Masquerade (36 page)

The food and wine they enjoyed were equally wonderful as the view. They started with the soufflé, which was light, smooth and deliciously creamy, followed by chilled slices of a perfect rare beef fillet with red onion relish and a salad of roasted vegetables. They ended with a three-layered chocolate mousse cake and a terrine of red fruit in a white wine jelly, which was delightfully refreshing.

Over lunch, they spoke seriously about Eduardo de Salazar’s works. Luz was fascinated by Andrés’ alert, multi-faceted mind: he had inherited much of his uncle’s visionary skills but they had been channelled into more practical pursuits. Both she and Andrés took great pleasure in lively debate on a variety of subjects; their minds fenced well together and their wits were a good match.

More than once Luz tried to bring up
La Pouliche
in the conversation but there was no pinning Andrés down. Each time he retreated into his shell and, though highly loquacious and helpful about everything else, he clammed up whenever the subject of The Filly was broached.

‘Eduardo’s muse must have been an intriguing woman for him to have kept her out of his main body of work,’ Luz observed, glancing up at Andrés as she took her last spoonful of the red fruit jelly.

The spoon in Andrés’ hand paused almost imperceptibly. ‘Indeed, she must have been,’ he answered, before it continued to his mouth.

‘How frustrating it must be for you not to know her identity,’ Luz tried again.

‘I’ve come to terms with it.’

‘Have you never tried to find out?’

He fixed her with an inscrutable look. ‘Eduardo was careful to keep her a secret and I, along with the rest of the world, knew nothing about her.’ He smiled. ‘And do you know what makes
you
such an intriguing woman, Luz?’

She found herself smiling, too, into those melted-chocolate eyes that gleamed spiritedly. ‘No, Andrés, but I know you’re dying to tell me.’

‘Your tenacity,’ he laughed. ‘Just one of the reasons, anyhow. It’s also why you’re the perfect writer for this book.’ He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Now, I think I’ll have one more helping of this rather good dessert.’

Luz knew that it was no use pushing further. Andrés had yet again manoeuvred the discussion away. She was convinced he was lying when he said he knew nothing about the model, but that only spurred her curiosity and she promised herself that she would elucidate the mystery of
La Pouliche
as soon as possible. Eduardo’s muse had almost certainly been a married woman moving in the high ranks of society, afraid of scandal. All this secrecy was to preserve her reputation. Still, she seemed rather young to be already married but, then again, girls married early in Spain.

Time passed at a staggering pace. It was now well into the afternoon and they were still sitting in the seclusion of the loggia. Andrés had ordered more coffee and some little cakes, which they went through as they chatted, discussed, argued and planned the way to move forward on the book. They worked well together, as they had done in their previous planning meeting.

As the day progressed Luz found she was falling deeper and deeper into the abyss of helpless attraction. As she fought with all her might to keep her emotions in check she hoped that, despite his extensive knowledge of the female psyche, he was unaware of what was happening to her. His command over the expressions of his face and his enigmatic eyes meant that, more often than not, she was left in the dark about his own feelings. Sometimes he let her glimpse what was going on under that impassive surface, but she knew it occurred only when he wanted it to.

At six o’clock Luz glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve been here almost all day, I’d better get going,’ she said, secretly hoping he would ask her to stay, though fearing the consequences if she were to do so.

He grinned as though he had read her mind. ‘I thought you’d kept the whole day for me, or have you forgotten I promised you a moonlight swim?’

She smiled back and shook her head. ‘I hadn’t forgotten.’

‘But perhaps you thought I had.’ He raised an eyebrow, still amused.

Luz scrambled for something to say. This would be another step forward on already dangerous territory. ‘I just wasn’t sure if it was still on,’ she heard herself answer, before she could think properly.

‘You bet it’s still on. Do you think I would willingly pass up the opportunity to be near your beautiful naked body under the shimmering moonlight?’ The blunt avowal of his intention penetrated her brain. Luz paled as she met the wicked glint in Andrés’ eyes, mixed with something deeper and unrecognizable. His soft voice not only caressed her ears but the whole length of her, arousing her with its bold request. Before she could find a suitable answer to quash him, he leant across the table towards her.

