Masquerade (25 page)

Lorenzo had rung several times during the week, wanting to invite Luz for a tête-a-tête lunch or dinner. She always declined sweetly but firmly. Carlos and Alba were a little bemused: they couldn’t understand their friend’s antipathy towards the
torero
.

‘Most women would give their lives for a glance from Lorenzo, let alone the attention he’s lavishing on you,’ Alba noted, regarding her friend with curiosity as they both dressed in her room for dinner one evening. ‘Are you just playing hard to get?’

‘No, I don’t play those sorts of games, Alba, you should know me better than that,’ she answered tersely. ‘There’s something about that man I find a bit creepy. He’s too smooth, too slippery. You know, like quicksilver …’

Alba gave Luz a slanting look. ‘You like them rugged, the rough diamond types, do you?’ she said teasingly.

Was that it? ‘Maybe,’ Luz murmured wistfully as she thought of her beloved gypsy, ‘but I don’t think so.’ She pondered on that
thought for a few seconds. ‘No, there’s something deeper than that, something I can’t put my finger on, and which I find a little, well … repulsive about Don Lorenzo,’ she ended with conviction.

‘Luz! That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?’ Alba looked at her indignantly for a moment but then breathed a sigh of relief. ‘So, in that case, I take it that you won’t mind if I make a beeline for him at his party tomorrow night?’

‘Of course not, Alba, don’t be silly!’ Luz felt suddenly embarrassed that she hadn’t attempted to hide her vehement dislike of the man. ‘I had no idea … I’m so sorry. He’s probably perfectly nice, just not my type,’ she added hastily, unable, however, not to privately wonder at her friend’s taste in men.

Alba flushed pink. ‘I’ve been in love with him since I was eighteen and went to his first
corrida
. He’s all I’ve ever dreamed I wanted in a man. Can you blame me? He’s handsome, charming, courageous and rich. Surely, you have to admit that?’

Luz nodded, not trusting herself to comment. Luckily Alba wasn’t looking for a response. The relief her friend clearly felt in unburdening herself was coming out in a flurry of chatter, the words tumbling over themselves.

‘What more could a woman ask for?’ she added, her eyes shining, before their expression became rueful. ‘Look, it’ll probably come to nothing – he’s never shown much interest in me. But at least I can be honest with you now: I was afraid you liked him and were just biding your time. I’m so relieved that’s not true! Mind you, I can’t believe there’s a woman on earth who wouldn’t be f lattered by his attentions.’ She nudged her friend teasingly. ‘Well, apart from you, clearly. Luz, you are a strange girl sometimes.’

She paused to give Luz a little hug before rattling on again. ‘Anyhow, he isn’t attached, as far as I know. The newspapers would have been full of it if he were.’ She smiled. ‘Carlos thinks I stand a chance, you know. We’re quite well matched when you come to think of it. Our families have known each other for ever.’ She paused again, looking earnestly into Luz’s face. ‘But you know,
don’t you, Luz, that if you were in the least bit interested, I would have stepped aside. I would never want to compete with a friend.’ The side of her mouth quirked up. ‘Particularly not one as ridiculously pretty as you.’

Luz was touched. ‘Well, you can rest assured, Alba, I have no interest whatsoever in Don Lorenzo Herrera. I will be only too happy if you monopolize him at the party. And that is the solemn truth, I promise,’ she ended firmly. ‘Actually, I’ve half a mind to say I’m too ill to go tomorrow. Besides, I’m really not in the mood for a party.’

‘Oh no, Luz! You can’t, that would look really rude. Anyhow, he’d guess it’s a lie. He’s rung every day and you’ve turned down every single one of his invitations. You’ll simply have to go to this one. After all, it’s not as though you’ll be alone with him.’

Luz sighed deeply. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

Alba eyed her friend with concern. They had been close since childhood and had seen a lot of each other, on and off, over the years. ‘Anyway, what’s come over you? You used to love parties. I can tell something’s the matter. You seem too quiet. It’s as if you’re only half-present these days.’

Luz put on a bright smile. ‘Nothing’s the matter, honestly. I still love parties, I’m just a little weary at the moment.’

‘Something tells me there’s a man behind this. Are you in love?’

Luz looked away, her throat suddenly painful. ‘A man? Me, in love?’ She let out a small, bitter laugh. ‘Never!’ she breathed with a catch in her voice, forcing the smile back to her drawn face. And then, unable to contain her grief any longer, she burst into tears and sobbed her heart out.

