Masquerade (34 page)

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fastened intently on the spiralling grey smoke rising above him. All of a sudden he had become prickly.

She laughed, aware that he had misunderstood her. Momentarily she toyed with the idea of continuing this deception as a game. ‘I don’t see why men should be allowed to court a number of women at the same time and women shouldn’t,’ she offered, still not denying Romero was any more to her than an acquaintance she had only just met.

‘Is that what they taught you at boarding school?’ His voice sounded almost as dark as the eyes that were surveying her over the candle.

Oh, no
, she thought. The conversation was sliding down a dangerous avenue. Still, she was amused and a little lightheaded, and she wondered how far she could take this topic without marring the wonderful atmosphere that had marked the evening.

She shrugged again and assumed a noncommittal air. ‘Boarding school has nothing to do with it. The rest of the continent has a much more relaxed attitude to relationships between men and women. Where sex is concerned, Spain seems still frozen in the Middle Ages.’

His face tightened into an impassive mask and his voice schooled itself to an even tone. ‘Does that mean that you find it normal that a woman should indulge in casual sex?’ He sounded cool, detached.

‘At the end of the day it should be the woman’s choice. I don’t see why you, as a man, should have the sole prerogative to multiple relationships. A woman’s body has just as much sexual need as a man’s,’ she asserted.
Something of which I am well aware,
she thought ruefully. Her own body had kept reminding her of it ever since she first laid eyes on Andrés and his irresistible twin brother.

‘I don’t see any logical reason why a woman shouldn’t have the same right as a man to satisfy herself,’ she continued.

With almost savage mockery, his charcoal eyes flew up at hers. ‘So, I must take it that you were merely relieving a sexual need last night when you were reacting so vibrantly in my arms on the dancefloor? Is Romero de Cabrera not a talented lover?’ He scoffed. ‘Or maybe you require variety?’ he ended bluntly with a twisted smile, a curious edge to his jet-black eyes.

‘Variety can be stimulating, don’t you think?’ she parried, trying to keep a straight face. An Englishman would not have reared up so passionately and it secretly pleased her to see Andrés so fired by his Spanish temperament. She could not resist goading him a little further. ‘After all, you are well placed to understand that motto,’ she persisted, twisting the knife with some latent satisfaction. ‘I am told that like your uncle, you’re not loath to distribute the attentions of your handsome body around Andalucía,’ she ended triumphantly.

His eyes blazed. ‘I doubt your father, the respectable Count de Rueda, would be happy to learn his daughter has such lecherous views and desires.’

Now that hurt.
The contempt in his voice made her cringe inwardly. He was hitting below the belt, though, fair enough, it was her fault for indulging in this dangerous game. She should have guessed that Andrés would be a formidable opponent and not one to be toyed with lightly. In the past, she reminded herself, he had proved himself more than once.

Her eyes took on a mysterious depth and she felt herself colouring as the thought crossed her mind that, somehow, Andrés’ words were not so divorced from the truth. Had she not been fantasizing, while floating in his arms, that it was actually Leandro she was dancing with? And what about tonight? Was her heart still preoccupied by the gypsy? No – tonight was different. As the evening progressed, she had gradually seen things in Andrés that were new to her. It was not just an intoxicating physical attraction, she was aware of something deeper going on between the handsome hidalgo and herself. She really didn’t want to think of how Andrés de Calderón had affected her in his own right this evening. It was too daunting, especially after
the conversation they had just had. Tonight had been perfect and she was near enough to spoiling it. She must try gracefully to wriggle out of the awkward position in which she had put herself.

He was still waiting for her response, rolling his empty glass around in his fingers, his beautifully etched face hidden by the shadows of night. There was no mistaking the angry jut of his jaw or the strained stance of his body language. Around them the air was sizzling dangerously.

So she smiled at him a little sheepishly. The best way to diffuse this volatile situation was to come clean and admit that it was all of her making. ‘Actually,’ she said, leaning forward in her chair to look into his eyes, her own gleaming with a hint of mischief, ‘yesterday was the first time I’d ever met Romero de Cabrera. His parents are friends of my parents.’

