Masquerade (40 page)

Luz arched her back, aching for him with every heartbeat. She felt his hardness brush against her stomach and her hand flew down, slipping through the black swimming brief that covered the part of him that she knew hungered for her. She curled her palm around his burning shaft and teased the velvety tip with her long fingers. He hissed out a breath, holding her against him with one arm, staring into the deep blue of her eyes that had grown dark with desire. Momentarily he released her to rid himself of the obtrusive garment, throwing it on to the rocks. She followed suit, discarding the remainder of her bikini. And so, free from any hindrance to their lovemaking, he scooped her up into his arms, seawater dripping from her toes on to his skin.

Never taking his eyes away from hers, his hands cupped the twin mounds of her small round bottom. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist, her thighs hugging him, and felt the powerful muscles of his shoulders beneath her hands. Her body arched, opening up to his raging need, guiding him with its movements to where she wanted him most. She threw her arms around his neck as, without waiting, he thrust urgently into the moist core of her being; her inner muscles closed around his hardness, imprisoning him as she pressed him on. His mouth found hers; he plundered it insatiably, and she returned his kisses with as much fervour and equal savage passion.

‘You’re so soft, moist and delicious,
mi amor
,’ he rasped. ‘You’re driving me insane.’

Then he began to plunge into her and withdraw, deeper and deeper, making her cry out his name again and again and again. She could feel his breathing grow faster as a moan growled deep in his throat; she knew he was building up to his release. The head of his erection was now so deep that her climax was also mounting in wild anticipation. She arched her spine, throwing her head back, drawing him deeper inside her, linking herself to him as close as possible, wanting to be at one with the man she loved. Then suddenly he withdrew and the
agony she felt at his retreat broke from her throat in a gasp. They were both hovering on the tip of the mountain, poised on the edge of …

He plunged back in, his thrust this time almost savage. It felt so good she nearly screamed aloud. Their breathing accelerated, their hearts thundered on, their senses caught up in a storm that would break any second now. He moved deeper into her, almost reaching the edge of her limits. Crying out each other’s name, they tumbled into space, fireworks exploding through every sense and nerve ending. One explosion came after another, shattering in their intensity; spasms of pleasure took over not only their bodies but their minds and their souls, too. Trembling with ecstatic delight and clinging to each other, they spiralled down through layers of erotic delirium, lost in a mist of hedonistic sensations that were taking their time to fade away. When finally they came down to earth, they held on to each other hard and strong, in the firm knowledge that what they had just shared was real, everlasting love.

Over the next few days they whiled away the hours by going for long walks along the numerous beaches of the Costa de la Luz, relishing in the feel of the sun-warmed sand, so soft and fine beneath their feet, combing the seashore for colourful shells and drinking in the delicious fresh sea air. Together they swam in cliff-shaded waters so clear that they could see the sea floor, thirty feet below, and in and out of sheltered coves within sight of the villages and towns. They snorkelled and played in the deep, among the fishes and the coral reefs.

One day he took her fishing in his uncle’s old fishing boat. They anchored at a place where the sea twitched with the movement of fish and came back to Andrés’ hut to cook their catch over a wood fire on the beach under the moon. Often they simply sat for a while beneath the palms in calm seclusion, listening to the wind and the roar of the sea. They did not need to talk to enjoy each other’s company; they just basked in the joy of new-found love.

Sometimes Luz and Andrés would explore places inland. They would find a deserted plain at the top of a cliff and lie in the sun, watching sea birds fly in formation out to the reefs, or dragonflies, butterflies and lizards dart among the wildflowers, plumbago and the sweet-smelling herbs. Everything they chose to do together exhilarated them and made them feel light-hearted and alive. Andrés kissed her, caressed her, loved her until, satiated, she would cry out for him to stop. Every so often she would take the initiative to please him while she watched his body shake with wracking spasms and listened to him groan his ecstasy, revelling in the heady control she had over him in those moments, and how much she was learning about this new sensual power.

