubts? They staggered her, bringing an insistent sense of consternation because she was being mentally torn, and her high ideals shaken. She knew that she should be escaping from him, but instead she found herself uttering words that seemed to come without her own volition. 'Well... if you want to sit and talk for a little while ...' He dropped into the place beside her, turning his dark head so that he could observe her in profile. 'I can't Stay long,' she quivered, already regretting her weakness. 'Just—just five minutes or so.' She knew a strange tenseness, and a tightening of the muscles round her heart.

She was playing with fire, but although the knowledge greatly disturbed her she was totally unable to marshall any resistance to the magnetism of the man who, sitting there in silence, so close beside her, seemed —to her imaginative mind—to be secretly gloating over his victory. 'Just five minutes or so,' she repeated, making a valiant endeavour to muster up a little resistance, 'and then we must go.' 'You do not appear to be enjoying my company,' he commented, and now there was a cool challenge in his voice that she knew she must meet. 'I have not been in your company long enough to know whether I enjoy it or not,' she returned, glancing sideways at him, seeing the clear-cut profile, the aquiline nose, the determined, out-thrust chin. His black hair looked different in the light of the full moon, but this difference in no way softened the severity of his features. 'In that case,' he responded calmly, 'we shall remain out here until you do know whether or not you enjoy my company.' Tensed and alert, and with every nerve tingling, she made to rise from the seat, but a hand on her wrist prevented this and she sat back unresistingly. But only for a moment; with a sudden supreme effort she wrenched her hand from his grasp and rose to her feet. 'Senor,' she said coldly, 'will you please excuse me? I-I must go back to my fiancé.' Don Ramon stood up, his whole manner one of haughty composure. But there was also something else about him that both puzzled and alerted her; he seemed to be contemplating some action as he stood above her, regarding her upturned face with an inscrutable expression. However, all' he said was,

'If that is your wish, senorita,' in a stiff impersonal tone which, for some reason she could not even begin to define, made her want to take back her own cold unfriendly words. She frowned inwardly, remembering that this man was a business associate of her future brother-in-law. Paul would not thank her for being rude to the Don. 'I'm sorry if I offended you,' she began, her voice edged with a humility she did not feel. 'You will surely understand that I can't remain out here with you in the —the -' Abruptly she broke off, blushing hotly and hoping that he would not guess what she was about to say. Alas for her hopes! she thought, as she heard him say, a quizzical note to his voice, 'In the moonlight, senorita?' 'You deliberately misunderstand me!' 'I think not,' coolly and with a direct look which, like that in the beginning, deeply disconcerted her. 'It is a romantic situation, is it not?' he added, and now there was a distinct edge of amusement about his tones. 'Don Ramon,' she said in deliberately emphasized accents, 'you seem to forget that I am shortly to be married to Roger, and that you are a guest in his house, being invited to our engagement party.' 'Forget that you are engaged?' he repeated, and . suddenly his voice throbbed with feeling. 'No, senorita —I am not likely to forget that. However, keeping it in mind, I can still take what I desired to take the moment I set eyes on you!' And before she could even suspect what might happen Lauren found herself in his arms, crushed in a steel-like embrace from which it was impossible to escape. Her face was forced up unceremoniously, and her mouth was almost bruised by the pressure of his lips. She struggled valiantly but in vain, vitally conscious of the magnetism and power by which he was compelling

her to reciprocate to his kisses; this power swept over her like a deluge, completely overmastering her and bringing her defences to nought. Shame and guilt enveloped her in the knowledge of her own helplessness, and deep colour spread into her face. A low triumphant laugh fell on the silent air when at. last he held her from him and looked with perception into her unguarded eyes. 'Let me go!' she cried, her anger finding an outlet as she hammered at his chest with her small fists. 'You disgusting creature! Roger will have you thrown out for this!' 'You'll tell him?' A glimmer of amusement entered Don Ramon's eyes. 'Most certainly I shall tell him!' She tried to free herself with the intention of running from him, but the grip of his hands on her wrists was like springs. He was slowly shaking his head from side to side. 'You'll never mention this to your ... fiancé.' His tone was harsh suddenly, and throbbing with emotion. She stared up into his dark face and shuddered. His expression was almost evil. 'No, senorita, you will keep silent about this romantic little interlude.' His eyes caught and held hers, held them as a predator holds its helpless, despairing prey. 'Our secret, senorita,' he went on, and now his voice was very quiet and the accent less pronounced. 'Our secret... yours and mine.' 'I think you're mad!' His eyes glinted. 'Mad, senorita?

'Let me go!' She made another effort to free her hands, but his grip tightened and she cried out as the pain travelled right up her arms. 'One more kiss,' he murmured, the expression of triumph returning to his eyes. His dark face came close to hers; she twisted away, but he caught her chin in a ruthless grip and she was once more unable to escape from his demanding lips. They took hers in arrogant possession, and although she fought to resist she found herself once again responding. His arms drew her body to him, and kept it there; she was acutely conscious of the hardness of his frame, and of the compulsion with which he was able to dominate her into abandoning the struggle. She stood passive, while his face came close to hers again and his sensuous lips caressed her face and her temples and forehead, and then her cheeks and the tender curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. 'Let me go,' she whispered when, holding her at arms' length, he uttered a low laugh and told her blandly that her expression was giving her away. 'You are content to be with me,' he asserted, and although a swift denial leapt to her lips it was never uttered, for she could not with honesty tell him that he lied. The blood surged through every vein in her face and neck at the idea that she really had been content to be in his arms, and she thankfully turned her face to the darkness. But he took it in his hand again, so that the full light of the moon played upon it. His eyes became unfathomable as they examined her lovely features, noting the tremulous mouth and the bewildered look she gave him. By what strange and frightening magnetism was he exerting his will over her like this? she asked herself. She could call out, or struggle so furiously that he would in the end have to let her go. But she did none of these; she had no desire to do so. Yet she whispered, her big eyes moist and pleading, 'I must get back to the house... and to our guests.'

'And to your fiancé,' he added, and once again his voice was harsh. But it had changed again, when, after a brief pause, he asked, 'Can you say with truth that you really want to return to the house?' Lauren nodded, but weakly. 'I must go,' she said again. 'And will you tell poor Roger of this?' he taunted. 'Do you honestly believe that you can?' 'Poor Roger?' she repeated, for the moment diverted. 'What do you mean by that?' 'You don't love him,' was the swift and brief rejoinder. 'Certainly I love him!' she cried wrathfully. 'By what arrogant presumption are you able to say a thing like that?' 'Your response to my lovemaking, senorita,' he told her quietly. 'You—forced your attentions upon me ...' Her voice faltered to a shamed silence. Why protest when she knew her excuse was totally lacking in strength? 'You enjoyed it.' He laughed softly, and gently caressed her lovely silken hair. 'You enjoyed it just as much as I did, so be honest with yourself, senorita, and admit that you do not love this man you have agreed to marry.' 'I love him! I know I love him!' The thin lips curved in a sardonic smile. 'Whom are you trying to convince?' he asked, arrogantly taking a handful of hair and tugging it so that, her head being forced

backwards, she was compelled to look up into his dark arresting face. What was this man doing to her? His mastery and power belonged not to a human being but to a devil. 'You're trying to convince yourself, senorita, or me?' 'I know I love him! I'm sure of it!' 'You were sure until you met me.' She said nothing and he added after a long moment of silence, 'You're no longer sure. In fact, grave doubts fill your mind at this moment; you're bewildered and confused. You would like me to make love to you, senorita -' 'How dare you make so vile an assumption!' The thin lips curled again. 'Poor Lauren -' 'Don't you dare call me by my Christian name!' 'Poor Lauren,' he repeated, ignoring her wrathful protest. 'You're afraid of me, but afraid of yourself even more. You desire to remain here with me even while caution urges you to put as much distance between us as possible.' He paused a moment but she did not speak. 'Stay, my love -' 'I'm not your love!' Again he ignored her protest as he asked her to remain out here with him, assuring her that she would not be missed for another half hour or so. 'Many people have come from the house to the gardens,' he added, 'although they have not found this secluded place, and so we shall be undisturbed. Stay, Lauren, and let us enjoy one another's—er— company for a little while.' No mistaking the implication and, fury

flooding over her, she raised a hand, to fetch him a stinging slap across the face, but her hand was caught and, with typical mastery, he put it behind her back and forced her to keep it there despite the fact that he knew he was hurting her. 'That,' he admonished, 'was most imprudent, senorita, for had you succeeded in your intention then I should have been obliged to punish you.'

CHAPTER TWO HER colour heightened; she turned away, wishing the moon were less bright, for it was obvious by the comments he had made that every change of expression was noted by him. 'Are you going to let me go?' Her voice had lost its power. She was limp and drained by his treatment of her, and she was also admitting to herself that he was right when he said she was afraid of herself. This man's magnetism, the strange unfathomable manner by which he could subdue her and force her to obey his silent command to respond to his kisses, these frightened her ... and yet... Was it fear she experienced ... or was it attraction? She shivered, wishing with all her heart that she had never met this Spaniard, this man with the handsome Latin features and splendid physique. She looked at his figure now, strongly revealed in the light of the moon. 'Yes,' he murmured, belatedly replying to her plea, 'perhaps we had better go back.' Yet he paused and once again his voice vibrated with some fierce but unfathomable emotion. 'You and I were meant to meet, Lauren. And we were meant to be more than acquaintances.' Another pause; she made no attempt to speak, desiring only to let him have his say so that they could return to the house as soon as possible. 'The Moors, from whom my people are descended, had an ancient saying that went something like this: "The Fates join; the Fates sever. Let no man interfere." ' She frowned, diverted. 'What does that signify?' she asked, a tremor of uneasiness hovering on the edge of her mind. 'It means that one fights against destiny only at one's peril.'

Lauren, pale now, but managing to regain some modicum of composure, told him quietly that it was her destiny to marry the man to whom she was engaged. 'I love him,' she added, 'no matter what you say to the contrary.' He made no answer for the moment, but when she looked up it was to meet a challenge in his gaze. 'I do love him!' she flared, suddenly furious that even by a look he could disconcert her. " 'No, Lauren,' was his quiet denial, 'you do not love him.' A pause and then, tauntingly and with a hint of arrogance in his tone, 'Just to prove it, I shall kiss you again, senorita, and you will respond -' 'I shall not!' A low laugh greeted this and within seconds she was in his embrace, his demanding mouth on hers. She swayed a little, trying to draw on some hidden resource with which she could do battle with this man. No miracle occurred and once again she was responding to his kisses. She had never known anything so devastating as this; Roger's lovemaking was insipid beside the passion of the Spaniard. She clung to him, and in the end she was actually offering her lips to him when, for a brief moment, he withdrew and looked with triumphant, laughing eyes into her flushed and radiant face. 'Ramon ...' The whisper fell from her lips unbidden, soft and gentle as the moonlight shimmering on the sleeping hills. 'Yes ...?' He was asking her to say that she loved him. The conviction acting on her like a draught of ice cold water, she wrenched herself free and shook her head, as if to rid herself of a memory—the memory of her own disgraceful conduct. She was stricken by the fact that, so short a time ago, she was happily dancing with her fiancé, all her future rosy and secure ... but now ... She looked at him, at the unreadable mask that was his face, then she glanced away, struggling

wordlessly to quell the tumult within her. Her throat was dry and aching, her pulses racing madly. 'I—I -' She stopped, for she did not know what to say to him. She saw the lines deepen at the sides of his eyes and knew that he was suppressing laughter, that the seriousness of a moment ago had given way to humour. And he bent his head to press his lips to hers, confident that she would offer no resistance. She struggled mentally, though, determined, this time, not to allow his ardour to affect her so that she was stripped of her defences. But he was equally determined to win, and this he did, and when eventually he held her at arms' length to look at her he said softly, 'Once again your expression gives you away, Lauren.' 'You're hateful!' she said. 'Protests,' he laughed. 'And how weak and unmeaningful they all are.' She turned away and he said softly, 'You're surely not going through with this marriage? It cannot possibly succeed -' 'Don't talk nonsense! Of course I'm going through with it!' The interruption quite plainly having annoyed him, he studied her frowningly for several disconcerting moments. 'We should have met before,' he said in an unfathomable tone. 'Why did it have to happen now—at a time when you're celebrating your engagement to another man?' She stirred and found that she was free. 'I'm going back,' she said, and began to walk away, hoping that he would not once again prevent her from leaving him.

'Yes.' He fell into step beside her until they reached the verandah and then, with a stiff inclination of his head, he left her and went back into the quietness of the garden. 'Lauren, where on earth have you been?' It was her future mother-inlaw's voice that brought her head around. 'Is something wrong, dear?' she added on noting Lauren's strange expression and the flush that was still settled on her cheeks. 'No, nothing,' was Lauren's hasty answer. 'I was so hot, and a little exhausted by all that was happening, that I went off for a little walk all by myself.' At the note of deep apology in her voice the older woman's eyes softened understandingly. 'It's been a rather trying evening for you, dear,' she agreed. And she held out a beautifully manicured hand. 'Come, Lauren, into my little boudoir, and we shall have a nice quiet few minutes drinking my own famous blend of coffee.' Smiling, and reassured, Lauren took the hand and allowed herself to be conducted to the charming apartment that Roger's mother called her private little boudoir. Here she had a coffee-maker and in a small corner cupboard were the cups and saucers and the sugar and cream. 'Did Roger know I was missing?' inquired Lauren as she relaxed against the cushions of the massive armchair. 'We all wondered where you were, but don't worry, Roger saw us coming in here. I nodded to him and he realised that I was intending to allow you a little time for quiet relaxation, with me.' Lauren bit her lip at this kindness. She felt so blameworthy ... and even soiled in some way which made her furious with the dark Latinfeatured stranger who had so unexpectedly intruded into her calm, well-ordered life.

'Thank you.' Gratefully she accepted the coffee and began to sip it. 'I've enjoyed this party—please don't think otherwise, but I do wish it was over.' The older woman nodded sympathetically. 'I, know just how you feel, Lauren dear. I had it, remember.' 'Yes. I suppose I'm sounding most ungrateful?' 'Not at all. We all love you, Lauren dear, and know that Roger will never regret having asked you to marry him.' Again Lauren bit her lip. She wished her heart and mind were not in such tumult. More than anything she wished she could go back, just one hour, for then she would not have gone out into the garden ... What was the use of thoughts like these? What had happened had happened and there was nothing on earth that could undo it now. Lauren looked at her future mother- in-law, saw the smile on her lips, the kindly understanding in her eyes... and she could not help dropping her own eyes, and wondering just what would be the woman's reaction were she to make a full confession, telling her what had happened out there in the moonlit garden, just a short while ago. Roger, too ... what of his reaction? Lauren felt like a traitor, unworthy of the position she was to hold in this fine family of aristocrats, a family who, fully aware of her comparatively humble background, had not made one single murmur of protest when Roger brought her home and told them that he intended to make her his wife. 'Feel better now?' The question came about twenty minutes later and Lauren nodded her head. But she was still thinking about Don Ramon, and wondering if she would be pestered by him again.

Her fiancé came to her immediately she entered the ballroom, a hint of concern on his handsome, rather boyish face. 'Are you all right, darling?' he asked—and suddenly Lauren wanted nothing more than to be in his arms, to know the subtle comfort of his breast on which to lay her head, to hear sustaining, reassuring words fall upon her ears. 'Yes—but do you mind if we sit somewhere quiet?' 'Anything you want, beloved.' They went to an alcove, and sat holding hands in an unbroken silence. Yet within Lauren there was agitation, irresolution, fear. Her lovely eyes reflected her inner confusion of mind. 'I love you, Roger,' she whispered, and at the fierceness of her tone he turned abruptly to look interrogatingly into her face. It was white and strained. 'But, dearest, I know,' he returned, puzzled. 'You want to hear it again and again, though?' A plea, and a catch in her voice. Her eyes did not fully meet those of her fiancé. The dark foreigner was focused before her misted vision. 'Of course, darling,' answered Roger, slipping an arm about her. 'It's music to my ears.' Lauren sighed, and valiantly fought to shut out the face of the Spaniard. She glanced at the ring she wore, a beautiful diamond which seemed to be on fire as it caught the light which was set into the wall of the alcove. 'I think, dearest,' said Roger reluctantly at length, 'that we must get back to our guests.'

She nodded, and soon they were dancing—Roger with one of his former girl-friends, and Lauren with Edwin. 'You look pale and tired,' he commented, and Lauren told him with mock sternness that he was the most tactless man she had ever met. 'Surely you know that you must never tell a woman she looks tired?' He laughed and said, 'I'm a truthful bloke, Lauren.' 'And I like you for it,' she admitted, responding to his laugh. She was forcing herself to adopt a lightness of spirit as she added, 'Hasn't it been a marvellous party?' 'Tophole.' He paused and grinned. 'Felice and I shan't be having anything like this.' 'Does that really matter?' 'No, I suppose it doesn't.' Was there a hint of discontent in his tone? she wondered, rather amazed that the notion could have come to her mind at all. 'Who's the dark, Castilian type who made a belated but dramatic appearance?' Compelled by some force to follow the direction of his eyes, Lauren found herself looking at Don Ramon's profile. He was standing on the edge of the floor, talking to Felice. And even through this distance his power and magnetism were conveyed to her. 'He's a friend of Paul's—or rather a business associate. He's from Andalusia.'

'The pagan land,' murmured Edwin. 'That's what it's been called, that vast wild and rugged region of Spain. It was once a great Moslem stronghold. Do you know what part he lives in?' 'Almeria, he has vineyards there—but he's in commerce as well.' 'Wealthy, I should say, by the way he carries himself. Only a surfeit of money gives one that sort of confidence and air of superiority.' 'He's a millionaire industrialist.' Deliberately she looked away as she saw Don Ramon turn his head in her direction. 'Lucky devil!' Edwin swung his partner rather abruptly past an oncoming couple. She glanced at him in surprise, and this time she was in no doubt at all about the hint of discontent contained in his voice. Did Edwin envy those with worldly goods greater than his own ? Lauren felt vaguely uneasy, and disappointed at the idea. The music having stopped, Edwin led his partner to the edge of the floor. 'Excuse me,' he said, and the next moment Lauren was alone—but not for long. 'So we are together again,' the Spaniard was remarking smoothly as he swept her into his arms even as she opened her mouth to refuse his invitation to dance'. 'My beautiful Lauren -' 'I am not your Lauren!' she snapped, deciding to adopt an icy manner from the start. 'You could be, senorita,' he said. 'You talk in the most absurd way, senor.'

He looked down at her, his scrutiny intent; she wondered with some misgiving if he were reading what was in her mind. 'In that case let us change the subject,' came his unexpected rejoinder. 'We'll talk about your sister.' 'My sister?' Leaning away from him, Lauren glanced up. 'Why?' she added with curt brevity. 'Because I think you should be warned that she is envious of you.' Lauren's eyes opened wide; they also flashed fire. 'How dare you say a thing like that? It's not only preposterous but it's also slanderous!' 'The truth, senorita.' The Don swung her into the centre of the floor, his dancing superb. Lauren, although occupied as she was with what he had said, could not possibly ignore the stares of many of the guests as she and Don Ramon, their steps in perfect unison, stood out in splendour from all other couples on the floor. The distinctive figure of the Don, the way he held himself with such an aristocratic air, the pale beauty of Lauren, her shining hair, and slender figure clad in its exquisitely cut evening gown, were bound to arouse interest, but the Don himself seemed to be totally unaware of the attention that was being paid to him. 'It is not the truth,' she denied, aware that the reason for making for the centre of the floor was in order that he could get to the other side ... and to get from the ballroom on to the verandah. 'Naturally your loyalty precludes any acceptance of what is undoubtedly a fact,' he was saying while he guided her with adroit moves towards the open window.

'I'm not going outside,' she told him in no uncertain terms. 'If you must dance with me, then do so, but when the music stops I must go over to my fiancé.' A low laugh, but totally without humour. 'I must talk to you, senorita. We shall sit out there on the verandah, and as there are people around us you will be quite safe.' She soon realised that she could not refuse without making a scene, simply because the Don had taken a firm hold on her arm and was actually propelling her outside. Angrily she sat down, wishing once again that the evening were at an end. But would she ever feel the same again? This man had done something to her that would forever leave an impression on her mind. She felt sure she would see his face at regular intervals through the years, when she was married to another man, and even when she had her own young family growing up around her. It was a disturbing impression, to say the least, but then everything about Don Ramon was disturbing. 'What is it, senor?' she queried, forcing into her voice a calmness she was far from feeling. 'Please be as brief as possible.' 'Your sister -' he began, when she interrupted him. 'We need not discuss Felice,' she told him in chill and shortened accents. He looked keenly at her as he sat down. 'Your attitude towards me,' he said in a strangely expressionless voice, 'is unbecoming in a lady. I find your manners deplorable, and, for your information, I say that they would not be tolerated in a lady of my country.'

She coloured a little, and looked away to where Marilyn, one of Roger's sisters, was chatting with her stepfather. They all got on with him famously—in fact, Lauren was looking forward to her own relationship with him, since that with her own father had never been as close as she would have wished. She felt cheated at times, having missed the intimacy which existed between her father and Felice. As a young child, she had been aware of it and, puzzled and bewildered, she would end up by vexing her father by her endeavours to attract his attention to herself. Felice never had to make an endeavour; his attention was hers without asking. Lauren sincerely hoped that, when she had children of her own, she would love them equally, but at the same time she was willing, now that she was older and more tolerant, to own that no real blame could be attached to her father for his preference. It was something that had happened; it was beyond his control and for many years now she had accepted it philosophically. A small cough brought her attention back to the man opposite to her and she realised that she had not commented on his censure. 'I do not think you can compare the women of my country with the women of yours, senor. I have heard that they are subjective to the so-called superiority of the male.' The Don's dark brows lifted a fraction. 'So-called?' he repeated with the merest hint of sardonic amusement. 'You are of the undoubted opinion that you are superior,' she returned, not altogether happy at this rather unfriendly interchange. She was finding herself poised in a state of indecision, wanting on the one hand to cut short the conversation at once, but on the other she was most reluctant to snub the Spaniard ... and this was not in

any way explained by the fact that he was a business associate of her future brother-in-law. 'Shall we get back to the question of your sister?' he said, leaning forward and lowering his voice so that it could not possibly be heard by those at the adjacent tables. 'I am warning you, senorita, because I feel it is important that you are alert. Your sister harbours the most unpleasant thoughts of jealousy because of your expectations of becoming the wife of a rich and titled man. She cannot ever hope to equal your position; she is brooding on the fact that you and she will move in totally different spheres of society and therefore -' 'Don Ramon,' interrupted Lauren at last, 'I can't allow you to go on. You've had your say and now can we return to the ballroom?' 'You must be on your guard!' He snapped out the words, his eyes glinting as if he would vent upon her his anger if she persisted in treating his warning as unimportant. Lauren started and shook her head. 'We've always been the very best of friends,' she told him. 'I can't think what gave you the idea that Felice envies me, but it's definitely the wrong one. She just isn't made that way, Don Ramon,' she added, and although she spoke indignantly her voice was no longer edged with unfriendliness. 'I don't like it at all that you have this impression about my sister. We are close, always have been, and never has one envied the other. We help one another; we used always to go about together -' She spread her hands in a distressed sort of way. 'You must not think such things about Felice,' she said, a slight break in her voice because of her regret that he should have formed a totally wrong impression of Felice. He looked directly at her, his eyes still hard, his mouth set in an implacable line.

'I am especially gifted at reading character,' he told Lauren quietly. 'Your sister might have been all that you say—until recently. But now ...' He trailed away as Felice herself appeared, walking just below the verandah with Edwin. 'Yes, until recently,' he continued, his eyes following the couple as they strolled towards the more secluded part of the grounds. 'But the fact that you're to be wealthy, and to have a title— these your sister envies you -' He lifted a hand imperiously as Lauren would once again have interrupted him. 'Be warned, Lauren! Do you hear me?' He might have been talking to his own sister, or to his wife—certainly not to a comparative stranger. 'I find your manner far too intimate,' she said coldly. 'I have no intention of taking orders from you, senor— especially that kind of order!' 'I am not giving orders, merely advice, good advice!' 'I don't require it!' 'You'll be sorry you didn't listen, senorita.' 'I happen to know my sister—you do not know her.' 'I've met her and spoken to her this evening.' 'Is that long enough for you to form an opinion of her character?' she challenged, and instantly he nodded his head. 'Yes, it is.' She shrugged her shoulders, and rose from her seat. 'Let's go back,' she said. 'No, Lauren ... let us walk in the garden again. I must talk to you -'

'You've just talked to me—about something which I resented.' 'This is different.' He paused after getting to his feet. 'I find, my dear,' he added shortly, 'that I must tell you what is in my mind.' She felt her heart lurch, desired to turn and run ... but all she did was stand there, waiting for she knew not what. She was aware of the eyes of people at the next table, eyes that looked rather oddly from her face to that of the man standing opposite to her, a man tall and lithe and angular, with a handsome face etched in the typical welldefined lines of the Latin races. 'Senor,' she murmured. 'Yes?' She moistened her lips. 'I—we…' 'Come, let us get away from here.' Softly he spoke, and she knew that he was instinctively wanting to hold out a hand to take hers, but he refrained and after only a moment's hesitation she inclined her head in a gesture of acquiescence and they both turned and left the verandah. This was madness, she told herself, glancing back as if she would like to run from him. 'Don Ramon,' she managed when at length they were well away from the house, 'this is all wrong.' 'A little frightening for you, but not wrong. When you have heard what I have to say you will feel much easier in your mind.'

She said nothing, but yet she went with him, following where he led and making no protest when he took her to the darkest part of the grounds, to a copse, lonely, and canopied by the thick foliage of the trees. No sound reached her ears, for the distance from the house was so great that the strains of the orchestra could not be heard. Her throat constricted; she told herself again that this was madness, that within the hour she would be regretting her weakness ... and yet she made no move when, pulling her gently to him, he bent his head and kissed her on the lips. 'It's ... wrong!' she cried in a strangled voice when presently he slackened his hold upon her. 'It's more than wrong—it's wicked!' 'It's destiny,' he said, and his voice was stern and hard. 'You were not meant to marry this Roger -' 'I shall marry him! Oh, why did you come here tonight! And, having come, why did you have to pick me out from all those women there? My sister -' 'You think I would choose your sister—had I not chosen you?' She made no answer; she had no desire to speak at all, for all at once she felt utterly drained and she would have given anything to be at home, lying peacefully in her own bed. And this man? She wished him back in his own country where he could not exert his strange power over her, where he would forget her. He might have read her thoughts, for quite without warning he said, 'You will remain in my thoughts for ever, Lauren. I have never met a woman I wanted in the way I want you. And I usually get what I want,' he added. 'Yes, I usually get what I want.' 'You won't get me,' she told him, staring into the dark face but seeing only obscure lines, for the moonlight could not penetrate this dark

and lonely place to which he had brought her. 'I intend to marry Roger.' 'After all this?' His voice carried amusement ... and a faint hint of contempt. Then he added, speaking with conviction, 'You'll never marry him, Lauren, never.' She looked swiftly at him, struck by something incomprehensible in his manner. 'You said just now that when I've heard what you have to say I shall be much easier in mind?' Don Ramon nodded his head. 'I said, when we talked before, that it was a pity we hadn't met earlier, that it was unfortunate that it had to be now, when you were celebrating your engagement to another man.' He paused and she nodded automatically. 'However,' he continued when she did not speak, 'it's not too late—fortunately. You can tell this man to whom you are betrothed that you've met someone else and therefore the engagement's broken -' The imperative flick of a hand stayed the interruption she was about to make, and as she looked into his dark Latin features she decided that it was far simpler to let him have his say, even though she was determined to turn a deaf ear to it. That he was about to impart something dramatic was striking her forcibly ... but she was totally unprepared for an offer of marriage. Rather would she have expected an altogether different suggestion, especially in the light of what she had been told of his having no interest in entering into a permanent partnership with a woman. He was speaking now, his voice falling quietly into the silence of the soft balmy air around them. 'Financially I can give you more than this Roger; also I'm offering you what I've never offered a woman before—marriage -' 'Marriage!' she interrupted. 'Marriage!'