Alba put her arms around her. ‘Hush, hush.’ She smoothed Luz’s hair away from her tear-stained face. ‘So, it’s rather more serious than I thought,’ she murmured. ‘Who is this scoundrel? Do I know him?’

Luz gave half a sob and shook her head. ‘He isn’t a scoundrel … actually, quite the reverse. He’s rather decent, and no, you don’t know him.’

‘Is he Spanish?’ Alba prompted. ‘I know most people in our circle.’

Luz shook her head again. ‘I don’t want to talk about it, Alba, I’m sorry. It’s just that the pain is too raw at the moment,’ she explained haltingly, blowing her nose roughly with the tissue her friend had handed her. ‘One day, maybe, when it doesn’t feel so painful.’

‘You’ll get over it,’ Alba told her with an encouraging smile. ‘One always gets over it. No man is worth the heartache. Look at me, for instance. I’ve been pining over Lorenzo for so many years but, in the meantime, I’ve still managed to fall in and out of love more than once and each time I’ve thought it was the end of the world. Soon enough I was proved wrong, every time.’ She hugged her friend. ‘Mark my words, you’ll get over him.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Luz insisted in a broken voice. ‘You don’t understand. I’ve never felt this way about any man before.’

‘Nonsense! Every man is different, anyway. No two experiences are the same,’ Alba declared emphatically. ‘If you can feel this way about one man, you can feel it for another.’

Luz smiled sadly; she could really do without all this pain and humiliation. ‘I hope you’re right,’ she replied with a shaky sigh. ‘I really do.’

The dashing silver car climbed and snaked its way among extensive fruit plantations as Luz, Carlos and Alba motored to Lorenzo’s Navarrese home outside Pamplona. Carlos drove quickly, familiar with each bend in the road. Luz was lost in thought, looking at the countryside out of the window without seeing it, and Alba, who could not contain her excitement, made up for her friend’s silence with her constant chatter.

La Fortaleza, the family home of Lorenzo and Adalia’s mother, Paloma Castillo-Gomez, was an impressive hacienda set on a plateau on the banks of the River Arga in the midst of the green countryside and surrounded by mountains. Its grey walls had stood there for
two centuries, grand and imposing among landscaped gardens and ancient specimen trees. The grand house had been the home of the Castillo-Gomez family uninterruptedly during all that time. Rumour had it that their wealth had its origins in smuggling, but today they were respectable traders, holding large corporations in Spain and over the border in France. The marriage of Don Felipe, Lorenzo’s father, into this wealthy old family had been viewed by many as one of pure convenience and continued self-interest on the part of the Herreras. In later years, La Fortaleza had been divided by the Herrera and Castillo-Gomez families into individual large apartments to accommodate various sons and daughters and their offspring, when they came to spend their holidays there, while the main core of the house was shared by everyone for parties and other social gatherings. Tonight, Lorenzo had the run of his mother’s ancestral home to entertain a cluster of handpicked guests.

Twilight was passing into darkness as they arrived. Shadows were expiring in the dusk and the pale evening star shone in the sky. The remains of a setting sun gilded the dark-grey bastion with a special but fleeting glory. At the edge of night it stood out mysteriously with its background of mountains, the essence of repose and solitude.

‘It is rather grand,’ noted Alba as the car turned into the long drive.

‘It’s eerie, that’s what it is,’ Luz shivered.
It suits Lorenzo’s persona to a tee
, she thought, but kept that to herself. ‘It should be called Castillo de los Vampiros.’

Alba was a little put out at Luz’s thinly veiled slight. ‘That’s such an unfair thing to say,’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s pretty impressive, if you ask me. You’re biased. Just because, for some reason, you find the man insufferable …’ She gave Luz a sideways look. ‘I sincerely hope you don’t intend to spend this evening being the ghost at the party.’

Luz laughed. ‘Well, I wouldn’t be out of place, would I?’ she teased, her sense of humour returning, blue eyes glittering with mischief.

As they came in sight of the ancient gateway, grey and massive, the gloom that had oppressed her all week rapidly seemed to lift and a tingling sensation of excitement swelled into a greater emotion
that appeared to engulf all other feelings. She was surprised at this abrupt mood swing, and couldn’t account for it, but welcomed it all the same.