She was happy. Women stared at Andrés whenever they went anywhere public together and she was proud to be the one he had chosen. Aside from his undoubted masculine beauty, he was warm and funny, too. There was a combination of gentleness and pure primitive passion in his character that never failed to surprise her. Still, occasionally he would go silent, a distant look clouding his dark eyes. At those times he seemed so divorced from her that she thought she must be in the company of a complete stranger. In the back of her mind was the unwelcome notion that it might be something to do with Adalia; she thought she perceived momentary flashes of guilt in his eyes but couldn’t be sure. Luz had never asked Andrés about Lorenzo’s sister, too fearful perhaps of what his answer might be. She didn’t want to face the prospect that, however much he cared for her, she might be destined to be merely his mistress and nothing more; after all, it was what many Spanish men took for granted while they were formally betrothed, and even after marriage. Yet she could not believe this of Andrés, not now she knew him better. Was there another reason for his brooding silences?

At one point she had mustered up the courage to ask him outright what was wrong. But he shook his head stubbornly and whispered as though to himself: ‘Not now, not yet.’

She had been insistent. ‘But Andrés, I know something’s wrong. Why won’t you talk to me? Perhaps I can help.’

His jaw had set, his eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t pry, Luz. It’s no use your asking me, no matter how prettily.’ The hardness behind those words had chilled her, but she hadn’t dwelt on it. Most of the time he was such a wonderful companion, so why should she complain?

Now and again he left on business. On those days and nights she missed him, oddly bereft, as though the rapture of the past days could never be recaptured. Life was flat without him. She thought of him most of her waking hours and, even while she was asleep, he would come to her in her dreams: strong, virile and loving. But he soon came back and would swiftly take her in his arms and smother her with kisses when all her misery and fears would evaporate. And time drifted all too easily away.

There were blue skies and the deep blue sea; the days were hot with the golden sun and the nights were romantic with the silver moon; on and on they shared their passion through a succession of rising and setting, waxing and waning. The rose of each dawning day and the starlit indigo of every night impressed themselves on Luz’s mind as the euphoria of her own new love, a colourful existence of red or silver shot with blue. She was enveloped in him, and he in her, their world perfect like a glass ball suspended on the edge of paradise.

There was nothing to warn Luz that life would soon turn in such an adverse direction for her, with events rapidly taking on a nightmarish quality, one that would require all her inner strength to cope. Fate was waiting just around the corner, with its unpredictability and harsh blows. And it came one afternoon in the form of Adalia Herrera.

Andrés had been away that week. It would not be long now; he was coming back the next day and they were planning to spend a quiet evening at L’Estrella. Luz was lying in a hammock under a jacaranda tree just outside her terrace, watching the cotton clouds slowly float over the ocean beyond, dreaming of her new-found love.

Carmela bustled into view. The housekeeper had been surprisingly discreet about Luz’s comings and goings over the past few days as if she sensed the young woman’s need for privacy; even Carmela knew when to leave well alone if matters of the heart were to flourish. Now her protective antennae were quivering.

‘Doña Luz, you have a visitor,’ she announced with raised eyebrows and an audible tut, her arms folded.

Puzzled, Luz prized herself from her comfortable vantage point, a little irritated to be disturbed from her solitude. She wondered who could be calling on her at this hour. The sun was shining like brass and most people in Spain would be taking their siesta. But she did not need to wonder for long.

Adalia had not waited; instead she had followed hard on Carmela’s heels. Luz winced and took a deep breath as she watched her sway gracefully up the path on perilously high heels, dressed in a perfectly cut ivory summer suit, rings flashing rainbows on her fingers. She had not seen Lorenzo’s sister since the party at La Fortaleza, nor had she forgotten her unnecessary rudeness or the perfectly unfounded insinuations. Now things were even more complicated. The sight of Adalia made Luz freeze and inside she was burning with dread. Her instincts had told her this day would come; that she and Andrés could not remain in their secluded romantic idyll forever. However unwelcome she might be, Adalia was still a guest in Luz’s home and she would receive the young woman with the courtesy she had been taught to bestow. She forced a smile on her face.

‘Good afternoon, Doña Adalia,’ she said, moving towards the newcomer with an outstretched hand. ‘What brings you here on such a hot afternoon?’ Then, turning to Carmela: ‘We’ll have some cold lemonade on the terrace and some of those newly picked cherries from the garden,
por favor
.’

But Adalia looked down her extremely pretty nose at Luz and lifted a hand. ‘No, thank you,’ she said with a humourless smile. ‘I’m not here to make a social call, just to clear up a few things … in private.’ She looked at Carmela pointedly before turning back to face Luz.