'You heard aright, senorita,' he responded with some amusement. 'I can understand your amazement, especially in view of the suggestion I made earlier. But, during these few hours that have passed since then, I have watched you all the time, and gradually it came upon me that I could not live without you. I want you for my wife, Lauren.' She stared wordlessly at him, like someone in a trance, trying to accept the incredible fact that he wanted her for his wife. His wife ... As the current of her mind became a little clearer she found herself recalling his kisses, and the masterful strength of his arms about her. She recalled her own surrender ... a surrender which she owned was to carry her to a realm of bliss which she had never known with Roger. His wife ... It was a crucial moment, filled with tense uncertainty. Don Ramon Eduardo de Cabrera y Molina had asked her to be his wife. She could be his wife. He was standing very still, watching her intently from his great height. She knew she was pale, knew also that even yet again her expression would give her away, and she was thankful for the darkness around her, thankful that no matter how hard he tried he could not learn anything from her face. But had he been able to see he would have learned of her uncertainty, of her contemplation of a future with him as his wife. He would have known without any doubt at all that the power he had over her was swaying her, torturing her, tempting her to follow a path which, to her honest way of thinking, was wicked in the extreme. For a long while she remained silent, her mind chaotic as she thought first of Roger and then of Don Ramon. What must she do? She must fight, must do the right thing. This foreigner was a stranger to her; she knew nothing at all about him -

Her thoughts were interrupted as he began to speak again, saying once more that he was offering her what 'he had never offered a woman before. 'You should be greatly honoured that it is marriage I'm offering,' he added, and now his voice was stiff and formal and she gasped at the change in his manner. And the conceit of the man! His offer of marriage had been staggering; almost equally staggering was that cool stiff statement that she should be feeling greatly honoured by his offer. Arrogant creature! She had never met anyone as insufferable as this pompous, self- opinionated Spaniard! Well, he had managed to dissolve her indecision, and for that she was grateful to him. However, before she had time to speak he was saying, with that same calm suavity of tone, 'We were meant to meet, Lauren, and to marry. And so, should you persist in fighting your natural inclinations, should you stubbornly deny what fate has ordained for you, then you will regret it all your life. The memory of what you threw away will remain, ashes in your mouth.' Grave the tones now, and deeply warning the words. Lauren stared into those dark unfathomable eyes and a shiver passed through her whole body. Were his predictions correct? Would she one day come to regret the decision she was even now making? She told herself he was wrong, that she must live the life she had planned before he came into her life to shatter it. But how to tell him? She decided to make some attempt to lessen the blow—although she could not have given a reason for this. He certainly did not deserve any consideration whatsoever. On the contrary, it would do him good to suffer humiliation; it would reduce his pride and conceit to their correct proportions. However, this was only a thought on her part and she kept to her original intention of softening the blow if she could. 'You sound serious, senor,' she said coolly and yet a trifle amusedly, 'but of course it isn't possible that you are. If you have nothing more to say to me then don't you think we should be returning to the

house?' She looked at him, trying in the darkness to read his expression. She knew his mouth had compressed, knew also that his breathing was heavier than it was before. But nothing else was discernible and she waited patiently for him to speak. 'Senorita, I am serious.' She shook her head. 'No, you can't be. Let's go back, and I shall promise that I won't say anything of this to my fiancé—that is, if you promise never to molest me again—ever.' She hoped she sounded cool, and light. She wanted to impress him with the idea that she considered his offer more as a joke than anything else. However, his only response was a soft laugh ... a most confident laugh! Lauren stood irresolute, vitally aware of his nearness and that, should she make any attempt to move, he would be quite likely to exhibit his superiority and force her to remain where she was. But Don Ramon himself moved, and thinking he was acceding to her request, she fell into step beside him as he turned to leave the copse. On the edge of it, however, he stopped, and now she saw his face in the moonlight—a grim face yet with a certain light of humour in those dark and piercing eyes. She felt that his feelings were mixed, that while on the one hand he was confident of her eventual acceptance of his offer, on the other hand he was a little unsure of her, hence the grimness of his mouth and jaw. Lauren found herself once more in the throes of uncertainty and, quite without knowing it, she raised a pleading face to his. Her eyes became moist and limpid as they stared into his, willing him to abandon his mastery. But the man was so hard and impregnable that she felt he scarcely realised just how deeply distressed 'she was. 'You are not answering me, senorita,' he said at last. 'I've assured you of my sincerity. I want you for my wife. We shall be married within the week -'

'Please,' she interrupted, 'You're talking nonsense, senor.' 'No such thing!' 'I'm engaged to Roger and I intend to marry him.' She frowned heavily, now making no effort to soften the blow. 'Why, I don't even know you!' she added, injecting a contemptuous ring into her tones. 'What kind of a man are you to take it for granted that I would break my engagement to the man I love, and run off with a total stranger— a foreigner whom I've only just met?' Her glance carried the contempt contained in her voice. 'You say you're offering me marriage, but I don't believe you. Even if I did,' she added swiftly as she saw that he was about to make a protest, 'I would never marry a man like you!' His dark eyes glinted dangerously. 'That, senorita, is a slight!' 'You asked for it, senor.' He seemed to give a deep sigh. 'Is that your last word? You intend to defy the fates and marry this man whom you do not love?' She drew an exasperated breath. 'I do love him,' she returned impatiently. 'You don't seem able to accept that.' He was shaking his head. 'I do not accept it,' he told her. 'And you know yourself that you don't love him!'

'I intend to marry him!' 'That's your last word?' he asked again and, when she nodded without a second's hesitation, he stepped forward and without a trace of warning swept her into an almost savage embrace. Lauren struggled fiercely, her small fists hammering against his chest. 'Let me go!' she cried when at last he held her from him. 'Oh, you disgusting creature! I shall definitely tell Roger about this!' 'I very much doubt it,' was all he said before, again taking her by surprise, he crushed her body to his and claimed her protesting lips in a kiss both arrogant and ruthlessly cruel. 'I usually take what I want, senorita,' he told her softly when, having released her, he watched her take out a handkerchief and rub hard at her mouth. He looked like some figure out of the past, this man from Andalusia whose inhabitants had absorbed something from each successive nation that had conquered them. Lauren recalled that pagans had conquered at one time, Christians at another. Many different tongues had enriched the language of the Andalusians and many were the contrasts existing between these peoples from the south and the average Spaniard of other parts of the country. 'You say you don't know me,' he was saying. 'But time has no meaning when fate intrudes into our lives. You and I have met, senorita -' Here he paused to allow his next words to be carefully taken in. 'We have met,' he repeated, 'and if you ignore what fate has planned for you then you must be prepared to accept the consequences. Are you prepared to accept them?' She felt a little of the colour leave her face, but she held on to the strength that had helped her to make her decision.

'I am prepared, senor.' 'Then be it on your own head,' and with a curt good night he was gone from her into the garden proper. She leant against a tree, watching his tall figure until it was out of sight. 'Thank goodness he's gone!' she exclaimed and, strolling at a far more leisurely pace then he had done, she made her way back to the house—and to the fiancé who was waiting for her on the verandah.

CHAPTER THREE As usual, Lauren arrived home from work at half past five in the afternoon; her father—when working at home—was always a quarter of an hour earlier, her sister a quarter of an hour later. For five years there had been just the three of them, the twins' mother having died a few days after their fifteenth birthday. 'I've put the meat under the grill,' her father said in a cool and distant tone. 'But there are the vegetables to do.' 'Yes, I'll do them.' Lauren had been rather hurt by the change in her father's attitude towards her, because up till recently they had been a happy, united family despite the favouritism he showed towards Felice. 'Felice is late,' Mr Warby was commenting about three-quarters of an hour later. 'I wonder what's happened?' 'The buses,' replied Lauren unconcernedly. 'They're bad enough when I'm coming home, but at the time Felice finishes work they're even worse.' 'You'll soon be leaving.' Mr Warby frowned and looked morose as he said this. 'Poor Felice will have to go on and on, even continuing to work when she's married.' Lauren turned away, going into the kitchen to take a look at the vegetables which were simmering on the electric cooker. She wished she could have believed that Felice would some day have life easy in the same way it was going to be easy for Lauren, but it did not seem as if it ever would be. 'I feel guilty,' she murmured to herself as she put the crockery and cutlery on to a tray in readiness to carry it into the dining-room where

the evening meal was always served. 'It's unreasonable that I should feel guilty, but I do.' She would be titled, and she would be mixing with people like her husband, and his parents and friends. Felice, on the other hand, would in all probability be lucky if she and Edwin were able to put down the deposit on a house similar to the one that Felice was living in now—an ordinary semi-detached, three bed- roomed house on a rather overcrowded estate not too far from town. Roger had already bought a lovely Tudor manor house set in seventeen acres of gardens, paddocks and woodland. A stream ran along the border of his land and on two sides could be seen the lovely Welsh hills. 'Where can Felice have got to?' Mr Warby came into the kitchen, a troubled frown on his face. Lauren noticed his pale eyes and the greying hair, the lines on his face. He seemed to have aged recently, she thought, wondering if his health were deteriorating. 'She's never this late.' Glancing at the clock, Lauren had to agree and said she would ring Miriam Oldham, Felice's friend, who lived about five minutes' walk away. 'She might have called there on the way home,' she began, when her father interrupted her. 'She never calls anywhere on her way home,' he said impatiently. 'Edwin will be here in half an hour's time and she knows that he doesn't like to be kept waiting for her to get ready. They're going to the Odeon to see the film.' 'Yes, I know,' soothingly and with a smile. 'But I'll phone, just the same, Father, just to make sure she isn't there.' Miriam had not seen her since the previous evening.

'I'll bet she's in a traffic jam,' added Miriam. 'The buses are dreadful at this time of the day.' 'That's what I've told Father, but he's becoming rather worried.' So was Lauren, and a frown had settled on her face by the time she returned to the kitchen. 'I knew she wouldn't be with Miriam.' Mr Warby was pacing about, his eyes repeatedly going to the clock on the wall above the door. 'Something's wrong!' 'She's only an hour late ...' An hour. It was certainly a long time, and Lauren no longer accepted that Felice was held up by the traffic. 'An hour!' Mr Warby glared at her, just as if Felice's lateness was entirely her fault. 'She's had an accident, Lauren! Can't you see that she's had an accident?' He was becoming worked up and to her horror she saw him put a hand to his heart. 'Is—something wrong, Father?' she asked, memory flooding back as she recalled how her mother had had a heart attack and died within an hour of being admitted to the hospital. 'I'm not well,' he owned, his voice low now and devoid of its impatient edge. 'I haven't been myself for some weeks.' 'Then why didn't you tell us?' She looked at him through troubled eyes. 'Darling, you must see a doctor. I'll not go in to work tomorrow, and -' 'Never mind me at present, Lauren. What can we do about Felice?' She glanced at the clock. 'I don't know what to say. Should I ring up the hospital?'

He nodded his head. 'Yes, Lauren, please do that.' 'Nothing,' she was saying five minutes later. 'There's been no young lady admitted today.' She had just finished speaking when the telephone rang. 'I'll take it,' she offered, and ran from the kitchen into the hall. 'It's sure to be Felice,' she called over her shoulder in a reassuring tone. It was Roger's voice she heard as she picked up the receiver. 'Lauren! Is that you, darling?' 'Yes. Roger, I didn't expect a call from you tonight. It's lovely to hear your voice -' 'And it's a relief to hear yours!' he interrupted, and she could not miss the grim way in which this was said. 'I've just had a phone call from some maniac to tell me that you've been kidnapped and I'm to pay twenty thousand pounds for your release. If I had my way I'd flog practical jokers!' Silence. Lauren's heart had given an uncomfortable leap long before her fiancé had finished speaking. She felt the colour drain from her face as she said, 'Felice hasn't come home ...' She could not say any more, for something terrible blocked her throat. 'She's not come home? But is she very late?' 'She should have been home at quarter to six; it's now almost a quarter past seven.'

'I don't know what to say, sweetheart.' He sounded troubled—but not unduly so. 'She's bound to be home directly. I shouldn't worry, Lauren -' 'But in view of what you've just said, Roger,' she cut in urgently, 'it would appear that there could be some truth in what that man said to you. Felice and I are so alike that it would be quite feasible to think that she could have been kidnapped instead of me.' 'We've had our pictures in the papers so much lately,' he said reflectively. 'It could be that someone believed he could make a cool twenty thousand without much trouble.' 'Lauren—what is it?' Her father's voice prevented her from answering her fiancé and she turned to him, desperately searching for words that would not cause him anxiety. 'It's Roger,' she said, and saw the look of relief come to her father's face. 'He doesn't usually ring at this time.' Roger was speaking again and Lauren gave him her full attention. 'You must get in touch with the police, Lauren—at once.' 'Yes—yes, I will,' and without even saying a word of goodbye she hung up the receiver. It was not true, she kept telling herself, acutely conscious of her wildly-beating heart, and that all her nerves were rioting. No, it could not be true! This was what happened to other people, but not to us... 'Lauren, you're as white as death!' snapped her father. 'Speak, girl, and tell me what you've learned just now?'

She turned to him, but before she had time to speak the doorbell rang. 'Edwin,' she said, and ran to open the door. The words then came tumbling out, disordered words which took the colour from her father's face as he stood, to one side of her, as she spoke to Edwin. 'They've kidnapped Felice ...' He looked at Lauren and his eyes were suddenly hard. 'Instead of you— they've taken the wrong girl.' She swallowed, and nodded her head. 'But are you sure about this?' put in Edwin who, strangely, was not nearly as troubled as Lauren had expected him to be. 'After all, she's only an hour and a half late. Anything might have happened; she might have been kept late at the office -' 'The office closes at five o'clock,' cut in Mr Warby, his hard eyes still fixed on Lauren's white face. 'If you hadn't suddenly come into the public eye,' he said slowly, 'this wouldn't have happened.' Edwin frowned at him. 'That's no way to talk to Lauren,' he protested. 'This isn't any fault of hers.' 'Indirectly it is -' 'I'll ring the police,' interrupted Lauren practically. 'That's the most important thing at the moment.' 'The police ...' Edwin was frowning heavily. 'Is that wise, Lauren? I'm afraid—dreadfully afraid for Felice's safety. No, I don't think we should contact the police.' Mr Warby stared at him.

'Then what should we do?' he demanded wrathfully. 'Lauren, telephone the police I' 'Yes ...' Her voice trailed away to silence as she stared, fascinated, at the folded piece of paper that lay on the carpet behind Edwin who, standing with his back to the door, had not been able to see it. 'A—a letter ...' Edwin turned then and picked up the paper. It was snatched' from his hand by Mr Warby, whose face changed to a sickly grey as he read aloud what was written. 'If you value your daughter's life then keep away from the police. She insists that she's not Lauren, but we don't believe her. It's a ruse which isn't coming off. Twenty thousand pounds is demanded for her safe return. Her fiancé will pay.' Mr Warby stopped, then said that the instructions about payment were written at the bottom of the page. Lauren took it from him, her hands trembling. She read to herself what was written and then, looking up into her father's drawn face, she said soothingly and with complete conviction, 'Don't worry, darling, Roger will pay.' 'You're sure?' 'Yes, of course,' she replied confidently. 'He'd have done it for me, so I'm sure he'll do it for Felice. I'll phone him immediately.' This she did, but to her surprise Roger again advised her to get in touch with the police. 'But, Roger -' 'Don't delay any longer,' he cut in. 'I'll ring you in half an hour or so, to find out what's happening.'

'I -' She stopped, pausing for a moment. Roger spoke again, but she failed to hear what he said, so deep in thought was she—and so terribly disappointed at his reaction to what had happened. 'Are you still there?' he asked, and it did seem to Lauren that a hint of impatience edged his voice. 'Yes, Roger, I'm still here.' Why, she frowned, should she—at this particular moment—suddenly see the face of the Spaniard? 'Yes, I'm still here,' she repeated when Roger did not speak. 'Father's in a dreadful state, Roger, and I—I don't know what on earth to do.' She sounded almost childishly hurt, although she was not aware of this, but Roger obviously realised just how she was feeling because his tones were low and soothing when next he spoke. 'Darling, telephone the police—at once. Or perhaps you'd like me to do it for you?' 'Edwin advises us not to get in touch with them. And I told you just now, the note says that if we value Felice's life then we must keep away from the police - Oh, Roger, you know very well what happens when people in our position contact the police. The victim is—is killed -' She broke off and, because her nerves had reached a pitch where she could not control them, she burst into tears. 'I'm at my wits' end. Roger! Please, darling, come round. I'll feel much better if you're here, for I know you'll advise us what to do!' 'You must get in touch with the police,' was his firm inflexible response. 'And without delay, Lauren, no matter what the letter says.' She held the receiver from her, quite unable to accept that her fiancé was acting in this way ... this callous way. She turned, saw her father's grey face, and the way his eyes seemed to have sunk right back into their sockets. She thought of Roger, and

the conversation she had just had with him. She thought of Felice, terror- stricken, living somewhere. Somewhere. Suddenly Lauren's whole rosy world seemed to have collapsed and deep inside her she was convinced that it would never be the same again, that there would be no real recovery from the disaster that had overtaken her. And yet wasn't she accepting something that might not have happened? As Roger had first implied, the phone call he had received might have been made by a practical joker ... But no, for there was the note as well, and the fact that Felice was missing. 'Lauren'' Her father's voice cut into her thoughts and dumbly she gave him her attention, aware of Edwin standing there—seeming to be doing nothing at all, not even thinking about what was the most practical way in which to act. 'Roger hasn't offered the money, has he?' 'No, Father,' she admitted flatly, 'he hasn't.' 'He hasn't ...' Edwin spoke, his face suddenly tight, his hands clenched hard at his sides. 'Then how are we going to get Felice back?' Something in his tone made Lauren look hard at him, and as she did so some strange and inexplicable tremor passed through her. And only then did she realise that it was not anything contained in his tone that had arrested her—but something lacking in his tone. Somehow, Lauren had the impression that he was not quite so troubled as he ought to be in the circumstances. 'Yes,' repeated Mr Warby, 'how are we to get Felice back?' , Lauren shook her head wordlessly. She had supposed that because Roger would have paid out the money for her recovery, he would also pay it out in order to restore her peace of mind. She decided now that the immediate offer of the money had been too much to expect

from her fiancé. He required more time, he also required to be convinced that Felice really had been kidnapped. 'She could turn up at any moment,' said Lauren, speaking her thoughts aloud, but both Edwin and her father spoke together, saying that this was merely wishful thinking on her part. 'We've to accept that Felice has been taken in your place, that a mistake has been made.' 'She's told them this,' pointed out Lauren. 'They might believe her or they might not. But in any case, they're not going to let her go without the money, that's obvious.' Her father turned away, and Lauren saw him put a hand to his heart again. And then he staggered, coming up against the wall just as Lauren and Edwin reached him. They got him on to the couch and Lauren fetched the brandy bottle. 'I must get the doctor,' she cried, noting his colour and the way his eyes had begun to turn. 'Oh, Edwin, this is a dreadful thing to have happened!' The tears were streaming down her face as she sped back to the hall to phone the doctor. He came at once and pronounced that Mr Warby had had a heart attack. 'But he's never before complained about his heart,' she began, when she was interrupted by the doctor, who informed her that her father had been visiting him for the past year, and that he had been taking tablets regularly since the first visit. 'I see…' She looked at Edwin for guidance. He frowned darkly and shook his head. She herself frowned, undecided even now about confiding all to the doctor. However, she let him go, but immediately

the door had closed behind him she turned to Edwin and asked his reason for not wanting to let the doctor into the secret. 'The fewer people who know, the better, Lauren. We must not get up these people's backs. They're usually ruthless -' 'You've no need to tell me,.' she interrupted, swallowing the hard ball of fear that filled her throat. 'Oh, Edwin, what must we do now?' She spoke over her shoulder, making her way back into the sitting-room where her father lay. He was greyer than ever and fighting for breath. But the doctor had assured Lauren that he would be all right in a short while—although she must be prepared for another attack. 'If he should receive any sort of shock it could prove fatal,' were the doctor's parting words as she opened the front door for him to leave. 'I'm going to see Roger,' she decided when at length her father was more himself. 'He must pay—he will pay, I know I can persuade him to!' After a quick wash and change Lauren went out, catching two buses before she reached the lovely tree- lined lane off which was the milelong drive along the grounds of her fiancé's home. She had been undecided about phoning him at first, since for some reason she felt that he would not want her to visit him this evening and so she abandoned the idea of warning him of her visit. She rang the bell on reaching the house and it was opened by the butler who, smiling a welcome, opened the door wider and motioned her to enter. 'Mr Roger isn't expecting you, I think?' 'No, but tell him I'm here.' She walked past the man into the lovely painted drawing-room, unaware that she had committed a breach of etiquette. 'It's very urgent—but he knows that.' Her face was white

and this registered with the butler, whose smile faded, to be replaced by a look of anxiety. 'I'll get him at once, Miss Warby,' he promised, and went away. Roger entered less than three minutes later. 'Lauren, my dear -' 'Roger!' She flung herself into his arms. 'Roger darling, you will pay? Please say you'll pay the ransom money!' He frowned at this, but then held her close to his breast. 'Darling,' he said reasonably when at length he thought she had become more calm, 'one doesn't pay out twenty thousand pounds just like that. After all, Felice is not my fiancée, you are -' 'Would you have paid it out for me?' she wanted to know, and he immediately said yes, he would not have hesitated to pay out for her. 'In that case,' she added reasonably, 'there's no real difference, is there? They took her but meant to take me. It's just a mistake -' 'Lauren dear, it's not quite the same thing.' 'It is! They meant to take me. Oh, Roger, you must pretend that it's me!' she cried, scarcely aware of the absurdity of this. 'You say you'd have paid without hesitation—and, I'm sure, without delay -' 'Most certainly without delay. I'd not have you living in fear -' 'Felice's living in fear!' 'I agree, but she's not my fiancée.'

Lauren stared at him, failing utterly to see the logic of what he was saying. If he were willing to pay out twenty thousand pounds for her, then why could he not pay it out for Felice, who was her sister, and whose death in such circumstances would put a blight on Lauren's life for ever? 'Father's had a heart attack.' She looked pleadingly into his face. 'I know you and he don't get on together, and that's why you wouldn't come tonight, but, Roger, he's my father and I love him. I don't want him to die.' Roger was frowning heavily, but before he had time to speak the door opened and his mother stood there, a look of puzzlement on her face. Roger and Lauren drew apart and Roger asked if he could tell his mother what had happened. Before Lauren could make up her mind his mother was saying, 'Something's wrong, obviously. What is it?' and she stepped forward and closed the door behind her. 'Lauren, is something the matter at home?' Lauren nodded and looked up at Roger. Taking this as permission to talk, he related to his mother just what had occurred'. Her expression changed several times but she did not interrupt, speaking only when he himself had come to the end of what he was saying. 'You expect Roger to pay the twenty thousand pounds?' She looked at Lauren, and it did seem that, for the very first time, there was a hint of hardness in her voice. 'But, dear, is that reasonable?' Lauren stood there, looking from one to the other, despair slowly taking possession of her. She shook her head, bewildered and unable to bring her mind to that state whereby she could say categorically that she was asking too much, or that they were reasonably amazed that she should have expected this concession. At last she said,

repeating to her future mother-in-law what she had already said to Roger, 'If it had been me, then Roger would have paid. He's just said that he would.' 'Undoubtedly he would,' agreed his mother, 'but this situation is rather different, Lauren. Felice is not Roger's fiancée.' 'I don't understand,' she returned in a low tone of distress. 'I know it's Felice who's been taken, but on the other hand, it could have been me. It should have been me.' And she thought: Why wasn't it? For then all would have been easy, because Roger would have paid out the money at once. Yes, why did they have to make the mistake? 'From what I can gather,' Roger's mother was saying, 'you have no idea of what actually happened?' Lauren shook her head, saying that she had told them all she herself knew. 'She must have been taken when she left work, I suppose.' 'You ought to get in touch with her boss, to find out if she actually arrived at the office this morning.' 'Yes, I expect I should, but you see, with Father having the attack all else went out of my mind, and as soon as he was feeling better I decided to come here -' She raised misted eyes to her fiancé's face. 'I wanted to be with you,' she said on a little moan. 'I w-wanted y-you to comfort me.' 'Edwin,' interposed Roger's mother, after a pause during which her son drew Lauren into the circle of his arm, 'where is he?' 'At home—at my home, I mean. He's with my father.'

'Isn't he doing anything about Felice?' 'There's nothing he can do. None of us can do anything ... unless we have the money,' and she glanced upwards again into Roger's face. It was impassive and she knew without any doubt at all that he would not pay the ransom money for her sister's release. And yet because she was filled with desperation she cried, 'Pay—please pay! Some day, somehow, I'll try to pay you back -' 'Don't be silly,' interrupted her future mother-in- law. 'How could you ever pay it back?' 'You're right.' Lauren's whole body drooped. 'What on earth can I do?' she asked on a small sob. 'I can't ' let my sister be—be k-killed ...' She tried to hold back the tears but failed, and Roger drew her close to him and caressed the top of her head, letting her have her cry before, producing a handkerchief, he gently dried her eyes and cheeks. 'I know just how you feel, darling,' he murmured, 'but you must see that I can't just part with twenty thousand pounds like that. It's too much to ask -' 'But had it been me,' she cried, desperately making one last endeavour to force him to change his mind, 'you'd have paid it— willingly.' 'Not willingly altogether,' intervened his mother. 'One doesn't throw away that sort of money willingly, my dear.' Lauren looked' at her from the place she occupied in Roger's arms. For the first time she was examining her objectively—as a woman and not as her future mother- in-law. She saw an aristocrat, tall and stately of bearing, a lady of quality with fine and noble features and attractively greying hair, dressed to perfection. She saw the

expensive suit she wore, the diamonds gleaming on her hands and in her ears. She looked into her eyes—eyes that so often smiled at Lauren—but now they wore a hardness that Lauren had never noticed before. And the mouth—it was set and rather tight. Lauren swallowed, feeling for the very first time as if she did not really fit in here, among people who had been born with the proverbial silver spoon in their mouths, people who were perfectly at home in a house like this, whose friends were quite often rather condescending towards Lauren, although she had managed up till now not to be in any way put out over this. So many others had accepted her, smiling upon her—especially the men, who had quite openly declared that Roger had chosen her for her beauty. 'I'd better go home,' she said, and again a sob caught her voice. 'I don't know what we shall do.' 'This note—you haven't brought it with you, obviously?' Lauren shook her head. 'No, I didn't think to do so; I came out in such a hurry.' Pleading her voice still, but no effect was made on either of the people present. 'You were told how and when to pay the money?' 'Yes.' Lauren went on to explain what had to be done. 'But now,' she added, 'I shall have to say that the money will not be paid.' 'They'll then send your sister back.' 'But we shall have to be careful that they don't make another attempt—and get Lauren this time.' Roger spoke in a deeply troubled tone. 'I wish they'd taken me in the first place!'

