Masquerade (26 page)

Luz inwardly cursed herself once more for not keeping quiet or saying something that placed some distance between herself and Lorenzo. It had only given Adalia the opportunity she needed to encourage the misunderstanding.

‘Fate is indeed a curious thing,’ Andrés said, his gaze hovering brief ly on Luz before he moved on, Adalia in his wake. As they walked away she cast a glance over her shoulder, her mouth twitching with satisfaction.

From then on, the evening advanced on leaden feet. Though many young men made a point of trying to engage Luz in conversation, she was distracted and felt an oppressive awareness of Andrés that she tried constantly to shake off.

Dinner seemed to take forever. Luz was seated at the far end of one of the long tables set with white tablecloths and ornate candelabra. The dining room was dramatically lit with exposed dark beams running across the vast ceiling; it was dominated by a gothic stone fireplace that would add admirable heat to the room throughout one of Navarre’s bitter winters. At the other end of the table, Adalia was taking every opportunity to lean into Andrés and whisper in his ear, touching his arm and laughing.

Luz’s sense of humiliation mounted. How could she have been foolish enough to trust him? Professionally, he was wrong-footing her for the second time despite his promises to ‘start again’. And emotionally, why could she not smother these urges towards him that she did not want to feel? She despised Andrés for having such control over her, and she hated herself for letting him. Adalia was declaring her territorial claims and Luz fought a rising sense of irrational jealousy. She tried not to look in their direction but instead engaged her dinner partners in conversation. Every now and then irritation and curiosity got the better of her and she glanced up;
on more than one occasion meeting Andrés’ challenging dark gaze before he looked away.

Luz did not eat much, and drank quite a bit, so that even the light and fruity sangria began to have an effect on her senses. After her concerted efforts to ignore Lorenzo’s cloying overtures, he had at last given up on her. By the looks of it, Alba seemed to have finally gained his attention and the pair were involved in an in-depth discussion opposite her.
At least one good thing has come out of tonight
, she thought, as dinner drew to a close. Carlos was flirting happily with a young socialite, who looked up at him with fluttering eyelashes and adoring eyes, while Adalia’s claws were still deeply embedded in Andrés. Though it was not a particularly hot night, Luz found the place stifling; she needed some air. After picking up her evening bag, she moved on to the terrace and down into the garden where everything was still.

Under the night sky the grounds, like the house, were singularly grand and solemn, outlined only by high walls and treetops. Silence reigned and a sense of mystery hung over the whole place as she walked haphazardly along a dark avenue of giant trees. At a turning, she came out unexpectedly on to a glade and face to face with the river. The view of the house from the bank was awesome: the massive fortress stood out majestically under a waning moon, in all the light and shadow of which night is so fond. It was the perfect setting for the images of wizards and werewolves her imagination conjured up as she gazed around her. Despite the fact that it was not at all cold, she shivered.

‘Lost, or strayed?’ asked a deep, sonorous voice breaking the silence.

Luz turned abruptly to find Andrés leaning against a tree just a few paces behind her. Shrouded by darkness, there was nothing to distinguish him from his gypsy double. Her heart jumped wildly and the breath caught in her throat. She realized with rising alarm that the sexual tension that seemed to gather between them like a pacing animal when they were together had returned now, more potent than ever.

‘What are you doing here?’ she said, fighting to keep the emotion out of her voice.

‘I could ask you the same thing,’ came the unhurried answer.

She sensed rather than perceived the sarcastic smile and her chin rose. ‘I have a bone to pick with you.’

‘Yes, I thought as much. You’ve been sending me unfriendly vibes all evening, though I’m not sure what I’ve done to justify them,’ he said grimly.

She regarded him with contempt. ‘Is there any end to the depths you would stoop to to get what you want?
Madre de Dios! Yo no lo creo!
I don’t believe it. You are the most devious, unscrupulous …’

‘Spare me the tirade and get to the point. What’s the problem, Luz?’ he cut in, his mouth settling into a hard line.

‘Don’t act innocent with me, Andrés de Calderón. It’s a word that’s never figured in your dictionary.’

‘And sensible has never figured in yours, it seems.’

She glowered at him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Meaning that your impetuous nature often gets the better of you.’

