One Night in Madrid

Left behind, Alannah snatched up a glass and shoved it under the tap, splashing cold water into it until it spilled over, flooding down the sides and over her fingers. Wrenching off the tap with one hand, she lifted the drink to her mouth and took several long, thirsty gulps of the cool liquid then lifted it to her forehead, rolling the wet glass above her eyebrows in an effort to calm herself down, ease the tension that was already tight as a steel band around her skull.

She had to get a grip on herself. She had to go in there and talk to him as calmly as possible—tell him everything that had happened and then.

She winced inside as she anticipated Raul’s probable reaction, the dark thunderstorm that would probably break right over her head as soon as she finished speaking. But it had to be done—and soon too. Thirty minutes, he had said, and they had already used up more than half of those. If she didn’t hurry then Carlos would turn up again and she would be unable to say what she had to say in front of him.

Putting the glass down on the worktop, she drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

She was going to do this —now.

She was barely inside the other room when the sight that met her eyes drove all the breath from her body in a shocked rush. Raul was waiting for her, but it wasn’t just the sight of him standing there, big and dark and disturbingly formidable, feet planted firmly on the woven rug before the gas fire, that shook her world. It was the picture frame he held in his hand, head bent, hooded eyes intent on the image in the photograph it held.

And the look on his face twisted her heart in her chest. She knew that look and she knew exactly what it meant. But the real problem was that she knew that what she was about to say could only make things so much worse.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE photograph WAS the first thing that Raul had seen when he walked back into the room. Because with Alannah’s instruction in his head that he should sit down he’d been heading for one of the armchairs grouped around the small gas fire, and he was facing that way for the first time, towards the wall and the small round table that stood against it. The table was crammed with photographs, all in frames of different shapes and sizes, some wood, some polished silver, some old, like the picture of her grandmother he recognised from when he had known her before, and some obviously very recent.

It was one of these that had caught his attention.

And what he saw had the power to make him feel as if a brutal knife had just slashed open his heart, letting out all the pain and the loss he had been fighting to hold back ever since he had been dragged away from a business meeting by the worst phone call he had ever received in his life.

‘Lorena … Lori …’

The name escaped his lips on a whisper, the pain even of speaking it searing into his soul. His eyes blurred so badly that for a moment he thought—hoped—that he had been wrong and the subject of the photograph was not who he thought it was. But blinking hard as he snatched it up did nothing to help that feeling. In fact it only made it so much worse as it cleared his vision and made it agonisingly plain that he had not been wrong.

Lori’s beautiful, delighted face smiled up at him from behind the glass. Her grin was wide, her brown eyes sparkled, her dark hair was tossed by some unseen breeze. She looked totally happy, totally wonderful.

Totally alive.

His hands clenched tight on the picture frame, so tight that he almost felt that the light pine wood would shatter under the pressure of his fingers.

This was wrong—so wrong. Lori was so young. Too young. She was too young—had been too young. With a terrible lurch of his heart he adjusted the tense of his thoughts as he had had to do so many times in the past twenty-four hours. As he would have to do for the rest of his life—at least until he got used to it.

And he didn’t want to get used to it. Never!

How could his little sister—his precious, beautiful baby sister, the sister who had been put so carefully into his arms when she was less than a day old and had moved straight into his heart in an instant—be dead while he was still alive? It went against all the laws of nature that he had already had ten years more of life than she would ever know. That at twenty-one her life was already over—finished.

It didn’t bear thinking about. He couldn’t think about it … His numbed, bruised and battered brain just couldn’t take it in.

The photograph was almost invisible behind the burning haze in his eyes. He wanted to lift a hand to brush at them fiercely but somehow his grip wouldn’t loosen on the photograph he held. He couldn’t let go …

‘Raul …’

The voice was low, feminine, gentle … as gentle as the soft fingers that touched his hand, very lightly, very carefully.

‘Raul …’

It was an effort to drag his eyes away from the photograph and they wouldn’t quite focus when he did. So Alannah’s face was still a blur, her expression indistinct when he turned to her.

