The Spaniard's Love-Child Read Free

resentful observation an image of a dark fallen angel face rose up before Nell’s eyes and she recalled the last and only time she had seen Raul Carreras.
    He had made quite an impression! But then Raul Carreras wasn’t the sort of man you forgot in a hurry. A shiver traced a shaky pathway down her spine as she recalled the extent to which the clinical touch of those hooded midnight eyes had disturbed her.
    The family had been swept away from the funeral in a fleet of shiny black limos and the last of Javier’s own colourful art-world friends had drifted away, but one figure had remained. The image of the tall, broad-shouldered, black-clad figure, head bowed slightly against the first flurries of snow, standing alone beside the grave had indelibly imprinted in Nell’s brain, as were the words they had exchanged afterwards.
    She had thought her own presence amongst the trees at the edge of the cemetery had gone unnoticed until he had lifted his head and looked directly at her.
    Nell had immediately been able to see the resemblance between the Carreras brothers, both golden-skinned, and black-haired; facially too there were similarities, though these were not strong. Javier’s warm smile and natural exuberance for life had made people overlook the fact his features were neither symmetrical nor in proportion, but his brother possessed bone structure that was achingly perfect.
    Though it had been the combination of a broad, intelligent forehead, strong, chiselled cheekbones, wide, mobile mouth and incredible thickly lashed dark eyes that had made her stare at Raul Carreras, it had been something else that had made her incapable of stopping!
    Raul Carreras was quite simply the sexiest man she had ever seen. Furthermore what he projected didn’t come across as in any way cultivated or contrived, it was simply an intrinsic part of the man and, unlike the clothes he wore, it was unrefined and raw.
    After a few seconds one dark, strongly defined brow had lifted.
    Aware that her mouth was unattractively open, Nell had closed it hastily and stepped forward, feeling irrationally like an intruder. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ Beneath her feet the frosted grass crunched.
    He looked at her with cold eyes that held a deeply ingrained cynicism. ‘I am not startled,’ the unsmiling figure retorted sardonically.
    â€˜I’m—’
    â€˜I know who you are.’
    The inexplicable hostility shining in those impenetrable, lustrously lashed eyes had brought a look of uncertainty to her face. ‘How are the children?’
    All Nell’s attempts to see or at least speak to them in the days following Javier’s death had been obstructed by staff at the Carreras household. They had politely listened to her explain that she was a friend of the family and then repeated that no member of the family was at that time available, but her condolences would be passed on.
    She had briefly considered presenting herself at the house and explaining things in person, but on reflection had dropped the idea. The family had enough to deal with; she would see the children at the funeral and sort things out then.
    â€˜As you would expect them to be considering they’ve just lost their father.’
    Nell’s soft mouth twisted in an apologetic grimace. ‘It was a stupid question.’
    â€˜Yes.’
    Nell blinked. There was blunt and then again there was damned right deliberately rude. She had no doubt whatever into which category his response fell. Once more his antagonism puzzled her.
    â€˜Would it be an intrusion if I came to the house?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    Thinking he had misunderstood what she had said, Nell repeated herself.
    Raul Carreras took a step towards her and Nell’s mouth went dry. He was a great deal taller than most Spaniards she had met—several inches over six feet, she judged. And whereas Javier had been a compact, slightly built man,