‘I promise not to touch,’ he murmured, his face set in feigned melodramatic secretiveness. ‘I’ll just admire from afar. Except, of course, if you want it otherwise.’ Was he teasing her gently – or mocking her?

Luz felt trapped. Thoughts of escape entered her head but that was the wise part of her mind. She knew exactly what she must do if she listened to reason but she was not in a sensible mood; nor had she been for days, weeks, months. First it had been Leandro, and now Andrés. She could not escape what she felt when she was around him; all rational judgement disintegrated. Even more than the gypsy, he had awakened a whole array of complex feelings about which she was ignorant. She had lived quite happily before this in proverbial bliss – or had she? Andrés would argue that she had been missing out on one of the most enjoyable essentials of life.

Luz’s expression was clearly anxious enough for a momentary look of shocked surprise to cross his face.

‘Don’t look so worried. I didn’t mean to alarm you. You’ve nothing to fear from me,’ he said, lifting his hand and brushing the back of it against her cheek. ‘I will never ever ask you to do anything you don’t want.’

‘And I would never do anything I didn’t want to either,’ she answered quietly. Yet at that moment Luz was sure of what she wanted; she just didn’t know if it was wise.

Andrés scrutinized her for a moment; his eyes were serious, his tone grave when he spoke again. ‘You’re still very innocent and I find it refreshing to be around you. Forgive me if sometimes I forget myself and embarrass you, Luz. I never knew there were women like you in the world. Your reactions are so unusual, so heightened that, like a naughty child, I find myself wanting to provoke them.’

He seemed truthful enough and she believed him; still, she was lucid enough to realize it would not take much for her resistance to melt.

‘I keep a small dinghy on my beach. Would you like to go sailing?’ he asked, still leaning forward a little to scrutinize her face. ‘The sun is not so hot now and there’s a slight breeze. Besides, the scenery is magical at this hour.’

Her lips curled into a smile. ‘Thank you, I’d like that very much,’ she said quietly.

‘You’ll need your swimsuit if we do decide to have a dip in the water,’ Andrés suggested carefully, his lips hinting at a smile. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll spare your blushes and not insist you swim naked.’ His mouth broke into a broad grin, as if reading her thoughts. For a fleeting moment it made him seem so like his gypsy double that she blinked. ‘I already have mine on, but there’s an alcove with a seat further down where you can change,’ he continued, nodding to a place behind her where the loggia was part divided by a wall. ‘I promise I’ll stay over here,’ he added, still grinning.

Luz shot him a wry look: ‘How very gallant of you.’ For an instant she saw his eyes flicker with something before it was gone. Picking up her bag she walked away from him, letting out a deep breath. Why was he so ridiculously attractive? And why was her pulse racing like a schoolgirl’s on her first date? She quickly changed into her bikini, put her clothes back on over the top and returned to the other side of the terrace.

The shade under the trees devoured them, lovely, dark and cool. They walked down to the beach, conversing lightly and casually as they went,
accompanied by a mild breeze that carried the soapy scent of Spanish fern and that of the roses crowding the garden. On the beach, colour blazed across their retinas. The sky was azure and serene; it was still warm and the sun-splashed sea was alive with phosphorescence. The crystal-clear quality of the water was such that, five hundred yards from the shore, they could see every rock and pebble on the ocean floor.

The fourteen-foot white sailing boat with its blue sails lay on its side on the sand. ‘We’ll leave our clothes on the beach,’ Andrés suggested as he tugged his polo shirt over his head and took off his trousers. His tall, lithe and broad-shouldered body appeared to Luz in all its golden glory, with only a slim black apology for swimming trunks, which barely covered the well-endowed bulge between his thighs. The shadow of chestnut hair covering his muscled chest arrowed pointedly to his waist and disappeared beneath the waistband of the minimalist garment.

Luz’s insides melted as she watched him.
Calm down, old girl,
she remonstrated as she dragged her eyes away from the godlike physique before her,
he’s only a man
… Yes, but what a man! He was so like Leandro in his stance and build that she couldn’t help but think once more of the gypsy and wonder if they were blood brothers somehow, though the thought was swiftly driven from her mind by the awe-inspiring sight of Andrés and the impact of his overwhelming presence.

‘Your turn,’ he grinned, teeth gleaming white against his swarthy tan.