‘What are you doing with a picture of Lori? Why is there a photograph of my sister in your flat?’

‘Lori gave it to me.’

Alannah’s voice seemed uneven and strangely fuzzy. Or perhaps that was because he was having difficulty concentrating as well as seeing clearly.

‘She sent it to me on my birthday.’

Of course. His sister had adored Alannah and she had been overjoyed at the prospect of having her as a sister-in-law. She had been devastated when he had had to tell her that they weren’t going to be married after all. In fact telling Lori had been one of the hardest things he had had to do. He had never forgiven Alannah for destroying his sister’s dreams along with his own when she had walked out on them.

‘You were still in touch with her?’ ‘Yes.’

There was something wrong with her answer, an edge on the words that he didn’t understand, and right now his thinking wasn’t clear enough to be able to work out anything like that. He just knew that the way she spoke grated on him, made his skin feel raw as well as his heart.

‘Do you know why she was in England? Did she come to see you?’

‘Yes.’

There it was again, that ragged, uneven note that twisted something deep inside.

‘Raul—’ she began but suddenly the dreadful thought that she might not know the full truth pushed him to cut across her words.

‘Did you know—Lori—did you know that she …?’

As he drew breath, drew strength to say the hateful word died—Lori died—Alannah moved with sudden urgency.

‘Oh, don’t! Don’t!’

Those soft fingers touched his face, covered his mouth to stop, to hold back the dreadful truth. And she was very, very close, the scent of her body surrounding him, the warmth of her skin against his.

‘You don’t have to,’ she whispered. ‘I know—at the hospital—I heard …’

‘You know?’

The relief was so intense it was almost savage. She knew—and of course she understood. She had been through this tragedy herself so recently. Of all people, she would understand so much. He had someone to share the darkness with. ‘I know.’

And this time she leaned even further forward so that her forehead rested against his own. Her breath was warm on his cheek. The soft brush of her hair against his skin was a caress that had him biting his lip against the groan of response that almost escaped him.

From darkness and emptiness his feelings suddenly leapt to burning awareness. Where there had been a sort of suspended animation, the numbness of loss and despair, suddenly a shaft of feeling, sharp and brilliant as a flash of light, delicate and painful as a stiletto, pierced the armour of restraint he had locked round himself and let life back in.

His hand closed around hers where it lay on his arm, strong fingers lacing with her finer, paler ones, and he felt her squeeze his in response to the pressure of his touch. There were no more words, just as there had been no words when he had held her as she cried out her distress in the hospital. He’d envied her those tears then, and he still felt the same way now. His eyes burned but they were dry and gritty. The release that she had found escaped him, though the storm that raged in his heart demanded the expression he couldn’t give it.

‘Gracias …’

He wasn’t quite sure what he was thanking her for. For her understanding, for her touch, for her closeness or just for her silence. The silence that meant he didn’t have to try to speak or even to think. Just for this moment he could simply rest as he had been unable to rest since the news had broken. For now, the silence was enough.

But even as he thought that he realised there was something about the silence that was not right. Something that made it not the gentle silence of comfort, of sharing. The silence between two hurting people who had suffered the same terrible loss. Instead Alannah had pulled back—just an inch or so, but she had moved away. And suddenly there was an almost dangerous edge to her stillness. An edge that scraped like sandpaper over his nerves, telling him—warning him that there was something that was wrong here; something that had to be brought into the open.

And instinctively he knew that it had to do with the reason she had brought him up here.

‘Alannah …’

His voice sounded rough and husky, as if he hadn’t used it in days.

‘No …’ she said at last, and it was almost a moan, a sound of despair. ‘No—don’t thank me. Not yet. Not until I’ve told you everything.’

‘Everything?’

Alannah’s heart sank right down to somewhere beneath the soles of her feet when she heard the way that Raul’s voice had changed, darkened, the deeply suspicious note coming back into it. She wished she could go back just a couple of minutes—retreat to the moment when she had been so close to him. When he had been grateful that she was there.