No response, and in the deep silence Lauren felt once again that she did not really belong here. Leaving her place within the circle of Roger's arms, she made a move to go. 'I'll see you when I can, Roger,' she quivered. 'Naturally I won't be going out to dinner with you tomorrow" night as arranged. I must stay with Father, and in any case, I couldn't go out enjoying myself when Felice is in such grave danger.' Roger nodded in agreement and said sympathetically, 'Don't worry, darling, I'll make your excuses to Sir John and his wife. And I'll phone you later tonight to find out if anything has transpired.' He paused a moment before adding, 'She might just turn up, you know. Once they've given some thought to the fact of having taken the wrong girl they might decide it were safer to let her go.' 'It's a hope, I suppose,' agreed Lauren. And then, with another examining look at her future mother-in- law, she moved towards the door. 'I'll be going Surely, she thought, Roger would offer to run her home. This he did, and just over half an hour later he was dropping her off at her gate. 'You won't come in?' she pleaded, but he shook his head at once. 'Your father never welcomes me when he's well, Lauren, so he isn't going to welcome me now.' She agreed, but silently. Her father, lying brooding as he almost certainly was at this time, would be far from pleased to see the man who had been the indirect cause of all this trouble that had come to them. 'I'll ring you later,' promised Roger again and, taking her in his arms and kissing her, he said a tender good night and stepped back into his

car. Lauren turned at once and ran up the steps; the front door was unlocked and she entered swiftly and went into the sitting-room, where her father lay on the couch.

CHAPTER FOUR 'WELL?' he said at once, his sunken eyes examining her face. 'No... He's refused to pay?' She swallowed and nodded her head. 'I'm afraid so, Father.' 'Had it been you, though, he'd have paid up, I suppose—prompt!' Such bitterness she had never expected from her father, yet she herself was by this time allowing the admittance of a tinge of bitterness, for she could not fully excuse her fiancé's attitude of near indifference to the misery of his future wife and her father. True, he had never liked her father—and in all honesty she had to own that the unfriendliness existing between the two men was not in any way Roger's fault—but that was not a valid excuse for refusing to help in this dire situation. Her father spoke again, and she actually jumped at his first words. 'Another note's been pushed through the door. They've admitted that they've abducted the wrong girl but still demand payment in full -' He stopped and for one fearful moment she thought he was about to have another, attack. But it was merely emotion that caused his voice to fail. 'Payment, Lauren, or else ...' His voice broke and Lauren had no need to ask about the rest of the contents of the note. She was white to the lips when she turned her face to that of Edwin. He was standing by the window, and had been looking out into the darkness, but he turned on Lauren's entering the room, the light of expectancy in his eyes, a light that died instantly he had noted her expression. She stared at him, without knowing why she should be staring quite so hard or so piercingly. 'What can we do?' he said at last, and for some indefinable reason she gained the idea that he had spoken simply because the silence, and the direct stare to which Lauren was subjecting him, were too much for him and he had to put an end to them.

'This note—' Lauren turned to her father. 'Where is it?' 'Edwin has it.' She turned again. 'I'd like to see it.' 'It's there on the table.' She picked it up, saw it contained all that her father had said it contained. It was written in block capitals, on cheap notepaper of the kind that can be bought in small packets complete with envelopes. For some reason she put it to her nose, but there was no smell to it. Edwin was watching her closely; she became aware of this and something tingled all along her spine. 'It was dropped through the letter-box?' 'Of course,' snapped her father irritably. 'Where else would it be dropped!' 'I'm sorry.' She paused a moment, frowning. 'They're venturesome, aren't they?' she said, aware of something most puzzling about the whole business. 'It was risky to come to the house like that— especially at this particular time, when we're all on the alert, so to speak.' Neither man made any comment and she added, her frown deepening, 'You didn't hear anything -?' 'Obviously we didn't hear anything,' with some considerable asperity from her father. 'Did you expect them to ring the bell?' She said nothing, her understanding and sympathy coming at once to the forefront of her mind.

'I think,' she suggested at last, 'that we have no alternative than to ring the police -' 'No!' from Edwin with force. 'They've said they'll kill her -' 'Be quiet,' she cautioned, noting her father's expression change suddenly. 'I'm taking charge of this business, Edwin, and I intend to get the police at once.' 'You shall not do this!' It was her father who spoke now, and the perspiration was pouring on to his forehead. Lauren caught her breath, terrified that he would harm himself by this rise of emotion and anger. 'I'm in charge! I'll not have the police called in, do you understand?' 'But, Father,' she protested, 'we can't just sit here and do nothing.' It was now after eleven o'clock and she could not keep her mind from picturing her sister, sitting somewhere in a small prison, every minute like an age, her terror-stricken eyes darting to the door each time it was opened. 'I can't stand it,' she whispered to herself. 'I must do something.' 'You said Roger would pay!' 'He advises us to contact the police,' she began, then said no more. The mention of the police was obviously harmful to her father's condition. She glanced at Edwin. 'Well?' she said, and wondered why her voice was suddenly curt. 'Have you any suggestions?' 'Only that the money be found, Lauren. It must be found!' He appeared distressed enough, yet Lauren sensed an added uneasiness that seemed not to be relevant to the situation at all. 'Where can the money be found?'

He shook his head. 'If Roger won't cough up—I mean, if Roger won't help ...' He shrugged helplessly and, turning back to the window again, stared out into the darkness, his hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his jacket. 'Father,' said Lauren after a long silence, 'do you think you can get upstairs to bed?' 'Bed?' he stared disbelievingly at her. 'Do you mean to tell me that you're intending to go to bed—just as if nothing has happened?' 'No, darling,' she replied with infinite patience. 'But you should be more comfortable than you are -No, please don't interrupt me until I've said what I want to say. I know you won't sleep, any more than I shall, but you'll be more relaxed in bed. Edwin and I will help you to get upstairs.' She gave him one of her lovely smiles, even though smiling was the last thing she felt like doing, and she would have taken his hand in hers, but he pulled it away on realising her intention. She swallowed hard, but her understanding came to her aid and she allowed the snub to pass as if she had not even noticed it. Eventually he was persuaded to go to bed and she and Edwin took him-there. After he had been given a warm milk drink Lauren and Edwin sat in the room downstairs until after midnight, talking, trying to think of some way out of this terrible situation. Edwin said at one time, 'If you hadn't ever become engaged to Roger this would never have happened, Lauren,' and something in his voice left her puzzled and uneasy. 'But we've already admitted this,' she pointed out, and he nodded and heaved a great sigh.

'I wish you'd never met this man!' he said vehemently. 'We were all happy until you became engaged to Roger.' She frowned and said, 'Edwin ... is there something which I don't know?' Why a question like that? But why this uneasiness, this vague yet persistent feeling that somewhere in the background there was another aspect of the situation—a mysterious aspect? 'You know it all, Lauren,' came the reply, but only after a thoughtful hesitation on Edwin's part. 'I still think we should get on to the police,' she began. 'Had we had any possible chance of getting the ransom money then it would have been different, but as it is -' She broke off, shaking her head. 'No, it's too risky, isn't it?' She added on a terrible note of despair, 'Father's right in his decision not to contact the police. Roger seems to think there's a possibility of Felice's being sent back unharmed once her kidnappers have given some thought to their position.' 'I wish Roger had paid,' he said, 'although I felt right from the start that he'd refuse—seeing that it was Felice and not you who'd been abducted.' He seemed far away and, watching him in some perplexity, Lauren seemed quite unable to stop the words that were circling around in her mind: 'I felt right from the start that he'd refuse.' Right from the start... She bit her lip in vexation, trying to dismiss the idea that there was some mystery here. For, looking at the position as it was plainly laid out, there could not possibly be a mystery. On the contrary, all was simple and straightforward. Someone, optimistically aiming at making easy money, had kidnapped the girl whom they believed to be Lauren Warby. They had taken her identical twin, but they still

demanded the ransom, believing that Felice's sister would be able to prevail upon her wealthy husband-to-be to pay the ransom anyway, if only to set his fiancée's mind at rest. Yes, all was simple ... and yet ... Suddenly and for no reason at all that Lauren could see, there rose before her eyes the dark Latin face of the Spaniard. Why, she asked herself, should he intrude at a time like this?

After a sleepless night Lauren's nerves were strung to breaking-point. She had stayed with her father, in his room, until half past two in the morning, but all he did was to remind her repeatedly that Felice was in her present position only because she, Lauren, had become engaged to a wealthy man. 'I admit it, Father,' she said over and over again, 'but there isn't anything I can do. Had I known that this would be the result I'd never have agreed to having my picture in the papers—or even to the announcement of my engagement in the magazines.' 'I can't think how they came to make the mistake!' 'Nor can I. I only wish with all my heart that they hadn't made the mistake.' 'He'd have paid up for you,' bitterly and without mentioning Roger's name. Lauren felt this as a slight, but of course she said nothing that would bring about any annoyance to her father. 'Tomorrow you will place a note in the spot where you were supposed to put the money?' 'Of course, Father. I'll explain that we can't find the money but that we hope Felice will be returned to us unharmed just the same.'

'You're an optimist!' 'They've taken the wrong girl, and so they might, as Roger suggested, decide to play safe and let her go.' 'I feel that we'll never see her alive again.' His face was gaunt; his eyes had sunk even further into their sockets. He had aged ten years or more in the last eight or nine hours. 'It's most strange, Father,' she mused with a frown, 'how they came to take Felice and not me. After all, you'd have thought they'd have made absolutely sure about so important a matter. They should have known that we don't both work at the same place.' 'You'd think that, once Felice had told them that she wasn't Lauren, they'd have let her go immediately.' 'That's another puzzling circumstance.' Lauren sighed, aware that all this talking was futile; and it was only causing her father more mental agony. Yet when she fell silent he himself re-introduced the subject, and invariably began by another reminder that it was all Lauren's fault. By half past two in the morning he was dozing and she silently left the room, going downstairs to make herself a cup of tea. She was weary, yet sleep was impossible and she merely lay down on the couch. The telephone rang at half past seven and she ran into the hall. 'Don't forget,' said the muffled voice. 'The money— at ten o'clock this morning, in Fiddler's Wood—the oak tree by the dried-up pond.' 'Wait!' cried Lauren as the speaker seemed about to ring off. 'I—we can't get the money ...' Her voice trailed away and she could have cried, for the line had gone dead.

'Lauren!' Her father's voice from the room above. Lauren replaced the receiver and went up to him. 'You let them ring off?' he said on a keen note of irritation when she had told him what had happened. 'Why didn't you keep them on -' 'They rang off, Father,' she interrupted, but patiently. 'I hadn't a chance to say anything.' 'You'll go to the place?' 'I've said so, darling, several times. Yes, of course I shall go—and leave the note.' 'They'll be so furious they'll straight away do some damage to my lovely daughter!' Lauren shook her head helplessly. If only there were some way of finding the money! 'Let's not look on the black side until we see what the result of the note is,' she said at length. 'They might release her -' 'They won't!' Mr Warby's hand crept to his heart; his breath seemed suddenly to have stopped. Panic- stricken, Lauren bent over him and listened. 'Will you take a tablet, love?' she asked huskily, and he gave a mere nod of his head. 'It's not the time for taking a tablet—but I'm at the end, Lauren. I don't care if I go, for if Felice is dead there is nothing for me to live for. You'll not want me when you become a rich and titled lady.' 'That's nonsense, and you know it.'

'Roger won't come here even now, so it's unlikely he'll come later, when you're married. And if he doesn't come then you won't, either.' 'I shall, Father,' she returned quietly, and added that he could visit her just whenever he wished. 'I'm not welcome at his home,' was the petulant rejoinder, whereupon Lauren left him, to fetch the tablet and a glass of water with which to wash it down. 'I couldn't come to your engagement party,' he said when he had swallowed the tablet. 'You could have come; you were invited, Father.' 'I was working.' 'But you often get away when the necessity arises, don't you?' Gentle her tones, but faintly chiding too. He closed his eyes and she was horrified to see two tears ooze from beneath his lids. Bending to kiss his cheek, she said softly, 'Had I known what was to happen, I'd never have become engaged to Roger.' That touched him in a way that surprised her, for he said, looking up into her face, 'You have your life to live, Lauren, and no one should grudge you your happiness.' He sounded a little guilty, and again she bent to kiss his cheek. 'Try to rest, darling,' she urged. 'We can't do anything until I deliver this note. Then we'll see what happens.' 'You'll write it carefully, won't you?' 'I'll be very humble, Father,' she promised. 'I'll beg them to send Felice back to us unharmed.'

She was at the appointed place at a quarter to ten, and stood there for a long silent moment looking all around her. The woods were lonely, but not eerily so; she and Felice had played in them when they were children, and the oak by the dried-up pond had been their favourite tree to climb. It was ironical that it had been chosen as the place to put the money—in a hole which, usually, in the spring, housed a nest of young birds. No sound came to Lauren other than the rustle of leaves and the chirping of a couple of chaffinches perched on one of the branches of the oak. She placed the note in the hole and walked away, wondering if eyes were watching her as she made for the edge of the woods where the bluebells grew in masses on the ground that sloped down to the narrow lane by which Fiddler's Wood was approached. All that day she waited in suspense for the phone to ring. Roger phoned twice, but the second time she told him not to ring again. She would phone him later. 'I don't want it to be engaged when they ring,' she told him. 'You seem sure that someone will ring.' 'They might drop another note through the letterbox, but I think it's most unlikely. They'll be scared of coming to the house.' 'Don't forget to phone, then. I'm going out this evening about eight, as you know.' 'Yes.' She thought of the dinner party to which she had been invited and automatically reminded Roger to make her apologies to his friends. 'I'll make some excuse, dear.' He fell silent for a space and then, as if this led to a connecting train of thought, he said, 'Remember the handsome Don Ramon who was at our engagement party?' And

without giving her the chance to answer he went on to say that he also was invited to the dinner-party, along with Paul. 'Don Ramon's going ...?' She glanced at her forearm, and saw the fine hairs rising before her eyes. 'I expected he'd have returned to Spain by now.' 'Oh, no. What gave you that idea? He came for a month; he's staying part of the time with Paul and his wife and part of the time at the Savoy in London. He's here to conduct a big business deal—don't ask me what it is,' he added. 'Paul could tell you, but as I'm not interested I haven't inquired about the man's activities.' 'So you'll be seeing him tonight.' The Don . . . She would have seen him again, had not this tragedy occurred. 'That's right. I'll give him your regards.' 'You won't tell anyone what's happened, Roger?' 'You know I won't, dear.' 'Have a pleasant time,' she said. 'I shall miss you, my love.' Lauren gave a small sigh. Her mind was wholly with the Spaniard... when it should have been with Roger. 'I shall miss you, too,' she told him. 'Try to ring me, dear—about half past seven this evening.' 'I will—but if I don't you'll know that I'm still waiting for news of Felice.'

'So, in case you don't ring, I'll say good night, darling,' and when she had answered him he replaced the receiver. She held hers for a long moment, her mind so confused by his attitude. Roger seemed to have drifted a long way from her, and she rather thought that he was suffering from a guilt complex. He could afford the twenty thousand pounds; he was aware that Lauren knew this. And so he was naturally wondering about her feelings regarding his refusal to pay the ransom. 'I still don't know whether I'm being unreasonable in expecting him to pay the money for Felice's release,' she said to herself as she replaced the receiver on its hook. 'I do wish I could see the position from his point of view.' Yet she knew without any doubt at all that, had the positions been reversed and it had been Roger's sister who was in danger, she herself would not have hesitated to produce the money that would release her ...

It was after nine in the evening when the phone rang. The same muffled voice was heard—a man's voice. 'Your note to hand,' it said. 'The money must be paid. You have been given another twenty-four hours. Felice is safe at present, but the saving of her life is in your hands -' The voice stopped and, pressing her ear to the receiver, Lauren concentrated as she had never concentrated in her life before. Because someone had begun to whisper even before the muffled voice had ceased to speak. 'Fifteen ...' Lauren heard, and then, 'We will accept fifteen thousand,' the voice said, its owner obviously carrying out the instructions of his companion. 'But that's the least we're willing to take.' 'It's impossible,' said Lauren, speaking swiftly, and adding on a note of desperation, 'Please don't ring off -' She stopped, aware of the

whispered voice again. Was it that of a woman? Somehow, she had not visualised a woman's being concerned in a crime of this nature. 'Fifteen thousand—our last word. Your sister is in grave danger!' The line went dead; Lauren did not trouble to speak again. But as before she stood holding the receiver, her eyes narrowed, her brow furrowed in a frown. 'That voice ..Muffled—disguised, obviously. 'And just imagine a woman having a hand in it.' Her father was told what had occurred and he fell silent, refusing to answer even when Lauren spoke to him. She knew that he was. once again blaming her for what was happening to Felice. Edwin arrived soon afterwards, and as he asked what had transpired Lauren noticed with growing surprise that he seemed unable to meet her gaze. 'Where on earth can fifteen thousand pounds be found?' he said wrathfully. And he actually gritted his teeth. 'My God, but I wish I could do something about this. What a damned mess we're all in!' Lauren glanced swiftly at him, but he was not looking her way. 'I shall go to a financier,' she resolved. 'I don't care if I put myself in debt for the rest of my life!' 'A money-lender,' said her father, but he nodded in spite of the disgust that looked out of his eyes. 'Yes, go first thing in the morning.' 'No—oh, you can't, Lauren!' from Edwin with great distress. 'You can't mortgage your life like that. In any case, what's Roger going to say about it?'

'I shan't tell him.' Her face was white and drawn, but in her lovely eyes resolution was strongly portrayed. 'I shall have an allowance when I'm married, which will all be paid off the debt.' Edwin swung from the room, Lauren's eyes following him. 'I'll make a pot of tea,' he said over his shoulder. 'Or do you want coffee?' 'Tea will do.' The following morning, having again rung her boss to say that she was still off colour, she set out to visit the financier whose advertisement she had seen in the local newspaper. The result was negative and the only thing she learned was that any financier would demand some sort of security. 'The deeds of a house,' he had suggested. The house was not theirs, Lauren had told him. 'Jewellery...?' She did not even bother to answer that, but made for the door, never in her life having felt so humiliated. Her father was asleep when she arrived home and while on the one hand she was relieved not to have to tell him that there was no possibility of borrowing the money, on the other hand she would have preferred to get it over and done with. At noon he was still sleeping when the phone rang. Lauren snatched up the receiver and put it to her ear, then gave her number and her name. 'Senorita ...' came the soft, accented voice, as from a long way off. Was she dreaming? she wondered, her pulses beginning to race

madly. 'Lauren ... I want to see you. Will you dine with me this evening?' 'No!' The one brief word came as if by its own volition. 'No, senor— go away!' 'You were not with your fiancé last evening, senorita. Can it be that you and he have parted?' 'Certainly not -' 'Lauren, who is it?' Her father's low but demanding voice cut into what she was saying, and noting his ghastly colour she put down the receiver, feeling she must be ready to catch him if he should fall. What she did not realise was that she had missed the hook and in consequence the receiver slipped and lay on the table. 'A wrong number, darling.' 'This morning,' he then said, searching her face. 'This money-lender? Did you succeed in getting the money for my daughter's release?' 'No, Father, they won't lend without security.' 'Then we're done! My girlie—my lovely daughter— murdered!' 'No!' she cried, taking hold of him as he tottered unsteadily. 'We'll find some way out, Father. Oh, my dear, you're very ill.' 'I shall die.' 'Come, let me get you on to the couch -' 'They'll murder my lovely Felice!' He was shouting and, afraid that he would do himself irreparable harm, she asked him once again, in

her gentle persuasive tones, to let her take him into the sitting-room where he could lie on the couch. 'All for fifteen thousand pounds,' he said, still in that loud protesting voice. 'My girlie's life gone—simply because we can't find fifteen thousand pounds for ransom money! There must be someone who's willing to lend it to us!' 'We will have to go to the police, love -' 'No—you will not!' he raged, his arms flaying in the air. 'No—no!' He seemed to stagger, and the table tilted, sending the telephone crashing to the floor. Terrified now, Lauren took a firm hold of him and urged him forward, and eventually he quietened down and she was able to settle him on the couch in the sitting- room. Then she went back to the hall, picked up the telephone and rang the doctor. His dispenser answered the phone and Lauren was informed that he was out on his rounds. She gave her name and address, asking that he visit her father as soon as he could. She made her father a drink before going upstairs to fetch him a pillow. As she reached her sister's room she glanced inside, then stopped. How empty and grim it looked. Felice had been on holiday many a time, and her room had been empty for a week or a fortnight, but never had it worn this aspect of emptiness. Felice ... If anything happened to her Lauren knew she would never get over it; she knew also that for the rest of her life she would remember that, had she herself not become engaged to Roger, then Felice would never have died -'No, she mustn't die!' cried Lauren in anguish. Something could be done! It was not possible that Felice could be murdered by those devils who had kidnapped her! Bringing down the pillow, she fixed it so that her father could lie back comfortably.

'The doctor will be here soon,' she told him, but he shook his head in despair. 'I don't want him, Lauren; I only want to die.' She could not speak for a while, and when at last she did she merely repeated that the doctor would be here soon. 'He's on his rounds at present, but -' She stopped as the doorbell rang. 'He's here now—though how he's managed it so soon I don't know.' The bell was rung again and she went to the door. 'You!' she gasped, automatically taking a step backwards, away from the tall dark man who stood on the step, a look of gravity in his dark and penetrating eyes. 'Senorita ...' He glanced past her into the dimness of the little hallway. 'Aren't you going to ask me in?' 'Yes—no! Go away!' But he was in, having taken advantage of the space she had made in stepping backwards. 'You're in dire trouble, senorita,' he said, and although his voice was soft and unhurried, there was a distinct note of concern in it which struck her forcibly. 'How do you know that?' she asked, half believing that he must be omniscient. 'I have ways of discovering these things,' was all he said, his dark eyes flickering to the telephone, whose receiver was now securely resting on its hook. 'Your father is unwell, I believe?' Lauren frowned at him in amazement.

'How do you know?' she asked again, aware of a wild beating of her heart and knowing that this man's presence was wholly responsible for it. 'You must tell me of your troubles, senorita,' he said matter-of-factly as, without awaiting her invitation, he went from the hall into the sitting-room. 'Senor,' he said, inclining his head in a sort of greeting gesture. 'I am here to afford you assistance in your troubles.' 'Assistance?' Mr Warby glanced swiftly at his daughter. 'Who is this man?' he asked, and Lauren explained that he was a friend of Paul whom she had met at her engagement party. 'But how does he know of our trouble?' Mr Warby then asked, and all Lauren could do was shake her head and admit that she did not know. 'I believe,' remarked the Don in the most casual tone possible, 'that you are in need of fifteen thousand pounds?' Lauren's eyes became like saucers. 'You've been talking to—to ...' But she let her voice trail off, convinced that Roger had not broken his word about keeping the secret. 'I haven't been talking to anyone,' he said, glancing at a chair and moving with unhurried steps towards it. 'May I sit down, senorita?' Wordlessly she nodded her head. She was in a sort of trance ... but through it was a shining light that made her want to sing out for sheer joy. 'I don't understand,' she said when at last she was able to find her voice. 'You—you said you were here to afford us assistance?' 'Correct.' The hint of a smile touched his lips; he was plainly amused, enjoying this situation enormously. 'I believe that your sister has been

abducted?' He leant back in the chair and hitched up one trouser leg. 'Tell me, senorita, just how it all happened. I'm intrigued, you see, having met your sister at the party.' 'I'll tell you, certainly, but first, senor, you must tell me how you come to know all this?' He flicked a hand in the direction of the hall. 'You failed to replace the receiver on its hook,' he said with a hint of amusement. 'An oversight, my dear, that could in certain circumstances be dangerous.' Her eyes narrowed as he was speaking. 'You heard ...?' She nodded her head. 'Yes, I understand .now, senor.' 'What is this all about?' her father wanted to know, his voice rising to an irascible pitch. 'Explain, one of you—immediately!' The Don looked at him, and frowned. 'All you need to know, senor, is that you have no need to worry about your daughter, Felice. The fifteen thousand pounds will be available for the ransom money.' He turned to Lauren. 'And now, senorita,' he said, and his tone was suddenly brisk and businesslike, 'you and I shall talk in private.' But her father raised a swift protest, saying that if anything was to be discussed then he meant to be present. At this bad-tempered little speech Don Ramon got majestically to his feet, brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his immaculately clean jacket and, turning to Lauren, he said softly, but in tones sufficiently carrying for her father to hear,

'I have changed my mind, senorita. If we cannot talk in private, then we do not talk at all.' He looked with typical arrogance at the man lying on the couch. 'I'll bid you good day, senor. I hope you will forgive my intrusion—and I hope you will be able to raise the money for your daughter's release. Senorita, be pleased to show me out!'

CHAPTER FIVE 'No—wait!' Mr Warby tried to raise himself, but soon fell back on the pillow. 'I don't know who or what you are, but your offer's like a rope passed to a drowning man. Take Lauren into the other room and do your talking by all means -' He stopped and gasped for breath. 'Give me a tablet first, Lauren, and then leave me!' Her mind almost numbed by what was going on, Lauren obeyed her father, bringing him the tablet and a glass of water. 'We c-can talk in—in the dining-room,' she managed, looking up into the dark face of the Don. 'It isn't very —very tidy ...' His smile of reassurance easing her discomfiture, she led the way into the small, rather poorly furnished room in which she and her father and sister usually ate their meals. 'Please sit down, senor.' 'Thank you. And now,' he went on without preamble, 'I want you to tell me everything.' She said, 'Senor, I don't see why you're going to all this trouble?' 'You were not at the party with your fiancé, and I asked you if your engagement was at an end -' 'It isn't at an end,' she interrupted, 'so please don't get any wrong ideas.' He subjected her to a keen and searching scrutiny. 'Tell me about your sister,' he commanded, and without further ado she related everything that had taken place.

He was frowning darkly when she had finished speaking. And for a long moment of indecision he seemed to be debating on something of vital importance. However, his face cleared and he said, 'Did you not ask your fiancé for the money?' 'Yes. It was twenty thousand at first and it was too much to ask of him.' 'Too much?' the Don's dark brows lifted at this. 'I believe he would not have missed that sum.' 'It was too much,' she repeated, unwilling to discuss her fiancé with this man. 'Too much for your happiness and peace of mind, senorita?' His voice was chill suddenly; his eyes were glinting and had a faraway look, as if he saw something that displeased him exceedingly. 'I don't want to discuss my fiancé with you, senor,' she said in a distressed tone. 'You have much to say to me, obviously, so say it, please ' She lifted her lovely eyes and looked at him across the shabby room. He stared into them, into the smoky-blue depths, and she saw his expression change. What did he want of her in return for that which he intended to offer? 'I know why you weren't with your fiancé last evening,' he said, and his brow furrowed in thought. 'I had hopes that you and he had quarrelled and broken off your engagement.' She continued to meet his gaze, her face pale, her mouth quivering slightly. 'We shall be married as arranged, senor.' 'You're sure?'

She made no answer to this but asked instead what he had meant when he said that the money for the ransom was available. 'There are conditions,' she added, and it was a statement rather than a question. The Don inclined his head and replied without hesitation that her assumption was correct; there were conditions. 'You want me to marry you.' She felt the dryness come up into her throat; she thought of Roger, and of his mother; she thought, with a further circling of her mind, of her father, of his condition, and she thought of Felice, terrified, wondering if she would ever be released ... if she would ever see her father and sister again. It was imperative that the money was handed over without further delay. 'I want you to marry me,' agreed the Don unemotionally. 'And in return you will let me have the money?' 'That is my intention, senorita.' She said, despair flooding over her, 'I can't ever love you—because I love Roger.' At this he became silent for a space. 'You could, one day, come to care a little,' he said at length, but Lauren shook her head emphatically. 'I told you that you do not love this man,' said the Don before she could speak. 'I believe that I spoke only the truth.' She allowed this to pass, for it seemed that it was an unproductive subject to pursue. Besides, her chief concern at this time was the release of her sister.

