Masquerade (20 page)

They walked along the beach in tranquil silence, moving gently beneath a navy-blue canopy patterned with merry stars that winked in the night as though they shared a private joke. The night here was tender. Most of the fishing boats, which had dotted the blue ocean so picturesquely with pinprick lights, had gone. Luz glanced up at him as she carried her shoes, enjoying the sensation of the cool sand between her toes. She was aware of the aggressively male muscled body an inch away from hers. It gave her a sense of security that she had never experienced before.

He looked like Apollyon, his head tilted back a little in haughty disdain and his swarthy profile limned clear-cut against the vaulted
backcloth of brilliant darkness: proud and arrogant, belonging to the distinguished physique of a man born to dominate and rule. She was aware of a fluttering stir in her gut, shooting pulses at her nerve-endings that were becoming all too familiar.

The hold on her hand tightened and she was astonished to find that instead of a calming effect, it made her tremble inside. She stiffened slightly and only now did she try to pull away from him. He resisted for an instant before suddenly letting go. After the warmth of his touch, the biting chill of the night on her skin was almost painful. They had come to the end of one section of beach; high rocks separated it from the next.

Andrés turned. His eyes, once dark caverns of mystery, now blazed with a strange light as he looked down at Luz’s, which were enormous and anxious. For a split second they were like two people caught up in a tidal wave and lifted out of their depth. They were standing so close, she could sense him catch his breath. She heard her shoes drop on the sand with a soft thud.
He’s going to kiss me
, she realized, sudden panic hitting her like a hammer. Luz didn’t know why, but she wanted to run away, to have nothing more to do with this man ever again.

She was afraid to hold that burning gaze any longer in case she was lost to herself, but then he smiled, his eyes clouding over again as they became inscrutable. ‘Shall we go back?’ he said tightly. ‘It’s late and I don’t want to tire you.’ He stepped away from her and thrust his hands deep in his pockets.

Luz remained looking up at him for a moment, adrenaline coursing through her blood, leaving her heart stuck in her throat. There was nothing she could find to say as she fought for composure. Something was shifting in her and she didn’t know how to stop it. She bent down to retrieve her shoes from the sand and felt his gaze following her darkly as she moved in front of him. Together they started back up the beach towards the house.

Andrés watched Luz drive out of the hacienda. A heavy ache tore at his heart. He had seen the rejection on her upturned face as he had almost kissed her – and the fear. Unwilling to trust himself, almost unable any longer to control the wild emotion that had clamoured for some physical expression, he had forced himself to stop. His mouth had been so close to hers, so soft and full, so sweet … He sighed, a deep harrowing sigh. Sleep would evade him tonight.

Slowly he retraced his steps to the terrace they had just left. He sat under the stars, looking out to sea, listening to the boom and thunder of the waves dashing against the rocks below, a lonely figure in the drowsy cloak of night. Behind pensive eyes, his thoughts ran chaotically as he tried to catch up with them. He felt at a disadvantage, as if the situation he was trying to cope with was already beyond him. His plan was flawed; he had not given it enough thought. It was all clear now, so clear that he could only curse his blindness in not seeing it all before; he must find a way of tipping the scales back.

For years his heart had been closed. Up until now he had led a free and easy life. Of course he’d had liaisons, forgetting them almost as quickly as they began. He had wanted nothing more from life than a good time … until the day he had laid eyes on Luz. Her lively intelligence and spirit were as captivating as her beauty. And now he had the feeling that he had come to a turning point in his life, one from which there would be no return. For the first time his heart had decided its destiny and all he had managed to do was hurt her. The yearning that had swept over him as she walked beside him in her floating black dress, a black-and-gold butterfly, beautiful and fragile, was still with him. To add to the burning in his blood he had noticed the melting look that for a mere second had surged like the rushing blue sea in her glorious eyes. And he knew himself well enough to realize that like a parched man’s need for water in the desert, his thirst would not recede until it had been quenched.