‘What the hell is everything? Just what is it you’ve been dancing around telling me? That’s obviously the reason you brought me up here and yet you insist on making coffee—doing anything other than tell me!’ ‘I’m sorry.’

It was barely a whisper. Now that the moment was here her voice threatened to fail her and the fearful race of her heart made the blood pound so loudly inside her head that she could barely hear herself speak.

‘I will tell you. I need to explain—about when I met you in the hospital, why I was there—’

‘Your brother,’ Raul inserted sharply.

‘Yes, and—there was more to it than that. Much more. And—oh, I’m sorry …’

She had his attention now, dark eyes narrowed, that burning, searching gaze fixed on her face. He must see the glimmer of tears in her eyes, the way she was having to blink them back.

‘Sorry for what?’ It was low, dangerous, intent. ‘Alannah—tell me.’

‘I’m sorry …’

Oh, if only she could stop saying that phrase! She felt sure that Raul would pounce on it again like a tiger on its prey. But the fierce scrutiny of his stunning eyes didn’t waver, and although his beautiful mouth tightened briefly he didn’t say a word. He just waited. And the dark intensity of his silence dried her throat so brutally that she had to fight to force out the words that needed to be said.

‘When I said that I knew—about Lori … that I heard in the hospital, that wasn’t quite true.’

The mention of his sister’s name had stilled him, focused him totally on one thing. If his gaze had been fierce before then now it burned like a laser. ‘And the truth is?’

‘That—that—well, I did hear at the hospital, but that was because—it was when I was there for Chris.’ ‘Your brother?’

Raul was frowning now, clearly having trouble following what she said. And she really couldn’t blame him. She was making a terrible mess of this. And it would have been so much better—kinder too—if she had just come out and said it.

‘You were at the hospital for your brother.’

‘And for Lori …’ Somehow she forced it out. ‘They were brought in there together.’

Raul’s head went back sharply as if reacting to a brutal slap. Confusion, disbelief, suspicion all crossed his face in quick succession and to Alannah’s horror it was suspicion that caught and held.

Hard hands clamped around her shoulders, holding her bruisingly tight, and he pushed her away until she was at arm’s length so that he could look into her face, probe her eyes.

‘But Lori was in a car crash—killed outright. And your brother was ill.’

‘No …’

The word was so low and miserable that he must have barely caught it. But he couldn’t mistake the way that she shook her head to confirm what she’d said.

‘You assumed that—I let you assume that. Because I didn’t dare tell you at the time. I was there to tell you. I meant to tell you. But—’

‘Tell me what?’ Raul’s voice slashed through her stammering attempt to explain. ‘Madre de Dios, Alannah, tell me what?’

‘That Chris and Lori were injured together—in the same crash.’ There; it was out. She had actually said it. ‘They were in the same car. The crash killed them both.’

This time he was silent so long that for a dreadful moment she thought that, crazily, for some reason he hadn’t heard. The fear that she might have to say it all over again was like a twisting pain inside her head and she had just forced herself to open her mouth again to do just that when Raul finally spoke.

‘I don’t understand. Just what the hell were my sister and your brother doing in any car together? I thought you said she came to see you.’

The hands that held her released their grip with such suddenness that she stumbled backwards, opening up a space between them. But one look into his face stilled her again in an instant.

The dark pools of his eyes above the pallor of his cheeks and the appalling, almost greyish tinge to his skin were alarming. They made Alannah bite her lip hard in distress as she saw him try to take in what she was saying. She knew how much he had doted on his young sister and it tore at her heart to think of what this was doing to him.

‘Don’t you think you would be more comfortable if we sat down …?’

She couldn’t finish the sentence when he suddenly took a couple of steps towards her, rejecting her suggestion with a violent shake of his head, a terrible mixture of anger and pain darkening his eyes.

‘I don’t want to sit down and I sure as hell don’t want to be comfortable! I want to know—’

‘They were seeing each other,’ Alannah blurted out in a rush, desperate to get it said, to get this over with. ‘Chris and Lori were a couple. They met one time when she came to see me here and—they were crazy about each other.’

