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Authors: Hannah Fielding

Masquerade (39 page)

BOOK: Masquerade
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She looked up at him. ‘For food?’

‘Señorita de Rueda, that is not something you should say to an alleged womanizer,’ he murmured, his eyes darkening.

She raised an eyebrow, watching his mouth, which was still only inches from her own, the same mouth that had been all over her body only the night before.

‘I know, Senor de Calderón, you’re clearly a bad influence on me.’ It was true, she didn’t know where these wanton feelings were coming from but she was beginning to enjoy them.

He grinned. ‘We should eat. You’ll need your energy. Besides, difficult as it is for me not to have my way with you right here, delayed gratification will make dessert all the sweeter.’ His molten, dark eyes gazed down at her and so much longing flooded her that Luz thought her legs would turn to jelly.

‘Come, let’s get under the shade,’ he said and led her to the palms overhanging the hut. They dropped down on to the sand, listening to the swish of the seawater washing against the rocks and the quarrelsome cries of gulls fighting overhead.

It was a wild beach, like no other she had seen in Spain, with soft dunes to lie in and umpteen coloured shells to collect. Nothing could disturb this spot, its sequestered beauty and its magic. She could quite understand why Andrés had chosen it for his secret den.

‘Wild oyster beds and sea urchins lie everywhere around here, tangled on the rocks of these little creeks and inlets,’ Andrés told her. ‘I grew up near the sea. Oyster gathering, crabbing and beachcombing were a great part of my life. A lonely but very rewarding pursuit.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll go and get some for our lunch,’ he said, jumping up with one athletic movement, his joints as agile and supple as those of a feline.

‘I’ve brought a picnic,’ she said, smiling up at him.

‘Excellent! We’ll supplement it with whatever I’m able to gather.’

‘Shall I come with you?’

‘It’ll be quicker if I’m on my own. Besides, the sun is already hot and I’d feel guilty if you caught sunstroke.’

He produced a knife and a child’s brightly coloured pail from the canvas bag he had brought with him. Her eyes widened as the steel blade, catching a sunbeam, flashed dangerously. ‘My tools – I’ve had them since Eduardo bought me the boat. I never went out without them,’ he explained, his eyes softening as he thought back to obviously happy memories. ‘Wait here. I won’t be long. I’ll be just over there, see?’ He pointed to a rocky spot a little further down the beach.

As he went off she turned over on her side, resting on her elbow, and dug her fingers idly into the fine sand, scooping up handfuls, which she poured swiftly between her fingers back on to the beach. She watched him move away, graceful and lithe as a panther, muscles rippling under his skin, his strong back tapering to a lean waist. Leandro … all Andrés’ movements reminded her of the gypsy. At times like this, as her eyes followed the distant golden figure scrambling nimbly over the rocks, the similarity edged on the uncanny. She sighed. Would she never be able to put her Romany lover out of her mind?

Andrés was soon back, his bucket brimming over with spiky brown urchins and small wild oysters. He resembled a god of the deep, his long, wet chestnut hair glistening with droplets of seawater, which picked up the sun’s rays. Passing a tanned hand over it, he squeezed the water out of his ponytail and smiled.

‘There are drawbacks to long hair, don’t you think?’

But she could not think, spellbound as she was by the statuesque perfection of the man looking down at her, his heavily lashed dark eyes equally mesmerized as he took in every detail of her body.

‘Here you are,
mi princesa,’
he said, laying down the pail at her feet. He sprawled across the sand beside her and linked his hands behind his head, his brown muscular body stretched out to catch every sunbeam, his limbs hard, smooth-skinned and the golden colour of polished oak. ‘We’ll have lunch in the hut, don’t you
think?’ he suggested, then grinned. ‘That way we won’t get sand in our butter.’

The interior of the hut was very primitive. A couple of tree stumps served as seats and a large flat rock as a table. Hurricane lamps, a small stove and candles stood on the windowsill with a box of matches and a pack of cigarettes. A large shelf, of some sort of dark iron, held a kettle and a few pots and pans while an earthenware urn, which he explained that he filled with cool water from a nearby stream, lived next to the door with a pile of wood and kindling. Deep-sea fishing and snorkelling gear were piled up in one corner. Still, the plain layered bedding made out of straw that lay in the opposite corner did not go unnoticed. He gave her an oblique look.

‘Sometimes, when the winds have come up suddenly and the sea is rough, I’ve spent the night here,’ he said, answering her unuttered question. He paused and smiled rakishly. ‘Alone, I swear,’ he added, lifting his hand to his heart.

They lunched in the comfort and shade of the little thatched cabin, seated on the low tree stumps, and augmented their picnic of wine, bread and butter, dried meats, hard-boiled eggs and salad with the sea urchins and oysters that Andrés had gathered from the rocks. He split them using the edge of his knife. With bread, butter and a squeeze of lemon they were delicious.

They talked and laughed a lot – easily, lazily, because the wine was velvety and sensuous. Tasting it, their moods mellowed in anticipation of the next few hours they would spend in each other’s company. All the while their bodies ripe for pleasure as they savoured this tantalizing awareness.

Luz tipped another citrusy oyster into her mouth and, without thinking, licked the salty liquid from her lips. She glanced up and found Andrés watching her intently. If he had chosen oysters as an aphrodisiac, she mused, it was unnecessary. The electricity between them had been palpable from the moment they had met on the beach. ‘Have you been outside Spain much?’ she asked, mesmerized by his steady gaze.

