Clouds Over Castile

Cathy found herself staring into a pair of frozen brown eyes. He was in his thirties, and his black hair was frosted with grey at the temples. In his youth he must have been extremely handsome, but the years had bitten hard lines into his face, and there was a harsh curve to his mouth. But what struck her most of all was the coldness of his bearing and the aloof contempt in his eyes. She lifted her chin. "My son has the right to grow up at Serenidad! Your brother married me in London, and deserted me when I was expecting our child-" He interrupted he r curtly. "What is your price, madam, for leaving Spain with the boy and never returning?" Her colour rose. She clenched her fists and looked at him with anger and loathing. "Too high for you to afford, Amador Mateu!" There was steel in his eyes, but his voice was deceptively gentle. "I am accustomed to being addressed as Don Amador by my inferiors, madam!"