'I'll marry you,' she said simply, and then, because of lack of sleep, combined with the terrible nervous strain of the past two days, and the utter desolation that had enveloped her on accepting that she must break with the man she loved, Lauren buried her face , in her hands and broke into a paroxysm of weeping. 'A not very propitious start,' he commented drily. 'However, it does leave a great deal of room for improvement.' She continued to weep, until he rose and came to her. 'It won't be nearly so bad as you imagine, Lauren,' he told her gently. 'I'm not an ogre, my dear—although perhaps at this time you are regarding me in that light.' She managed to look up. 'No, I'm not—strangely,' she added without any awareness of her lack of tact. 'You're kind, senor— most kind, to offer this money for my sister's release ...' Her voice, which now and theft was shaken by sobs, trailed away to a silence as, watching him, she saw the sudden frown that came to settle on his forehead, and the gripping of his lower lip between his teeth. 'Is something troubling you?' she inquired anxiously. 'Are you already regretting your offer?' 'Indeed no—it's certainly not that,' was his unhesitating reply. And he took her hand then and drew her to her feet, bringing her close up beside him. A handkerchief appeared from one of his pockets and he gently dried her eyes. 'Don't cry, my little one. There really is nothing at all to cry about.' His voice, so soft and attractive owing to its accent, reassured her, and she actually managed to bring the shadow of a smile to her lips. But the sobs still shook her and it was some time before she regained her calm.

'The money,' she' said then. 'It's required by tomorrow at ten o'clock.' 'It shall be available.' 'I don't know how to thank you.' But she was afraid —terribly afraid, because of the memory of his power over her, and of his easy mastery that could without effort bend her to his will. She wondered about her attraction for him; he had not mentioned love. She thought about the passionate kisses he had forced upon her with such fiery insistence against all her frantic struggles. Why was he so intent on marrying her? He must know that, had he made another kind of offer at this present crucial time in her life, he would have stood a good chance of success. Could it be that he cared for her? If so, then his love was of far too swift a growth to flourish for long. But what did it matter? She herself must abandon love for ever, must exist, but never live again. 'Roger,' she whispered to herself, 'why, my darling, couldn't you have made the offer of the money? I would then have sent this arrogant foreigner packing ...' 'What are you thinking of?' asked the Don, his imperious hand tilting her face so that he could look into her eyes. 'Roger?' 'Yes,' she replied frankly. 'I can scarcely give him up without a pang, senor.' His face became taut and grim. 'Forget him,' he said in peremptory tones. 'Had he really loved you he'd have paid the ransom.' She shook her head, and anger brought hard lights to her eyes. 'I shall not allow you to speak disparagingly of him,' she said.

'We shall not mention him again.' 'I must see him,—you understand that?' Anxious the tone; she realised with a little pang that already she was being subdued by this man whose wife she was soon to be. 'Of course, Lauren. You must go to him and be honest with him.' 'If he should change his mind about the money, then I shall stay with him.' Even as she spoke Lauren knew that she would never again ask Roger for the money. 'He will not change his mind,' with so firm a conviction that she frowned and said, 'Did you speak with him last evening?' 'A little,' was his non-committal reply. 'You gained ... some sort of impression?' At this he smiled in some amusement. 'I have already told you, Lauren, that I am rather good at reading a person's character.' 'Ah, yes, I remember. You said horrid things about my sister. I hope that now you're sorry—seeing that she's in such dire distress. She'll be terrified,' added Lauren with a great catch in her voice. 'Oh, I wish we could release her now—this very minute. I can't bear to think of her sitting in some tiny room, waiting fearfully to see what's going to happen to her.' To Lauren's surprise the Don lifted a hand to suppress a yawn. He was heartless, she thought, then shrugged her shoulders. Felice was nothing to him; this Lauren realised, and so she made allowances for the fact that he was showing no interest whatsoever in what she

might or might not be suffering. Felice was to him merely the instrument with which he had been able to attain his desire. 'When do you want to marry me?' she asked, wondering why she was feeling strangely comforted by the touch of his hand as it caressed her shoulder. 'At once.' What little colour remained in her face was gone on the instant. 'By that you mean ...?' 'By special licence. I must be back in Spain by the end of the week.' 'And the money?' She found difficulty in mentioning it now. 'When will you give it to me?' 'You and I will go together and deposit it.' 'Supposing they take it and don't—don't -' She broke off, unable to finish what she had been about to say. She had already considered the possibility of the kidnappers taking the money and then not releasing Felice, but as the money was not at this time available she had dismissed the thought. Now, however, it loomed starkly in her mind and her eyes filled up suddenly. But the Don was shaking his head with such confidence that it almost seemed proof that nothing would go amiss in the coming transaction. 'Felice will return,' he said softly. 'You need have no fear of that, my dear.' And he was right. The following morning she and Don Ramon went to the tree and the money was deposited there, all in five-pound notes as originally requested. And within a couple of hours Felice walked in, looking none the worse for her terrible experience.

'It wasn't too bad at all,' she answered in response to her father's questioning. 'They treated me very well indeed.' 'Weren't you terrified?' asked Lauren, recalling that feeling she had had that something was not quite right concerning the situation. 'You must have been, surely?' 'I was scared,' admitted Felice, 'but they were so reasonable that I felt they would never harm me.' She smiled at her sister and added, 'They meant to take you, of course—you know all about that. Thank Roger for paying up, won't you? Was he furious? What exactly happened in the end? I know he wouldn't pay at first —when they wanted the twenty thousand.' For some quite unfathomable reason Lauren could not answer her; instead, she went to the door, and there turned, her hand resting on the gleaming brass knob. 'Have a talk to Father,' she said. 'He'll tell you what happened in the end.' And ignoring the interrogating look that spread over her sister's face, Lauren turned and left the room.

Less than ten minutes later Felice was standing in the open doorway of Lauren's bedroom, having knocked lightly and pushed the door inwards. The two sisters faced each other in silence for a long moment before Felice spoke. 'Why did you leave us?' she asked in tones so unemotional that Lauren almost gave an audible gasp. 'There was some reason,' began Lauren, frowning heavily. 'It was something I couldn't explain, nor can I explain it now.' 'You've changed, Lauren.' Felice took a step forward into the room.

'I've changed?' Lauren looked straight at her. 'It's you who've changed, Felice.' 'In what way?' Felice sounded aggressive, Lauren thought, although there was nothing in her expression to substantiate this idea. 'I couldn't understand the way you just walked in,' returned Lauren, still frowning, still bewildered by something she could not fathom, or even put a name to. 'The way I walked in?' 'As if nothing terrible had happened.' Felice's eyes flickered for one second before she lowered her long silken lashes. 'What did you expect?' she inquired. 'I don't quite know, Felice.' A small pause and then, 'What exactly happened when they released you?' Lauren looked curiously at her, waiting until she met her gaze. 'They dropped me at the end of the road here; I came to the house and as the door was on the latch I walked in. Did you expect me to knock and wait to be admitted?' Lauren flinched at this sarcasm. 'You've changed,' she repeated. 'You showed no emotion whatsoever when you came through that door downstairs -' 'Ah, I see! So you wanted me to fling myself into your arms and weep buckets at the reunion—is that it?'

Again the sarcasm pierced, but Lauren merely said, her beautiful face drawn and pale, her mind filled with the disaster that had overtaken her, robbing her of the man she loved and condemning her to a life of near misery with the foreigner to whom she was now promised, 'I don't think I expected anything quite so dramatic as that, Felice, but I did expect some show of emotion. Both Father and I had suffered too, you know. I was imagining you huddled in some tiny garret room, shivering with cold and fear, not daring to dwell on what might happen if the ransom was not paid——' She stopped and flung out a hand. 'I suppose now is not the time to think of those things, but -' Again she stopped, and again she looked curiously at her sister. 'As I've said, I did expect some show of emotion.' 'Perhaps you expected me to fall upon you and bleat out thanks in grateful profusion -' 'No such thing,' protested Lauren. 'You know very well that gratitude is the last thing I would want.' 'I should hope it is—seeing that it's all your fault anyway. You seem to have forgotten that it wouldn't have happened at all had you not become engaged to Roger.' Lauren looked directly at her. 'Felice,' she returned quietly, 'I've never been allowed to forget that it was all my fault. Father made sure I wouldn't forget it.' Felice moved further into the room, and stood for a space, staring over her sister's shoulder to the scene outside—to the tall houses whose back gardens met those of the rather newer type of house in which the twins and their father lived.

'I suppose,' she murmured presently, 'you're feeling something of a martyr at this moment?' Lauren shook her head. Having risen from the bed she was now standing with her back to the window, facing her sister. 'I made the only decision possible, Felice. I believe you would have done the same for me.' Something outside seemed to catch Felice's eye and once again she glanced over her sister's shoulder. 'Yes, I would.' She brought her eyes back to Lauren's face. 'But now you're going to marry a millionaire?' she said. 'I believe he's a millionaire, yes.' Lauren spoke casually, adding that she was not in the least interested in the Spaniard's money. 'He was at the party,' mused Felice. 'He was with me—danced with me on three occasions.' 'What has that to do with it?' Lauren inquired with some impatience. 'Come to the mirror, Lauren.' 'Whatever for?' 'Come to the mirror.' Lauren obeyed and both girls regarded themselves in the long mirror fixed to the wall. 'Well?' inquired Lauren, turning her head interrogatingly. 'What have you got that I haven't?'

Lauren's eyes widened. Sparks of memory brought back the Spaniard's assertion that her sister was envious of her. 'I don't understand?' she began, when Felice interrupted her. 'Yes, you do. Twice you've landed a wealthy man, while I, who have all the physical attributes that you possess, am overlooked. I say again that Don Ramon was with me, and if he was seeking a wife then why did he pick you, who were engaged to someone else? What made him overlook me? I'm as attractive as you are!' Lauren's frown returned, and deepened. 'As far as I'm concerned, you could have had Don Ramon. You seem not to have fully absorbed the fact that I've given up the man I love.' 'But made a far better catch—what luck!' The words, spoken with undisguised bitterness, tumbled out before Felice could prevent them, and when she turned from the mirror to face her sister Lauren saw that there were tears of anger and mortification in her eyes. So the Spaniard had been right. Incredible as it seemed, he had spoken the truth when he asserted that Felice was envious of her. 'If you've nothing else to say to me, Felice,' she said stiffly at last, 'then please leave me.' Felice bit her lip. 'I've hurt you, haven't I?' 'For the first time, Felice—the first time in our lives.' A long silence followed, with both girls feeling exceedingly uncomfortable. Then, after what appeared to be a moment of indecision, Felice turned without further words and left the room.

Lauren watched the door close behind her sister and within seconds tears had filled her eyes. What had happened to the happiness of a few weeks ago? She and Felice had been comrades, envied by other sisters who never could get on together. Edwin had been a regular visitor to the house for almost a year, and he had become a welcome member of the family. Mr Warby, though showing preference for Felice, had loved his other daughter too. Then Lauren had met Roger. 'He's only amusing himself with you,' her father had warned, but as Lauren was already in love with Roger his warning fell on deaf ears. Then came Roger's proposal of marriage. Felice had on the surface been delighted, but her father had been morose for several days after the engagement was announced. 'Yes, it's all been caused because I was going to marry Roger.' Lauren turned from her fixed observation of the door and, taking a small lace handkerchief from a drawer, she dried her eyes. What good would tears do her now? She placed the handkerchief on the dressing-table and went to the bathroom where, after having taken a quick shower, she wrapped herself in a towel and returned to the bedroom. Half an hour later she was telephoning Roger. 'Felice is back home,' she informed him before he could speak. 'She arrived about an hour ago -' 'Unhurt?' 'Yes, unhurt.' Was this her own voice? she wondered. No expression, no tone ... no life. 'What a relief! You must be feeling great!' 'It's good to have her back.'

'They let her go without the ransom money, obviously,' he said, and a moment's silence followed. 'The money was paid,' said Lauren. 'Paid?' he gasped. 'But by whom?' Another silence, and then, 'I'll tell you all about it when I see you, Roger. I'm coming to see you immediately. I'm ready to start out as soon as I've rung off -' 'But, Lauren, what on earth's happened? You sound —well, ill, or something.' 'I'll be with you in about an hour—it depends on the buses -' 'Darling, I'll come to you -' 'No, I'd much rather come to you. There's more privacy in your home than in mine.' 'Lauren.' 'Yes?' 'There's something awful in your tone. What's happened?' 'I'm not willing to talk over the phone, Roger. Please contain your curiosity for another hour or so.' 'Then there is something—something serious?' 'As serious as it's possible to be. I'll ring off now -' 'No!'

She replaced the receiver, reached for her coat, called to her father as she passed the open door of the sitting-room, then left the house. Roger was waiting on the terrace as she came up the long drive to the stately mansion in which he lived. He ran to meet her and for one wild but heavenly moment she was in his arms, clinging to him as if she would never let him go, her eyes moist, her mouth trembling as, when he would have kissed her, she turned it away from him. 'Sweetheart, what is it?' His arm remained around her waist as he looked down into her white face. 'You're ill -' 'Not physically ill, Roger -' She glanced around; she would have liked to sit in the little arbour where she had so often sat with him, but now was not the time for anything like that. 'Can we go into your study?' she asked, and without a word he led her into the house and along the gilded corridor to his own private study. Drawing out a chair for her, he sat down himself. 'My love,' he began, his boyish face dark with concern. 'What is it?' She began to speak, and although her voice faltered several times, she amazed herself by the clarity with which she imparted all she had to say. Watching Roger, she saw his changes of expression as her sentences were voiced; she saw the fury appear in his eyes when he learned that she was going to marry the man who had paid the ransom money. 'Don Ramon!' he rasped, eyes blazing. 'Lauren— how can you marry a man like that?' 'Like that?' She looked at him with a puzzled frown. 'What do you mean?' 'A foreigner!'

'Many people marry foreigners these days.' 'You're so darned cool about it all!' 'Not inside, Roger—no, not inside!' 'You'll marry him, loving me the way you do?' Her beautiful smoky-blue eyes, still misty from unshed tears, looked directly into his. 'I've no alternative, Roger. I had to make the promise—' 'It was blackmail! And anyway, he doesn't even know you properly -' Roger stopped, and his eyes took on a glowering expression. 'The night of our party—someone joked to me about the way he was looking at you. And, come to think of it,' he mused, 'you were missing at the same time that he was missing. I noticed it because Paul was looking for him, and I said that I was also looking for someone—my fiancée!' His eyes glinted, then narrowed. 'You were in the garden. Was he there too?' She stared straight ahead as the admission left her lips. 'He and I were together in the garden.' 'He and you -' Roger gaped at her, his hand tightly closed as it rested on the arm of his chair. 'Doing what?' he added softly, and at the memory of the Spaniard's ardour she flushed vividly. 'So . . . you've given yourself away -' 'Roger,' she interrupted wearily, 'it doesn't matter now. I'm forced to marry this man -' 'It seems to me,' he said between his teeth, 'that you want to marry him!'

'You're wrong,' she told him in the same tired and lifeless tones. 'However, as I've just said, it doesn't matter now. I've come to say goodbye and—and to t-tell you that I love you and—and always shall l-love you. There can never be anyone else.' So quiet the tones, and sincere despite their lack of life and expression. Roger looked at her and she thought she heard an exclamation of sadness issue from somewhere deep within him. Aloud he said, 'If I'd produced the money then none of this would have happened.' She said nothing, did not even tell him that the kidnappers had in the end settled for fifteen thousand pounds. He .spoke again, anger causing him to say things she knew he would eventually regret. But at last she was able to leave, and this time he made no offer to take her home, but said a curt goodbye on the terrace and left her without another word.

It was seven o'clock and Lauren was waiting for the arrival of the Don who was taking her out to dinner at the most expensive hotel in town. This arrangement had been made just before he left her this morning, a short while after they had left Fiddler's Wood, having deposited the money in the tree. 'I don't feel like dining out,' she had protested, adding that even now they could not be absolutely sure that Felice would be released. 'Felice will return—and soon,' he had stated with conviction. 'And so you and I shall go out and celebrate.' Celebrate ... Bitterly she wondered what there was to celebrate ... the gloomy prospect of life with a man she could never love?

'What time is Edwin coming?' Lauren glanced up from where she was sitting as her sister entered the room. 'You phoned him, I expect?' Felice turned to pick up some flower petals that had fallen on to the table from a large vase standing there. 'We've parted,' she said, crushing one of the petals in her fingers. 'Parted?' Lauren stared at her sister's back. 'But that's impossible! Edwin was so worried about you. He -' 'Worried or not, he's thrown me over.' Felice's voice caught, but when presently she turned there was no real regret to be seen in her expression. 'We discovered we weren't suited to one another.' 'I don't believe it, Felice. You haven't told me everything. Did you phone to tell him that you'd arrived home?' Felice turned away again; her hand went forth and another petal was crushed between her fingers. 'He knows I'm home, yes.' 'You've seen him?' Instinctively Lauren's thoughts were carried back to Edwin's attitude when he knew that Felice had been kidnapped. He had seemed troubled, but not as troubled as Lauren would have expected him to be. 'I've seen him.' 'Felice—what's wrong? Why don't you look at me?' Her sister turned, and their eyes met. A surge of uneasiness swept over Lauren, and she was recalling a similar feeling she had experienced more than once before.

'There's nothing wrong, Lauren.' The words came lightly, but Lauren was not in any way deceived. 'We've decided to part, that's all. It was mutual.' 'You've just said that Edwin threw you over.' No answer, and Lauren added curiously, 'This seems a very odd time for him to throw you over, Felice—just when you've come from so terrible an experience——' 'Oh, for heaven's sake stop harping on my experience! Can't you see that it isn't something that I want to remember? Have you no sense at all!' Felice stopped as the doorbell rang. Lauren stood up, her face white and her eyes staring with mystified intensity at her sister. 'From the first there's been something I haven't been able to understand,' she said, and her voice was stiff owing to the strange inexplicable dryness in her throat. 'You've not even mentioned anything about the actual abduction itself.' 'They bundled me into a car as I left the office -' Felice stopped and once again anger flashed in her eyes. 'I've told you, it isn't something I want to talk about!' She turned her head as the Don came into the room. 'The door gave as I rang the bell,' he announced calmly, his dark arresting eyes flickering from the pale face of one sister to the flushed and angry face of the other. 'And so I let myself in ...' A pause and then, turning to the girl he was going to marry, 'I appear to have interrupted something? You were quarrelling with your sister?' Automatically Lauren shook her head; but no lie accompanied the gesture.

'I'm ready, senor,' she told him, picking up her gloves and handbag from a chair. 'You were quarrelling,' he maintained a few minutes later as he and Lauren were driving away from the front door. 'What was it about?' He sounded anxious, she thought . . . and it was an unfathomable kind of anxiety that, for no valid reason, brought to memory once again her own puzzlement over the abduction. 'We weren't actually quarrelling,' she replied. 'But Felice was angry because I. spoke of her terrible experience.' She had scarcely finished speaking before she heard an involuntary exclamation come from under the Don's breath. 'That's understandable,' was his smooth rejoinder as he swung the car round a difficult bend. 'Yes, I suppose it is... and yet...' 'Yet—what?' 'Why was she so angry? After all, it was only natural that I should want to talk about it.' Don Ramon stared at the road ahead. 'What exactly did you say to her?' he inquired at length. 'I asked about the actual abduction itself—that was one thing I asked her, but we talked about other aspects of it.' 'The actual abduction . . .' Don Ramon fell silent and after a while Lauren spoke again, reiterating what she had said about its being only natural that she should want to talk to Felice about her experience.

Don Ramón stirred then, as though the interruption had aroused him from a reverie. 'She explained about the abduction?' he asked in his quiet faintly accented voice. 'She merely said that she'd been bundled into a car as she came from the office.' 'No more ... no less,' murmured her companion, just as if that small amount of information were all that he had expected. It suddenly seemed to Lauren that even the Don himself was acting most oddly concerning the abduction. 'Edwin's thrown Felice over,' she said, wondering what kind of reaction this would bring. The surprise she half expected was not forthcoming; on the contrary, the Don merely nodded his head and murmured matter-of-factly, 'They weren't suited—not in any way at all.' 'They were,' she argued. 'I know better than you do, senor -' 'Don't you think,' he said with some amusement, 'that it's time you began calling me Ramon? My friends do, so obviously my wife must.' 'Your wife..." His dark head turned swiftly, but as she turned hers away he could not read her expression. 'You are not enamoured by the prospect of becoming my wife,' he stated, and automatically she nodded as an indication of agreement. 'You appear to have some preconceived ideas that I'm something of an ogre, Lauren, but, so long as you treat me with respect, and

behave as a Spanish senora should, then we shall get along famously, I promise you.' She said, with a flash of spirit, 'I shall treat you with respect, but I might as well say at once that I resent your use of the word behave.' 'Pity, because I shall use it again.' She coloured. 'You don't seem to mind that there'll never be any love between us.' Silence; it was as if she had not spoken the entire truth, and once again she found herself wondering if he cared for her. 'We won't go into that,' was all he said before abruptly changing the subject, reverting to what they had been discussing before. 'Does your sister appear to be upset by Edwin's action?' 'I couldn't tell,' replied Lauren frankly. 'There was something extraordinarily strange about her.' The Don was nodding his head. 'Your sister,' he commented rather drily, 'is a strange character altogether.' Lauren frowned heavily at this but refrained from starting an argument. 'You've—you've made the necessary arrangements for our— marriage?' The question that had been hovering on her lips for some time was not voiced until they were in the hotel restaurant, seated in a pleasant, secluded corner, waiting for the first course to be served.

'Certainly. I told "you of my intentions when I left you this morning.' This morning ... How long the day had seemed! But then so much had happened in it. The money deposited, the return of Felice; Lauren's interview with Roger, and her engagement broken. And now here she was, dining with the man who, in a couple of days' time, would be carrying her off to his palace in Spain. She made no further mention of their wedding and neither did he. And even when, having arrived back home just before midnight, he bade her good night with a passionate kiss, no word of the forthcoming wedding passed between them. Her father was in bed when she entered the sitting- room, but Felice was there, listening to a record which she had put on. 'Have a nice time?' she asked curtly. 'It was pleasant enough.' 'A millionaire, and you act like this!' 'You seem to forget that I'm not in love with him.' 'He's the handsomest man I've ever met. It should be easy to fall in love with him.' 'Looks aren't important.' 'Not on their own; but when they're combined with the sort of money that Don Ramon has ...' Felice's voice trailed away and she rose to take off the record. 'You and I are no longer pals, are we, Lauren?' she said unexpectedly. 'It's through no fault of mine,' Lauren could not help saying. 'I can't understand what's happened; we were all so happy a little while ago.'

'I'm going to bed.' Without another word Felice brushed past her and left the room—left Lauren standing there, her heart so heavy that she actually found herself putting a hand to it. What was there left to live for now? And yet even as the silent question was formed on her lips she was recalling with startling clarity the way she had reacted to Don Ramon's lovemaking, out in the garden of her fiancé's home. The Spaniard had been a total stranger at that time, and still he had brought from her some response and, later, that response had been made willingly ... even eagerly. She remembered her bewilderment, her acceptance of the mastery of his arms about her ... Was it possible that she could ever come to care ...? No, she never would, simply because she- loved Roger, and always would do so. Yet she found herself dwelling on the possibility long after she had slipped between the sheets and laid her head on the pillow. And she thought: if I sleep at all I shall dream about Don Ramon. But, strangely, she fell into a dreamless and restful sleep, and on waking put this down to the relief of having Felice safely home again. She must talk to Felice, she decided; she dearly wanted their friendship to continue, for she hoped to have both her father and sister over to visit her when she was living in Spain.

CHAPTER SIX LAUREN stood on the terrace and stared out over the gracious, immaculately kept gardens, her thoughts wandering unrestrainedly to her last days in England, and to all that had happened in those few hours between her having married Ramon and their boarding the plane that brought them to his palace in Spain— the beautiful Casa de Cabrera, set like a jewel in a lush green valley at the foot of the mountains. She turned her head as her husband came from the house and walked towards where she was standing. 'Good morning, Lauren,' he said, a half-smile touching the firm outline of his mouth. 'You were up early.' 'I didn't sleep very well.' Her voice was cool, but as always she was deeply affected by his presence, aware of his power and vitality, of the gift of magnetism which he undoubtedly possessed. 'Where are your thoughts?' he asked, and now his voice had a rather arrogant and demanding edge to it. 'You still dream of England, after a month in Spain ?' 'You're right,' was her unemotional reply as, quite unconsciously, she drew herself up to her full height, arching her neck so that the lovely curves between shoulder and head were temptingly accentuated, catching and holding Ramon's full attention. 'I was thinking of home -' 'This is your home,' he cut in harshly. 'And the sooner you accept this the sooner you will begin to find happiness and contentment!' 'I suppose in time I shall come to regard this place as home.'

'Tell me of those thoughts.' He looked down into her pale but beautiful face, then frowned and shook his head and she thought she heard a sigh come from deep down within him. 'I think you know what pictures were in my mind, Ramon.' 'Those last few hours.' A statement, harshly spoken. 'Having discovered that the abduction was all phoney— a plot hatched by your sister herself—you decided that, if you returned the money to me, you were freed of your obligation, that your promise could be broken as easy as—that!' Having taken a slip of the branch of, a tree he snapped it in two between his long slim fingers. 'You would have made a fool of me, even though you were drawn to me -' 'I was not!' 'Don't deny that I hold some power over you,' he returned contemptuously. 'We both know that I do, so this pretence on your part is absurd, to say the least.' She fell silent, her eyes staring yet unseeing. She thought of that letter received from Edwin, in which he asked her to meet him. Was it only a month ago? 'Thursday at one o'clock at the Pepper Pot. We'll have lunch. I must talk to you.' Lauren recalled that she had believed he was intending to ask her to speak for him to Felice, to beg her to take him back, to tell her that he now realised he had made a grave mistake in throwing her over. 'What are you thinking of now?' Her husband's demanding voice cut into her musings and she turned her head. 'Edwin,' was her brief reply.