As if she were running away from Lucifer himself, Luz drove home in a frenzy of shock and confusion. She could not believe or accept what she had actually felt for a split second down there on the beach. Still, no matter how much she hated to admit it, she had been intensely aroused by Andrés; the physical stir she had experienced at his touch, at his mere proximity, had been no figment of her imagination. She could find no excuse or reason for this, except of course his undeniable resemblance to Leandro. That had to be it, didn’t it?

The gypsy still filled her heart despite her determination to fight the emotions she believed were doomed. She had not forgotten Leandro’s lively and passionate nature that so intrigued her, or that colourful, mysterious edge he had; and yet he was so direct in his desire for her that it made her senses run rampant. No, her love for the young gypsy could not be dislodged so easily and perhaps that was why she had felt so disturbed by her reaction to the sophisticated hidalgo.

Andrés always seemed to make her play a dark and dangerous game, a struggle for power that both appalled and excited her. She knew he wanted her and his quietly self-assured demeanour should have made her feel safe but she was also aware of something else between them: a psychological undercurrent more potent and reckless. It spoke to something deep inside her and triggered the panic that had struck her on the beach. Now she had no idea how to deal with this new sense of guilt. The situation as it was could not go on.

She was relieved to find the lights off in the annexe when she arrived back home and slipped quietly into her room. Luz lay propped up in bed for a long time, staring ahead of her. Through the open window she could see the dark, colourless water glimmering in the distance under the glow of the moon, streaked with trembling golden lights reflected from the town and the ships in the harbour. Finally she got up and went on to the veranda. The velvet canopy of an ink-like sky hung above; the stars seemed so near to earth that Luz felt if she stretched out her hand she could touch them.
She wondered about both Leandro and Andrés. Were they sleeping soundly, oblivious to the chaos they had created?

Lately, there had been times when Luz studied herself in the mirror to see if she was the same young woman who had left England not so long ago. As she had earlier tonight, before she had gone out to meet Andrés. Though she looked no different, maybe a little healthier and tanned, she had changed inwardly. Back in England it had suited her to tether her wilder instincts. Since her arrival in Andalucía, life had now revealed much to her: unsuspected things, feelings, which had probably always lain dormant within her. She was not sure she much liked the confused, wanton new her, but there was nothing she could do about it for she felt helpless against the tide of emotion that rose repeatedly inside her like a flood-surge.

She had three alternatives, she told herself wearily. Firstly, she could leave Spain and go back to England for six months, but that was running away, which was not in her nature. Secondly, she could decide that Leandro was the man for her and fight the world to accept their love; but how could she be sure he even wanted this? After all, he was a gypsy, a nomad, free as the wind, to use his own words. Finally, she could simply leave matters as they stood and try and get a grip, somehow curb her feelings for Leandro and face the situation with Andrés. The latter was surely the most difficult but eminently sensible choice. She would sleep on it; in the morning things might seem clearer.

That night she dreamed again of the Garden of Eden. This time Leandro and Andrés, joined at the shoulder, were playing hide and seek with her through the trees. They were the twins and each wore the Gemini half-mask. Suddenly they seemed to be moving towards her. As they neared, their image gradually merged into one, with the mask covering the whole face until the irises behind it were so close to her, glancing through the leaves, that a green eye and a black one stared with saturnine mockery into the horror of her own.

Luz woke with a hoarse cry, her heart beating hard against her ribs. She sat up, trembling, in haunting semi-darkness. The room
was hot and airless; she needed to breathe. She ran out on to the veranda and inhaled deeply.

The air was light and salty. She focused sleepy eyes on the familiar view. Though the moon had not yet quite beaten its retreat, a blood-red dawn streaked across the horizon. The chorus of birds had begun their cheerful calling. A young wind ruffled the surface of the clean-swept ocean and the lighthouse over in Puerto de Santa María still winked steadfastly, its lonely message breaking the monotony at the end of the night.

Luz leant against the balcony, aware of the images from her dream flickering on through her mind, and the turmoil and confusion they ref lected. Running away was not the answer. As for her passionate romance with Leandro … she smiled sadly to herself. Where
was
Leandro? She felt a little like Don Quixote with his naïve and unrealistic quests. What was real and what was illusion? She raised her hands and pressed both knuckles into her eyes, which were now welling up with tears. Nothing and no one had ever had this effect on her; she must not let events overwhelm her so. Her mother would say it was all part of the rich pattern of life. She must get a grip and rise above these problems. They were trivial when compared with some of the dreadful things that happened in the world.