‘I’d rather be impetuous than deceitful,’ she snapped. Andrés narrowed his eyes but the intense look he gave her was not enough to dam her gushing temper. ‘Your duplicity really is staggering, in every way …’

‘And what duplicity is that?’ he cut in. An odd expression burned in the depths of those dark irises.

‘I’ve had enough of this! Your games may excite the likes of Adalia and all the other women you have swooning at your feet, but not me.’

She started heading towards the trees, intent on getting away from him as quickly as possible, but he shook his head and hastened after her. ‘Hey, wait a minute,’ he laughed, grabbing hold of her bare arm, making her skin tingle alarmingly. ‘Don’t tell me you’re jealous.’

‘Jealous?’ her cry was shrill, startling a night bird in the coppice. It flew out into the open with a great flutter of wings before settling in another tree. She yanked away from his grip, breathing faster.
‘Don’t flatter yourself. And don’t look at me with those dark, caressing eyes of yours, I’m not a fan.’

‘Yes, I suppose you can’t be everyone’s fan,’ he said sarcastically. ‘But then your interests are so wide-ranging, as you pointed out.’ He was standing so close to her now, his gaze fierce and derisive.

Hate was too benign a word to describe the way she felt about him at that moment. He had hit a raw nerve that she had barely acknowledged; the reflex was simultaneous. Her eyes flashed a dangerous grey as her hand swept up to his face with a force of which neither of them had imagined her capable.

She heard his sharp intake of breath before he pulled her into his arms, eyes blazing. He held her fast against the force of his body, his hands urgently gripping her shoulders. She tried to break away, struggling furiously for release and praying for the willpower to resist, but he refused to let go, pinning her against his powerful frame. The sheer masculine energy of him pounded at her: urgent, fierce and dominating. And then they were stumbling backwards, his mouth taking hers in a most desperate, hungry kiss, as if determined to reach inside her and make her respond. And she responded. Suddenly she was against the hard surface of the tree and he was pressing against her. Something flashed like light inside her at the sheer carnality of it and she knew he felt it, too. It was as if neither could stop themselves. She was not prepared for the rapid rise of emotion nor the overwhelming desire that exploded in her as he plundered her mouth with a savage fervour, searing her lips with his fire, demolishing her resistance. Trembling, her head fell back and she closed her eyes, surrendering helplessly as her legs turned to jelly, her heart thudding loudly in her ears.

He broke off the kiss, panting, his eyes dark and hungry. ‘What are you doing to me, Luz? I want you so badly,
querida
, I think I might die,’ he growled with a fierce intensity that sounded almost familiar.

Finding her mouth again, his kiss deepened and she felt the pressure of his pulsing arousal, potently communicating the extent of his desire. She gave a soft moan. A mindless ferment of yearning
was building up in her as his skilful hands found the swollen curves of her breasts and the taunt pink tips crying out for his touch. He tantalized and caressed them and when finally he pulled aside the top of her dress and his warm lips captured the hard peaks, her fingers grasped his hair and the ache and burning hunger for him made her cry out.

‘Leandro, oh Leandro, I love you … take me, here … now!’ she pleaded, uncontrollable tears streaming down her cheeks.

Her own voice sobered her up as it tore into the night and she realized what had happened. With a smothered gasp of anguish she pushed Andrés with both hands, tearing herself away from him, before once more raising her hand to give him a stinging blow to the cheek. She staggered backwards, covering herself again.

‘Who
are
you? What do you want from me?’ She was shouting almost hysterically, crossing her arms around her shoulders like a protective shield against the terrifying danger he represented.

The colour drained from his face and his features froze in a mask of utter pain. ‘It’s all right, Luz.
No tengas miedo, querida
,’ he whispered soothingly. ‘Don’t be afraid, it’s all right. I’m sorry, we can sort it out.’ He took a few steps towards her, extending his arm.

But she was having none of it. ‘Don’t you dare come near me!’ She backed further away from him, her cheeks still wet with tears of confusion and humiliation; his reaction as bewildering as her own shocking behaviour.

‘
Maldita
sea
, damn you, Andrés de Calderón!’ she declared. She picked up her evening bag, which had fallen to the ground then turned on her heel and stumbled off without a backward glance.

‘Wait, Luz,
déjame explicarte
, let me explain,’ Andrés called out. But she was already too far away and, though she caught an almost fraught despair in his voice, she kept going.