'If he had not decided to talk ..Ramon's voice trailed away and he became morose for a while. 'We would have been happy now if it hadn't been for him.' 'The truth would have come out one day.' 'Later ... it would not have mattered then.' Her mouth curved in a way he hated. 'You still cherish hopes that I shall fall in love with you—but I never will. I love Roger.' Why did she enjoy hurting him? It wasn't as if she hated him; she never had hated him. She had disliked him, and she had feared him, but not for one moment had there been any hatred in her heart. 'You never did tell me all that had transpired at that meeting with Edwin,' he said, passing over the reference to Roger as if it had never been uttered. 'You met him at some cafe, you said?' 'He asked me to meet him there. I told you this.' 'And he made the confession that the idea of the abduction was your sister's.' A pause and then, 'I had already told you that she was envious of you. I had warned you to be on your guard.' 'I own that you did warn me -' 'And all you did was to pass it off.' 'That was a mistake, I realised that later.' Lauren spoke in a strangely detached voice as she went on— driven by some force which she did not understand—to tell Ramon all that had happened when, only two hours after her marriage, she had on receipt of Edwin's letter gone into town to meet him. Ramon himself had had a business

appointment which he was compelled to keep; later that day he and Lauren were to fly to Spain. 'We sat down in the cafe,' she went on, looking into her husband's dark face, 'and I remember saying that it was all very mysterious. Edwin said that he supposed that I knew he and Felice had parted; he then told me why . . .' Her voice trailed away and she felt an icy chill pass through her whole body—the same kind of chill she had known when Edwin told her that the abduction was Felice's idea. 'She's been envious of you ever since you told her that you were going to be rich and titled,' Edwin had continued. 'There were times when she actually burst into tears, saying that you'd always been equals, good friends, but now you'd drift away from her—look down on her.' 'She knew I'd never do that!' 'Well, she thought so. And she suddenly got this idea after reading about that abduction of an heiress in the paper -' Edwin had mentioned it and Lauren had nodded. 'I loved her so much I fell in with her idea, because she threatened to give me up if I didn't. It was I who telephoned Roger, and then you. It was I who demanded the money from you after I learned that Roger wouldn't pay. It was I who dropped the notes on the hall floor when you and your father weren't looking. It was all so easy, Lauren, but behind my mind was the question, what were we going to do with that stolen money. Felice said we'd go off on a cruise, but I was so troubled I couldn't eat or sleep. 'Then I learned from her that you'd made this terrible sacrifice, giving up the man you loved and agreeing to marry this foreigner. I no longer cared for her, Lauren, I hated her!—can you understand a sudden change like that? I hated her, and wanted nothing more to do with her. She drew from me the promise that I wouldn't tell you of

her perfidy, but although I'd made the promise I couldn't keep it. My conscience was driving me mad! I had to tell you the truth-—so that you could put your life to rights again. You've no need to marry that Spaniard now!' Lauren had not been able to say anything for a long while, since her mind was desperately trying to reject what had been imparted to it. Her sister could not have done this thing. She was far too honourable. But in the end Lauren's mind did accept it all, for in doing so everything was explained—her own uneasiness, her suspicions that some mystery existed regarding the abduction, her puzzlement that Edwin was not nearly so anxious as he should have been. The way Felice had walked in, just as if nothing had happened. And at last Lauren had broken the silence that had settled between Edwin and herself after he had mentioned 'that Spaniard'. 'I'm already married. We fly to Spain this evening.' Edwin had gone white, she recalled, and his eyes had actually filled. As they parted outside the cafe Edwin had begged her forgiveness. She had given it, but had been unable to say more, leaving him without even a word of farewell. 'So that was what happened that day in the cafe.' Ramon's soft voice came to Lauren some moments after she had finished speaking. 'You just said that Edwin's eyes had filled with tears. You haven't told me what he said when you told him that you were already married.' She turned away, but her husband's hand brought her face round again. 'He said—said that he had h-helped to ruin my life.'

'And had he?' Again the inflection, and the black eyes burned right into hers. 'Had he helped to ruin your life?' 'Of course.' She was afraid, convinced that the temper she had seen several times since coming to the Casa de Cabrera would be in evidence again. 'If that hadn't happened I'd still be engaged to Roger.' Releasing her chin, Ramon stood for a long moment regarding her with a cold impersonal expression, and then he said, turning away even as he spoke, 'One of these days, Lauren, you will try me too far— and when that day arrives you're going to feel the real lash of my temper!' She watched him stride away, along another terrace that opened on to a long rectangular swimming-pool, and only when he disappeared from her view altogether did she allow her reflections to take full rein again. She recalled the scene with her sister when, only a couple of hours or so before she was to leave for the airport, she had disclosed to Felice that Edwin had made a full confession. Felice had broken down, admitting to her jealousy, and taking on an attitude of selfpity. She made no mention of the anguish through which Lauren had gone, but she was concerned about their father, imploring Lauren not to act in any way that could prove harmful to him. 'I'm not likely to do that!' was Lauren's swift and wrathful retort,, 'But as for you—you'll return that money, and at once!' 'I could kill Edwin!' 'The money I' demanded Lauren. 'It's in my room -' 'Then get it!'

It was brought down, still wrapped in the brown paper in which it had been conveyed to Fiddler's Wood. 'I'm returning your money,' Lauren was saying to Ramon half an hour later when, having completed his business, he was ready to drive her to the airport, where he was to leave his car, having arranged for it to be sent by boat and road to his home in Andalusia. 'I'm not going to Spain with you, Ramon.' 'You're -' He had stared in disbelief at the parcel she was holding out to him. 'Where did you get that?' She had looked at him, aware of tinglings along her spine, for it did seem that he was not displaying the amount of surprise she had expected from him. However, she explained, as briefly as possible, ending by saying again that she was returning his money and that in consequence of being out of his debt she was not going to Spain. 'Our marriage can be annulled,' she had ended ... but she had stepped back, putting some distance between them as she noted the change of expression that had come to his face. Harsh and twisted, with those black eyes glinting with almost evil intensity, it was enough to terrify the bravest heart, 'You're my wife,' he had snarled, catching hold of the package and flinging it across the room. 'My wife, I say! —and your place is with me!' 'Don't shout,' she had implored. 'Father's in the other room, and he doesn't know about this -'

'Doesn't know?' Softer the voice now—and the most odd expression had replaced the dark fury in his eyes. 'You've kept Felice's criminal activities from him?' She nodded her head. 'Yes, of course I have. He adores Felice, and should he ever learn the truth the shock could kill him. The doctor warned me of this.' 'I see ...' Triumph in the tone, and the smile of victory on the thin straight lips. 'Well, wife—do you come with me to Spain, or do I go right in there and give your father the shock that could kill him?' She stared disbelievingly. 'You'd do that?' she said incredulously. 'Is it any less honourable than what you are willing to do?' In all fairness she had to own that it was not... and so she abandoned the fight, let fall from her despairing grasp this one last straw with which she had hoped to save herself from the fate which awaited her. 'I shall never forgive you,' she had declared. 'Never as long as I live!' 'That,' he returned with a contemptuous curl of his lips, 'is the most unreasonable declaration I have ever heard spoken.' That was the last he had said. Picking up the suitcases, he had packed them into the car. Lauren, after saying goodbye to her father, had stopped to glance at the package which still lay where her husband had thrown it. She had then gone to join Ramon, who was sitting at the wheel of his car.

The sun had risen higher in the sky while Lauren stood there on the terrace, and its brilliant rays shone on the lovely gardens with their

lake and ornamental trees, their flower borders and the three pools set a different levels. Judas trees leaned over ancient walls; discreet sculpture, catching the golden rays, changed from white to a rich shade of honey-brown. 'Breakfast is ready, senor.' The quiet respectful voice of Maria came to Lauren and she turned to glance over her shoulder at the small frame of Ramon's housekeeper. 'Thank you, Marfa.' Ramon came swinging along at that moment, fresh from a swim in the sun-heated pool. 'You should have joined me,' he said abruptly. 'I'll take a dip later.' 'Still brooding?' he said, coming to a halt above her. She tilted her head and met his dispassionate gaze. 'I was still thinking of England, I must admit,' she replied, and saw his eyes narrow to mere slits. 'Regrets are futile,' he told her harshly. 'Live for the present and the future, never for the past. It's dead and therefore unfruitful. It's dust that one has walked upon but left behind—often thankfully.' 'I didn't leave England thankfully,' she just had to say. 'Some day you might reconsider that statement, Lauren.' 'I don't believe I shall.' Impatiently he shrugged, then extended a hand to her.

'Come to breakfast; you'll feel better after you've eaten.' She felt like asking why she should feel better, but refrained. She had no wish to arouse her husband's anger, especially today, when he was taking her on a trip into Granada to do some sightseeing and shopping. As she walked towards the house with him she vividly recalled her first impressions of the home to which her husband had brought her. Its exterior suggested the romantic architecture of a century ago, when builders incorporated such adjuncts as balconies with tall french doors opening on to them, and tree-shaded patios with lush tropical plants like ferns and figs and lovely trailing vines. One patio garden which had become a particular favourite with Lauren was canopied by an enormous Judas tree, and nestling against the walls were masses of dainty white cyclamens interspersed with brilliant crimson poinsettias. There were terraces and wide green lawns, shrubberies and rose gardens. Inside the palace some of the rooms were of baronial proportions, with high, intricately ornate ceilings, old doors and fireplaces. In some rooms the black and white timbers, Andalusian in concept, reminded Lauren of the Tudor influence of some of the English villages. Hanging brass lanterns were a feature of the wide gallery running along the south-facing wing of the palace, the facade of which showed a blend of baroque and Gothic. Jasper and porphyry columns lent an air of majestic elegance to the front of the mansion, and here too was a Romanesque facade, its rather gaunt embellishments softened by masses of purple bougainvillaeas banking its sides. In the vast entrance hall were suits of armour; numerous weapons hung on some of the walls, while tapestries and murals decorated others. Over all was the gentle patina of age and an atmosphere of loving care.

Breakfast was served in the small but elegant breakfast-room overlooking a part of the garden that consisted of a sweeping lawn with grassy banks where wild irises bloomed in profusion among the butterfly orchids. Mimosas and Spanish genistas bordered the sides of the lawn; geraniums and petunias filled beds cut in the shape of stars and crescent moons. The table sparkled with silver and cut glass; the food was of the most expensive, and cooked to perfection by Benito, a chef whom Ramon had once employed in a hotel he owned in Malaga. 'You're not eating anything,' commented Ramon as she sat there, admiring the colourful aspect of the garden. 'I can't say I'm hungry.' He frowned sharply, 'Eat something nevertheless!' Her chin went up. 'Don't order me about like that, Ramon. If I want to eat then I shall— otherwise I shall not.' His black eyes glinted dangerously. She saw that' she had goaded him quite far enough. 'If you are not careful, Lauren, we shall remain at home today.' She gave a small sigh and allowed him to help her to ham and kidneys. 'That's enough, thank you, Ramon.'

'I've told you not to dwell on the past, Lauren,' he said with a frown. 'The sooner you school yourself to the acceptance of the inevitable the better.' 'How can I help dwelling on what might have been? The wedding, for instance—I'd already chosen the dress; it was to be made by Roger's mother's dressmaker. Then the reception—hundreds of guests were to have been invited.' She paused a moment, curiously reluctant to voice the final words on her lips. But she did voice them, and he learned that the honeymoon was to have been in Tahiti. 'I can take you to Tahiti, if that is so important to you,' he said, Lauren shook her head. 'I wanted to go with Roger, not you.' He was eating his ham, but he stopped, and placed his fork back upon his plate. 'How long must I listen to your murmurings about the man to whom you were engaged?' he inquired, his dark eyes kindling. 'You should have released me- -' 'We were already married by the time you were able to return the money,' he reminded her. 'You could have accepted it all the same, and agreed to an annulment of the marriage.' His expression became one of cold contempt. 'You made a bargain, Lauren, and at the time I offered you the ransom money you did make some flattering remark about my kindness—or perhaps it was about my generosity. Whatever it was,

you were only too happy to accept—to strike a bargain with me.' His eyes held hers across the table. 'Having made that bargain you then wished to break it—because it so happened that you were suddenly in a position to break it. Had the circumstances not changed then all would have been well between us, wouldn't it?' She shook her head, but it was an automatic gesture, not a negative one. 'Had you been a gentleman, then you would have understood how I felt, and you would have freed me from the bargain I made with you.' 'So I am not a gentleman?' His voice was crisp and chill. 'That is the first time anyone has said a thing like that to me.' She coloured, and knew that she ought to apologise to him, but she found such a course quite impossible. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence and even when they were in the car, and Ramon was driving along the road, no word passed between them. Lauren sat rigid in her seat, wondering just how long she would be able to tolerate a life like this. Yet she was beginning to wonder if her husband was correct in insisting that she try to forget the past, and what it had offered to her. For if she had never met Roger, and become engaged to him, this torment would never have existed. Yet how could she ever begin to put from her mind the rosy picture which her future had made? She was to have been the wife of a wealthy man; she would have been addressed as 'My lady'. At last she turned her head, to look at the profile of her husband. It was stern and set, with the Latin features seeming to be accentuated by the play of light and shade in the car as it sped along, under a canopy of trees. Seeing her stare he turned swiftly, taking a brief glance at her before returning his attention to the road.

'Are you enjoying the drive?' he inquired with that cool politeness to which she was becoming used. 'Yes, I am.' 'Be careful you don't enthuse,' he could not help saying, and she felt a touch of colour leap to her cheeks. 'It's rather wonderful,' she said, staring at the green- clothed hills and fringes of golden poplars that enhanced the valley sides. 'I did say that I was enjoying the drive,' she added with a hint of indignation. Wild flowers were profuse along the sides of the road—tall lavender and thyme, yarrow, asphodels and long stretches of oxalis. Perfume drifted Into the car; colour was exotic in the all-absorbing light from the brilliant sun which shone down from a cloudless azure sky. At one point Ramon surprised her by stopping the car to point out to her a fantailed warbler which was hovering over its nest. 'You'd be delighted with the nest,' he told her, apparently having forgotten the dissension which had existed between them up till now. 'It's so very fine, firmly fixed to the blades of corn with spiders' webs.' 'Spiders' webs!' she exclaimed, herself forgetting the dissention. 'But how fascinating! I'd love to see it.' 'We might come along later, when the fledglings are ready to fly—or perhaps just after they have flown. We can't disturb the parents at this time,' he added, and already the car was smoothly gliding back on to the road. After that breaking of the ice, as it were, they chatted amicably until the city was reached.

'We'll have lunch first,' Ramon said, and took her to the San Francisco, a government-run parador that was part of the greater compound of the Alhambra. 'It was originally built as a convent,' Ramón told her, 'after the reconquest of Granada.' This naturally brought to Lauren's mind those famous monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella, who conquered the Moors and succeeded in bringing all Spain to the Christian faith. For the lunch they had onion cheese soup served piping hot in brown earthenware bowls, and topped with layers of croutons newly browned and crisped in the oven; then Lauren had chicken while Ramon chose the pepper steak. For a sweet they both had zabaglione, a celebrated Italian dessert made of egg custard flavoured with Marsala wine. 'That was lovely.' Lauren looked across the table, and smiled. 'Thank you for bringing me, Ramón.' His expression changed as his eyes took on a curious light. Lauren saw the slight movement of a nerve in the side of his cheek—and wondered at the reason for the inner emotion that this sudden fluttering of a nerve portrayed. 'It's a pleasure to give you enjoyment, Lauren,' was all he said, but as they rose from the table he extended a hand to her and she put hers into it. 'We'll go out this way ...' He took her to the Moorish-inspired patio and they stood for a while looking at the age-old vines and trees. Opening on to this patio was a long gallery which at one time had probably been a chapel or meeting hall of some kind; now it was a pleasant lounge and several tourists were seated in it, chatting over their drinks.

'And now for the Alhambra,' smiled Ramon, still holding her hand in his. 'I don't know what you're expecting, Lauren, but I must warn you not to be disappointed by the rather sombre exterior of the palace.'

CHAPTER SEVEN THEY entered the palace through the incongruous fourteenth-century 'Gateway of Justice' and after Ramón had bought the tickets and refused the offer of a guide, he and Lauren wandered leisurely from one richly ornamented open-air room to another, Lauren admiring and often commenting on the lace-like walls and the courtyards with their lovely fountains whose waters, sparkling in the sun, sent forth a myriad miniature rainbows to add enchantment and romance to the fairy-tale scene. Sometimes Lauren would be quietly contemplative and Ramon would turn his dark head to regard her face in profile. Conscious of his eyes upon her, she invariably recalled the power he had over her, the strange unfathomable magnetism which had always conquered any resistance to his orders or desires. With Roger she had felt an equal, with this Spanish nobleman she almost felt inferior. And as this was naturally a most unpleasant experience for her she took refuge in periods of coldness and assumed indifference towards him. Plainly this angered him, and at times his retaliation would be in the form of increased mastery, as if, for his own satisfaction, he must bend her to his will. And so there had been clashes from the first. Ramon appeared able to sustain himself to meet them; Lauren was beginning to wonder just how long she could live this kind of life. 'What are the Arab inscriptions?' Lauren broke a long silence to ask this question, and she turned her head, an involuntary smile coming to her lips. 'Most of them add up to the same thing,' he told her with some amusement. 'Only Allah is Conqueror,' he quoted, looking up at the letters above his head. 'I wonder what it was like when the sultans were here?' she mused, thinking of Istanbul and of the fabulous Topkapi Palace of which she had read. 'How they must have hated it when they were conquered at last!'

'All that makes interesting history. Ferdinand and Isabella certainly left their mark on Spain.' 'They're buried here, of course?' Ramon nodded, but said that in all probability the two famous monarchs would have preferred to remain in their modest resting place, but their grandson's de- sir^ for pomp and splendour resulted in their being removed to the florid Gothic chapel that was built specially to house their remains. . They continued to stroll, and gradually Lauren found herself experiencing a total subjugation to the intensely restful atmosphere of the palace. It was as if a spirit of unity pervaded the whole vast edifice, beguiling the senses to a state, where no animosity could flourish. For the first time since coming to Spain she felt totally at peace—this despite the fact that all around were conducted parties of tourists, listening open-eyed to the history being poured in parrotmonotony from the lips of the bored, perspiring official guides. 'The music of the water must be one reason for the way I feel ...' The words came almost without an awareness that she was whispering them in a sufficiently loud tone for them to be caught by her husband. 'The music of the water,' he repeated, and she saw that her phrasing had pleased him, for his black eyes registered unmistakable pleasure as he turned to flash her a glance. 'The fountains here always make endless music—and can any music be sweeter than that of running water?' 'It's ... soothing,' she returned, wondering why she had never really hated this man who had forced her into marriage. 'And you need to be soothed?'

She shrugged at this, not wanting to enter into any intimate conversation with him. 'I like to feel peaceful, naturally,' she had to say at last, for he had stopped and was regarding her in a way that suggested he would have the patience to wait all day for an answer if necessary. 'Peaceful.' Again he repeated what she had said. 'We all want peace, Lauren, it's a state of mind that gives us entire satisfaction with our lives.' 'But I am not satisfied with my life,' she said, but silently, for just as she had no desire to talk intimately to him, neither had she any desire to insert a barb of disunity into so pleasant an occasion as this. 'I think the Alhambra has a sadness about it,' she was remarking as they lingered for a while to gaze with admiration over the thickly wooded gorge of the Darro. 'All places that have known past splendours, and lost them, seem sad to me.' He said, turning his eyes from the lovely scene of nature to the exquisitely contoured face of his wife, 'You yourself are sad, my dear, and so your eyes find sadness all around you.' He gave a small sigh that seemed wholly out of character with his strong and autocratic personality. 'Perhaps I should not have brought you here -' 'Oh, but, yes, you should,' she hastily corrected him. 'I wouldn't have missed it for anything. I want to see all the wonders of Spain, because I have read about them and know that they are all worth a visit.' 'You could have come another time—with someone else.' 'Someone else?' she repeated, flashing him an inquiring look.

'You will make friends, I hope. Next Friday I am having friends of mine to a dinner party. This is so that you can meet their wives, and a daughter. I am optimistic about your liking some of them enough to make friends.' She stared, filled with surprise that he should be troubling himself about her lack of friends in this new country to which he had brought her. 'That is ... nice of you, and thoughtful,' she murmured, frowning that she should be experiencing a feeling of self-condemnation for the way she had been treating him. And because it was not her nature to hurt she found herself saying, with a frank expression in her eyes, 'I don't want to come with anyone else, Ramon. I want you to take me to these places.' Did he give a start? Most certainly her words had surprised him. However, he soon recovered and his voice was untouched by emotion when presently he said, 'In that case, my dear, I am at your service.' At this she had to' smile. How stiff and formal he could be! 'You're talking to your wife,' she could not help saying, and the broadening of her smile told him that she was more than a little amused. 'You don't often refer to yourself as my wife,' he reminded her, on a faintly puzzled note. They had moved on and were approaching the Queen's Boudoir, having from the start taken their directions in a random way which, to Lauren, was far more interesting than the sort of regimental march followed by those tourists accompanied by

guides. 'Have you nothing to say to that?' he added when she did not speak. 'We haven't been married long.' 'An excuse. I always think of myself as your husband.' She looked at him, bringing her eyes from the scene of grey and white houses which formed part of the view from the Boudoir. 'But then you wanted to marry me,' she reminded him. 'It wasn't like that with me at all.' 'Must you keep on bringing up the circumstances of our marriage, Lauren?' Impatience edged his tone, and his eyes were slowly narrowing. 'No,' she answered after a pause. 'It's futile, as you've already said, several times.' Lauren turned again to look over to the panorama of houses. 'You say that I wanted to marry you.' Ramon looked at the back of her head. 'You've never troubled to ask yourself the reason for my wanting to marry you.' Swiftly she turned, potently aware of something in his tone that she could not understand. She examined his face for a clue, but it was an unreadable mask, dark and austere. 'I supposed it to be because you desired me. Your— er— suggestion——' she broke off, conscious of her rising colour, and it was some moments before she resumed, 'That first suggestion. It was obvious then that your interest in me was merely the idea of an hour or so's amusement.'

'I admit it,' he responded unhesitatingly. 'But as the evening wore on, I began to see you as my wife, and by the time we went into the garden the second time I had made up my mind that you were the only woman in the world for me.' 'But you felt no love for me—only desire.' No response for a space and then, 'There was a draw between you and me, Lauren. We both knew it. As I said then, we were destined to meet, and to marry. It was Kismet.' 'How can people live without love?' she asked. 'Desire of the physical kind might carry us over for a while, but what then?' 'This is the first time you've admitted that your desire for me is as strong as mine for you.' 'It would be useless for me to deny it.' The confession brought a painful blush to her face and she turned from him. 'Let's carry on,' she urged, and began to move away. 'We've a lot to see yet.' And so the subject was changed and from then on it became impersonal. But it was friendly, and Lauren had to admit that she was not really unhappy. They strolled about the Lions' Courtyard, which in the days of the Sultan had been his most private place where his harem was enjoyed. Off the Courtyard were apartments like the Gossip Room where, said Ramon with a humorous, smile, intrigue would have been rife. 'What about the Hall of the Two Sisters?' she asked, falling into his mood. 'Did the Sultan's two sisters live here?' 'His favourite of the moment was kept here.'

'How precarious—to be the favourite, I mean. You'd never know just when you were going to be ousted. I'd have been living in terror.' 'Why terror?' 'Well, according to what I've read about the sultans in Turkey, they just killed the wives they'd become tired of.' 'You're thinking of the fellow who had about three hundred thrown into the Bosphorus, I gather?" 'That's right.' 'He was probably an exception.' 'I don't know,' she returned doubtfully. 'They all sounded like barbarians to me.' She flicked a page of the guide book she held in her hand. 'The sultan here had thirty-six Moorish princes beheaded once because he suspected one of them—one only—of having an affair with the favourite.' 'Yes, it was a grim regime they had,' agreed Ramon, but added that the Moors could certainly build beautiful palaces. 'Indeed, yes—but here the delicate Arab unity's spoiled by the Renaissance Palace of Charles V.' 'A great pity it was ever built.' They went into this palace, and saw where Washington Irving had lived while compiling his 'Tales of the Alhambra', and Lauren could not help thinking how lucky the American novelist was to have been able to stay as an inhabitant at a time when there would be no tourists milling about in their hundreds, as there were at the present time.

After leaving the Alcazar they drove to the Alcaiceria, which, Ramon explained, was a rebuilt Moorish-type 'village' of shops, right in the very heart of Granada. Wandering along its quaint and narrow streets Lauren became quite enchanted by this Moorish 'market' and several times she stopped at one or other of the little shops, were the 'Tipico' arts and crafts on display attracted her attention. She bought two tiled plaques and some castanets, as souvenirs to send home to one or two of her friends. 'Well,' Ramon was saying as the sun began to go down, 'have you had enough for one day?' She nodded, but reluctantly, and as he noticed this slight hesitation a smile of satisfaction touched his mouth. 'I've thoroughly enjoyed it,' she told him sincerely on noting his expression. 'Thank you.' 'No need to thank me, Lauren. I too have enjoyed our day out together.' Having wandered some distance from the place where Ramon's car was parked, they turned and began to stroll back the way they had come. Granada had been described as a garden city for all seasons, and as they walked Ramon described what it was like at various times of the year—in the autumn when the oranges hung like Chinese lanterns from the shiny-leaved trees; in winter when the sierra was topped with snow, but when, lower down, the almondblossom grew in spectacular profusion all along the incredibly beautiful valley of Lecrin as far as the Mediterranean Sea. In spring the air was filled with the scent of orange-blossom and the lower slopes of the sierra were clothed with aromatic vegetation. 'And in summer ...' It was summer now and the carmens, those charming walled gardens which were so numerous here, were filled with such blossoms as roses and passion flowers, poinsettias and

bougainvillaea— and many other perfumed and exotic flowers too numerous to mention. Darkness fell as they were driving home along the road behind a high wedge of hills which, said Ramon casually, belonged to him. 'But this village is in the hills,' she pointed out as they came suddenly into a circle of twinkling lights. 'This also belongs to the Cabrera estate.' Her eyes widened. This was all news to her. 'You own all this in addition to your other properties?' 'Yes,' casually and without a trace of interest, his whole attention being on negotiating the bends that wound sinuously out of the village and into the hills beyond. 'The beach?' she ventured, aware that, once they crossed the hills, the sea would come into view. 'I own eleven miles of beach.' And now he did have some interest, for there was a distinct note of eagerness in his voice as he added, 'I'm intending to develop it quite soon. I shall take you there one day, Lauren, for there's a very attractive rambling finca with soaring ceilings and ebony panelling made from ships that have been wrecked. Some of the furniture's made of wrecks also, but that's at present stored at the Casa. I'm considering establishing a sort of British colony there— very select, of course. I don't cater for the riffraff, as you term those who want a conglomeration of lights and traffic, of fish and chip bars and gaming machines. I want to have the finca tastefully renovated, and added to, so that it becomes a most attractive and select hotel. I want a marina for yachts. When we go, Lauren,' he added, still with that enthusiasm ringing in his voice, 'you

will realize the potential. The beach has the most delightful sandy bays all along its length—and the sand is golden, not grey as it is some distance away to the east. She turned her head, amazed at this sudden, almost unbelievable change from the cool stiff manner of the Spanish Don to the almost boyish eagerness of a man about to enter into some new and exciting venture. 'You're an anglophile,' she said in some wonderment, and he nodded his head at once. 'But of course,' he said in some amusement, 'that's why I chose an English girl for my wife.'