‘She never said anything.’

‘Of course she didn’t. She knew how you’d react. You wouldn’t have wanted your sister to date my brother; admit it—you’d have hated it.’

The dangerous expression that flashed across his face told her she was right before a curt nod of Raul’s dark head acknowledged the truth of her words.

‘I know …’ she began but Raul’s brutal tones cut across her stumbling words.

‘Then you’ll know how I feel about the fact that she ever came here to visit you. I told her not to contact you—never to see you again. You broke her heart when you walked out.’

Broke her heart, Alannah noted bitterly. Not his—not Raul’s. But then she doubted that Raul had a heart to break. At least where she was concerned. His sister Lori had been quite a different matter. And her own heart ached desperately in sympathy for him over that.

‘And she was dating your brother. If I’d known …’

‘You couldn’t have stopped her, Raul. She was a grown woman.’

‘She was twenty-one!

‘Old enough to know her own mind. And her own heart!’

She had been twenty-one when she’d met him. She’d known her own heart then—known that she wanted to stay with this man for the rest of her life. Until reality had stripped the rose-coloured spectacles from her eyes.

‘Her heart …’ Raul’s scornful laugh dismissed the claim. ‘She didn’t love him—she couldn’t have done.’

‘And why not?’

This time Alannah was the one to take a step forward, defiance driving her close to Raul’s powerful form in a way that in any other mood she would have avoided at all costs.

‘Why couldn’t she have loved Chris? Why is that so hard to believe? Or is it just that you don’t think that any member of my family is lovable? That because I walked out on you then no Redfern is worth bothering with? Don’t take your own bitterness out on—’

‘Bitterness!’

Raul’s laugh this time was pure cynicism, so harsh it made her flinch back as he tossed it right into her face.

‘Don’t kid yourself, querida! There’s no bitterness—that’s not what I feel. The truth is that I feel nothing—nothing at all. Except perhaps a trace of relief that you refused my offer of marriage when you did. I dread to think what my life would be like now if you’d accepted—a living hell, I should imagine.’

‘Then we’ve both cause to be grateful it never happened!’

Alannah flung the words at him, putting the bite of conviction into each syllable.

‘But you can’t blame my behaviour on Chris! He is—he was,’ she amended painfully, faltering as the black memories hit home, ‘a very different person. And he adored Lori. He would never have hurt her—not …’

Another tidal wave of memory crashed over her head, killing the words on her tongue, drying her throat painfully. And the terrible glitter in Raul’s dark eyes told her that he had noticed and even as she began to feel the fear, to dread what was coming, he pounced with lethal perception.

‘Not?’ he echoed viciously. ‘Not what, querida? Your brother would never have hurt Lorena, not …?’

He let the sentence trail off, obviously expecting her to complete it. But Alannah couldn’t find the words, or the strength to use them.

‘Tell me.’

It was a tone that had in it all the command, all the arrogance of the generations of aristocrats who had made up the Marcín dynasty. It was the voice of a man who was used to being obeyed and expected nothing less right now. And Alannah felt her legs start to tremble at the sound of it, her knees threatening to give way beneath her.

‘Raul—please …’ she tried but he swept the words aside with a savagely imperious gesture.

‘Tell me!’ he ordered. ‘And tell me the truth—all of it; I shall know if you lie.’

She’d no doubt about that, Alannah acknowledged privately. She wouldn’t dare to lie to him, fearing the consequences if she did and he found out. His ability to read the truth in her face came close to being psychic and she was afraid of what he would see in her eyes if she met his. But how could she say …?

‘He was driving!’

The words echoed her thoughts so closely that for a dreadful moment she thought she had spoken them out loud. But then to her horror she realised that it was even worse. Raul had seen in her expression the words she couldn’t bring herself to say and now he spat them out in savage fury, his eyes pure ice, his expression dark with disgust.

‘Your brother was driving the car that crashed, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he?’ he demanded again, with brutal emphasis when she flinched away from answering him.

