Ronda lay sprawled across a gently sloping plateau, the golden stone of its walled old quarter offset by the sparkling white of the slightly more modern stretch. Lauren cowered down in her seat as they drove across the bridge spanning the fearful depths of the gorge which split the town in two, although she could actually glimpse little of the actual drop from the car.
Prisoners, Gabriel informed her, had at one time been held in cells contained within the central span. With a three-hundred-foot plunge right outside the windows, there could, Lauren conceded, have been few prisons more secure.
Some fifteen minutes or so beyond the town, they turned off once more on to an even narrower road. The mountains were all about them now, softened by the lowering sun. The grass up here was emerald-green, the air itself crystal-clear, the whole landscape magnificent. A different Spain altogether from the general tourist impression, reflected Lauren.
Her first glimpse of the castle was awe-inspiring. Built of the same warm stone as the old Ronda township, it sat in a commanding position overlooking a sweeping amphitheatre of a valley. The high square turrets and castellated walls looked as solid and impregnable as the day they had been erected. There was even a portcullis spanning the entrance archway, she noted as they approached, raised at present but still in use if one were to judge from its appearance in passing beneath.
It was closed each night for total security, Gabriel confirmed, though from what or whom she was left to guess.
The twins awoke as the car came to a halt in the big square courtyard.
‘Is this the castle?’ asked Nicolás, hoisting himself upright to look out of the window. ‘It wasn’t very far.’
‘This is it,’ Lauren confirmed. ‘You slept the whole way here, that’s why it didn’t seem to take long.’
She got out of the car to open the rear door, steadying the two of them as they tumbled eagerly out. ‘Best behaviour, remember,’ she warned them, only too well aware of the havoc they could wreak between them if not kept in strict check. It was quite normal for twins to be more mischievous than most, she had been assured by numerous people, simply because there were two of them together. And especially boys. She could only hope that Rafael would prove tolerant where children were concerned, and not expect too much. Seen but not heard was all very well in theory; in practice the ‘but not’ tended to be replaced by ‘and’.
‘Your luggage will be brought in,’ said Gabriel. ‘Rafael will be waiting to meet you.’
‘I thought you said he was out on business?’ Lauren queried.
‘His car is here,’ indicating a low-slung coupé parked under the lee of a wall alongside several more vehicles, ‘so he must be too. He will have hurried matters along in order to be back for your arrival.’
Lauren would have much preferred the time and opportunity for a shower and change of clothing before meeting her other brother-in-law, but didn’t like to suggest it. Given its function as an exclusive hotel, the castle had to have every mod con installed.
‘You’d better lead on, then,’ she said resignedly.
She took one small hand firmly in each of hers as they entered through the iron-clad door into a large vaulted hall. The floor beneath her feet would in all probability be stone-flagged like the courtyard outside, she guessed, but it was carpeted now in deep ruby-red with pile so thick that her heels sank right in. The walls were stone, though hardly bare, their length and much of their height festooned with displays of armour and painted battle scenes, the latter interspersed with ancient portraits of high-ranking military personnel. The heavily carved dark wood table stretching almost the full length of the room held a huge centre-piece in what was surely solid silver, while above the great open fireplace hung a silver shield bearing what Lauren took to be the family crest.
‘I didn’t realise you had a military background,’ she commented as Gabriel made for a door at the far end of the hall.
‘It ended two generations ago,’ he replied, ‘but it is a source of some pride still. Our ancestors fought many famous battles. I brought you through this way in order to show you the splendour, but our private quarters have a separate entrance which you should use in the future. You and the children are to sleep in the east tower. You’ll find the views from your rooms very good.’
Lauren was sure of it. The views from any angle could only be spectacular. If the rest of the castle was of the same standard as that she had seen up to now, the hotel must rank among the finest in the country.
The door gave on to an inner hall somewhat smaller than the first. A fine carved staircase rose to an open gallery. Gabriel made for another door to the left marked ‘private’, ushering the three of them through ahead of him. The short corridor beyond was also carpeted. It in turn opened out into yet another small hall.
Quiet up until now, César tugged at Lauren’s hand. ‘I’m thirsty,’ he declared.
‘Me too,’ claimed Nicolás promptly.
‘Just a few minutes more,’ Lauren promised, hoping it would be no more than that. ‘We’re going to see your other uncle now.’
‘I don’t want to,’ said César mutinously. ‘I want to go home.’
‘Me too,’ Nicolás agreed. ‘When are we going home, Mummy?’
‘We only just got here.’ Lauren glanced apologetically at Gabriel. ‘It’s been a long day for them.’
‘Perhaps it would be better if you meet with Rafael alone for now,’ he suggested. ‘I’ll take them to find a drink and something to eat.’
Expecting protests, Lauren was surprised when neither boy hesitated in taking the hands Gabriel held out to them. Ranged together, the family resemblance was unmistakable. Lauren knew a sudden inexplicable sense of foreboding—a feeling that she alone was the outsider here.
‘Rafael will be in the salón,’ Gabriel advised. ‘That door over there. I’ll bring the children back in half an hour.’
Left alone, she took a deep breath before opening the door indicated, to find herself in a large and airy room lit by three tall windows. The walls in here were plastered plain white and hung with more portraits and landscapes, the furnishings heavy and ornate. The man seated on one of the vast sofas flanking an even vaster fireplace came lithely to his feet on her entry, dropping the sheaf of papers he had been studying on to a side-table.
Rafael was an inch or two taller than either of his brothers at around six feet, shoulders broad and powerful, hips lean. He was clad in plain black shirt and trousers, the former open at the throat to reveal a glint of gold from the small medallion nestled there. Facially, he possessed the same devastating bone-structure, the same sensuous line of mouth, yet the jaunty quality shared by both Francisco and Gabriel was missing, replaced by what Lauren could only describe to herself as arrogance. She felt an instant and purely instinctive antipathy.
‘I trust you had a comfortable journey?’ he said.
‘Very, thank you,’ she replied formally. ‘It was good of you to make all the arrangements.’
One dark eyebrow lifted. ‘I’d scarcely have left you to make your own.’
‘Oh, I’m quite capable,’ she declared. ‘English women are used to doing things for themselves.’
‘Doubtless.’ His tone was dry. ‘This, however, is not England.’ Eyes as black as coal appraised her, moving with deliberation from her face to take in every