With rather unsteady hands Luz rid herself of her clothes and kicked off her sandals. Damn it, she was blushing.
What’s happening to me?
she asked herself despairingly. She was in the habit of wearing a bikini, so why the sudden coy reaction?

Andrés, with the considerate attention of the perfect gentleman, despite his earlier quip, had carefully averted his eyes and was busy pulling the sailing boat into the water.

Donned in a sheer kaftan, which she had slipped over her marigold-yellow, twist-front bandeau bikini, she walked to the side of the boat,
which was tossing about in the shallows. Water swirled round her feet; it felt good. Before she could protest Andrés had turned swiftly and swept her up in his powerful arms, drawing a gasp from her lips. He had caught her off-guard; his hands were cool but his torso was hot against her already quivering skin and her unprepared body responded immediately to this sudden contact. She knew no seductive movements; she had no need. The faint suggestion of her silhouette beneath the thin material of her kaftan was alluring enough to turn Andrés’ irises into a molten inferno. She could hear the pumping of his heart as her cheek brushed against his chest.

His grip on her body tightened a little as he pressed her against him for a moment. Then he set her down gently in the boat.

‘You look beautiful, Luz,’ he whispered. ‘A dream creature in the sun.’

She smiled up at him and coloured under the intensity of his gaze. The erotic sensations his body had left imprinted on hers were deeply distracting.

‘I’ve not sailed much before, but show me what to do and I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it,’ she told him, a little breathlessly.

‘Are you ready then?’ Andrés gave her a wolfish grin.

Luz nodded, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

Andrés looked around him to check everything before putting on his sunglasses. He asked Luz to take the tiller while he hoisted the mainsail and away they went, out into the sun-dappled open sea, to meet the golden sunset, which was not far off. When the sail was well filled with wind, the rope attached to it entwined around his long fingers, Andrés came and sat beside Luz. He showed her how to tack into the wind and explained how she should move over to the other side of the boat each time he called ‘ready about’, ducking under the boom to sit with him on the side as the boat shifted to an almost vertical tilt. As they worked together to manoeuvre the dinghy, Luz felt exhilarated. At one point Andrés crossed over again to sit next to her and covered her hand resting on the tiller with his palm. Their eyes locked intensely but neither spoke. The ocean was
deserted; it appeared to be all theirs. Trapped momentarily in the amber of time, they sailed silently under the huge arc of sky.

Luz watched Andrés as he tightened the sheet of the mainsail in its cleat. The sun threw a splash of gold over him and she found herself studying those features that, after Leandro, now seemed doubly familiar to her. He was so handsome it was unfair. She had never seen such devastatingly attractive brooding eyes, with long thick dark lashes women would die for; their colour was simply a detail. Andrés’ dark irises that were now hidden behind the screen of his sunglasses were just as arresting and compelling as Leandro’s green ones. It was the passion, the mischief, the soul behind them that counted. She was discovering each man was as wild, exciting and lovable as the other. The longer-than-average shock of chestnut hair, bleached by the sun in places, was equally arresting whether worn swept back in a tidy ponytail or tousled, naturally curling over a broad forehead, framing the face like a halo.

But at that moment she knew she was falling in love with Andrés. He had been a nebulous, mysterious figure in her thoughts while Leandro had had all her heart and had been forever in her mind. Now Andrés appeared larger than life and the image of the gypsy seemed to have receded, though a part of her mourned him still. However, Andrés was still an enigma to her. Though they had talked a lot, he had volunteered relatively little about himself and she got the impression there was a whole side of him she still did not know.

‘Mind your head!’ Andrés shouted suddenly, jolting her out of her thoughts. She ducked beneath the boom just in time as it swung over with a shudder.

They were on another tack, sailing into the freshening wind. It had not been strong when they had set out, but it had increased in the last half-hour. She could see Andrés was a practised sailor. He manoeuvred his boat adroitly, changing tack swiftly and efficiently.

After some time Andrés bent forward to speak: ‘We’ll be sailing with the wind now and we’ll be able to stay on the same course all the way to shore.’ He pulled up the centreboard and moved opposite
her to balance the boat. ‘Running with the wind will feel surprisingly smooth and quiet after tacking, but the boat’s actually going much faster.’ Relaxed, he settled back, his arm stretched along the side.