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limped off together.
    Doña Madelena’s desire to show Dorcas the house was an excuse. She wanted to talk to Dorcas without her grandson’s hampering presence, and it was easier to do that while ostensibly otherwise occupied.
    Dorcas was absently fingering a beautiful tapestry, when a voice said in her ear: ‘All this will be my grandson’s one day. This house is too big for me and I shall welcome moving into a smaller establishment. When Carlos marries he will bring his bride to this eagle flighted fortress.’
    Dorcas countered: ‘Isabel will be a very lucky girl. I will think of her in her mountainside home, surrounded by so many beautiful things, when I am back in cold, rain splashed England.’
    â€˜So you know about Isabel! I like you, Dorcas. I like the polite way you put an interfering old woman in her place. I’ve always spoken my mind, and few have dared to answer back. Isabel Roca is not right for my grandson. I can reduce Isabel to a shivering heap with just one look.’
    â€˜How barbarous!’ said Dorcas, forgetting herself.
    Her rash reply did not cause offence, and even tempted a slight smile.
    â€˜It is our heritage. We have been captured by barbarians so many times that this streak of cruelty runs in our blood. Do you like my grandson?’
    â€˜You have a fine collection of porcelain, señora,’ Dorcas said, pointedly turning the subject.
    * * *
    It was time for them to leave. Doña Madelena told Dorcas: ‘You must come and see me again, child.’
    â€˜I would like that.’ Dorcas kissed a cheek that was surprisingly smooth, with little hope that she would be able to keep her promise.
    â€˜It will be,’ said the old señora, confidently squeezing Dorcas’s fingers.
    * * *
    â€˜You made a hit with Grandmother,’ said Carlos, when they were on their way.
    â€˜Yes.’ Dorcas surreptitiously wiped a tear away with her fingers. It had worked both ways. Carlos’s grandmother had made a hit with her.
    â€˜I admire the way you stood up to her. People have been known to faint when she fixes them with that eye of hers. She is a barbed-tongued old aristocrat with a dash of the devil in her soul.’
    â€˜Carlos Ruiz, that’s a horrid thing to say and totally untrue. You don’t deserve such a dear, sweet, kind . . .’ She stopped. The adjectives didn’t fit. But that wasn’t her main reason for breaking off. A thought had just struck her. She took it up.
    â€˜You must have been listening. I only stood up to your grandmother once, and that was during a supposedly private conversation. When you were with us, my conduct was exemplary.’
    â€˜If you must know, Grandmother told me.’ There was an essence of teasing in his smile. ‘She said, “Yes, my grandson, you were right” ’
    Dorcas frowned. There wasn’t another remark he could have flung at her so guaranteed to pique her curiosity. He’s daring me to ask him to explain, she thought. Well I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that I’m curious to my toenails. She averted her chin from the mocking speculation of his gaze.
    He pulled the car into the side of the road and switched off the engine. He then turned her face with his hand. ‘I shouldn’t spar with you, however much I enjoy it. Not while you are still so weak. I’m taking an unfair advantage.’
    â€˜Men do,’ she said.
    â€˜What do you know about men?’
    He took both her hands in his. The conciliatory gesture dampened the fire of her anger, and stoked up another fire. ‘Enough.’ She modified: ‘Enough to put me on my guard now.’
    She could not stay annoyed with Carlos while her hands were cherished within his, neither could she stop the pulse in her wrist responding to his touch. He held her hands captive, but it was her heart she feared for.
    In her awkwardness and confusion, the words she never