White Witch by Elizabeth Ashton Read Free Book Online

something derogatory. Luis smiled with tolerant amusement at his young brother’s championship, but their mother cut him short with sudden asperity.
    ‘ Basra , it is enough. Is this the way to greet a guest? Is it polite to speak a language she does not understand? Esteban, ring the bell for Manolo, we will take refreshment now.’
    The arrival of a manservant carrying a tray loaded with drinks and tapas , little savoury pieces, prawns, cheese, olives, etcetera, broke the strained atmosphere. Laurel refused wine, but accepted coffee. Esteban pulled up a stool to sit at her feet, his liquid brown eyes expressing unutterable things, the sum of which meant bed, but that was the way Spanish youths looked at girls they admired. Pom-pom, with canine cunning, decided that Peter was the best bet for titbits, and placed himself beside him, his expression similar to Esteban’s. Dona Elvira said, her eyes fixed fondly upon her grandson:
    ‘When Pedrillo was born his hair was lint-white, and his eyes never changed from blue. Perhaps as he grows older he will become darker and more like his father.’ She longed for a clutch of grandchildren, and wished Luis would hurry up and get married.
    ‘That is very probable,’ Laurel agreed to please her, and Luis added:
    ‘Fair Spaniards are not so rare. Our Castilian ancestor had golden hair. The child may be a throwback to him.’
    Laurel sighed, wishing she knew her origins and could trace her family back so far. She would never know what hers had been. Her eyes went involuntarily to Luis, and found he was regarding her with the now familiar intent gaze. Naturally he would choose a wife with a pedigree a mile long, when he got round to looking for one, or had he made his selection already? The introduction of Joanna must have deeply wounded his family pride.
    ‘You must not look so sad,’ Esteban said softly. ‘We are happy to have you here, and we are your friends.’
    Over his shoulder, Laurel caught Mercedes’ malignant gaze. That one was an enemy.
    ‘Pedrillo must have a tutor,’ Dona Elvira announced decidedly, ‘to instruct him in his native tongue.’
    ‘He’s not yet five,’ Laurel reminded her. ‘Isn’t that a little young for serious lessons? He’ll pick up a lot from hearing it spoken.’
    ‘The servants all speak Andaluz,’ his grandmother objected. ‘He must speak Castilian like a well-bred hidalgo .’
    ‘Which he will never be, with his parentage,’ Mercedes said nastily.
    ‘Mercedes, for shame!’ Luis expostulated, adding emphatically: ‘He is your nephew.’
    Mercedes gave him a severe look, compressing her lips.
    Peter looked at her wonderingly, and declared with childish candour: ‘That lady doesn’t like me, and I don’t like her.’
    Mercedes stood up, smoothing her plain skirt. ‘I will not stay to be insulted by that woman’s brat! She brought Pedro nothing but shame and humiliation—and so will he if you keep him!’
    She swept out of the room, and a general sigh of relief went up at her exit.
    ‘Mercedes grows more sour every day,’ Esteban remarked. ‘We will all be a deal happier when she enters her convent.’
    ‘Be more understanding, my son,’ his mother chided him. She turned to Laurel apologetically. ‘My daughter had a disappointment in her youth, poor girl, and it has embittered her. Now she has decided to devote herself to God.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Laurel murmured, not knowing what else to say. Other girls had disappointments, as the Senora put it, but they didn’t become spiteful and venomous. It was to be hoped the nuns would imbue Mercedes with Christian charity, which seemed to be woefully lacking, and she would be out of the house before Peter came to live there.
    To change the subject, Luis told them:
    ‘I want to take Laurel and the boy up to Ronda. The new hotel there was Pedro’s patrimony and will become his. He should see his heritage.’ Dona Elvira sighed. ‘Your grandfather was cousin to a marques ,