Masquerade (19 page)

Luz felt the inevitable blush steal up her cheeks and inwardly cursed herself. ‘An interesting combination.’

He waved a hand. ‘Oh, all of these grow in the grounds. The choice was already made for me.’ He smiled his secret, amused smile and began to peel a fig. She had noticed his hands before and couldn’t help but glance at them again as he deftly removed the tender skin. Tanned and perfectly groomed, with lean, long fingers, they were the hands of an artist, the hands of a gentleman.

‘Eduardo was fascinated by loss of innocence and the repression of sexual desire,’ he continued, his eyes not leaving her face.

She met his gaze, needing to prove that she could discuss this topic with him and remain clear-headed and focused. ‘Repressed sexual desire was the obsession of all the Surrealists in some form or other,’ she replied, sipping the chilled white wine he had poured her. ‘Dalí most of all, of course. His controversial love life is testimony to that.’

Andrés took a bite of fig. ‘True. Dalí’s most disturbing sexual images are the most powerful and, of course, the most shocking to society – Spanish society in particular. Some say he’s a showman
who prostitutes his art, others that he simply lives his brand of Surrealism. Do you find such imagery morally unacceptable?’ He regarded her intently.

Luz raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, no … I don’t know, really.’ She wondered if he thought her conservative, even unworldly, and took a breath. ‘I think sexual desire is complicated.’ She paused and looked down into her glass, fiddling with the stem. ‘What’s socially unacceptable isn’t necessarily morally wrong.’

‘Would you condone doing something socially unacceptable, Luz?’

‘Perhaps, in the right circumstances.’ She glanced up at him quickly. ‘Wouldn’t you?’

His long finger was stroking his bottom lip once more in contemplation. Suddenly his mouth broke into a broad grin. ‘I think I would find it all too easy.’

Luz looked at him for a moment and then burst out laughing. ‘I believe you would!’

He nodded an acknowledgement, his eyes flashing with twinkling humour. ‘I see you are getting to know me, Doña Luz.’

‘Perhaps I am,’ she answered over the rim of her glass as she took a sip of wine.

The soft, steady rush of waves against rock filled the silence that hung for a moment in the air.

‘This really is a fabulous setting,’ Luz continued, breathing in deeply and looking up at the twinkling stars overhead.

‘One day, I’ll take you to explore the labyrinth of sea caves that lie at the bottom of this cliff,’ Andrés said, leaning back in his chair and cloaking Luz in his smoky gaze. ‘It’s a warren of grottos, formed by the wave action of the sea, that lies all along this part of the coastline. The caves emerge on little coves and beaches and are mostly interlinked. Nearly all of them are dry now. Some are very beautiful, real relics. Salt crystals form on the walls and when the chamber is open to the sky, the sun and the play of shadow and light make those formations look like little jewels,’ he told her.

She smiled inwardly and helped herself to some fruit. ‘Actually, I’ve already discovered the little coves and secluded beaches.’ She hadn’t explored the caves yet, but that was a pleasure in store.

‘You like to swim?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’ Instantly, she was reminded of similar words in her flirtatious conversation with Leandro at the gypsy fair, not so very long ago. She quickly cut into a ripe pear and glanced up at him. ‘I try to swim every day. It helps clear my head, particularly when I’ve been writing all morning,’ she added, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth, hoping her discomfort didn’t show.

‘What else do you like to do, besides your work, that is, and swimming?’ His eyes were alight with curiosity.

‘Oh, well, I sometimes run, and I ride whenever I can along the beach. There are often gypsies with their horses down there and I enjoy watching them race each other.’
Where had that come from?
Why could she not have thought of something else? Was she deliberately trying to provoke him and expose herself to his ridicule?

To her surprise he looked almost amused at this. ‘You’re curious about the gypsies, I can see,’ he answered. ‘Well, I would steer clear of them if I were you.’

Patronizing hound,
she thought. To Luz this was beginning to sound like a familiar refrain and despite previous misgivings about falling into this subject, she felt like challenging him.

‘You don’t approve of gypsies?’

He paused and fixed her with a stare. ‘I think they’re a wild and unpredictable people.’

‘And that’s a bad thing?’

‘I think they lack control.’