Luz made it back to the house unsteadily. As she came up the steps of the terrace, she breathed a sigh of relief. One of the maids was clearing away glasses and ashtrays that had been left on the balustrade. After asking for the cloakroom, she freshened
up as quickly as she could, smoothing back her hair and taking deep breaths.

She was a dense mass of quivering nerves, tension and confusion taking over her mind. Staring at her reflection, Luz touched her lips, which were still swollen from the fire of those kisses. In a moment of madness, her body had betrayed her. Why, when she did not trust Andrés and found him hateful, had she responded to his caresses with the same fire and uninhibited elation that engulfed her while in Leandro’s arms? Was she turning into some kind of nymphomaniac? She couldn’t think straight. In fact, she couldn’t think at all. At this precise moment she only knew she wanted to go back home to Cádiz or to El Pavón; maybe even to her flat in Chelsea. Anywhere that was familiar and safe, and would put miles between her and the mayhem of her present life.

After putting some order back to her sorry state, she hurriedly left the cloakroom. With any luck her little escapade would have passed unnoticed. She crossed the hall and went into the brightly lit drawing room. Most of the guests were still there. Maybe she hadn’t been missed but that was too much to ask: as she paused at the door Lorenzo rushed over to her and grabbed her arm proprietorially.

‘Luz, where have you been? I looked for you everywhere.’ He seemed more miffed than concerned.

She tried to sound casual and smiled demurely as she disengaged her arm, slowly but firmly, from his clutch. ‘I needed some air and walked down to the river,’ she explained.

‘I only wish I had been with you. You must visit the grounds in daylight,’ he said in sugary tones, his pale-blue gaze travelling all over her frame. Clearly he had decided to renew his efforts to charm her.

She nodded absentmindedly and her eyes tried to catch those of Carlos or Alba, who were standing across the room, as she searched for a reason to take leave of her hosts. The trouble was, that although it was well past one in the morning, for most of
the guests the night was still young. How she longed for the privacy of her room back in Pamplona.

Presently Adalia joined them. ‘You do have other guests,’ she reminded her brother curtly, smiling fixedly as she did so. She turned to Luz.

‘We missed you after dinner,’ she noted, her piercing gaze considering the other woman shrewdly. ‘Maybe in England it’s the done thing to slip away for a whole hour but let me give you some friendly advice. Here in Spanish society we consider it rather rude, especially when it coincides with the absence of a male guest,’ she rasped, keeping her voice low. ‘You never know, people might start talking about history’s nasty little habit of repeating itself,’ she ended stiffly, before marching back into the middle of the room and circulating elegantly among her friends as though the incident had never occurred.

Luz was mortified. Although she now saw that Adalia’s charm concealed a manipulative and barbed nature, still her own sense of shame and confusion pooled inside her like curdled milk. She wanted to hurry away but Lorenzo put a hand on her shoulder.

‘Look, I must apologize for my sister,’ he said, adopting a look of embarrassment. ‘Don’t take any notice. She’s just a little upset because her fiancé-to-be had to leave sooner than she had wanted. Unforeseen business.’ He gestured with his hands, as though describing the unavoidable situation. ‘Apparently, Andrés is catching a plane back to Cádiz in the morning and wanted to have an early night. It’s as simple as that.’ He smiled unctuously. ‘Please, don’t give it another thought.’

Luz’s scalp prickled and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to be away from this place and these people. Lorenzo either had no idea to what his sister was alluding or cared even less to explain. His affected concern and pointed remarks about Andrés made her want to slap him, but instead she took a small breath to calm herself.

‘I think it’s time for me to go, too,’ she announced wearily. ‘I’m not used to staying up so late.’

‘I’ll be seeing you at the
corrida
in the afternoon and maybe we can all go out and celebrate afterwards,’ he responded, his eyes still boring into her.

She had no intention of either attending the
corrida
or any celebration for that matter. By the afternoon she hoped she would be well on her way back to Andalucía, if not already at El Pavón or L’Estrella – she had not yet decided which. Still, she forced herself to smile up at Lorenzo acquiescently, wanting to avoid any more scenes or pressure from him. She’d had enough for one night. The Spanish were an intense, passionate people and, from time to time, the small amount of English blood that ran through her veins cried out for peace and quiet, and a little decorum.