Alba was right: she had always loved parties. Tonight she wanted to forget Leandro and the heartache he had caused her. With time, she would forget him. Someday she would meet someone new … maybe it would be tonight. How she wished it would be tonight so this heartache would stop.

C
arlos parked the car in La Fortaleza’s large gravel parking area and together they strolled across a quaint old bridge over the River Arga that ran through the estate. They made their way through an ancient stone horseshoe arch that interrupted a wall overgrown with ivy and into a broad courtyard planted with pollard trees that led to the house. The hacienda itself was a large pile of dark-grey granite, imposing in its magnitude but with scarcely a trace of beauty, Luz thought, as they approached the great central portal. La Fortaleza’s crenellated walls and hard angles made it resemble a brooding fortress more than a home, and the heavy wooden doors stood open like the cavernous roar of a huge beast.

Everything was of gargantuan size. They were shown by a solemn major-domo into an enormous hallway, where dramatic paintings of conquistadors and bullfighters stared down at them, and then through to the magnificent reception room with its intricately decorated ceiling and dark, rich panelling, carved out of twelve sorts of wood. Very different to the houses in Andalucía, this one was built for the rugged cold and wet winters of Navarre.

A group of thirty or forty men and women in evening dress, flashing with gold and jewels, were chattering and laughing, smoking and drinking, under a gigantic glittering Baccarat crystal chandelier, brought over from the iconic salon in Paris at the turn of the century.

All eyes turned on Luz as she and her friends entered the room. She wore a long, figure-defining dress in white jersey with a plunging neckline and a large cutout at the back. The bright white material
accentuated her copper tan and her irises appeared almost dark blue beneath her black lashes. The gown was accessorized with a bib necklace of hammered gold circles that lay over her décolletage; by intimating rather than exposing, the jewellery enhanced the mystery, allowing a glimpse of the curvaceous hollow between her breasts. Her hair was piled high on the crown of her head, showing off her graceful, swanlike neck, the perfect oval of her face and her delicate features. As usual, without intending to, Luz stole the show.

Lorenzo and his sister Adalia crossed the room, hurrying to greet their guests. In flounces of purple chiffon, which suited her colouring to perfection, Adalia looked more beautiful than ever. The sophisticated social butterfly par excellence, she welcomed Carlos and Alba effusively with air kisses. Luz wasn’t certain but Adalia seemed to freeze for the tiniest instant as she turned to her. But if she did so, she recovered herself instantly, extending a pale hand to hold Luz’s, a dazzling smile lighting up her face.

‘How divine you look, Doña Luz,’ Adalia breathed, still radiating her perfect hostess smile. ‘I’m so glad you could come. We really must have our lunch date when all this is over.’

‘Divine? Oh yes. I think Doña Luz will steal the hearts of some mortal men tonight,’ Carlos joked, glancing towards his sister’s friend affectionately.

‘Yes, she truly is the belle of the ball.’ Adalia let out a tinkling laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘We’ll have to hide you from all the jealous wives tonight in case you steal their husbands away.’

Luz smiled awkwardly. ‘You look stunning, Doña Adalia, and I’m sure any jealous eyes will be looking in a completely different direction tonight.’ She found herself wondering what Andrés might think of Adalia’s beguiling appearance had he been there. Could any man resist such elegant beauty?

‘Doña Luz, you’re too kind,’ answered Adalia, appearing gratified by the compliment though Luz still sensed something odd in the glassy depths of her eyes. ‘You must let me introduce you to some of my friends later,’ she continued airily. ‘There must be hardly anyone
you know here and we’d hate you to be bored. Besides, given half a chance my dear brother over there will monopolize you all evening and we can’t have that!’ Her expression seemed to brighten before she turned away and engaged Carlos and Alba in extravagantly charming conversation. Luz moved away from them, already tired of the brittle social chatter.

‘You look like a dream floating in the clouds,’ Lorenzo whispered as he came up to her. His voice was suave with a suggestion of hidden, provocative aims. Bending over her hand, he raised it delicately to his lips and the gesture felt to Luz as if he were branding her. As he lifted his head, his sharp gaze met hers. She had to concede he was a very handsome man but his eyes, though they attempted to look caressing, seemed cold and calculating.

‘You are very gallant,
señor
,’ she said graciously with only the hint of a smile.

