ecstatically. ‘Ooh, a pony! And a dog, and a cat...’
‘No, not a menagerie,’ his uncle said firmly. He turned to Laurel. ‘What do you think of Mijas?’
‘I haven’t seen much of it yet,’ she told him, now in complete control of herself. ‘I’ve just bought Peter’s things...’
‘What’s that?’ Peter interrupted, catching sight of the sword, which would not go in her bag.
‘A little present for you.’
‘Trash,’ Luis muttered, but he smiled indulgently at the boy’s delight in the toy. ‘When you have finished waving that lethal weapon about, let me show you the bullring where it is used.’
‘Is there one?’ Laurel asked doubtfully.
He gave her a satirical grin. ‘Of course, but there is also a fine view from the top of the hill where it is situated.’
‘That will be more to my liking.’
He conducted them up a steep slope at the side of the castle rocks, and they came out on the top in an open space, on which there was a church, a magnificent view as promised, for the ground dropped sheer away on the farther side to the rolling country below, and the bullring. It was not very large and used only very occasionally, but weather-worn posters were evidence that it was. Luis showed Peter the entrance through which the bull came, which he must call toro.
‘ Toro, burro —soon I know lots of words,’ the boy declared proudly.
‘The sooner the better,’ Luis observed drily.
They went into the small circular arena, and Peter became wildly excited, rushing about shouting: ‘Come on, toro, come and fight me, toro !’ waving his sword, until his uncle captured him.
‘Calm down, chico ! You appear to have the Spanish excitable temperament, and their delight in making a noise.’ He said it with satisfaction. ‘Shall we go back and find some refreshment?’
They returned the way they had come, and found an open-air cafe, wedged in a corner, a few steps up from the road. Luis seated them at a table under a striped umbrella and a waiter came hurrying to take their order. Laurel looked about her with pleasure, at the white buildings on either side, the stairway behind them going up to a higher level, with above them the blue sky, and in front a border of roses between them and the street. The sun poured down, the golden sunshine which brought so many people to Spain.
‘This is nice,’ she said contentedly.
‘Ah, Andalucia is beginning to weave its spell about you.’
She met his laughing glance across the table, and there was a wicked glint in his black eyes. His brown, shapely hand lay within inches of her own on the table top, and she dropped her eyes to it, aware of turmoil in her breast. It was not his country that had laid a spell on her, but the man himself, a dark enchantment that chained her senses. He covered her slender fingers with his own.
‘Cannot you bear to look at me?’ he asked softly.
Every nerve thrilled at his touch. Far from decreasing, his fascination grew with each passing moment. Peter was gazing up at a caged canary hanging on the houses opposite, pouring out its little heart in song, and did not notice their clasped hands.
‘The sun is in my eyes,’ Laurel explained. ‘I must put on my dark glasses.’ She made to withdraw her hand, but Luis’ grip tightened.
‘Then I shall not be able to watch your expressions. You have very eloquent eyes, Laurel, they show your moods.’
Which was exactly why she wanted to obscure them. She gave him a nervous smile, and then to her relief the waiter arrived with their refreshment, ice cream for Peter, orange juice for her and beer for Luis.
As soon as her hand was free, and he loosed it as soon as the man approached, Laurel fished out her sunglasses from her handbag and fixed them firmly on her nose.
‘Eclipsed,’ she said provocatively.
‘If we were not in a public place, I would soon have them off, and perhaps...’ his eyes went to the narrow bands supporting the top of her sleeveless cotton blouse,
‘No, not a menagerie,’ his uncle said firmly. He turned to Laurel. ‘What do you think of Mijas?’
‘I haven’t seen much of it yet,’ she told him, now in complete control of herself. ‘I’ve just bought Peter’s things...’
‘What’s that?’ Peter interrupted, catching sight of the sword, which would not go in her bag.
‘A little present for you.’
‘Trash,’ Luis muttered, but he smiled indulgently at the boy’s delight in the toy. ‘When you have finished waving that lethal weapon about, let me show you the bullring where it is used.’
‘Is there one?’ Laurel asked doubtfully.
He gave her a satirical grin. ‘Of course, but there is also a fine view from the top of the hill where it is situated.’
‘That will be more to my liking.’
He conducted them up a steep slope at the side of the castle rocks, and they came out on the top in an open space, on which there was a church, a magnificent view as promised, for the ground dropped sheer away on the farther side to the rolling country below, and the bullring. It was not very large and used only very occasionally, but weather-worn posters were evidence that it was. Luis showed Peter the entrance through which the bull came, which he must call toro.
‘ Toro, burro —soon I know lots of words,’ the boy declared proudly.
‘The sooner the better,’ Luis observed drily.
They went into the small circular arena, and Peter became wildly excited, rushing about shouting: ‘Come on, toro, come and fight me, toro !’ waving his sword, until his uncle captured him.
‘Calm down, chico ! You appear to have the Spanish excitable temperament, and their delight in making a noise.’ He said it with satisfaction. ‘Shall we go back and find some refreshment?’
They returned the way they had come, and found an open-air cafe, wedged in a corner, a few steps up from the road. Luis seated them at a table under a striped umbrella and a waiter came hurrying to take their order. Laurel looked about her with pleasure, at the white buildings on either side, the stairway behind them going up to a higher level, with above them the blue sky, and in front a border of roses between them and the street. The sun poured down, the golden sunshine which brought so many people to Spain.
‘This is nice,’ she said contentedly.
‘Ah, Andalucia is beginning to weave its spell about you.’
She met his laughing glance across the table, and there was a wicked glint in his black eyes. His brown, shapely hand lay within inches of her own on the table top, and she dropped her eyes to it, aware of turmoil in her breast. It was not his country that had laid a spell on her, but the man himself, a dark enchantment that chained her senses. He covered her slender fingers with his own.
‘Cannot you bear to look at me?’ he asked softly.
Every nerve thrilled at his touch. Far from decreasing, his fascination grew with each passing moment. Peter was gazing up at a caged canary hanging on the houses opposite, pouring out its little heart in song, and did not notice their clasped hands.
‘The sun is in my eyes,’ Laurel explained. ‘I must put on my dark glasses.’ She made to withdraw her hand, but Luis’ grip tightened.
‘Then I shall not be able to watch your expressions. You have very eloquent eyes, Laurel, they show your moods.’
Which was exactly why she wanted to obscure them. She gave him a nervous smile, and then to her relief the waiter arrived with their refreshment, ice cream for Peter, orange juice for her and beer for Luis.
As soon as her hand was free, and he loosed it as soon as the man approached, Laurel fished out her sunglasses from her handbag and fixed them firmly on her nose.
‘Eclipsed,’ she said provocatively.
‘If we were not in a public place, I would soon have them off, and perhaps...’ his eyes went to the narrow bands supporting the top of her sleeveless cotton blouse,
Similar Books