She shrugged. ‘I have no idea whether
Papá
and
Mamá
envisage him as a prospective suitor, but I can assure you that he does not attract me in the least and I don’t think I will meet him again except socially, of course, given that our families mix in the same circles,’ she told him earnestly and hoped he would accept her word.

Although Andrés did not move, his shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. He stared at her in silence for a long moment, his eyes intent, so intent that she began to wonder if she had said something even more offensive to him.

She swallowed hard. ‘I didn’t realize at first that we were speaking at cross purposes and once I did, I … I …’ she hesitated.

‘You what?’ he growled.

‘I continued the deception for fun.’
There, it was out!
She wrinkled her nose like a naughty child. ‘Sorry.’

‘
Fun
? You think it’s amusing to manipulate a man that way? Doña Luz María de Rueda, you should be ashamed of yourself for being so provocative,’ he said, his tone severe. Luz’s face crumpled in dismay. He continued to consider her with unreadable eyes and then all of a sudden his midnight irises lit up with the sunniest smile he had ever given her.

‘You are almost as mischievous as I am,’ he said, regarding her with a look she could not decipher. Then they both burst out laughing.

‘By the way, for what it’s worth, I don’t believe in casual sex. That is, I mean for either a man or a woman,’ she told him. The thought of Leandro stole guiltily into her mind for an instant but she waved it away.

His eyes twinkled with good humour. ‘Ah, I see you’re setting the grounds for another debate,’ he said, his oh-so-sensuous lips breaking into a broad smile that made her pulse quicken to a dangerous rhythm. ‘A serious one this time, hey?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Unfortunately, it will have to wait. It’s already two o’clock in the morning, far too late to indulge in any sort of discussion. I must let you get some sleep.’

He rose to his feet, steadily watching her as he slowly sauntered round to her.

She looked up at him and met the charring depths of his eyes. Her heart thundered so hard she was afraid he might hear it. The breath caught in her throat.
He’s going to kiss me,
she thought, and instinctively moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. Andrés stooped towards her, but instead of touching her gently parted lips, his burning mouth brushed the tip of her nose. He drew back and Luz’s gaze collided with his, glinting with the Devil’s mischief.

‘Goodnight,
querida
. If I don’t leave now, you will accuse me of wanting to distribute the attentions of my handsome body,’ he teased, giving her the benefit of a wicked smile. ‘People are terrible. They’ll spread all kinds of slanderous gossip,’ he added, his lips curling into a mock sullen pout. He winked at her and grinned. ‘Don’t you think?’

His proximity meant she was beyond thinking. All she wanted now was for him to take her in his arms and relieve the rampant desire that had been nagging at her senses all evening but he was not playing ball. For some reason he seemed to have decided tonight was not the night.

Under an enigmatic moon she walked him to his car, reluctant for the evening to end. ‘Care for a moonlight swim?’ he asked lightly as they passed the saltwater pool.

She glanced at him sideways. ‘It would be a marvellous idea but you don’t have your swimming things.’

‘Who needs them?’ he murmured, that daredevil, seductive smile returning. ‘Have you never experienced the delight of swimming nude?’

‘Sorry? What do you have in mind?’ Her eyes widened. Surely he didn’t mean …? She knew only too well what had happened the last time she had indulged in that sort of game.

Andrés laughed as he watched the various thoughts chasing across her expressive face. ‘Don’t look so embarrassed, I was only joking! Don’t worry, I haven’t the slightest intention of flaunting my handsome body in front of you …’ he paused, his eyes gleaming with amusement, and then he leaned over.

‘… tonight,’ he whispered softly in her ear.

B
ack in her bedroom after Andrès had gone, Luz threw herself on the bed, elated. The evening had been perfect. For the first time she and Andrés had talked seriously, laughing freely when they found something amusing and generally enjoying each other’s company. She had started off not liking him but at dinner today he had shown her more of the man than ever before and now she had to admit she had been wrong. True, he constantly reminded her of Leandro, which made it somewhat difficult to separate her feelings for him, but some unknown quality about Andrés now pressed itself insistently into her heart; something else ran like a golden thread through the shape of the emotion rising between them, an unfathomable affinity that seemed to bind them together.