‘Perhaps a lack of control is sometimes necessary to feel alive.’ She frowned, feeling the irony of her own words.

‘Indeed.’ He gazed into the night and then back at her. ‘It’s easy to become bewitched by their free and untamed natures, Luz. Somehow they speak to the primitive soul in all of us, something Eduardo was also intrigued by, of course … But there’s a darkness to their passion,
born of suffering and death, that has walked with them for centuries. It is not a life that we
gajos
can easily understand.’

‘No, I’m sure you certainly wouldn’t,’ she agreed, trying not to sound pointed. She noticed that his eyes had become darker than she had ever seen them. ‘Perhaps if there were less prejudice towards them, we would understand them better,’ she murmured.

‘Perhaps, Luz.’ He nodded gravely, searching her face. ‘That world is a long way off. Their way of life cannot be changed overnight and neither can ours.’ His expression softened. ‘I think your time abroad has given you an unusual perspective.’

It was her turn to change the subject. ‘It feels like you know more about me than I do about you. You’ve not told me much about yourself.’

He settled back further in his seat and crossed his long legs under the table. She was aware of how easily he moved his body, with masculine confidence.

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Did you grow up in Cádiz?’

‘Yes, I grew up near Eduardo’s house. I was an only child and we spent a lot of time together when I was young. We were very close.’

‘What about your parents, were you close to them, too?’ But something about him made her guess the answer.

He shrugged lightly. ‘Not really, my father was away most of the time, the result being that I was left to my own devices, which suited me well enough, I suppose.’

‘But wasn’t your mother around?’ She felt like she was prying now, but her curiosity was aroused.

‘My mother wasn’t really present in reality, shall we say? She lived in a world of make-believe.’ His tone was a little terse.

‘I see.’ Luz instantly regretted her probing. She smiled weakly, not knowing the right thing to say. ‘Perhaps a world of make-believe is a necessary refuge for some.’

Rubbing his chin, he pondered for a moment.
‘“We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others that in the end we become
disguised
to ourselves
.” One of La Rochefoucauld’s maxims. He was a shrewd man for his time.’ He cocked his head and met her gaze. ‘Tell me, what’s your disguise, Luz?’

She blinked. ‘I have no disguise, what you see is what you get,’ she blurted out, still unnerved by her attraction to him. The recollection of their fleeting kiss chose to flash into her mind at that moment and she had to force her gaze away from his perfect mouth.

‘I don’t doubt it. You are very open and I like that. But I sense something else beneath your pride and your sense of propriety, Luz, that you wrestle so very hard with.’

Luz looked up at him, startled. He seemed to be stealing into her soul with those sooty eyes that now watched her with a mixture of playfulness and intensity. His continual piquing of her was exasperating but she found it strangely thrilling to have him look at her that way.

‘So you think me too proud,’ was all she could think of saying. ‘And I suppose you are without faults?’

He laced his fingers together and paused.
“‘If we had no faults of our own, we should not take so much pleasure in noticing those in others.”’

At that, she couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Mmm, don’t tell me … La Rochefoucauld?’

He raised his eyebrows and smiled broadly at her.

Now they sipped their wine, listening to the steady rumble of the waves trapped below in the ankle-deep coves. Its resonance reminded Luz of the slow-rolling thud of a storm-tossed vessel slamming into choppy waters. An all-pervasive smell of iodine and seaweed filled the air.

They were silent, both lost in thought. She took the opportunity of this quiet moment to study Andrés. Looking at him now, he was nothing like Leandro. The shape of their features might be a carbon copy of each other, but there the similarity ended. For a start, their eyes were different, not only in colour but in intensity. Leandro’s vibrated with the fire of his wild dreams whereas Andrés’ had
the calmness of unwavering self-confidence and the caress of a practised womanizer. His whole demeanour was unlike that of the gypsy’s: he looked older, rather preoccupied, and had the studied veneer of the sophisticate. She had noticed that he smiled but seldom laughed whole-heartedly; Leandro was full of laughter and cheek, his entire being redolent of merriment, joy and pent-up energy. These two could be brothers, even twins perhaps, but she could not see how …

It would be so simple just to confront Andrés now and ask him outright. Wouldn’t it clear up this mystery once and for all? Though how could she ask such a question? ‘Andrés, tell me, do you happen to have a gypsy twin who lives in a totally different world to your own, whom you’ve neglected to mention?’ It sounded so ridiculous! Anyhow, the problem of her convoluted emotions at this point meant she was afraid to admit to either of them the existence of the other. It would lead to uncomfortable questions from both men, questions she would rather not face. Luz could imagine Andrés’ potential distaste at her confession that she’d had contact with a gypsy, even if she managed to put it casually. No, it was too complicated a situation.