‘Please, call me Lorenzo. We should be on first-name terms. After all, we’re working on the same project, are we not?’ he said, taking her arm and leading her further into the room.

Her dark brows knitted together and she stopped dead. She looked up at him. ‘I’m not sure I understand your meaning …’

‘Eduardo’s biography,’ he clarified innocently, as though he hadn’t noticed the alarm and terseness in her tone.

‘I wasn’t aware that you were also involved in the writing of this book,’ she said curtly.

‘Well, only indirectly. Our family owns an extensive collection of Eduardo de Salazar’s paintings, especially his earlier work. No doubt they should be incorporated in his biography. They have never been properly archived and it only makes sense that it’s part of the project. Of course, you would need to spend some time here at La Fortaleza, a prospect that would give me great pleasure,’ he declared, the pressure of his fingers tightening a little on her arm.

‘Our collaboration on Eduardo’s life story is essential, I’d venture to suggest. And I, for one, will find the whole thing fascinating. I’ve made it known that I’m perfectly happy being a contributor and editor. In
fact, I’d positively enjoy it.’ He gazed at her dumbstruck face before adding: ‘Look, I’m a little surprised Andrés hasn’t mentioned this to you. I hope I haven’t put my foot in it, but it has always been the plan.’

A plan on which she had obviously not been consulted. How dare they? To presume she’d work as an unpaid hand, archiving their wretched collection, and then to have this pompous creep presume to edit her work. Insufferable! Luz’s eyes sparked but she managed to smother her anger, instead giving Lorenzo her most charming smile. Again, he appeared oblivious to the undercurrents as he took two glasses of sangria from a passing waiter and offered one to her.

‘Señor de Calderón and I are still in the early stages of outlining the project,’ Luz declared, letting the chilled wine soothe her dry throat. ‘I’m sure the Herrera archives will be on the agenda the next time we speak.’ She wondered what else was on Andrés’ agenda that he had not yet deigned to discuss with her.

Lorenzo smiled at her over his glass as he sipped slowly. ‘And when you do, I look forward to making myself available to you at La Fortaleza whenever possible.’ He gave a courteous nod of his head but his gaze travelled over her in a way that made Luz recoil inwardly and look away.

Why had Andrés not told her about this? What was he playing at? First she had found out about the archives from Adalia and then Lorenzo Herrera had announced his involvement in the project … There had certainly been no hint of her spending any time at La Fortaleza with Lorenzo, which of course was unthinkable. She was appalled at the thought of how far Andrés was trying to use her. Once again he had left her feeling wrong-footed and confused.

She caught sight of Adalia, throwing her head back and laughing conspiratorially with a group of admirers. Luz hadn’t forgotten the socialite’s knowing comments about Andrés. Watching her now, it seemed to Luz that Lorenzo’s sister had the kind of allure and self-assurance that Andrés most likely would find captivating. Not for the first time she felt a strange pang at the thought of what their ‘special relationship’ entailed.

‘Your sister looks very happy this evening,’ she mused, groping for a change in the subject.

‘Ah, yes, my sister. So she should, I suppose,’ Lorenzo replied casually. ‘After all, she and our friend Andrés are, I imagine, close to announcing their engagement.’ He glanced at Luz and smirked. ‘Though if he’s ever to settle down he’s going to have to give up his, how shall I put it … democratic appreciation of the fairer sex.’

She stared ahead, not daring to speak. Why, instead of relief, did she feel a strangling lump in her throat? So there was something between them … more than something. How many more disturbing revelations about Andrés de Calderón were there to come? Of course, she had sensed that Adalia had set her sights on him, despite her description of them as merely ‘old friends’. What was strange was that her declaration about his dalliances with other women hadn’t seemed to bother her in the slightest. Maybe Adalia felt such a degree of confidence in her power over Andrés that his previous history mattered not one jot to her. Luz glanced again at the beautiful blonde woman holding court. Why did her insides suddenly burn with a slightly sickening feeling? She should find Lorenzo’s sister a welcome diversion in whatever game Andrés was playing, she told herself. And yet he had kissed Luz …

She blinked and swallowed uncomfortably. ‘I’m sure that Señor de Calderón and Adalia will make a fine match,’ she said softly.