‘Yes …’

It was just a whisper, a thin thread of sound. But, hearing it, Raul flung up his arms in a gesture that expressed the violence of his thoughts more than any words could ever manage. Spinning away from her, he paced the width of the living room back and forth, back and forth, making Alannah think fearfully of a caged, ferocious tiger, one that was too big and too powerful to be confined in the small space of her tiny apartment.

‘Raul …’ she tried but he ignored her, flicking off her trembling use of his name with a brusque shake of his head.

‘He wouldn’t hurt her,’ he muttered, low and dangerous. ‘Oh, no, he wouldn’t hurt her—wouldn’t harm a hair on her head—he just killed her!’

CHAPTER FIVE

‘CHRIS didn’t kill her!’

Alannah struggled to control her voice, to stop if from shaking so much that her words were incomprehensible.

‘He wouldn’t—’

‘Was he drunk?’

‘No—it wasn’t like that.’

Suddenly aware of the way that she was holding out her hands to Raul, seeming to implore him to listen, Alannah dropped them again hastily, pushing her fingers into the pockets of her jeans to hide the way they shook with nerves.

‘Then what was it like?’

At least he had stopped the restless pacing. He had come to a halt but over on the opposite side of the room, well away from her as his molten copper eyes blazed into hers. The physical distance between them might be small in reality, but in Alannah’s mind it had suddenly opened up like some huge, unbridgeable chasm, stretching wide and deep to separate them totally.

‘It was an accident—a lorry driver lost control and veered right across, knocking them into the central reservation—no one’s fault—just …’

‘Just an accident.’ Raul’s tone put a spin of total disbelief on the words. ‘But it wasn’t an accident that Lori was here in the first place, was it? That was because you and your brother worked on her. She would never have gone against my wishes …’

‘Gone against your wishes!’

Alannah secretly felt that it was relief that he had moved on to another topic, giving her something to attack him with rather than just taking the accusations she couldn’t refute, that put a new confidence into her voice, though she wished it didn’t sound quite so shrill, so hard and belligerent.

‘Do you really think that you had the right to impose your wishes on her? That you could interfere in her life and tell her what to do? Dictating to her …’

‘I wanted to make sure she never met up with you again. You or any member of your family.’

‘And why? Because I wasn’t stupid enough to accept your cold-blooded proposal of marriage—does that make me unfit to even associate with any member of your family? I loved Lori.’

‘And so you encouraged her to come here and visit—to meet up with your brother—and now because of that she’s dead.’

‘They’re both dead,’ Alannah managed flatly, exhaustion draining all the emotion from her voice. ‘I lost my brother too.’

‘He took my sister with him.’

Raul sounded as if he was choking over the words; as if his throat was closing up around them.

Abruptly he wheeled away from her, his face set and hard as he headed for the door.

‘Raul …’

Instinctive concern dragged his name from her lips.

‘Where—where are you going?’

‘Out.’ And don’t even think of arguing about it, his savage tone warned.

He couldn’t bear to be with her a moment longer. He didn’t have to say the actual words, everything about his demeanour, the silent rejection stamped into every rigid line of his body, the proudly held head, said it for him. He was leaving and if she was wise she would let him go.

But that was something Alannah just couldn’t do.

She couldn’t let him walk out—not like this. Not when he was clearly feeling every bit as wretched as she felt—worse, because he had only just found out the truth about the terrible crash when she at least had had a couple of days to let the bitter reality sink in.

Outside, the night was pitch-black, the rain still pelting down, lashing against the windows. She couldn’t bear to think of him being out there, in the darkness, alone, when his mood was already so dark and desolate.

‘Oh, no …’

In a flurry of movement she rushed forward, slipped past him so that she reached the door before he did. Whirling round, she flung herself against it, pressing her back hard against the white-painted wood so that he would have to come through her if he truly wanted to get out.

And he was quite capable of doing that, the look on his face, the burning glare he flung her told her without any need for words. Never before had he seemed so big, so strong, so totally overwhelming so that her stomach clenched into tight knots of near panic, her throat drying painfully.