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evidence of lowly origins so that his contempt for the Lesters could be fully justified? Thank goodness nature had been generous to her in that respect. Her bone formation was elegant, her wrists, ankles and hair were as fine as those of any blue-blooded aristocrat. Only her mother had known who her father was, and she had vanished; he might have been a duke or a dustman. When they were little Laurel and Joanna had played a childish game, pretending they were the offspring of princes, and no one could disprove their fantasy, with any certainty. It must gall Luis’ pride to know they had been waifs and strays, for the Aguilas were highly conscious of their own ancient lineage. All a lot of nonsense, she thought scornfully; it was what men or women made of themselves that mattered, not what they were born.
    The waiter brought their drinks, and when he had departed, Luis asked:
    ‘What is troubling you now, Laurel?’
    Oh dear, she thought, there it was again, that mental rapport that she found so disconcerting.
    ‘Nothing,’ she returned, ‘what makes you think I’m upset?’
    ‘Your cheeks are pink and your eyes have an ireful sparkle. Is it because you think I wanted to drown Pedro, and am now plotting to poison him with rich food?’
    ‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous!’ she cried, flushing, knowing he had guessed what she feared beside the pool, and how absurd that fear now seemed.
    Luis laughed low in his throat; what a sexy laugh he had, Laurel thought wildly, as Peter exclaimed indignantly:
    ‘He was teaching me to swim. You must be crazy, Tia!’ He seized Luis’ hand. ‘Can we go and choose our grub now?’
    Luis raised an interrogative brow. ‘Grub, nephew?’
    ‘Don’t you know that means eats?’
    ‘Oh, does it?’ Luis rose languidly to his feet. ‘Then come along, infant,’ he slanted a wicked glance at Laurel, ‘we will select your poison. Can I bring you anything, Laurel?’
    ‘No, thank you,’ she replied haughtily. ‘I’m not hungry.’
    ‘It is a long time until dinner.’
    ‘I may help myself to something later on, they don’t clear away until two o’clock.’
    ‘She does not trust me,’ Luis complained to Peter as they moved off.
    And why should I, she thought, when all I know about you is that you hated poor Joanna and did your best to get rid of her? You say I’m very like her, so you probably hate me too under that suave facade you use to disguise your feelings. Was that the meaning of his continual staring? The thought was painful. Oh, damn him, she told herself angrily, I don’t care what he thinks about me—but, inconsistently, she did. When they returned Luis was carrying two plates, one of which he handed to her together with the necessary cutlery, wrapped in a paper napkin.
    ‘Stuffed avocados,’ he told her. ‘Peter said you could not resist those. They are one of the hotel’s specialities.’
    His own plate was heaped with paella.
    Laurel felt ashamed of her previous hard thoughts.
    ‘You’re too kind,’ she exclaimed impulsively. ‘I don’t deserve such generous treatment.’
    He gave her an enigmatical look.
    ‘Fortunately for us, we do not always get what we deserve,’ he drawled.
    Laurel looked away from the tall figure wrapped in his brilliant robe. Luis was altogether too attractive.
    ‘Doesn’t Senora de las Aguilas want to see her grandson?’ she asked, changing the subject.
    ‘Very much so. She will receive you after her siesta. She thought you would wish to rest this morning.’
    Laurel revived her recollections of the small, formidable woman whom she had met in Joanna’s villa. She had been courteous but aloof—disliking them both, Laurel had thought; only her eagerness to see her grandson had induced her to enter the house. It was Peter she wanted now, and Laurel hoped fervently that they would take to each other, for until Luis took a wife, she would be the dominant female influence in his life.
    ‘My sister Mercedes and my young brother