The massive high-ceilinged dining-room of the Casa glittered with glass and silver and beautiful hand painted porcelain. The dinner mats lying on the magnificent inlaid table were exquisitely embroidered in off white silks on a background of finest linen. White- coated servants hovered over cutlery and candles, wine glasses and flower decorations. Lauren stood in the high wide doorway and took it all in. Having been a regular visitor to the home of her fiancé, she had become used to the splendour in which the aristocracy lived, but this was something she had never even visualised, let alone witnessed. 'It's time you were dressing, my dear.' The soft voice of her husband making her jump, she turned, her eyes taking in his immaculate attire—the perfectly cut dinner jacket, the dazzling white shirt and black bow tie. How distinguished he looked! —with that bronzed skin and those black eyes looking out of his clear-cut Latin features. In the shadow cast by the huge potted palm by which he was

standing, the hollows beneath the high cheekbones appeared deeper than ever, the arrogant jawline more taut, the thin mouth more flexed. 'That dress of Chinese embroidered silk,' he was saying, 'I'd like to see you in that tonight.' 'I was intending to wear the white lace -' 'The Chinese silk,' he cut in softly. 'I want you to look particularly sophisticated while appearing very young. The high mandarin collar and full sleeves are particularly youthful.' Lauren hesitated, half inclined to adopt an attitude of obstinacy, but she changed her mind. Ramon had not been in a particularly amicable mood these past few days and she decided that it was better not to aggravate him. And so she appeared three-quarters of an hour later beautifully attired in the long, high- necked gown with its full mandarin sleeves. In her hair she wore a silver ribbon tied in a bow over one ear, and on her wrist she wore the diamond bracelet which Ramón had given her for a wedding gift. 'You look... incredibly beautiful.' The words seemed to come from the very heart of him, breathed softly yet with an emphasis that was inordinately flattering. Lauren flushed adorably and would have turned her head in order to avoid his all-appraising eyes but, forestalling her intention, he flicked a finger to her chin and kept it there. 'You're too good to look at for me to allow you to turn from me, Lauren.' His eyes travelled over her face and her neck; they took in the tender curves of breasts and waist before moving on to approve the perfect cut and fit of the gown for which he had paid a phenomenal sum of money, as it had been bought in London in the late afternoon of the day they had flown out to Spain. 'I feel dreadfully nervous,' she was confessing when, glancing at the clock, she realised that in less than a quarter of an hour the first of

their guests would be arriving. 'A marquis, you say, and a countess? I shan't know how to address them.' 'You will soon be using Christian names,' he told her gently. 'Have no fear, Lauren, you will not let either of us down.' 'So long as I don't let you down,' she began, when he interrupted to say that it was equally important that she did not let herself down. He turned deliberately to her, his dark eyes holding hers. 'One's self-respect is a most precious possession— always remember that.' She nodded her head, catching the reflection of her face in the mirror on the wall. Without being immodest she owned that her husband could not but be proud of his English wife. The first guest to arrive was the tall and handsome bachelor, Don Diego de Guardiana, who, immediately his eyes lit on Lauren, gave an audible exclamation and stared for some moments as if too surprised to speak. 'But you are too beautiful,' he murmured at length, bowing over her hand. 'Ramon, you did not prepare me for this.' Ramon managed a smile, a faint smile, as his eyes travelled slowly from his friend's handsome face to that of Lauren. 'You didn't ask me for a description of my wife, Diego.' 'To tell you the truth, I'm very pleased that I didn't! For what more pleasant a surprise than to discover my beautiful hostess for myself?' Lauren looked doubtfully at him, not quite sure whether to laugh spontaneously at his jokes or assume the faintly arrogant affection of merely being slightly amused. Glancing at her husband for guidance,

she encountered only a fixed impersonal stare and with an inward shrug she decided to act naturally and if she made any mistakes then she would blame her husband for them. But she made no mistakes at all, and by the time the dessert course was being served, on exquisitely hand- painted Derby porcelain made over a hundred and thirty years ago, she was treating their guests as if she had known them for months rather than a mere two or three hours. The Marques de Valaga and his wife Lolita, both of whom were about the same age as Ramon, who was approaching his thirtysecond birthday, were a charming couple whose business was tourism. They were at present developing a vast holiday complex somewhere to the east of Almeria. The Condesa Eleni Manzarez, a more portly lady of about fifty years of age, was the widow of a film producer; she was gay and painted, but there was an underlying seriousness and femininity about her that was most appealing. Her hair, beautifully styled in a French pleat with side curls, was the dark attractive shade of iron grey. She had the most vivid blue eyes and a smooth unblemished skin. Her smile was infectious and even Ramon melted when she turned her attention upon him. 'Let us hope that Lauren will bring you out, Ramon,' she said forthrightly. 'You don't laugh half enough— my Vicente used to tell you that, if you remember?' 'I remember very well,' returned Ramon good- humouredly. 'But he also used to remind me that laughing gives you wrinkles.' 'Ah, yes—he was a fanatic about keeping young.' She looked at Lauren with a twinkle in her eyes. 'Exercise every day, windows wide open even in the rain. He never touched alcohol, he never smoked -' She spread her hands. 'He died at the age of forty-one.'

Lauren, glancing swiftly at her husband, did not know whether to laugh or commiserate, but as everyone else was laughing she joined in. 'I should have thought, Eleni,' commented the Marquesa de Valaga, 'that you would have found yourself someone else before now.' 'Nothing is further from my mind, Lolita. I'm enjoying my freedom far too much to throw it away again.' 'Don Emilio Fernando was after you at one time.' That gentleman merely laughed and agreed gallantly. 'Indeed, yes, but she gave me—gave -' He stopped and frowned and glanced at Lauren. 'What do you say in your country, senora— something about sweeping up, I think?' Lauren laughed and said, 'The Condesa gave you the brush-off.' 'That's it! Now tell me, why do they say it just like that?' Lauren did not know; it was just a saying that happened to be in vogue at the present time. It might not be heard at all in another year or so, she told him. The lady to Ramon's right was Dona Maria Lozano who, with her husband and daughter, was in the sherry business, Don Jose Lozano having come from a very famous sherry family whose products were often considered to be among the best in the country. Their daughter, who was almost nineteen, was rather plain of features but charming of personality and it was soon apparent to Ramón that Teresa and Lauren were going to strike up a friendship.

Next to Lauren on her right was Don Diego, whose persistent monopolising of his hostess was bound to come to the notice of her husband, and when, having been in conversation with Don Diego for some considerable length of time, she happened to glance up, it was to see Ramon's black eyes fixed upon her in a rather disconcerting manner. He seemed to be administering a reprimand, but seeing that she was powerless to prevent the handsome bachelor from holding her in conversation, she decided to allow her husband's marked censure to pass over her head. But she was to hear from him later, when the last of their guests had departed. It was after midnight and as she guessed at his intention to admonish her she stifled a yawn and announced that she was going to bed. 'I have something to say to you first,' he said. 'Sit down, Lauren.' Imperiously he indicated a chair. She sat down, but her temper was rising. 'It's about Don Diego—' 'You've no need to tell me that,' she flashed back at him, 'I know.' 'You do? Then perhaps you will explain why you allowed him to monopolise you the way he did?' 'How could I help it ?' 'You had someone on your left, and people opposite to you. As your guests they would expect you to afford them some of your attention.' He paused a moment, his dark Latin features sternly set. 'It would seem, Lauren, that you have something to learn about etiquette.' She said, her face pale with anger, 'I felt, Ramon, that I had done very well this evening.'

'On the whole you did,' he was ready to concede, 'but you've admitted yourself that you gave Diego too much of your attention.' 'I admitted no such thing!' "You said -' 'I implied that I knew the nature of your criticism.' He sighed, and there seemed to be a sort of grim indulgence in his tones as he said, 'We're not getting very far. Let us leave it for tonight.' Up in her lovely white and gold bedroom with its long velvet drapes and Spanish antique furniture, Lauren slipped out of her dress into a housecoat. Ramon was moving about in the next room; she sincerely hoped he would stay there. But she was to be disappointed. Twenty minutes later just as she was about to get into bed, he entered. Attired in a dressing gown of black and crimson silk, with his dark hair brushed and shining, he appeared so attractive that she actually caught her breath. 'You looked so very beautiful tonight,' he commented, moving slowly through the communicating door and pushing it to behind him. 'Come here, Lauren.' He held out his arms, his voice neither imperative nor persuasive. She frowned at his total lack of emotion and instinctively shook her head. 'You want to come, you know,' he added, his voice having acquired an inflection of sardonic amusement. 'I wonder if you fully realise just how self-opinionated you are, Ramon?' She was aloof, haughty even, and yet as always she was vitally affected by his overwhelming magnetism; she was back in the garden of her fiancé's home, seeing him again as the arrogant intruder

whose passionate kisses had ignited the fire of her own desire, whose strong and confident arms had held her by sheer brute force. 'I am truthful, which you are not.' Another step shortened the distance between them. 'You're not even honest with yourself, Lauren.' This was not quite true; she was honest with herself—but she could not bring herself to be wholly honest with him. At times she did find it easy—as on the day they went to Granada and she had admitted to desiring him as much as he desired her. At other times she found it more comfortable to make a denial, even though she knew she was uttering untruths, and even though she was aware that her husband knew she was uttering untruths. She looked at him again, conscious of her flimsy night attire, and of the fact that he was regarding her with ever-increasing ardour and desire. Why should she want to send him away? True, he was a most demanding lover, a man who openly disdained any pretence at modesty on her part, but he was a gentle lover, too, and she could not with truth say that she had ever resented anything he did. 'It's late,' she said at last, glancing at the lovely ormolu clock which adorned the wall above her dressing table. Four quick steps brought him close to her; his arm went around her and as he looked down into her startled eyes she saw the fiery light in his, a mingling of anger and desire. His arm tightened and, as if some primitive unshackled force were driving him, he bent his head and kissed her until she herself was consumed by the fire of his passion. His arms crushed her, and again and again his lips claimed hers. 'You yourself raised the storm,' he declared when at length his ardour had to some extent spent itself. 'Your arrogance and coldness goad me, serving only as a challenge to my pride. I wouldn't be a man if I didn't accept your challenge—and crush you.' He held her at arms'

length and staring into those black eyes she knew a flare of anger on seeing the triumph lurking in their depths. She would send him away! 'I'm tired, Ramon,' she told him in a defiantly insistent voice. 'Please go!' 'You're my wife, Lauren!' 'Only because of circumstances.' 'Forget the circumstances!' She cast him a scornful glance before saying, stirred by a headlong impulse which, subconsciously, she knew would increase his wrath, 'You ask the impossible, Ramon! Surely you have some sort of imagination? Surely you can see that I would rather—rather ...' She allowed her words to drift slowly to silence, as she saw his face twist into almost evil lines. 'You would rather be in his arms than mine! Is that what you were intending to say?' Pale and trembling, Lauren recoiled from the harshness in his tone. And yet, after a little pause, she was able to marshall sufficient courage to say, 'Naturally I would rather be with the man I love than with a man I was forced to marry.' 'At the time,' he snarled, 'you were glad of my assistance, entering into the bargain without any hesitation to speak of -' 'Let's not bring it up,' she cut in wearily. 'Yes,' she added, noting the lift of his eyebrows, 'it was I who started to talk about it, but now I want to forget it.' She knew she had lost the rest of her colour, and

that she was trembling inwardly, because her heart was beating far too quickly. She knew that her fingers were playing nervously with the dainty ribbons that held her negligee together at her throat. But suddenly her eyes were on her husband's hands; they were closed and rigid at his sides. She said again, this time in a detached and icy tone, 'Please go,. Ramon. I've told you I'm tired. It's been a trying evening—my first dinner party -' She stopped, for, judging by his expression, it was abundantly clear that he had no intention of leaving... at least, not yet. He was standing quite immobile, his back to the window, his eyes fixed upon her face; she glanced beyond him to where the chequered moonbeams, piercing a high wide rose trellis at the far end of the lawn, cast their uncertain light upon the marble statue in whose outstretched hands was held a jasper lamp, extinguished now, as were all the other illuminations of the casa gardens. 'I'm staying, Lauren,' came the soft but autocratic voice of her husband. She frowned and automatically shook her head. But she had no time to speak, even had she the inclination to speak, for, with one swift and totally unexpected movement of his tall lithe body, he had swept her off her feet. She felt choked by the sudden wild throbbing of her heart as the room was plunged into darkness, and she felt the ribbon bow at her throat being loosened...

CHAPTER EIGHT FOR a long while she lay awake, with only the sound of the wind intruding into the quiescence of her mind. Through the lacy fluttering curtains a shimmering phantom of moonlight penetrated, so that she could without difficulty pick out the various objects in the room; she could even see the gilded flower patterns which decorated the high corniced ceiling. Wealth ... Her mind became active; she knew that sleep would continue to elude her. What strange quirk of fate had dictated that, born in comparatively humble surroundings, she enter the world of the rich? For undoubtedly it was meant to be; Roger, for some incredible reason, had picked her out at that staff dance—even though her sister was there too. Then the cold unfathomable Don Ramon Eduardo de Cabrera y Molina had noticed her out of all the beautiful women at the engagement party. Was there something special about her that appealed to men? Lauren was not in any way gratified by this possibility; in fact, it troubled her exceedingly, because at this moment she was seeing the handsome Don Diego, seeing the way he had looked at her, with undisguised admiration, and she had known almost from the moment of meeting him that she must guard against saying anything which would mislead him into thinking she was offering encouragement. Her mind spiralling suddenly, she was asking herself whether, had her sister been present this evening, Don Diego, like the others, would have picked out Lauren in preference to Felice. 'It's so strange,' she murmured into the crisp white linen that touched her mouth, 'because we're so alike. How can anyone who doesn't know us choose one from the other?' Gradually she found her mind becoming hazy as sleep began to invade it. She turned to glance for a moment at the dark head resting on the pillow at her side. Stirring in his sleep, Ramon moved, and she saw the restive twist of his face. Was he dreaming? He looked sad, in

some strange way ... and very young. For no reason that she could explain, she felt a constriction in her throat and' on a sudden impulse she moved, to touch his dark cheek with her lips. But she refrained, drawing back at the last moment, afraid that she would waken him. The following morning there was a letter for her; she took it from the tray which another of the maids, Jeronima, had brought up to her bedroom. It lay on her hand for a space while she gazed at the typewritten address and wondered who it could be from. The postmark was London. Opening it, she was glad of the privacy of her room ... for it was from Roger, a letter of sorrow and regret—and pleading. Edwin, tortured by remorse, and hoping that in some way things between Roger and Lauren could be put right, had gone to Roger and made a full confession. 'I could scarcely believe what he was telling me,' Roger had continued on the second page of the letter. 'Why, my darling, did you not come to me, straight from the meeting with Edwin, and together we would have sorted this terrible business out? You were already married, I know, but there was no need for you to go to Spain. The marriage could have been annulled without any publicity at all, and then you and I could have been married. I write to tell you that, because I still love you, I'm willing to wait until you can gain a divorce. You'll do this, surely? Write to me soon, Lauren darling, and tell me that you still care for me as I care for you.' She stared at the name, and the loving message that preceded it. At one time there had been a doubt in her mind about his love simply owing to his refusal to pay the ransom money, but now she could no longer doubt his love; it was proved by his willingness to take her back after she had been married to someone else.

'It's too late,' she quivered, still staring poignantly at the loving message he had sent her. 'I love you, but it's too late.' She answered his letter, thanking him for his offer but telling him that she could scarcely divorce her husband, seeing that she had no grounds for doing so. 'It is all over between you and me,' she wrote, unaware that a tear had fallen on the page, a tear which was to leave a " mark that would tell Roger far more than was being conveyed by her pen. 'Ramon is kind to me and I'm content to be his wife. Take care of yourself, and try to forget me as soon as you can.' Two days later Ramon announced his intention of going to England. He would be away for a full week. 'I'd take you with me, Lauren, but in my opinion it's too early. You'd be troubled by memories, but not only that, you just might be tempted to visit people who could unsettle you.' England... 'I'd like to come with you, Ramon. I promise I shan't allow myself to become unsettled.' She could see her father, and Felice, for despite what her sister had done, Lauren could not visualise a complete break. They had been too close for too long; and also Lauren was willing to see her sister's action as a lapse which by now she must be bitterly regretting. Lauren wanted to forgive her, to tell her to forget. They must not become enemies. 'Father's written, as you know, and in each letter he's said he hopes I shall be over to see him soon.' Her lovely eyes pleaded, but her husband was adamant.

'I'm not willing to take any chances,' he said abruptly, at which Lauren could not help retorting, 'You do realise that there's nothing to prevent me from going to England on my own—almost as soon as you yourself have left here?' 'I ask you, Lauren, not to do that. In fact I shall not go without your promise.' 'And if I refuse to give it?' 'Then I shall remain at home, although it will mean a great loss of business to me.' 'And if I give the promise, I could easily break it,' she pointed out, but Ramon shook his head immediately. 'A girl with your kind of eyes, Lauren, does not deliberately break her word.' So grave his voice, so trusting his expression. Lauren made a restless movement, caught between a reluctance to hurt him and an overwhelming desire to see her homeland again. 'Take me with you,' she compromised, 'and I'll not leave your side. But I'd like us to visit Father, and perhaps a couple of friends who used to work with me ...' Again he was shaking his head. 'It isn't possible for you to remain with me all the time, Lauren,' he said, but kindly, 'so you must content yourself with staying here. In another few months, perhaps, we shall pay a visit to England, a visit that has nothing to do with business.' She opened her mouth to carry her argument further, but noting the inflexible line of his jaw, and the unyielding expression in his eyes, she reluctantly abandoned the fight.

But his refusal rankled and her last words to him as he was bidding her goodbye were, 'You could have trusted me, Ramon. I shall remember that you were unwilling to accept my word.' He kissed her lightly on the cheek, dismissing what she had said as if it had not been voiced at all. 'Goodbye, Lauren, and take care of yourself. I shall be back a week today, as I've told you.' She watched him get into the car and sit beside the chauffeur; she lifted a hand in response to the wave of his own hand. And then, even before the car began to move, she turned and went from the patio into the house, still angry with her husband for his total lack of trust in her. It was five days since she had posted the letter to Roger, she mused as she returned to the breakfast-room with the intention of having another cup of coffee. She and Ramon had rather rushed through their breakfast, as he realised that he had not left himself as much time as he would have wished. Yes, five days. Roger would have received it a couple of days ago. How would he take her answer? She could not picture his face as he read her letter—in fact, she was shocked to discover that she was having to strain her memory to capture the illusive impression of his face. So soon to forget what he looked like. Regret and bitterness rose within her even while the fact was being borne in upon her that she was doing no good at all by harbouring emotions such as these. How would she pass the time for the next week? she wondered, and then had the idea of ringing up Teresa Lozano and inviting her to come to tea. The young Spanish girl, being delighted, agreed at once,

but, she said, her maid would be with her. Lauren frowned at first, until she realised that the 'maid' was really the duenna. Ramon had already explained to his wife that on occasions, Spanish girls coming from distinguished families like the Lozanos had chaperons when they went out without the protection of some member of the family. However, the maid, Luisa, discreetly strayed out into the garden, leaving the two girls to gossip together unhindered. 'We were all so intrigued by the news that Don Ramon had got married.' Teresa's voice was rather husky, as was her mother's, and the accent was very pronounced at times. 'Would it be impertinent of me to ask how it all happened?' Naturally Lauren could not reply immediately; in fact, an appreciable lapse of time occurred before she could find an answer to so tricky a question. She wondered what the girl would say should she tell her the truth—that she and Ramon had met at the party given to celebrate her engagement to another man. 'We met at a party,' she submitted at last. 'And—and fell in love immediately.' She glanced away, hoping that Teresa would not suspect her of lying. 'How romantic! I would like something of the kind to happen to me.' Lauren turned back to her. 'Your marriage won't be arranged, will it?' 'Oh, no. My parents married for love and they are determined to let me choose my own husband.' 'But you never get out alone.' Lauren's eyes wandered automatically to the window, and where Luisa was standing, admiring the lovely

hibiscus bushes that formed a border along the south side of one of the ornamental pools. 'That is an annoyance to me. However, we do have a rather full social life, doing much entertaining and visiting. Last week, for instance, we attended an important dinner-dance given for the promoter of one of the beach complexes near to Marbella. Everyone of any note was there: several marques and condes and their wives, two duquesas, and even a prince—there were over a thousand guests in all.' Lauren's eyes widened. 'You couldn't have known everyone!' she exclaimed, thinking of her engagement party and recalling how she had been rather overawed when her fiancé's mother had informed her that there would be about three hundred guests present. 'I can't imagine a party of that size.' 'We have them here; you'll attend them, Lauren, for your husband does. You see, Spain is developing so rapidly that all the wealthy and noble Spaniards are entering into the tourist business, or some other commerce like the building of flats and villas for the occupation of foreigners who want to settle here. And so they have these big parties, often because someone is honoured for their work, as was the case with the dinner-dance I'm talking about.' Would Ramon be honoured for his ambitious development of the beach which he owned? She supposed that all these projects, bringing money into the country as they did, were looked on with favour by the officials under whose jurisdiction the particular area came. But, reflecting on what Ramon had said about his own project, she did not think that he would be honoured, simply because it was to be a quietly developed complex—not even a complex, really, his intention being to have the British colony established in luxury villas, each standing in its own grounds and some with their own private stretch

of beach. The hotel would be for those who came for holidays, who wanted somewhere quiet and select. 'I've thoroughly enjoyed my visit.' Teresa was saying goodbye after she and Luisa had taken afternoon tea with Lauren on the tree-shaded patio. They were now standing at the top of a flight of steps; the white marble from which they had been carved had come from the quarry near Mijas, and it shone with pearl-like splendour in the sunlight. 'Yours is a very beautiful house,' commented Teresa, glancing around at the fountains and pools, the exotic borders, and trees full of fragrant blossom. 'Ours is austere in comparison, but you'll like it, I think. Will you visit me soon, Lauren?' 'Of course. I'd love to.' 'I'll talk with Mother and give you a ring.' She saw that Luisa was moving about impatiently and, with another expression of thanks for a most pleasant afternoon, Teresa ran lightly down the steps to join her companion.

Dawn streaked across the drowsy landscape, highlighting the. valley sides and the walls of the sierra whose summits were still engraved in purple. The pale mauve sky changed before Lauren's sleepy eyes as fingers of crimson and gold formed an arc of fire to dissolve the haze of night. It was beautiful, she thought appreciatively as, stretching luxuriously, she stood by the window, her eyes fixed upon the place where the great sphere would ascend over the verdant hills.

A gentle tap upon the bedroom door broke the silence and Lauren turned. 'Come in.' 'Your morning tea, senora.' The quiet, respectful tones of Jeronima were accompanied by a smile. 'Thank you.' Lauren watched the tray being deposited on the table by the bed. When the maid had departed she poured herself a cup of tea and, taking it over to the window-seat, sat down. What was there to do? She gave a small sigh and as always her thoughts wandered to England, and to her life before all this had happened. At this time of the morning she would be getting ready to go to the office where, surrounded by congenial colleagues, she would spend a pleasant day. And then, after arriving home and after having her meal with her father and sister—or sometimes she and Felice were on their own, when their father was working away from home—she would go upstairs to wash and change and make herself pretty for her date with Roger. What a perfect existence it had been! No disunity at home, no worries about the future. Her father's illness being unknown to them, the twins had no anxieties concerning his health. 'Felice ... why did you do it?' The words were almost a sob, and yet Lauren knew that she had already forgiven her sister, and it remained only for her to tell her so. 'I think I'll write today and tell her that I'm willing to forget the whole thing -' Forget? Lauren was shaking her head. Forgive, yes, but she could never forget, never so long as she was tied to a man she did not love. Ramon had made signs that he hoped she would one day come to care for him, but she knew she never would. He had also told her emphatically that she was not in love with Roger. This was untrue—she loved him dearly; she always would love him.

Having drunk her tea she bathed and dressed and went down to the garden. It was a beautiful day, hot and clear, and after a few moments' indecision she went back to her room to change into a sunsuit. It was gaily-coloured and brief, the shorts very short and the top being just about as brief as possible. Taking up her book, she returned to the garden, to stretch out on the lawn and add to the already glowingly rich tan she had acquired since coming to Spain. 'Senora ...' Jeronima's familiar quiet voice brought Lauren's head up from her book, a question in her glance. 'A visitor, senora.' Lauren frowned uncomprehendingly. 'A visitor?' she repeated. 'But I don't -?' She stopped as it struck her that this was not the way to act with servants. 'Show her into the Crimson Saloon, please, Jeronima.' The woman's face remained impassive as she corrected, 'It's a gentleman, senora. I have already shown him into the Saloon.' 'Thank you, Jeronima.' A man ... Lauren watched the woman walk away. She was frowning heavily now, sure that her visitor was none other than the handsome bachelor, Don Diego. How was she to deal with him? Did he know that her husband was away from home? Yes, decided Lauren grimly as she rose to her feet. Yes, he did know that Ramon was away from home - Her thoughts were cut suddenly and she gave a gasp. 'Roger!' she breathed, staring disbelievingly at the figure coming towards her from the direction of the house. 'But how— why -?' 'Lauren!' He ran the last few yards and the next moment he had taken her to his heart. 'Lauren, my darling! Let me look at you -'

She twisted in his arms, freeing herself. 'No!' she cried. 'How did you get here? Why did you come?' Tears were in her eyes, but she managed to hold them back. 'Why have you come?' she asked again, and now there was a distinct note of anger in her voice. 'I had to, Lauren. I would have come to you some time because there's so much I don't understand, and when I knew that your husband was in England I seized the chance -' 'You knew he was in England?' Lauren stared un- comprehendingly. 'But how, Roger?' 'It was by pure chance. I happened to be at London Airport yesterday afternoon, having gone to meet a friend of Mother's who was arriving from France. I had about half an hour to wait, so I went into the bar. Having got my drink I sat down, and then I almost dropped my glass, for there, striding past the window, a suitcase in his hand, was your husband -' He broke off at the word and a dark frown flashed across his forehead. 'I was about to chase after him when I suddenly thought, "He's here on business; he's just got off the plane that came in a few moments ago. Now's my chance to see Lauren." And, in order to find out just how long he intended staying I rang up my brother, as I believed he would be contacting him about some business deal they were doing together. Paul doesn't know you're married to Don Ramon, by the way,' Roger digressed. 'I haven't told anyone, not even Mother. My family has been told that we've separated, temporarily, as we both have had doubts. We're supposed to be thinking it over - However, we'll talk about that later. For the present, I want to tell you ...' His voice trailed off as, looking over her shoulder, he saw someone at an upstairs window, staring down at them. Swiftly he drew away and she looked inquiringly at him. 'We're being watched,' he told her. 'Isn't there somewhere where we can be private?'

She turned, but saw nothing. The face had gone, Roger told her. She glanced at her scanty attire, thought of Roger taking her in his arms. 'Let's go inside,' she said hurriedly. 'I'll get something on.' Having told him how to get to her own little private sitting-room—a room Ramon had given her right at the beginning, saying that it was to be her own private place, a refuge to which "she could go if ever she felt the need for total privacy, Lauren went upstairs and put on a pale blue cotton dress and a pair of white sandals. Her hair, already secured by an Alice band, was combed lightly and then, picking up a handkerchief which happened to be lying on her dressing-table, she went down to join her ex-fiancé in the sitting-room. 'Lauren ...' He rose as she entered and for a long moment she stood in the open doorway, very pale and silent. 'My darling, come to me.' She moved then, closing the door behind her and automatically turning the key in the lock. 'Roger!' She was in his arms, clinging to him as if she would never let him go. 'Oh, dearest, why did you come? Can't you see it's going to be torture for both of us?' She twisted away. 'You were talking— please go on, Roger.' She looked into his face—his dear face, and suddenly she was not sorry that he had come. There were five days to go until Ramon's return—five days that could be bliss ... 'Yes.' Taking her hand, Roger led her over to the couch and they both sat down, very close, holding hands as they had so often done in the carefree days of their courtship. 'I couldn't get my brother, but I did manage to get his secretary. She answered all my questions. Paul was not seeing Don Ramon until next Tuesday, so it was plain that Don Ramon had other business to attend to first, and I reckoned he wouldn't be back home until some time on Wednesday at the earliest.'