Still, her heart played strange tricks and her head remained wary. What was this new feeling for Andrés? She was afraid to label it. Whatever it was, she would have to take it one step at a time. New emotions were awakening in her that she found both exhilarating and unsettling. Could such intense feelings be the beginnings of love? Luz sighed and closed her eyes. Hadn’t she already thrown herself headlong into a passionate idyll she thought was love? That had only ended in a blind alley. She was beginning to understand that true love was built on a thousand small things and, unlike passion, it grew slowly and required commitment.

That her mind had strayed to the notion of love with regard to Andrés disturbed her, so she opened her eyes and shifted from the
bed. After running a hot bath she soaked for nearly an hour, mulling over her scattered thoughts.

Andrés had told her he would ring soon. Maybe they could continue their discussion about Eduardo’s work over lunch, or even a picnic, he had suggested. She had always been told that mixing work with pleasure was a recipe for disaster. Still, there was a large part of her that wanted to accept his courting, while the other flashed a million red lights calling for caution.

She squeezed hot soapy water over her face from her sponge, remembering Alba’s words:
the tension and electricity between you was sizzling all evening.
Even then, in Pamplona, when she had believed she was madly in love with Leandro, her friend had been aware of the powerful attraction between herself and Andrés and had gone even further … ‘That man is head over heels in love with you.’ Luz’s heartbeat quickened at the thought, making her whole body pulsate beneath the hot water.

Yet the sobering reminder returned: Andrés was a notorious womanizer. Alba had likely been mistaken. The emotion her friend observed in him could easily have been down-to-earth lust rather than a lasting love. By encouraging the young man’s advances was she not heading for disillusionment and heartbreak? On top of that, how shallow and frivolous it would be of her to jump from one brief affair to another – if that was even what she wanted. And of course, there was the rumour that he was about to get engaged to Adalia.

He never spoke about the beautiful socialite but, then again, he wouldn’t, would he? Luz had noticed that he had not danced with Lorenzo’s sister at the Yacht Club ball but there was certainly a tension vibrating between them. None of it made sense and she was tired of hitting brick walls whenever she tried to work her way out of this prison in which her emotions were trapped.

Outside, the night was humid and a little heavy, threatening a storm later perhaps. With only a sheet to cover her, she lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. She expected a sleepless night but a rare summer wind had started up. Its gentle howling through
the palms and olive trees in the garden, together with the sound of the turbulent, choppy sea, lulled her into a deep and dreamless sleep. Indeed she didn’t wake up until two o’clock in the afternoon when Carmela walked into the bedroom carrying a glass of fruit juice and a plate of fresh figs on a tray. Luz did not need to see her to know that the housekeeper was agitated; it was plain from the way she slammed the tray down on the table.

‘Don Andrés has called on the hour since eleven,’ she told her mistress, eyeing her reproachfully. ‘He’s really taken with you and very anxious to speak to you.’ She shook her head.
‘Pobre hombre,
poor man, I can’t tell him you are still asleep when he telephones in an hour so I decided to wake you up. He will be ringing again at three.’

Luz opened her eyes reluctantly. ‘What’s the time?’ She peered at her alarm clock on the bedside table. ‘Heavens, I can’t believe I’ve slept that long! Almost ten hours.’ She smiled sleepily at the housekeeper. ‘Don’t look so cross, Carmela,
mi cielo
. I’ve been told it does men good not to be always available.’

She sat up and took the glass of fruit juice from Carmela’s hands. ‘Thank you, it must be your cooking that has made Don Andrés so keen. You outdid yourself yesterday. The meal was delicious. I must say, he’s got a keen appetite. I thought it would be too much with all the tapas you provided before dinner,’ she laughed, ‘but he polished it all off.’