Luz stayed like this for a long time and, as she stood there witnessing the glorious f lamboyant colours of the sun rising out of the mist, a certain peace came to her after the rush and emotion of the previous evening. She watched some fishing vessels sail smoothly and slowly through a sapphire sea towards the horizon.

It was still early by the time she shook herself out of her reverie so she went back to bed. Perhaps because she had almost reached the end of thought, Luz fell into a deep, dreamless sleep and a couple of hours later woke feeling heavy-headed.

She had a light breakfast in silence under the steady, scrutinizing dark gaze of Carmela.

‘Doña Luz,
la cara es el espejo del alma
, the face is the mirror of the soul and yours is not happy. Come now, you can tell Carmela. Is it a man that makes those pretty eyes so gloomy, eh?’

Luz sighed. ‘Am I gloomy? Sorry, Carmela,’ she answered. ‘I didn’t sleep well, but I’m fine otherwise.’ Nevertheless, she had caught sight of her reflection in the mirror on the way to breakfast and knew that Carmela would not be fooled. The telltale signs of sleepless nights were there on her face, her eyes shadowed by dark circles left from the tears of frustration that she had given into in the early hours.

‘Looks to me as though you’re not sleeping for a good reason,’ observed Carmela, arching an eyebrow.

‘Carmela, there’s no
novio
for you to get excited about, I assure you.’ Luz managed a wan smile and sipped her coffee. ‘Now, I need to get dressed and down to the motorboat as I’m off for the day. A swim will wake me up, I’m sure,’ she told the housekeeper, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

Carmela tried to probe a little further, clearly surmising Luz was up to mischief, and though Luz assured her that all was well and there was no important man in her life, Carmela looked highly sceptical as she packed a basket of food and then waved her out of the door.

Luz sailed to her favourite beach early, long before most bathers were up. The little secret cove, with its fine sand strewn with a multitude of chromatic shells, lay dreaming under a clear and moist blue sky. It was a lovely, isolated spot. She peeled off her outer clothes, under which was her bikini. The sea temperature was fresh as she floated alongside the rocks and there was a certain purity and cleanliness in the air like balm to the spirit. She spent an easy morning turning burnished gold on the white sand, swimming, snorkelling and idly watching the boats as they came and went from Cádiz’s harbour. At midday she unrolled her towel next to a large rock and lunched on the melon and delicious
jamón
Ibérico Carmela had provided. She fell asleep in the shade of the rock, her thoughts hazy and her senses suddenly dulled by tiredness, the ceaseless sound of the sea and the drowsy heat of the afternoon.

The sun was still blazing when she woke up, hot and clammy. Her bikini was sticking to her like a second skin and her hair was damp, unpleasant against her nape. She padded across the sun-warmed sand and stood digging her toes deep in the fine ivory-coloured strip, feasting her eyes on the crystal-clear waters lapping at her feet. Golden sunbeams danced on the glasslike surface; it was seductively inviting. Luz looked around her; she was tempted to strip and bathe naked. She had never done so before, but had heard it was the most sensuous experience. Ocean-battered rocks towered a hundred feet above her. This was such a private place that no one would know. Without a second thought, she stripped off her bikini and ran boldly into the sea.

She shuddered with pleasure as her hot skin hit the cold water. The rippling cool envelope that caressed her nakedness felt delicious. With a curious ecstasy that was all new to her, she swam out a little way into the open. She could feel the long hot sunbeams on her back as she went, then, diving down, eyes wide open, she scanned the deep, exploring the spectacular kaleidoscopic undersea world. There were beds of coloured coral and fields of strange grasses, pink and green and lavender, waving in the underwater currents. Baby octopus, tiny crabs and a startling array of variegated fish darted in and out of the rocks, busily going about their business on the highways of sparkling white sand stirred up from the seabed. Life below the surface might be joyously lively, but above the air was sweet and fresh, she thought, slowly bringing her face up again.