'He told me to expect him on Wednesday at about eight in the evening.' 'So my estimations were correct,' he returned with satisfaction. He was silent for a moment, and then, 'Will you come home with me, Lauren?' She shook her head, but it was an automatic gesture. She said, 'You've asserted, when you were out there, that you intended seeing me some time. But, Roger, you knew I wouldn't leave Ramon. I have no grounds for -' 'I knew by your letter that you were crying when you wrote it,' he broke in to tell her. 'That spoke for itself, but in addition there were these other puzzling aspects of the case -' 'You knew I was crying?' Lauren turned to cast him a sideways glance. 'But how?' 'A tear fell on the paper, love, and when it dried it left a mark—as water will, you know. That told me far more, dear, than the letter itself.' He paused a moment. 'You must come back with me, Lauren.' Involuntarily she shrank away. 'It's not possible,' she said, but despairingly. 'Ramon doesn't believe in divorce.' 'He'll have to change his views! You can't remain tied to a man you don't love.' She looked at him as he turned his head towards her. She recalled with pain his refusal to pay the ransom money. If only he had, all would have been well.

'I have no grounds for a divorce, Roger. I told you that in my letter.' 'If you leave him he'll soon realise that his marriage is not doing him much good. Far better to give you your freedom than remain tied to a woman who won't live with him.' Lauren made a quick gesture of protest. 'It's too late, Roger,' she began, when he interrupted her, but it was not to pursue this particular aspect of the situation. 'Let us leave that for the present, Lauren. There are other things that have puzzled me, and which you can clear up. Edwin told me that the money was left behind. He had met Felice by chance and naturally they'd talked about the affair—even though they've parted for good. Felice said that you had got the money from her, but when she entered the sitting-room after you'd left, the money was on the floor.' He paused at this point, a question in his glance. Lauren turned her eyes downwards, concentrating on a spot at her feet. 'It's obvious that you offered him the money.' She paused a while. In her letter she had deliberately omitted to mention anything about the money, simply because she had no wish to put her husband in a bad light. And now, dwelling on this reluctance, she asked herself the reason for it. Loyalty to Ramon? She did not owe him loyalty ... or did she? After all, he was her husband. And as he had so often reminded her, she had married him of her own free will. Roger was speaking, asking again about the money, but this time adding, 'If you did offer it to him, Lauren, it must have been offered in exchange for your freedom?'

Startled by his deductions, she glanced up sharply— and the action gave her away. He nodded slowly, but his expression was one of anger and she saw, for the first time ever, that he possessed a temper. 'That gives you the excuse you need,' he said between his teeth. 'He has only himself to blame for the way you choose to treat him!' She made no answer, and out of the deep silence his voice came again. 'What happened, Lauren—I have a right to know.' 'You have a right?' she said, but could not have explained the hint of resentment that entered into her tone. 'I have the right because I love you,' he returned simply. 'You love me ...' The eyes she turned to his were hopeless. 'I can't leave him, Roger -' 'Why not?' he broke in wrathfully. 'You don't love him!' She swallowed, unable to speak to him. 'It's me whom you love; we were engaged—happily looking forward to a future together. Then your sister committed that criminal act which was responsible for parting us, but it isn't too late to put it all right. By his refusal to release you from your promise, Don Ramon has relinquished any rights he might have had!' 'We were already married when I offered him the money.' 'Obviously; had you not been then you could have tossed his money at him and told him to go to the devil!' She frowned, and seemed to flinch at his words. 'In the first instance I was overwhelmed with relief that he had offered the money -'

'Are you bringing up the fact that I myself would not pay the ransom money?' he broke in, and she could not tell whether it was anger or remorse that she heard in his voice. Wearily she said, 'It doesn't matter, Roger; it's all over and done with and, as Ramon so often tells me, brooding on the past is futile.' 'He tells you that?' sulkily now and with a heavy frown. 'So he must be aware that you brood on the past?' She nodded mechanically and said yes, her husband was fully aware that she brooded on the past, 'You often think of what might have been?' She looked at him in some surprise. 'But of course. Don't you?' 'I've never stopped thinking of it—not since the day you came to me and told me you were marrying him.' She glanced away, not wanting to be reminded of that scene at his home, when Roger had learned that she had been in the garden with Ramon. Was he thinking about that now, as he sat here, his boyish face wearing that half-angry expression? She waited, wondering if he would bring it up again, if he would ask more questions. But all at once she felt reassured; he would not have come here had he believed that she had allowed the Spaniard to make love to her. Just why had she allowed him to do so? She recalled the overwhelming sense of guilt, the shame she felt at her conduct in being tempted that second time, the self-condemnation she had known at being unfaithful to her fiancé—for it was being unfaithful, allowing another man to kiss her like that, and she herself reciprocating. Looking back now her conduct loomed more starkly

shameful than ever, and she knew that even if she married Roger the memory of her conduct would recur over and over again for a very long time to come. Roger was speaking again, saying gently that she must return to England with him. 'Now is our chance,' he added confidently. 'He's away from home; no situation could be better.' Her face quivered. 'I've said it's impossible ...' But she paused in indecision. Was it impossible? 'I can't break my word,' she cried suddenly, 'Ramon hasn't really done anything wrong -' 'Wasn't it wrong to hold you to your bargain when you were offering him the money back?' broke in Roger angrily. 'We were married,' she reminded him again. 'Married!' The word was spat out and she turned to him in amazement. This was a side of him she had never seen before ... and it was reminiscent of her husband in one of his most unpleasant moods! 'Why did he want to marry you ? Why?' It seemed to Lauren that this was a belated inquiry; she had been waiting for it even when she was telling him that she was breaking the engagement and marrying the man who was willing to pay the ransom money. But she excused Roger's omission at that time, putting it down to the emotional upheaval which her decision was causing him. Now, however, she had thought that it would have been one of the first questions he would have asked. She did not answer it, though; she had no intention of answering it, and in the end Roger answered it himself.

'Desire! You're beautiful enough for any man to desire—and more especially these amorous foreigners! Having set his eyes on you he wanted you! It's a wonder it wasn't another kind of relationship he suggested.' White to the lips now, Lauren pleaded with him not to pursue such a subject; she also asked him how long he was staying. 'I expected to be able to persuade you to return with me—today,' he answered, the anger leaving his face, replaced by the unhappy expression he had worn when first they had begun to talk together in the privacy of this room. 'Lauren ... please say you'll come. We love each other, darling, so how can we live without one another?' As before a note of despair rang in her voice. 'What good would it do, Roger? Ramon would never divorce me, so you and I could never marry. Besides,' she added, voicing something that had occurred to her some short while ago, 'what would your family think? —they'd have to know that I'd been married before -' 'No, I don't agree!' 'Certainly they would, Roger. There's my name, for one thing.' 'You could change it again—change it back to Warby.' But she was shaking her head. The problems loomed too large. Yet was it the problems that prevented her from leaving Ramon and returning to England with Roger? She would never attempt to deny that her husband possessed some invincible power which held her in a spell, constraining her to the observance of his wishes and demands. She looked at the man beside her ... and thought of Ramon ... She thought of his handsome features, of the distinguished way in which he carried himself, of his rich low voice, his tall lithe body.

And she thought of his lovemaking, passionate and possessive, arrogant and masterful. Yet gentle for all this, and almost reverent in its total respect. 'I can't come with you,' she said even yet again, but this time there was in her voice a quality of firmness and resolution that banished for ever any hopes that Roger might still have cherished. His expression testified to these lost hopes, and Lauren caught her lip between her teeth. If anyone had told her, a few weeks ago, that she could willingly hurt Roger in this way she would have denied it with the utmost confidence. 'I'm sorry, Roger,' she said after a while, and as she spoke she took his hand in hers. 'I'm so very sorry.' 'Lauren,' he said, turning to look directly into her beautiful face. 'Do you love me?' 'You know I do,' was her ready answer. 'How can you doubt it?' 'How can I doubt it?' Roger lifted his eyebrows, shaking his head at the same time. 'You say you love me and yet you refuse to come home with me. Yes, I think I am beginning to doubt it,' he added morosely. And she recalled once again that, right from the first, Ramon had asserted quite firmly that she did not love the man to whom she was engaged. 'How long are you staying?' she asked again and, before he could answer, 'You could stay for a few days at the hotel in the village. We could have a little time together before we say a final goodbye.' Her lovely eyes pleaded, and after a small moment of consideration he agreed. 'It seems like madness to me,' he added, 'but the temptation to be with you is too great. Can I telephone the hotel from here?'

'Yes—there's the phone.' She flung out a hand, indicating the small desk in the corner on which the telephone was standing. 'I hope they can fix you up.' 'They have one single room left,' he was saying a few minutes later. 'I've booked it until Wednesday night. I'll fly home on Thursday morning.'

CHAPTER NINE GRADUALLY, as the days passed, Lauren was admitting to herself that it was not a good idea to have persuaded Roger to stay. The pleasurepain interlude which she had expected was turning out to be filled with strain on both her part and that of her ex-fiancé. She supposed that most of the strain originated in the anxiety which she herself felt regarding "the possible danger of their being seen together. She was having to go down to the village to meet Roger in a park there. From the park they would walk through a little gate leading to a thickly wooded forest area where, away from the road and the various paths leading through the woods, they would sit and talk. But often they just sat in silence, Roger brooding as he stared with unseeing eyes at some point among the trees. And slowly but surely it came to Lauren that she had never been so bored in her life. 'If we could only go somewhere for meals—to a hotel or restaurant,' she said, 'instead of sitting here eating the sandwiches I've brought.' 'I shouldn't have stayed,' he muttered disconsolately. It was the third day of his visit and as usual they had met just after ten o'clock and were now sitting on a fallen tree trunk, both wondering just how they would get through the rest of the day. 'It was a failure, wasn't it, my idea that we could have an idyllic few days together?' 'It was bound to be a failure, now you come to think of it.' Leaning forward, Roger took up a fallen twig and snapped it between his fingers.

'Do you want to leave?' she asked, her feelings mixed even now, since she was unable to decide whether she would miss him when he went or whether his departure would be a relief. How sad it all was that they had lost so much. Her thoughts wandered and she recalled those sunny days of her courtship and brief engagement. Life had taken on a new exciting aspect, for there had been so much to do, like attending balls and dinner-dances, meeting Roger's friends by visiting them or meeting them at some function or other. There had always been the sweet anticipation of seeing him in the evenings, and of those week-ends spent at the home of his parents. Here she would be given a lovely pink and white bedroom and been initiated into the world of housemaids and manservants, of parklands and pools, of tennis courts and swimming-pools—in fact, all that spelt luxurious living. It was a novel and brilliant world, but would it have always been like that? Had she been carried away by it all, forgetting that in the end the love and companionship of her husband was to be the most vital link that would hold her to the new sphere into which she was entering? She cast Roger a sideways glance, subconsciously comparing his profile with that of her husband. And she frowned at the difference— with Roger there was not that Latin firmness of bone structure; the angularity was also absent, the firm square chin and the thrusting jawline. Suddenly Roger said, right out of the blue, 'Has Felice written to you since your marriage?' Lauren shook her head, wondering at the abruptness of the question, and the reason for it. 'No, and I don't think it's likely that she will. I intend to write to her quite soon.' 'I was wondering what happened to the money,' he said musingly. 'By rights it should be yours.'

She stared at him in surprise. 'It belongs to Ramon,' she said. Roger's eyes kindled. 'And what of the sacrifice you made? Don't you get anything for that?' Again she registered surprise. 'Are you suggesting that money can compensate me?' she asked, aware of a tinge of anger against Roger, although she was unaware of the reason for it. 'I suppose it can't,' he replied, but without much interest. 'It's a wonder your husband hasn't tackled you about the money -Oh, I know he threw it on the floor when he'd refused to release you—you did mention this; but later, he must have had regrets about letting it go.' Lauren frowned and fell silent a moment. She was puzzled by Roger's attitude, and by his interest in the money. 'You seem to forget that, had he taken the money from me, it would have been in return for my freedom. I suggested we have the marriage annulled, as I've already told you.' 'But to leave all that money there,' persisted Roger, bypassing what she had explained about the return of the money being connected with her freedom. 'I myself would certainly have been intent on getting my money back.' Lauren had no wish to speak to him and she remained quiet for a space, but he went on about the money until it seemed to her that it

had become an obsession with him. She then did speak, swiftly, the words seeming not to be of her own volition. 'The recovery of the money would have been of paramount importance to you?' Roger nodded instantly and she knew he had failed to grasp the import of her words. 'Most certainly it would have been of paramount importance to me.' His words seemed to increase the rift between them; doubts were once more clamouring to be heard, doubts as to whether marriage with Roger would have been a success. She recalled with stark clarity the intruding idea that she did not, after all, fit in with the environment in which Roger and his family lived. And yet she had never for one single moment felt as if she did not fit in here, in the home of her millionaire husband. How strange,' she murmured, unaware that she spoke aloud. 'How very strange indeed…' 'Strange?' echoed Roger,, taking it for granted that her words alluded to what he himself had just said. 'You consider it strange that I should desire the return of the money?' Frowningly she shook her head. 'I wasn't referring to that,' she said. He did not pursue the matter and a morose silence followed. He was sulking, and she thought: I knew nothing of this side of his personality—I knew very little about him, really.

'It would seem,' he said at last, 'that Felice got away with it.' He sounded furious, and a sudden frown settled on Lauren's high, intelligent forehead. 'I can't help feeling that you're being quite disproportionately interested in money that has nothing at all to do with you,' she just had to say, and at this his anger seemed to increase, for a flush spread over his face. 'I suppose it's none of my business, as you imply!' She sat staring in front of her, by this time wishing he would go. But as she racked her brains for some way of making the suggestion, he began to speak again, and when she turned to look at him she saw that his brows had contracted suddenly as he became lost in concentration. He had murmured about there being something that they had not grasped about the business of the abduction, and when he continued she was sure that in his tone there was a subtle hint of spite. 'He knew something! He's no fool!' 'What are you talking about?' she asked, and yet she knew for sure that his words referred to her husband. 'Tell me exactly what happened when he offered you the money?' he asked, and in his voice was both imperiousness and urgency. His glance too was strange, as if he were seeing something that had not come into her own vision. 'Was he worked up about the abduction— or did he take it quite calmly?' His scrutiny was piercing and she found herself turning away from it. 'He was not unduly worked up about the abduction,' she replied truthfully. 'But why should he be? He wasn't involved in any way— not like you were,' she added before she realised just how tactless this

was. However, Roger chose to ignore this as he went on to ask again if Ramon had treated the abduction quite calmly, and when she said yes, a little impatiently, he added, 'When he handed over the money to you, what did you -?' 'He didn't actually hand it over,' she corrected. 'We went together to Fiddler's Wood and placed the package in the place indicated in the letter.' 'And you,' he persisted, 'what did you do then?' Lauren shrugged her shoulders impatiently. This appeared to be leading nowhere and her forbearance was beginning to ebb. 'I can't recall that I did anything special. I do remember being worried in case they collected the money and then decided it would be too risky to set Felice free.' She actually shuddered at the memory of how she had felt, but Roger appeared not to notice her distress as he said, 'What about the Don's reaction to this? I suppose you mentioned it to him?' he added as an afterthought. 'He was quite confident that they would release her.' 'Those were his exact words?' Again that piercing regard, but this time Lauren met it, for she was curious to read what was behind it, just as she was curious to know what was behind this crossexamination. But his expression was unreadable and she had to be content to wait. 'I believe his exact words were that I needn't have any fears; my sister would definitely come home.' 'Come home,' repeated Roger, and once again she heard that note of spite in his voice. 'Come home—not that she would be released.' He

sounded triumphant, as though he had just stumbled on something which afforded him considerable gratification. 'Tell me,' he said presently, a most curious glint in his eyes, 'at the time, did Don Ramon give any indication at all that he might have discovered anything?' 'What on earth could he have discovered?' 'He gave no sign that he had guessed the truth about the abduction?' 'Guessed the truth?' She stared uncomprehendingly at him. 'I don't know what you're talking about. How could he have guessed?' He paused a moment, hesitating as if on the verge of making a categorical statement, but instead he asked another question. 'Had Don Ramon ever asked you to marry him previous to the proposal he made at the time he offered to pay the ransom?' She coloured vividly, saw the sudden gleam of contempt that entered Roger's eyes, and suddenly all reserve fell from her and she flashed at him, 'Yes, as a matter of fact he did! He proposed marriage at our engagement party -' 'At our engagement party!' he rasped. 'You wanton, Lauren! You never thought to mention this to me -' He broke off, turning from her as if she were something unclean. 'What incredible deceit!' Lauren rose to her feet and stood, tense and pale, battling with herself, for she could not bear this terrible disunity that had been created between them by his insistent questioning.

'His proposal was not at that time important,' she managed quietly. 'I saw no sense in troubling you with it.' 'I was your husband-to-be!' He looked up at her in wrathful amazement. 'And you didn't see any sense in troubling me with the information that another man— and a foreigner at that—had proposed marriage to you! My God, Lauren, I'm beginning to see that I'd have taken on a whole load of trouble if I'd married a girl with your kind of philosophy!' She could find no words to combat this, and she turned away, conscious of soft and gentle breezes in the foliage of the trees, and of the chirping of birds in the sunshine. So peaceful here ... but so much tumult in her heart. 'You admitted to having been in the garden with him, and I should never have forgiven that, but like a fool I did, following you here -' He stopped, and when he resumed it was to ask outright what had happened while she was in the garden with the Don. He had digressed from his interrogation concerning Don Ramon's behaviour at the time of paying over the ransom money, and she began to wonder if, now that he knew they would never come together again, he was needing to be given proof that his ex-fiancée was 'no good', in which case he would be able to regard his loss with relief rather than with the bitter regret he had been feeling up till now. Here again she was having revealed to her another side to his nature, a side she did not like at all. 'It's no longer important what happened in the garden,' she said quietly, having an urge not to satisfy him by offering a direct answer. 'I say it is!' Imperative his tones, and Lauren's eyes suddenly blazed. 'I will not be cross-questioned any more! I've said it's no longer important, and I mean it!'

His eyes glinted with fury. 'Your very reticence condemns you,' he retorted, his contemptuous eyes flickering over her from head to foot so that she became hot, and wished she had not stood up. 'Don't think for one moment that I've forgotten your blushes when I questioned you before -' 'At the time you refused me the money,' she flashed back. 'Those blushes gave you away then,' he said, deliberately ignoring the interruption, 'and your silence gives you away now.' Rising with all the arrogance Ramon might have exhibited in similar circumstances, he looked at her for a full minute before he spoke. 'I'm leaving you, Lauren. I now am convinced that I've had a very lucky and narrow escape, for you're not to be trusted—you'll never remain faithful to your present husband, for if you could sully yourself in that way with a man who was a stranger, then I can't see your remaining faithful -' 'Sully!' she broke in wrathfully. 'Oh, how dare you use such a word when speaking about me! I was not unfaithful to you—not really,' she amended, because she was incurably truthful and, after all, she had admitted to herself that her conduct that evening was shameful in the extreme. 'Once again you've given yourself away,' was Roger's contemptuous rejoinder. 'I shall always believe that you allowed him to make love to you -' 'He did not!' she flared. 'Not in the way you're insinuating! ' 'No?' with a lift of his eyebrows. 'In what way, then?' Lauren's eyes glinted; she drew herself up to her full height and said with cool hauteur,

'You're supposed to be leaving, Roger, so I think you will agree that any further conversation between us will be both unnecessary and unprofitable.' 'So we're to end like this?' He looked at her and she made an attempt to smile, for she did not want to part in anger. But it was merely the ghost of a smile and it brought no response at all from the man facing her. 'Shall we say goodbye now or shall we return to the village together?' he asked tautly. Lauren glanced round the lonely silent forest and said she would prefer to walk back to the village with him. Once there, by the little gate, they stopped, and for one poignant moment they just stared at one another, each recalling the happy hours they had spent together. 'Goodbye, Roger.' She caught her lower lip between her teeth, the action being designed to prevent the tears from falling. 'Have a safe journey home.' 'Goodbye.' Another pause as he continued to look into her eyes. She saw to her surprise that his anger was still high; she also saw that he had been deeply humiliated by his well-founded suspicions of what had transpired between her and the Don on the night of the party. He stirred; he was ready to leave her and she was glad. 'Just one more thing ...' He paused a moment and when he resumed there was a curious distinctness in his words. In addition there was a sort of triumphant spite, as if he were telling her that she was not to find any sort of happiness with the man she had married. 'Yes, one more thing, Lauren. Your husband guessed from the very first that that abduction was a fake!' She froze suddenly, flashes of memory piercing like barbs into her mind.

'Guessed?' She saw what he had been getting at when conducting his interrogation much earlier in their conversation. 'How have you reached a conclusion like that?' He laughed then and said perceptively, 'So you know I'm telling the truth. Yes, Lauren, I asked all those questions because, quite out of the blue, it came to me that your husband, being a man of rather more than average intelligence, had guessed that the abduction was phoney. And, come to think of it, we all should have had our suspicions, don't you agree?' She shook her head, dazed and unable to think clearly. But at last she found herself saying, 'Yes, I do agree, Roger... I do...'

She pondered the matter all the way home, recalling so many pointers that she became amazed that she had not suspected Ramon of having been in possession of the true facts. She thought of all the things he had said to her about Felice—of how he had warned her right at the start, stating quite definitely that Felice was envious of her position as fiancée to Roger. He had even gone to the lengths of telling Lauren to be on her guard, becoming angry when she had scoffed at the idea that Felice was jealous. It was not only feasible but also logical that, when the news of the abduction came to his ears, he had instantly conceived the idea that Felice had staged it herself. And, even with this knowledge in his possession, he had held the pistol at Lauren's head.

'The cheat!' she exclaimed aloud as she walked along the quiet, lane leading to the high wrought-iron gates which stood at the entrance to the casa grounds. 'The heartless cheat!' She was still thinking about his perfidy when, the car having rolled along the wide gravel drive, she stood at her bedroom window and watched her husband alight and take the steps two at a time. He was in a hurry to get to her, she thought, a grim expression in her eyes. Well, he did not know what he was in for! 'Tell the Senora to come to me in my study!' The words reached Lauren even from this distance. She came from her room and peered over the balustrade to the hall below. Ramon glanced up and so did the maid. 'Come down,' he commanded. 'I want to speak to you!' At the imperative way in which he ordered her to come down her chin lifted and she called stiffly, 'If you wish to speak to me, Ramon, then please come up here!' He actually gave a start, but then he moved and within thirty seconds she heard the quick light tread of his feet as he came along the corridor. Once inside the room, with the door firmly closed behind him, he stood immobile, his black eyes boring into her face. 'I gave an order for you to come to my study,' he rasped. 'What do you mean by adopting this arrogant and defiant manner with me?' She looked calmly at him, noting the immaculate white linen jacket he wore, the brown hand half in and half out of the pocket, the perfectly pressed slacks. Casual, but he looked every inch the Spanish nobleman that he was. 'I am not intending to take orders from you, Ramon.'

He stared at her in amazement. She knew that she was pale, but she was composed for all that. 'You're playing with fire, senora,' he said between his teeth. 'Is something wrong?' she asked. 'You appear to be in a most objectionable mood?' He took a step forward, and his expression was such that she shrank from him as she would have shrunk from a tiger about to spring. 'I believe,' said Ramon in a very soft voice, 'that you've been entertaining while I've been away... or perhaps I should say that you yourself have been entertained?' She was frowning in puzzlement and he added before she could speak, 'You've had your friend Roger here.' She actually jumped at this, and stared disbelievingly at him. They had been so very careful... 'How do you know?' Despite the fact that her nerves jarred somewhat, she was remembering that she also held an ace. And so she was able to retain her composure in face of this formidable mood which her husband was in. 'How do I know? The village gossip hasn't reached you, apparently!' He was smouldering with anger, which was not surprising, seeing that his wife had left herself open to gossip. Well, it would be a chastening experience for him—and it served him right for marrying her! 'I'm sorry if we were seen. We were careful, I assure you -' She stopped, crying out in pain as without warning her husband leapt across the room and, gripping her by the shoulders, shook her

unmercifully, his savage hold bruising her as the fingers dug right into her flesh. 'Careful, were you! And you dare to stand there and tell me so!' The black eyes gleamed like molten basalt. 'You sent for him immediately I'd left -' 'No such thing, Ramon,' she cried, twisting in an attempt to gain her freedom, but she struggled in vain, succeeding only in hurting herself even more. Hot tears streamed down her face, but her husband was blind to them as in his fury he shook her again. 'He was here within twenty-four hours of my landing in England, so you lost no time in letting him know! What have you been doing? Answer me, or I'll give you something that'll bring much more than a moan to your lips!' 'You seem to forget, Ramon,' she managed when at length he released her and she was able to dry her eyes, 'that I asked you to take me with you. If I'd been planning to have Roger over in your absence then I'd hardly have wanted to come with you, would I?' 'You only wanted to come with me so that you could see him I' 'Now you're being totally unreasonable.' He looked at her, appearing to be puzzled by her attitude. 'What was he doing here?' he demanded. 'Are you trying to tell me that he came of his own accord?' 'He did come of his own accord, yes.' 'I don't believe you!'

'If you must know,' she said, her own anger rising, 'he came to ask me to go back to England with him.' The black eyes opened very wide. 'I think you'd better begin at the beginning,' he said, the cutting grit of fury still in his voice. 'And it had better be the truth, because I'm in no mood to listen to any fabrication you might be inclined to resort to!' After a small hesitation Lauren decided that a full explanation would serve her best and she told Ramon all that had happened, even to admitting to receiving a letter from Roger and replying to it. 'So you sent him away?' Ramon looked oddly at her, his black eyes all-examining. 'You had no desire to return to England with him?' She shook her head. 'I had no grounds for a divorce, as I've just said.' 'I expect he considers me to be every kind of a cad?' Ramon actually smiled as he said this; it was plain that he cared not one jot what Roger thought about him. 'Well, aren't you willing to answer that question?' he added with a sort of grim humour. Lauren shook her head. 'There's no need to answer it,' she said. 'You're quite right; there isn't.' A rather long pause and then, 'He's a complex character, that ex-fiancé of yours. He refused to pay out the ransom, knowing just how troubled you were for your sister's safety, and yet he takes the trouble to come over here to attempt to persuade you to go back and take up the threads again.' Ramon shook his head perplexedly. 'It's most difficult to understand a man like that. One

would almost conclude that he's in love with you.' There was a question here, but Lauren chose to ignore it. Roger was obviously in love with her on his arrival, but he was certainly not in love with her when he left. Nor was she in love with him—incredible though it was that she could say this with conviction when only five days ago she was so sure that she still cared. After a while Ramon spoke again, saying, 'Do you remember my telling you that you weren't in love with him?' 'Yes, I remember.' 'You didn't believe me then, but you do now, don't you?' There was a touch of softness in his voice that took away the last vestige of its anger. 'What makes you say that I know I don't love him?' she asked, automatically putting a soothing hand to one shoulder which was bruised rather more than the other. 'You'd have gone with him had you loved him.' 'Not necessarily.' 'No?' 'When he wrote to me he asked me to break with you and go back to England. I told you what I said by way of an answer.' 'You believe you loved him at that time, yet loving him you refused to go back to him?' Ramon seemed amused, for his lips twitched slightly. 'I did love him at that time,' she asserted firmly, but Ramon was shaking his head.

