dark eyes scrutinizing her closely and frankly and liking what they saw.
"Sisa never finishes an introduction when she is taken by surprise," the Marquesa de Barrios said with a smile. "I'm Isabella de Barrios and you are Felicity Stanmore. You see, already I know quite a lot about you!"
Which was probably true, Felicity thought. These wide, far-seeing eyes were surely rarely mistaken in their swift summing-up. Isabella de Barrios looked thirty and was possibly a little more. Her skin was flawless and her eyes were clear and amused. She wore her hair in a heavy chignon at the nape of her long, shapely neck, giving her bearing an added dignity, Felicity thought. She was tall for a woman—as tall as Philip, perhaps, and certainly as tall as her husband.
Felicity pulled her thoughts up before the memory of Rafael de Barrios, and then she was aware of nothing but anger—an intense, personal anger directed against herself because she had let herself imagine even for a moment that any man could be attracted to her while he was married to a woman like this.
And suddenly she knew how relieved she was that Philip Arnold could not possibly have taken her attraction seriously.
He knew Isabella de Barrios: knew and respected her, and he must surely be only amused that Felicity should have succumbed to the Marques' charm so readily.
The thought of his amusement hurt, of course, but it was easier to face than the suspicion of his contempt.
"And now you must meet Andrea—and Celeste." Isabella de Barrios drew her sisters-in-law towards her with a gentle movement which was almost tender in its eagerness to
acknowledge them. "We are a large family at Zamora, Miss Stanmore, but soon you must come and meet us all."
"I—think I have already met your husband," Felicity said.
"Rafael?" A small, scarcely-discernible smile passed in the dark eyes. "Yes, he has told me. You travelled from Madrid on the same plane, did you not?"
She had not mentioned Robert Hallam's funeral and their second meeting, and Felicity saw her glance in Sisa's direction and knew that she sought to spare her favourite a return of heartache.
It was then that she appeared to notice Conchita for the first time, and in that moment her expression changed from one of smiling pleasure to acute watchfulness. Conchita had lingered at the water's edge as long as she dared, but now she came towards them with a forced smile, and something like pain crossed Isabella de Barrios' eyes as she greeted her.
"Good day, Conchita!"
"Good day, Isabella!" Conchita returned guardedly. "We did not expect to see you here, at the Playa."
"I came because the children longed to feel the warm sand under the feet and the sea on their skins." Isabella turned towards Felicity with a hint of relief in her smile. "A swimming-pool is not quite the same, is it? There is nothing quite like the feel of the surf."
"I wondered if it was safe to bathe," Felicity said.
"Oh, perfectly safe! No one ever comes here, to this part of the Playa, in the middle of the week."
Isabella had misunderstood her, Felicity mused, thinking that she had been worried about their privacy, but really she had answered both questions. She smiled a little at the thought of the Spanish girl's guarded upbringing, realizing that perhaps this had been her uncle's real reason for appointing Philip to his present position at San Lozaro. In over thirty years on the island he must have accepted at least some of the customs and characteristics of his Spanish wife and neighbours.
They undressed in the tent Isabella had brought with her and plunged thankfully into the sea. The surf at this point was not quite so strong as it was further north. Its approach to the Playa was gentle and beguiling, and Felicity thought that she had never seen a sea so blue. She could have
lingered there all day, letting the gentle water flow quickly over her skin or basking in the sun afterwards under the palms. It was an exotic enough
"Sisa never finishes an introduction when she is taken by surprise," the Marquesa de Barrios said with a smile. "I'm Isabella de Barrios and you are Felicity Stanmore. You see, already I know quite a lot about you!"
Which was probably true, Felicity thought. These wide, far-seeing eyes were surely rarely mistaken in their swift summing-up. Isabella de Barrios looked thirty and was possibly a little more. Her skin was flawless and her eyes were clear and amused. She wore her hair in a heavy chignon at the nape of her long, shapely neck, giving her bearing an added dignity, Felicity thought. She was tall for a woman—as tall as Philip, perhaps, and certainly as tall as her husband.
Felicity pulled her thoughts up before the memory of Rafael de Barrios, and then she was aware of nothing but anger—an intense, personal anger directed against herself because she had let herself imagine even for a moment that any man could be attracted to her while he was married to a woman like this.
And suddenly she knew how relieved she was that Philip Arnold could not possibly have taken her attraction seriously.
He knew Isabella de Barrios: knew and respected her, and he must surely be only amused that Felicity should have succumbed to the Marques' charm so readily.
The thought of his amusement hurt, of course, but it was easier to face than the suspicion of his contempt.
"And now you must meet Andrea—and Celeste." Isabella de Barrios drew her sisters-in-law towards her with a gentle movement which was almost tender in its eagerness to
acknowledge them. "We are a large family at Zamora, Miss Stanmore, but soon you must come and meet us all."
"I—think I have already met your husband," Felicity said.
"Rafael?" A small, scarcely-discernible smile passed in the dark eyes. "Yes, he has told me. You travelled from Madrid on the same plane, did you not?"
She had not mentioned Robert Hallam's funeral and their second meeting, and Felicity saw her glance in Sisa's direction and knew that she sought to spare her favourite a return of heartache.
It was then that she appeared to notice Conchita for the first time, and in that moment her expression changed from one of smiling pleasure to acute watchfulness. Conchita had lingered at the water's edge as long as she dared, but now she came towards them with a forced smile, and something like pain crossed Isabella de Barrios' eyes as she greeted her.
"Good day, Conchita!"
"Good day, Isabella!" Conchita returned guardedly. "We did not expect to see you here, at the Playa."
"I came because the children longed to feel the warm sand under the feet and the sea on their skins." Isabella turned towards Felicity with a hint of relief in her smile. "A swimming-pool is not quite the same, is it? There is nothing quite like the feel of the surf."
"I wondered if it was safe to bathe," Felicity said.
"Oh, perfectly safe! No one ever comes here, to this part of the Playa, in the middle of the week."
Isabella had misunderstood her, Felicity mused, thinking that she had been worried about their privacy, but really she had answered both questions. She smiled a little at the thought of the Spanish girl's guarded upbringing, realizing that perhaps this had been her uncle's real reason for appointing Philip to his present position at San Lozaro. In over thirty years on the island he must have accepted at least some of the customs and characteristics of his Spanish wife and neighbours.
They undressed in the tent Isabella had brought with her and plunged thankfully into the sea. The surf at this point was not quite so strong as it was further north. Its approach to the Playa was gentle and beguiling, and Felicity thought that she had never seen a sea so blue. She could have
lingered there all day, letting the gentle water flow quickly over her skin or basking in the sun afterwards under the palms. It was an exotic enough
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