‘A penny for your thoughts.’ Andrés’ voice brought her back to earth with a bump.

‘It’s a foolish sheep that makes the wolf his confessor,’ came her quick answer as she looked him straight in the face, smiling.

He raised one eyebrow and smiled back at her. ‘Luz, it saddens me to hear that you see our new partnership in those terms. You, a sheep? You certainly don’t strike me as weak, quite the reverse. I think you’re an intelligent, strong and high-spirited young woman, very capable of taking care of herself.’ He sighed. ‘As for me:
un perro que ladra no muerde
, a dog that barks seldom bites.’

She flung back her head and laughed, the crystal-clear peal resounding in the empty night around them. ‘You may not bite,
señor
, but you certainly sting.’

Beneath the humour there was undisguised hurt in her voice. His face clouded slightly. He took out a packet of cigarettes and offered her one, which she declined.

‘May I?’ he enquired. When she nodded, he lit one, inhaled and leant back against the frame of his chair. He appeared to be pondering what to say. ‘Luz, we seem to have started out on the wrong footing …’ His voice was husky and strained. Something stirred inside her as slowly his eyes met hers. What was it with eyes? she wondered, it was clear they did curious things to her these days.

He smiled a wry, apologetic smile. ‘This, I admit, is probably my fault. I was harsh and insensitive over my handling of our contract meeting. I realized it at the time and regret it profoundly.’ He sighed heavily. ‘That’s why I sent you the roses. It was not only to ask your forgiveness for my boorish ways, but also to herald a fresh start to this partnership – and to our friendship. Obviously I also misjudged your feelings at the ball …’ His gaze still held hers. ‘I hope we can wipe the slate clean. It’s not too late, is it?’

What was she supposed to answer? The caressing promise in his velvet gaze was drawing Luz under. Once again the Andrés de Calderón charm had worked its magic and disarmed her. It was her turn to lean back in her chair, inhaling the heady smells of the sea.

‘No, no, of course not, Andrés,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve probably been oversensitive … perhaps over-reacted a little.’ In fact Luz wasn’t sure any more whether or not she had. She no longer knew what she thought about anything, but the way he was scrutinizing her so intently made strange muscles tighten deep in her belly.

‘Friends then?’ he asked, the question reflecting in the depths of his eyes as he extended his hand to her.

Luz took a steadying breath. Where had she heard that one before, and not so long ago, too? Leopards never change their spots and she wondered whether there would be more games to come.

‘Yes, yes, of course,’ she said, conflicting emotions mirrored on her face as she offered her hand to him.

Andrés held it and was about to lift it to his lips but changed his mind midway. Instead, he encircled her wrist with his long fingers.

‘Shall we go for a walk on the beach?’ he suggested, standing up and coming round to her.

‘What, now?’ She looked at him in confusion.

‘Yes, now,’ he said in a low, gentle tone. ‘Look at the sky above you. It’s such a magical night, why waste it?’ His voice was charged with some new, subtle emotion, a softened quality.

Luz turned her face upwards. It was true, the stars shone like floodlights.

‘You may want to take those off.’

‘Sorry?’ Her eyes widened.

‘Your shoes,’ Andrés murmured. His sensual mouth curved in secret amusement. ‘It’s a little precarious down there for high heels.’

‘Yes, of course, you’re right.’ For some reason Luz felt her cheeks warm as she slipped off her shoes to stand in bare feet.

He took her hand. The subtle surprise of it made her breathe in suddenly as his warm skin made contact with hers, but she didn’t pull her hand away. In his strong, wide palm it felt small to her. The current that raced through Luz made her heartbeat quicken as he guided her down the zigzag steps that led to the breeze-cooled beach. Rather than let go when they reached the bottom of the steps, Andrés kept her hand clasped in his, which took her by surprise.