From that moment, the evening ahead stretched uncomfortably before Luz. Her head spun with uncertainties and she badly wanted to get away from the social glitter, where suddenly everyone seemed to be playing games. She tried her hardest to steer Lorenzo in the direction of Alba, whose glances kept flicking longingly to the
torero
’s face, as if therein she might see something to stir her hope. Luz smiled and nodded, even laughed, in all the right places but Lorenzo’s words were like cold fingers of dread squeezing at her heart.

She was not sure which revelation had unsettled her most. Memories of that evening she had spent with Andrés on the beach kept flashing into her mind … the way he had looked at her with
those dangerously beguiling eyes and held her hand so tightly as they walked, as if he was afraid to let her go. Why had she let herself be drawn into his ridiculous charade? How did he manage to disturb her emotions with such force? He was determined to dominate her in every way, whether professionally or in private, she decided. Was this his last flirtation before settling down for good? Anger bubbled up again. What overbearing arrogance and deception! She wished she could give the man a piece of her mind right now.

Adalia’s effusive cries of affectionate welcome signalled her wish had been granted rather sooner than she thought. Luz turned to find Andrés standing like Mephistopheles at the entrance to the drawing room. His dark evening suit emphasized his overpowering satanic good looks and the air of danger he carried with him like a second skin. Her mind went blank for a moment, as it was now accustomed to do whenever she saw Andrés unexpectedly, before outrage gathered in her again. Across the room his slow smile met her scowl and the battle flashing in her eyes, just before he was partially shrouded in a haze of purple chiffon.

With Adalia on his arm, he moved from one group to another, courteous, charming and … forbidden. The aristocratic-looking socialite had claimed him and was intent on making it quite clear to everyone present.

Luz felt a pinch in her chest as the pair mingled with the small gathering. She did not stop to analyze her feelings; after all, why should she? Her opinion of Adalia had already gone down: at the very least, Lorenzo’s sister had been disingenuous in Pamplona. At worst, she had sent a well-disguised warning shot over Luz’s bows, while feigning friendship.

As far as Luz was concerned, Andrés was deceiving and contemptible; she would gladly have nothing more to do with him. Unfortunately they were bound together, for better or worse, on this project and there was nothing she could do about it but stand up for herself and fight for her rights. She would also be the consummate professional with Andrés de Calderón. Whatever
remorseless Nemesis had loomed over Eduardo de Salazar’s biography and plagued her from the very start, Luz was determined now more than ever not to let herself be beaten. However difficult and discouraging, she would see the whole thing through to the bitter end.

Lorenzo was by Luz’s side again when his sister and her beau came to a halt a few steps in front of her. Adalia gave Luz a direct gaze. Was that a look of casual innocence or a flash of triumph? Luz lifted her chin, deigning to give Lorenzo’s sister only the briefest glance before arching an eyebrow at Andrés. His velvet-black irises regarded her with a remote kind of amusement that was somehow challenging and insolent. Her hands clenched; she must control herself. This was neither the time nor the place to have a scene, however much she needed to get her resentment off her chest. There was an odd pause while they considered each other, then he held out his hand and his face broke into that familiar charming smile.

‘Luz,’ he exclaimed, ‘such a pleasant surprise.’ His gaze briefly swept over to Lorenzo, then back again to her. The sardonic expression in his eyes deepened into something Luz couldn’t quite fathom. ‘What brings you here, the festival or other interests?’

His insinuation did not pass unnoticed. How she wished she could swipe that Cheshire cat smile off his handsome face. She cursed the hot, treacherous pink that washed up her cheeks. As usual, she was letting him get to her. She glanced at Lorenzo with the brightest smile she could manage before her eyes flitted back to Andrés.

‘Oh, this and that. My interests are quite wide-ranging,’ she heard herself shoot back, not quite knowing why she had given him such a boldly foolish answer.

A transient spark registered in Andrés’ dark irises and his demeanour stiffened imperceptibly. ‘Then I wish you the best of luck in your endeavours,’ he muttered coolly. The affable smile he gave her, she noted, did not quite reach his eyes.

‘Andrés,
mi querido
, didn’t you know?’ Adalia gave a glittering smile, pulling a little more tightly on his arm. ‘Lorenzo and I bumped
into Doña Luz in Pamplona. As you can see, she and Lorenzo had an instant rapport and he made sure to invite her along to the party.’ Her smile faltered only slightly as she turned to Luz. ‘And of course I was delighted that we should have the chance to see Doña Luz again.’