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insisted he was hot, and stripped to his underpants, then demanded a Coke. While he was sucking it up through a straw, Laurel glanced up at the open balconies of the first floor, wondering if one of them were Luis’. As if she had summoned him, he came out of one of the rooms, arrayed in a multi-coloured towelling robe.
    ‘Aren’t you going to swim?’ he called. ‘I am.’ He disappeared before she could confess that she had never learned that art.
    He reappeared through the lower doorway, his robe over one arm, and a couple of towels, clad in black swimming trunks. The whole of his bronzed body was exposed and Laurel felt her pulses stir, because it was beautiful. Lean muscular chest without hair (did he shave it?), slim waist, long graceful legs. He dropped the gear he was carrying, and stepping to the side of the pool, dived in, shooting the length of it in an underwater crawl.
    ‘Ooh, I’d like to do that!’ Peter gasped.
    ‘And so you shall.’ Luis came up beside them, his wet black head like that of a seal. ‘Come on, I will give you a lesson.’
    Peter shrank back and Laurel put a protective arm around him.
    ‘He can’t swim.’
    ‘Then of course he must learn. Jump in, chico , I will hold you.’ Peter shrank even closer to her. ‘ Madre de Dios! An Aguilas and afraid of water!’
    ‘ ’Course I’m not,’ Peter declared, and ran to the edge of the pool.
    ‘No!’ Laurel cried, while a cold shiver ran down her spine, in spite of the hot sunshine. When Luis had mentioned Pedro’s property, she had been too preoccupied to take in the full implication. By Spanish law all children inherit equally and Pedro would have obtained a large share of his father’s estate, and it was to Joanna’s credit that she had never made any claim upon him, but his brothers stood to lose with Peter’s advent—was that why Luis had enquired about his health? If he wanted to dispose of him an easy way had presented itself. The pool was deep, the shallows did not extend far, and she could not plunge in to the rescue, she would only drown herself.
    Ignoring her protest, Luis reached up and took hold of the little boy, lowering him gently into the water.
    ‘Ugh ... it’s cold!’ Peter spluttered.
    ‘It only feels so at first.’ Standing up to his waist in water, Luis supported him, urging him to strike out and kick. Peter, with his face set in grim determination, strove to follow his instructions.
    ‘You won’t let me go?’ he asked anxiously.
    ‘You can trust me.’
    Peter began to enjoy himself, he laughed and splashed. He had a natural aptitude and made quick progress, having complete confidence in his teacher. He objected strongly when Luis told him he had had enough for a first time, and lifted him on to the pool’s edge at Laurel’s feet. The intensely black eyes met hers with a mocking glint, as if he had divined the reason for her perturbation.
    ‘I am not the wicked uncle of the fairy stories,’ he told her, and Laurel turned her head away in shame, disturbed that he seemed able to read her thoughts.
    ‘What an idea!’ She tried to brazen it out, and he smiled ironically.
    ‘ Your idea. Like your sister, you have a vivid imagination.’
    Peter intervened, demanding to go in again.
    ‘Tomorrow,’ Luis told him. He again looked at Laurel. ‘Too cold for you?’
    ‘Tia can’t swim,’ Peter informed him.
    ‘Is that so?’ Luis drawled. He reached for his towels and threw one to Peter. ‘Then tomorrow you can both have a lesson.’ His eyes raked Laurel’s figure as if he were envisaging her in a swimsuit, and she felt her colour rise. She did not blush easily and she was furious with herself for being so discomposed by a man she was determined to dislike.
    ‘Thank you,’ she said disdainfully. ‘I’d hate to put you to so much trouble.’
    ‘No trouble at all, it would be a pleasure, senorita .’
    Oh, will it? she thought savagely, imagining those strong brown arms supporting her flailing