Luz got the hint. ‘Thank you, Carmela – if we need anything, I’ll call.’

Carmela stood her ground a moment longer, a feeling of protectiveness making her pause, before disappearing back into the house.

Luz and Adalia walked down to a spot in the garden that wasn’t one of Luz’s regular haunts, partly because it did not have a view of the sea but also because it was more formal, with closely woven cedar hedges, clipped in pointed arches, leading to a multicoloured rose garden planted in even squares. It was her mother’s favourite part of the garden, though, and Salvador had commissioned a gazebo to be erected in the centre of it. The structure was an exact replica of the one at El Pavón, where Alexandra had spent many days writing during that long-ago year when she had stayed at the family home before she was married. It was still somewhere Luz’s parents sequestered themselves whenever they came down to L’Estrella, often enjoying romantic tête-à-tête dinners in perfect seclusion.

‘I hope this is a private enough place for you,’ Luz said, lifting a dark eyebrow, her voice gently mocking.

As Adalia paused on the steps leading up to the gazebo, the glance she gave Luz was certainly wintry.

‘Look, what I have to say has no bearing on the reputation of either my family or myself. Sadly, I cannot say the same for yours, so you’d better thank me that I’ve chosen to speak to you alone, away from eavesdroppers. We all know what servants are like.’

Luz turned to look at Adalia, an elegant figure with the afternoon breeze blowing through her long ash-blonde hair, and met her icy-blue eyes, which were surveying her hostess with cool disdain. Everything about her was Madonna-like until one looked into those razor-sharp steel irises. ‘I’m sorry, Adalia, but I consider Carmela and the people who work in our household to be part of the family,’ she retorted.

Adalia shrugged and huffed in a less than angelic fashion. ‘I’m hardly surprised, I suppose. After all, your family have generally made a point of treating the lowest of the low as one of themselves,
getting cosy with the servant classes, thinking it will excuse a number of sins. But that is not why I’m here today …’ Her voice was steady and unhurried.

Luz made a great effort to bite her tongue. Whatever Adalia had to say, this was clearly not going to be an easy conversation. At the party at La Fortaleza and again at the Yacht Club, Lorenzo’s sister had given up any pretence of friendship or even civility, but now it was becoming increasingly apparent that her animosity for some reason extended to the de Ruedas in general.

They went into the summerhouse. Adalia pulled out a chair from under the wrought-iron table. It screeched noisily on the stone tiles and a pigeon flew out of a tree above with a great flutter of wings, obviously displeased to have been disturbed on such a sleepy afternoon. Adalia sat down and crossed her beautiful alabaster legs.

A puzzled look remained in Luz’s eyes as she sat in the chair opposite, waiting for Adalia to explain herself. ‘Please enlighten me as to the purpose of your visit,’ she said finally.

Adalia, taking her time, lit a cigarette before answering. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said in a husky, cat-like purr, ‘this won’t take long.’ She lifted a perfectly manicured hand and drew on her cigarette, pausing to watch the cloudy blue swirls rise to the ceiling.

‘I mentioned your family’s habit of being overly familiar with servants,’ she added disdainfully. ‘Another much more serious trait is stealing other people’s lovers.’

Luz stiffened as a sudden surge of anger rose inside of her. Outraged, she half rose from her chair. ‘Who do you think you are—?’

‘Please let me finish.’ Again the look of contempt crept into Adalia’s eyes as she lifted a peremptory hand to cut Luz short.

‘I have said it to you before, and I’m saying it again – with some people history has a habit of repeating itself. In this case, in a highly unpleasant way.’ Her diamond-sharp gaze settled on her opponent and she inhaled deeply on her cigarette before continuing.

‘Years ago, when Doña Alexandra came to Spain in search of her fortune, Don Salvador was seeing my aunt, Doña Isabel. Unlike in
your mother’s country, here in Spain a real gentleman always honours the promise of marriage, even when rings have not been exchanged. Your mother weaselled herself into your father’s life very cleverly and his attachment to my aunt became a thing of the past. Doña Isabel, being the proud lady she is, quietly withdrew, leaving the way clear for your mother. She was not about to degrade herself by getting into some cheap tug of war.’