Carmela lifted her arms nonchalantly.
‘El es un hombre sano,
he’s a healthy man. At this age men need all their strength, especially when they are young studs like Don Andrés.’ She eyed her mistress carefully. ‘Their energy is quickly spent.’ Luz could see the housekeeper was dying to impart all her knowledge on the subject but she forestalled her.

‘Yes, Carmela, you can tell me all about that some other time.’ She shot her an indulgent look. ‘Now, I’m going to shower and dress and then wait obediently for Don Andrés to call.’

Carmela carried on regardless.
‘El es tan guapo
, he is so handsome. You will have beautiful children, he is …’

‘Enough of that, Carmela!’ Luz scolded. ‘I’ve told you before, Don Andrés and I are working on the biography of his uncle. He
has employed me to do a job. That doesn’t mean he’s my
novio
or that either of us is even thinking along those lines so please get that through your head, once and for all.’

‘Where affairs of the heart are concerned, I am never wrong,’ the older woman declared as she marched to the door, looking behind to cast her parting shot.
‘Créeme cuando te digo,
believe me when I tell you, this man is mad about you and wants to marry you.’

At three on the dot the phone rang: it was Andrés. He wanted to thank Luz for a most wonderful evening and asked her to Puesta de Sol for lunch the next day.

‘We’ll work in the morning,’ he said, ‘then visit the property and I’ll show you Eduardo’s archives. Later, we can picnic down on the beach, if you like, or on the veranda, whichever takes your fancy,’ he told her.

‘Bring rope-soled sandals for walking on the rocks and your swimsuit …’ His tone lowered seductively, ‘unless of course you would prefer to experience the thrill of bathing naked. It’s very stimulating. A real aphrodisiac, trust me.’

Provocative humour danced in his voice and Luz could well imagine the familiar, devilish glint in those dark smoky irises, which told her he was intently aware of her as a woman and he wanted her to know it. Andrés de Calderón was being deliberately mischievous and it excited her.

It was glorious weather when Luz set off in the car the next morning for Puesta de Sol. The pair of ivory silk shorts she wore showed off her long shapely legs and perfect slim figure. She teamed them with a close-fitting shirt of the same colour and fabric. The curve of her small breasts and their taut little peaks could just be made out under the thin cloth, an arresting touch that, though she may not have admitted it to herself, she knew Andrés’ keen eyes would not miss. The oversized collarless, camel linen-piquet jacket she had picked up in a boutique in Cádiz and the nude stiletto-heeled sandals adorning
her delicate, perfectly groomed feet, achieved the easy glamour she was looking for.

Puesta de Sol in bright sunshine was just as striking as at twilight. On the last occasion she had driven there, the fading light had given the opulent villa a mysterious edge. This time, as her car rolled past the screen of cypress trees and the house came into view, she caught her breath again. Now she saw the place was pure theatre. It was almost as if one of Eduardo’s paintings had been given real form. Like an Escher print playing with bizarre perspectives, Puesta de Sol had been designed with a mischievous delight in the dreamlike and the impossible. She parked her car on the driveway and looked up. From where she stood, the house gave the impression of a medieval village. The fantasy consisted of towers, terraces, porticos and irregular roofs, planned and executed in a clever arrangement that gave credence to the illusion. Lit by the dazzling sunbeams in a splendid fusion of elemental colour, it bloomed with trees, flowers and plants from almost every corner of the earth. Here, nature behaved like a magician with a lantern, concealing or revealing views of breathtaking beauty and creating spectacular effects.

A major-domo greeted Luz at the tall, arched wooden front door and she entered Eduardo de Salazar’s harlequinesque world. Bright colours exploded throughout the hallway. Wherever she looked there was a splash of frivolity, something daring that reflected the artist’s genius: stunning murals, twisting sculptures, cased figures and intriguing clockwork curiosities. Her eyes came to rest on a painting at the foot of the stairs that dominated the hall: a naked woman, with the head of a white bird and outrageous orange-and-turquoise wings sticking out behind her, was standing on a black-and-white chequered floor. She was clothed in a regal cloak of red feathers, dotted with staring green eyes, surrounded by half-human, half-bird people as if in attendance to their queen. Luz tilted her head and stepped closer to the work, then glanced up and found herself locked in the bold dark gaze of Andrés as he came down the imposing polychromatic stone staircase.