'How little you know yourself, Lauren. You have never loved him. However, we'll not go into that; it's all finished and you will now perhaps settle down and enjoy your life here.' She looked at him and asked, 'What would you have done had you returned tonight and found me gone?' 'I'd have taken the next plane back to England and brought you home,' he replied without hesitation. 'Your place is with your husband.' 'You couldn't have forced me to return with you,' she could not help pointing out, and at that he came close to her again and this time when he took hold of her his hands were infinitely gentle. 'You forget, my dear,' he murmured his lips close to her cheek, 'the draw I have for you.' His mouth took hers in a passionate and possessive kiss; she resisted for a while, trying to twist away, but his arms were strong about her and his hard demanding mouth crushed hers so that she could neither cry out nor move her head. 'Ask yourself why you had no wish to leave me?' he was saying presently as he held her at arms' length and looked with mocking amusement into her lovely eyes, eyes still moist from the tears she had shed. 'Ask yourself, my beautiful wife. And be honest with your answer.' She was dumb and he gave her a little shake. 'You're a coward, my love. You haven't the courage to be honest—either with yourself or with me.' She swallowed hard, pulling away from him. She was hot and embarrassed because she had surrendered, as always, to the passion of his mouth and his arms and the feel of his hard and sinewed body so very close to hers. She did not speak to him and presently she heard him say with absolute confidence,

'You will never leave me, Lauren; you are far too strongly attracted to me. I'm the kind of lover you want and no other would be able to give you the pleasure that I can give you. No,' he admonished when she would have interrupted with a protest, 'don't make any denials, my love,- or I shall be tempted to prove my point.' She had gone pale, but within her she knew that her husband spoke the truth. Was physical attraction all that would ever be between them? Was it enough to carry them through the many years ahead? Something cried within her heart; she wanted more than Ramon could give her. She wanted love ... 'You're very confident, Ramon,' she said at last. 'You're so very sure that you can bend me to your will by the sheer force of this attraction you speak of—but you're wrong. From now on there will be nothing at all between you and me -' 'Nothing?' he broke in almost with a snarl. 'What are you talking about ?' She looked at him, saw his lips drawn back, and it took all her resolve to say, 'You cheated me, Ramon; you knew, from the first, that my sister had staged the abduction herself. Because of this knowledge that I've gained, I'm saying that you have no rights over me at all. I am not willing to be your wife.' He looked down at her from his great" height, his nostrils flaring, his black eyes smouldering. 'How did you come to learn that I knew about your sister's trickery?' 'You don't deny it, then?' Had she wanted him to deny it? Was she disappointed at discovering that he really had tricked her? She owned

at once that she was, that she would far rather have heard his denial, and been able to believe it. What did that mean? She fumbled in her mind for an answer, but found none. 'No, I don't deny it—I can't, with truth.' 'It doesn't appear to trouble you that you deliberately tricked me.' 'I did say to you once that I usually get what I want. I wanted you from the moment I set eyes on you -' 'And so you decided to go to any lengths to get me!' 'Fate was working for me,' was his rather amused rejoinder. 'Fate in the form of your sister. I did warn you to beware of her,' he added, just as if he had to. 'It was despicable to cheat me like that. You knew how deeply my sister's disappearance was affecting me; you knew that I was almost out of my mind, imagining the most terrible things happening to her -' She broke off as her voice caught. 'In order to achieve your own ends you cheated me.' Ramon stood looking down into her face for a long while before he spoke. 'One day, Lauren, you will thank me for what I did. I know better than you what is good for you -' 'I refuse to accept that,' she flared. 'As I've just said, I'm no longer willing to be a wife to you. I'll stay with you—at least for a while, but our relationship from now on with be purely platonic!' 'It will...?' Slowly his hands crept up her bare arms. 'Are you quite sure, my dear?'

'I'm quite sure!' Before she had voiced the last word his .arms had enfolded her, and his lips, fiercely passionate, were seeking hers, and when she turned her face away her chin was caught in a cruel and arrogant grasp and her lips forced apart. She still tried to avoid his, but her resistance was brutally quelled as his merciless mouth seared hers as his hot passionate kisses were forced upon her with all the mastery of the conqueror. Vanquished utterly, she gave up the struggle and lay against him, her pulses throbbing, her heart beating so rapidly that it frightened her. 'So you're quite sure, are you?' His hold relaxed, Ramon looked down at her with an expression of sardonic amusement. 'You know, my dear,' he added as he picked her up and carried her across the room towards the bed, 'you should have learnt long before now who is the master in this house.'

CHAPTER TEN LAUREN stood with her husband in front of the rambling finca watching the workmen unloading their materials, preparing to begin the work of which Ramón had previously spoken to his wife. 'It's very attractive,' she was saying in reply to his question as to what she thought about it. 'I'm glad you decided to start work on it immediately.' He paused a moment and then, in his quiet, accented voice, he said, 'It's for you, Lauren. That's why I decided to begin the renovations at once. I want you to have something of your very own. The rest of the development will of course be ours, but, as I've said, the finca will be your very own.' She gasped, and stared up into his dark Latin face. The lines were still austere, the eyes familiarly piercing and perceptive. 'Why are you doing this?' she wanted to know, her eyes moving temporarily to take in the scene around her—the hills, low and green, which backed the beautiful shoreline, the wooded grounds of the finca, the tranquil sea, shimmering under a brilliant sun. One or two graceful yachts could be seen some distance from the shore and closer to a couple of fishing boats bobbed about on the quiet waves. 'Because I want you to have something of your very own,' repeated Ramon in answer to her question. 'I want you to have an interest here.' 'Here?' 'In Spain.' A bitter smile twisted her features.

'So that I won't leave you?' she queried, and instantly his expression underwent a change. 'I have no need to resort to this in order to keep you with me,' he snapped. She said nothing, admitting that his power over her was so great that she would never leave him of her own accord. And, as he would never send her away, she would be with him for the rest of her life. She knew that she would be content if only he could love her. A week had passed since that night when in answer to her arrogant statement that she would not from then on be a proper wife to him, he had with his typical mastery taught her otherwise. And from then on she had not attempted to do battle against his superior strength; she had accepted her fate and now, only a week later, she was fully resigned to the total acceptance of her lot. Returning her attention to the finca, her eyes remaining appreciatively on the lovely stone facade which was delightfully embellished with jasper rosettes above its casements, and with semicircular buttresses leading to a verandah shaded with vines, she felt thrilled that it was hers. 'Shall we go inside?' suggested Ramón, taking her arm possessively, and Lauren nodded her. head. In the entrance hall was a richly ornamented Plateresque staircase leading to a balcony which overlooked the sea. Many other intriguing details brought gasps of admiration from Lauren's lips and, looking down at her with a sideways glance, her husband appeared to be satisfied with her reaction to his gift. 'I don't know what to say to you, Ramon.' She kept her voice very low, as she had no desire that any of the men moving about should

hear—although she doubted their ability to understand her language. 'It's very generous of you ..." Her voice trailed away altogether as, having come to a window, she looked out on to the vast olive groves where many labourers could be seen moving about among the trees. 'Is that all your land too?' she asked. 'Yes,' replied her husband briefly before, taking her arm again, he led her into one room after another, explaining what he intended doing. 'It will be one of the most luxurious hotels on this coast,' he said with the merest hint of pride, 'and it will belong to my wife.' He turned to her and smiled. She caught her breath, thinking, as always, how handsome he was. Superlative was the only word to describe his looks adequately, his bearing too, and his splendid physique. At length they returned to the open air; Lauren's lovely hair, caught by the cool breeze which blew even in the heart of summer, veiled her face and swirled about on her shoulders. Stopping, Ramon took it up in two handfuls and, running his fingers through it like combs, he smoothed it back, but still held it in his strong brown hands. She was close and she stared up into his unsmiling face, noting the faintly brooding expression in his eyes. His lips moved, as if he intended to say something, but, instantly changing his mind, he slipped a hand to hers and led her towards a walled garden which was almost completely overgrown with weeds. She looked all around, then said impulsively, 'It'll be lovely to see it all developing, Ramon! Thank you very much for giving it to me.' He said nothing, but when they were away from the interested eyes of the workmen, he took her in his arms and kissed her. They strolled towards the car and when they were in it Ramon asked her if she would care for a drive. She agreed at once, remembering

the pleasant outing she had had with him when he took her to Granada. There was so much to see in Spain, and she found herself hoping that Ramon would find the time to take her around. At present, having been absorbed in the development of the beach and its immediate hinterland, he had spared little time for her during the past week. But as he talked now, in the car, she gathered that she herself would—if she so wished—be drawn into this new venture and it did seem that her advice would sometimes be sought.' 'In our circle,' he went on casting her a swift, unsmiling glance, 'the women often assist their husbands in their various business projects. It's a kind of partnership.' 'You would not mind a partnership?' She knew that surprise tinged her voice, and this brought a faint smile to his lips; 'You do not appear able to grasp the fact that I would very much like a partnership.' 'I'm so amazed. You have always struck me as a man who would brook no interference whatsoever with your intentions and ideas.' 'Too much interference I would not tolerate,' he said in agreement. 'But to work alone is not always pleasurable—nor is it desirable,' he added as an afterthought. 'As you say in England, "two heads are better than one".' 'I'd love to have a hand in this new project,' she said, and now her voice held all the eagerness that he had desired. 'At home, Father used to say I had some rather good ideas about interior decorating, but of course, with our limited funds, I couldn't give those ideas full rein.' 'Well,' he said, 'you won't be hindered in that way here. Within reason, you'll have an entirely free hand, Lauren. And when I say

within reason, I mean that where expense is concerned, you will be allowed to spend what I myself consider to be an appropriate amount of money for the particular work you have in hand.' 'It sounds marvellous!' She was delighted with the way he was planning her leisure—for it would be her leisure time that was being used on all this planning, since she did have certain duties in the Home, as for instance her discussion each morning with the housekeeper as to what meals would be served. Ramon had also warned her that there would be a good deal of entertaining and he would expect her to develop a high degree of efficiency in her role of hostess to his influential friends and business associates. 'Can I begin right away to plan the decor of the various rooms?' 'But of course. I'm keenly interested to see what ideas you come up with.' She began that very evening, when she and Ramon, having finished dinner, were seated on the lighted verandah, Ramon looking through some important papers which he had taken from the briefcase he had carried with him on his visit to England. Lauren had a drawing pad on the table in front of her and she was busily sketching, Ramón already having supplied the measurements which had been planned for the rooms. She continued to sketch silently, her head bent over her task, and she failed to notice the many admiring glances her husband sent in her direction. It was so pleasant a task, demanding much of her imagination and skill, her appreciation of the mingling of colours, her far-seeing vision of what the final result would be. 'It's exciting,' she exclaimed, not meaning to speak above a whisper that she alone could hear. But her husband had heard and he looked up to meet her eager, shining eyes. 'Ramon, I'm going to have the time of my life doing all this I' He looked at her in silence for a space and then,

'As always, my dear, you have come up to my expectations.' She looked interrogatingly at him. 'I don't quite understand?' she said. 'When I first saw you across that room, I knew you were a girl who possessed an inner beauty as well as the adorable veneer you displayed to the world. I was not wrong—but then I never am,' he added, and smiled with sardonic amusement at the sudden tilt of her head, a gesture denoting her faint disgust at his lack of modesty. 'No, my dear Lauren, I never am mistaken in the conclusions I draw.' He glanced down for a space at the paper which he had spread out on the table. She saw that it was a plan of some kind. 'This—' he tapped it with a negligent finger. '—is a plan of a vineyard I bought some years ago. It had been so neglected as to be almost totally unproductive. My friends declared me to be mad to think of purchasing it, even for the comparatively small sum asked. But I saw at once that it had possibilities, and now its grape production has exceeded even my high expectations.' Her eyes remained on the paper; she was getting to know her husband rather quickly now—after the slow start caused mainly by her own cold and distant attitude—and she very much admired his business acumen. She knew for sure that he dealt honestly, but knew also that he expected the same honest dealing from those with whom he conducted his transactions. 'Tell me about the sherry,' she said, putting aside her pencil and cupping her chin in her hands. 'I must learn something about it, seeing that you produce so much of it.' 'My small efforts are nothing compared with those of the really big concerns.' He made a deprecating gesture and went on, 'It's mainly mechanised cultivation these days, and the vines are planted in rows

six feet apart in consequence.' He went on to explain that normally there were sufficient vines to the acre to produce about five hundred gallons of sherry. 'The quality of the soil has an influence on the quality of the sherry, but on the other hand sherry is a most capricious product since it can actually alter from one butt to another even though all has gone through an identical process.' 'It's fascinating. I've heard about the vintage, and how the people celebrate with singing and dancing. I'm looking forward to seeing it all.' 'In September,' he murmured. 'That's a few months away, Lauren,' he added, and she frowned in puzzlement at the strangeness of his tones. Was he, despite his outward show of arrogant confidence, just a little anxious that she might decide to leave him? Was all this idea of giving her some interest apart from the home designed as bait to entice her to stay with him? She looked at his dark face and tried to read his mind, but she instantly gave up; she had tried before to read that impregnable mask, but wholly without success. He began speaking again, reverting to the topic he himself had interrupted when he brought in the subject of the vineyard he had bought. 'As I was saying, Lauren, I am never wrong in the conclusion I form. And with you especially I have been one hundred per cent correct. I've mentioned that my first impression of your nature was that you possessed this inner beauty and goodness. When you told me you had sent Roger away I knew that as always I had been correct. You did not let me down, Lauren ... and I know you never will.' Once again she detected that strangeness of tone, and she asked herself if it were possible that he was trying to convince himself that she would not ever let him down. If so, then despite all his confident assertions, he was not totally sure that she would not one day take it into her head to leave him.

For several days she dwelt on this, and sometimes she would catch her breath as the idea that he loved her entered her head. Love ... But surely such a man was not capable of love! That hard and almost ruthless expression which so often spread like a formidable mask over his face, those black eyes which could take on the aspect of smouldering embers when reflecting his inner fury, that arrogance of bearing, inherited from his noble ancestors, that air of superiority, that cold remote manner of speaking. No, a man with all these repellent attributes could not possibly know what it was to be in love. Desire, on the other hand, fitted in perfectly with his character as she knew it, fitted in with the cold calculating aspects of a world where all his aims were concentrated under one main heading: business. 'What are you thinking, my dear?' Ramon's soft clear accents broke gently into her musings and she smiled to herself as for one short moment she visualised his reaction should she reveal her thoughts to him. She and he were in the car, having been to take another look at what was going on along the beach. Scores of men were now on the site, marking out building plots for the pretty bungalows that would occupy the hilly, partly forested region between the sierra and the sea; others were unloading materials, others measuring for the laying of foundations for such things as the elegant restaurant where, included in the cost of a dinner, would be flamenco singing and other entertainments. The swimming pool was already marked out; it was to have palm trees shading one length, with beds of tropical plants surrounding it but at some distance from it. A patio close to it would provide a pleasant site for the gay umbrellas under which would be placed tables where refreshments would be served. There were to be fountains which would be delicately lighted at night, terraced walks and secluded little arbours. Lauren had earlier stated that so many people would want to come that there would not be sufficient room to accommodate them. Ramon had been very firm about the idea of not overcrowding. The

number of bungalows were limited; they all had their own private grounds surrounding them, and many were also to have their own swimming-pools. There was to be just the one hotel—the converted finca, with its tastefully designed additions, and the one restaurant. The marina too would not be overcrowded, the number of moorings being strictly limited. 'What am I thinking?' Lauren repeated her husband's question, more to gain time than anything else. 'I was—er—enjoying the countryside, that's all.' Faintly he smiled. 'A fib,' he commented, 'but never mind. Talking of the countryside,' he went on, 'we have some very lovely and romantic scenery here, and I really must get down to showing you some of it.' He paused a moment, his attention caught by a peasant woman dressed in severe black and carrying a basket filled to the brim with eggs, some of which had stuck to them bright yellow feathers that fluttered in the breeze. 'Just as soon as this new project gets really under way we'll begin going places.' Ramon gave her a sideways glance, but she was looking through the window at her own side, her gaze on the two little thatched cottages that adorned the hillside, looking like something out of a fairy tale with the trees above and a little silver stream below. Conscious of the deep silence that had fallen on the car, Lauren spoke, thanking Ramon for offering to take her around. He said after a while, 'Are you beginning to settle, Lauren?' 'Settle?' The question startled her, so unexpected as it was. 'I don't know what you mean?'

A small pause and then, 'I want you to be happy—and content.' She would not answer him; she did not know how to, simply because she knew that she would never be really happy and content again, simply because she wanted love in her life. 'I'm intending to write to my sister,' she said, abruptly changing the subject. 'If she'll accept an invitation to visit me will you mind having her?' She deliberately watched his profile as she said this; she saw the frown which she had half expected. 'I do not like your sister—which is natural,' he thought to add. 'However, I would not deny you the privilege of inviting your family, and your friends, to stay with us. You're very forgiving,' he ended, braking suddenly as a dog ran across the narrow road in front of the car. 'She's my only sister, and I have no brothers. It isn't sensible for us to lose touch.' 'It's her place to write to you, Lauren; she should be asking your forgiveness.' 'She might be troubled by her pride.' 'Pride has no place in a situation like this.' 'I agree, but if she won't write to me then I must write to her. I was wondering if Father could come as well. When he wrote last time he said he was feeling much better.' 'That sister of yours could have killed him,' said Ramon grimly. 'She deserved a damned good thrashing.'

And she would have received one, thought Lauren, had Ramon been in any way related to her. 'I'll write, then,' she said, 'and ask them to come over. Is there any particular time that will suit you better than another?' Ramon shook his head. 'They can come any time to suit you, Lauren.' After that they drove home in silence; Lauren wondered if she was being wise in inviting her sister to come over. Felice had been envious of her once; she could just as easily be envious of her again.

It was a week since Felice had arrived at the Casa. She had come alone, her father saying he would come over later in the year, and Lauren, though disappointed, did not take offence simply because it was a fact that her father preferred to take his holidays either early or late. He did not care for crowds and also, he said, his holiday accommodation and other expenses were considerably reduced. Not that he would have needed much money for expenses, coming to his daughter's home, but he had got into his routine and he would keep to it. He would be with her in the autumn or early winter, was the message he had sent with Felice. 'I can't get over this magnificent palace!' Felicity said this almost every day as she and Lauren strolled in the grounds or sat on one of the patios sunning themselves and drinking iced cordials. 'It was fate that you should marry wealth.' Expressionless the tone ... and yet it troubled Lauren, as it had troubled her right from the first. She had so desperately wanted to win her sister back that she had not given sufficient thought to how this was to be done. This invitation had seemed to be the answer, the extended olive-branch as it were. But

now, after a week during which both Lauren herself and her husband had made Felice welcome and at the same time managed to put her entirely at her ease, never for one second allowing the past to intrude, Lauren was experiencing this uneasiness. Ramon had taken them to Seville one day and to Malaga the next. They had been out to dinner a couple of times and on one occasion when the two girls had been out shopping on their own they had met Don Diego who, when introduced to Felice, looked into her eyes for a long moment and then pointedly returned his whole attention to Lauren. 'He's smitten with you.' Felice's tone had been a trifle sharp, Lauren had thought, wondering why, when she and Felice were identical, Don Diego had given her, Lauren, all his attention. 'I'm of the opinion he's a flirt,' returned Lauren with a laugh. 'He's a perfect example of the bachelor gay.' 'He didn't seem to be very desirous of flirting with me,' remarked Felice in a tone edged with pique. 'I still don't know what you've got that I haven't.' An uncomfortable moment, that one, mused Lauren as, standing before her mirror, she surveyed herself before, taking up a crocodile skin shoulder bag—a present from Ramon—she went along to the beautiful suite occupied by Felice. The bedroom was in several shades from deep purple to pale lilac, the carpet and velvet headboard, dressing-stool and chair being in deep purple, the drapes of French damask a little lighter, the walls lighter still, with the ceiling being the palest of all. The bathroom with its gold-plated taps and mother- of-pearl trimmings was in mauve and white—a real dream, Felice had said on first setting eyes on it. Included in the suite was a small sitting-room with a balcony whose views were on to the rear of the Casa grounds with the slopes of the sierra beyond.

'Ready?' Lauren was excited, for she was taking Felice to see the new project. She had described it to her, telling her about the finca which, once converted, was to be her very own. She also told her about her part in the scheme as a whole, asserting that it was better to be occupied in this way than idling her time and becoming bored into the bargain. 'It would seem,' Felice was saying when they were on their way, being driven by Ramon's chauffeur, 'that you're not now so discontented with your bargain.' 'Bargain?' Lauren looked uncomprehendingly at her. 'I don't know what you mean?' 'You lost Roger, but look what you've gained!' 'That isn't a very nice thing to say, Felice.' Lauren tried to keep the sharpness from her voice, but she very much feared that it had crept in. 'Do you remember that I said it would be easy to fall in love with Don Ramon?' Felice was looking fixedly at the chauffeur's back. 'Yes, I remember.' Lauren glanced sideways at her. 'Just what are you trying to say, Felice?' The girl turned then; her face was devoid of expression—and yet it troubled Lauren, just as, previously, her voice had troubled her. 'You're in love with him, aren't you?' Silence. Lauren had caught her breath the moment the words left her sister's lips. In love ... The attraction, the inability to resist Ramon right from the first. Even at her own engagement party she had allowed Ramon to make love to her. She had naturally asked herself how and why it should have been so; she had come up with the only

answer that appeared to fit at the time: physical attraction. But was it physical attraction? 'Well,' Felice was saying, breaking into Lauren's reverie, 'are you in love with him?' Swallowing the little lump that had inexplicably settled in her throat, Lauren tried to speak, tried to voice a lie. But she found herself saying, a wealth of disbelief and bewilderment in her tone, 'Yes, Felice, I am in love with him.' It was out; it sounded strange to her ears ... but it also rang with a clear undertone of truth. Love ... And destiny, as Ramon had always maintained. Kismet ... And when, after a few profound seconds of silence, she heard her sister ask if Ramon was in love with her, Lauren was able to say, with a surge of joy in her heart, 'But of course he's in love with me!'

The workmen were naturally most interested to see two such beautiful girls appear in their midst. Work stopped in all 'departments' in turn as Lauren and Felice wandered around. 'Two of them!' Lauren heard now and then. 'Exactly the same!' So some of the men at least could speak her language, thought Lauren with an amused smile, and they meant the girls to know that they could. 'And this is to be your very own?' Felice looked with an odd expression at the lovely facade where men were busy cleaning the jasper rosettes. 'It's going to be worth a bomb!'

'I'm not particularly interested in what it'll be worth,' said Lauren, allowing all the excitement she felt to enter into her voice. 'I'm more interested in converting it to something really beautiful. And you must admit that I've got a marvellous foundation on which to develop my imaginative powers.' 'Your life wouldn't have been half as interesting if you'd married Roger.' There was definitely a disconsolate edge to Felice's voice now, and Lauren decided to bring this visit to an abrupt end. 'We'd better be going.' She made a show of looking at her watch. 'Ramon will expect us to join him for afternoon tea.' 'I suppose we must be off ..." A small pause, profound and, somehow, tense—at least, to Lauren. She looked inquiringly at her sister who, a few minutes previously, had been talking to a workman whose figure she was now following with her eyes. And something made Lauren ask, 'That man—what were you saying to him?' A start and then a shrug. Felice's eyes did not fully meet her sister's as she replied, 'Nothing much. I was asking him about the building, and—and what it was all going to look like when it was finished.' 'He wouldn't know that. Even Ramon doesn't, not yet. We've such a lot more designing to do first.' 'That's obvious. Let's go out that way—across that little balcony and then down the steps to the courtyard.' 'All right.' It was by the balcony that Felice had been standing in conversation with the workman. 'Are you going first?' she asked when, after leaving a bedroom and traversing a short space leading to

the balcony, she would have stepped aside to allow Felice to precede her. 'No, you can go first.' This Lauren did, automatically glancing round, expecting her sister to be close behind her. And then several things happened at once. The timber began to give way beneath Lauren's feet; the loud warning voice of a workman was like thunder in her ears, and the scream of her sister mingled with it. 'Lauren—come back! Oh, I told you it wasn't safe! The workman warned me, and I told you ...' Lauren heard no more as, flinging out her arms in a wild and terrified attempt to catch hold of something, she went hurtling down to the stone-flagged courtyard below.

She awoke in hospital, her husband by her side. She looked around dazedly for a full minute before it all came back with a rush of memory that made her shudder. 'Felice,' she cried, trying to rise. 'Is she—is she ...?' 'She's safe enough.' Why was her husband's voice so harsh? And why was everything going hazy again? 'Ah, yes ...' Through the mist another shaft of memory pierced her consciousness. 'She didn't follow me, did she?' No answer. Ramon .seemed more concerned in holding his wife's hand and looking with the deepest anxiety into her pallid face. 'My darling,' he murmured, and she thought that his voice had the most funny little break in it. 'My dear sweet darling— you're coming round at last!'

'At last?' The haze was lifting; she could see her husband's face much more clearly now. Where was his nice attractive tan? It must be her eyes, because his face looked grey—or was it the light in here? "You've been unconscious for a long time, my love.' She would have spoken, but the nurse and doctor had arrived at her bedside, and Ramon was leaving. She didn't want him to leave 'And about time, young lady.' The voice, although carrying an accent, was loud and clear. 'You've given your husband a fright—and all of us, for that matter.' Her pulse was being taken; the nurse was speaking to the doctor in Spanish, and then they both went off and Ramon came back. He took her hand in his and held it very tightly against his heart. 'Is it my head?' She knew that she was feeling very strange and she automatically put a hand to her temple. 'Lots of bandages,' she murmured, and closed her eyes. !Ramon, it was—awful!' She wanted to cry, so that the heavy cloud behind her eyes could be released. 'It must have been, my darling.' Ramon's soothing tones came to her as from a long way off. 'If only I'd known that the balcony wasn't safe—but the men had only discovered the rotting floor just a few minutes before you and Felice arrived. The man took pains to warn Felice, and she says she told you, but I know that she did not ...' The voice faded. Lauren had lost consciousness again. But a fortnight later she was back home, being fussed over by one and all at the Casa, for they had come to love her just as much as they loved Ramon, in whose service most of them had been since he set up home on his own over ten years previously. The person who fussed most was, however, her adoring husband who, when on the

second occasion she had come into full consciousness, had asked her if she knew that he loved her. 'But of course I do,' she had replied happily. 'I told Felice I did!' And, looking into her radiant eyes, her husband had no need at all to ask if she loved him. 'I told you it was meant to be,' he said as, after she had been put gently into a chair on the sunlit patio, he had come to her and sat down, intending to spend the whole afternoon with her, out here, in the tranquil atmosphere of the garden scene. 'I told you it was Kismet, remember?' Vibrant the tone, but with tenderness rather than passion, and in the black eyes there had crept a light she had never seen before. 'I've wanted so many times to tell you of my love—to tell you that it was love and love alone that drew me to you, but you yourself were not in love with me, and, moreover, you were under the delusion that you loved Roger ...' He tailed off helplessly, and she thought that this aspect of his character was not at all in keeping with the arrogance to which she had become used. She knew that this mood was one which from now on was to be far more familiar than the various moods she had known before. 'I said you would come to love me, and you have—my own dear, dear wife.' 'Yes, you said I'd come to love you.' She paused and a most mischievous smile lit her beautiful eyes. 'For once, my darling, you were quite wrong!' 'Wrong?' He stared into eyes brimming with love. 'What's this—tell me!' 'You said I'd come to love you—meaning some time.' 'Well?'

'I know now that I loved you from the first, Ramon. I was under the misapprehension that it was only a physical desire I had for you, and I was filled with shame over it.' She paused to look lovingly at him. 'Just as with you it was love and not desire, so it was with me. It was love at first sight—and as you've said, it was meant that we should meet.' He was close to her and he took her gently into his arms; she rested her head against his breast, and heard his heart beating far, far too quickly. 'Dearest Ramon,' she said huskily, moving a little so that the bandages became a little more comfortable, settling into the place where she snuggled against him, 'I love you—for ever.' 'And you forgive me for my—trickery?' Amusement in his voice, and a tiny hint of triumph. 'I thank you for your trickery,' was her prompt rejoinder, and because it was the answer he desired he rewarded her with a tender loving kiss which lasted for a long, long while.