The major-domo discreetly disappeared and Andrés made a beeline for her, looking dashing in a pair of cream linen trousers and black polo shirt. He walked towards her, his sooty-black irises deep as chasms, exploring her slim body intently. His magnetism was such she could feel his eyes burning her with their ardent caress. The tantalizing, slow smile lit up his face as he reached her. Laying a hand on her waist, he stooped forward, brushing his warm soft lips to hers. The touch was feather-light, enticing and promising.

‘You have a lovely mouth, you know,’ he stated in a matter-of-fact way.

Her upturned face flushed with embarrassment. ‘Hello, Andrés,’ she said, trying to keep her tone friendly and sociable. Even though she could no longer control her body’s responses to him, her sense of self-preservation still whispered caution. He mustn’t realize how much her desire matched his. Oh, but he was aware of it, she could feel it; Luz had to stop herself from quivering at the thought.

He looked at her steadily then turned his attention to the room. ‘So, tell me your first impression,’ he said as he watched her walk slowly forward, her heels echoing on the huge flagstones, her gaze mesmerized by Eduardo’s work.

‘I hadn’t realized the extent of the responsibility you’ve entrusted me with,’ she said softly, overwhelmed. ‘I thought that this kind of fantastic detail, this phenomenon of the large contained in the small, was only encountered in the imagination or in tales of wizardry and magic. There are no words to describe the first impression as one enters the maze of your uncle’s fantasy. I feel a little like Alice propelled into the fantasy universe of Lewis Carroll, or Dorothy transported to the magical world of Oz.’

‘You see why I chose you,’ he murmured, coming to stand behind her, a bit too close, his hip brushing softly against her, the warmth of his breath teasing a tender place on her neck. She moved sideways and concentrated hard on the room to stop herself melting.

He followed her casually. ‘You’ve got the breadth of knowledge and the right combination of sensitivity, imagination and creativity
needed to understand Eduardo’s vision. Rare and difficult qualities to come by, I assure you.’

He laid a palm on Luz’s shoulder. She jumped and went rigid. ‘You’re wary of me,’ he said in dismay. He put a finger under her chin and tilted it, holding her eyes captive as he searched them. ‘Why, Luz? … Relax.’ He looked hurt. He then let go of her but did not move away.

She laughed, a little nervously she thought. Though he was not that much taller than her, still she felt the power of his body dominated her. ‘I’m fine,’ she muttered, slightly breathless, not quite knowing whether she wanted him to move away or not. Somehow, she liked his proximity and the familiar scent of his aftershave tinged with the aroma of tobacco, and of something indefinably masculine that was simply him. But enjoying this feeling was dangerous, she knew.

‘I was just lost in my own thoughts, that’s all,’ she explained, smiling brightly. ‘I’m rather dazzled by the wealth of art in front of me and I’ve only just walked through the door. It’s rather difficult to take it all in,’ she added, hoping she sounded convincing.

‘This is only the beginning. Let me show you the rest.’ Andrés gestured towards the curving sweep of stairs and led the way up, into a vast room, which led into a series of smaller ones separated by arches.

The ‘rest’, as Andrés put it, was just as daunting: a synthesis of international decorative arts, every piece Eduardo’s own creation. Rugs, wall hangings, spreads and slipcovers provided the background to a versatile world of sculpture and paintings, but his art did not stop there. A leather mat, a Surrealist tapestry, intricate mosaics, appliqués, ceramics, cotton and batik wall hangings, jute-and-wool rugs, even pieces of fanciful furniture laid witness to the variety of his skills and to his extensive travels. Large-scale abstract forms mingled with the figurative and concrete true-to-life works. Each room brimmed with its own mystery. Every item was signed, numbered, catalogued and had at least one paragraph of explanation. Luz had never seen anything like it and very much doubted that the British Museum or the Prado in Madrid had as considerable and meticulous documentation on everything they held. She was impressed.