‘Yes, a lot. I travelled all over the world in my early twenties after I left university. I was still looking for adventure, I suppose.’ He broke off some bread, smearing it with butter and biting into it.

‘And did you find it?’

Andrés chewed quickly then grinned. ‘Invariably. I studied anthropology, including tribal differentiations. That took me to Peru, to reservations in North America, aboriginal grounds in Australia. I spent some time with the Maoris in New Zealand. Papua was particularly interesting. I found myself among the Kombai clan. I was a
kwai
, which means spirit or ghost but it’s also a term used to describe an outsider. So I was regarded with suspicion for a while, until I was befriended by the chief’s son.’ He saw the question in her eyes and glanced away, reaching for his glass to take in a gulp of wine. ‘But that’s a story for another time. Suffice to say I was finally accepted into that clan, but not before one of them accused me of being a
Khakhua-Kuma
.’

Luz was intrigued. ‘What on earth is that?’

‘A man who practises witchcraft.’

She tried not to laugh but couldn’t help it. ‘It seems the Kombai are a very good judge of character,’ she added, smiling.

He grinned and took a knife to one of the oysters. ‘Cannibalism was still carried out by the Kombai as a form of tribal punishment for male witches. If the chief’s son hadn’t defended me I could have been eaten.’

Luz stilled. ‘Goodness, Andrés, are you serious?’

‘Absolutely.’ He eyed her mischievously. ‘Though I’m glad I escaped the pot, I think my flesh would have been rather delicious, don’t you?’

She shuddered. ‘I don’t even want to think about it.’

He laughed out loud, prising open the oyster shell. ‘You don’t want to think about my delicious flesh? I’m mortified, Doña Luz.’

‘You know what I mean.’ She shot him a wry look but as he raised his head to tip the oyster into his mouth her eyes dropped to the tanned, muscled, naked thigh so near to her. Yes, his flesh certainly
did look delicious. She cleared her throat softly, adding: ‘Where else did you travel to?’

‘I managed to make it to the Naga Hills in north-east India, a beautiful land of hills covered by flowers but full of precipitous ravines. I stayed with the secluded hilltop tribes there for a while. That was fascinating. They may have stopped practising headhunting now but in most respects they still live in a hidden world of ancient traditions that haven’t changed in hundreds of years. It was an incredible experience.’

He looked younger and carefree when he spoke of his globe-trotting exploits, quite a different man to the one who spoke of his childhood and his family life. Not so brooding, Luz thought. She looked at him quizzically, a little awestruck.

‘And you actually lived with all these native people?’

‘Yes, of course. I had to in order to study their ways.’ He smiled a dazzling smile.

‘Apart from being rather dangerous, by the sound of things, it must have been so, well … basic.’

He shrugged. ‘Once you get used to it, you just accept that aspect. Human beings only need the basics, Luz,’ he added softly, with a sensual undertone. She felt her skin heat as her eyes were once again drawn to his perfectly formed mouth, which curved into a slow, lazy smile. ‘Then it’s just a question of following that society’s rules.’

‘Yes, and I suppose some are just more complicated than others,’ Luz murmured. She sipped her wine, wondering at the kind of unwelcome judgements she must be inviting, with her recent behaviour and now just being with Andrés.

‘We’re all tribal,’ he continued. ‘Nations, families, blood ties, class … You yourself returned to your own tribe when you came back to Spain, wouldn’t you say?’

She had never thought of it that way. ‘It does feel like that. I was never truly comfortable until I was back home with my family. But I’ve never had adventures like yours. I wish I had travelled more
and seen the world. It sounds so exciting, seeing other cultures, being able to reinvent yourself wherever you go.’

A hint of a frown creased his brow. ‘It’s liberating, yes. But most paths lead full circle, and everyone’s journey is different.’

‘A woman’s journey is more restricted,’ she answered ruefully.

Andrés nodded. ‘Granted, in Spain there are certain expectations for a woman. I can see that England must have suited your mind and your spirit in many ways.’ His expression became fervent as he regarded her. ‘And now you feel Spain coursing through your blood again, letting free a part of you that’s new and frightening.’

Her eyes widened.
How did he know so accurately what she had been feeling?
‘You seem to know me remarkably well already,’ she observed.

His seductive smile appeared and he cocked his head to one side. ‘I’ve been paying attention, Luz.’

Her desire for him at the moment struck her deep down and she yearned for him to take her in his arms. But she wasn’t confident in the art of seduction and so she followed his lead, holding back, waiting for him to reach out to her first, but he seemed intent on drawing out the torture.

Comfortable with each other, they worked their way through the rest of lunch, managing to stay on stimulating, though less provocative, topics of conversation. They shared their thoughts about Spain and what it meant to them. Both were passionate and restless individuals, they had that in common, as well as having individualistic ideas that sometimes clashed, but neither fell back into scoring points in the way they had in the beginning. It was easy and fluid, though a powerful sexual awareness still charged the air between them.

At four o’clock, when the weather was cooler, they went back on to the beach. The sun was still hot. ‘Shall we go snorkelling?’ Andrés suggested, his gaze intense and lingering. ‘The sea is lovely and warm by this time in the afternoon. I know a beautiful cave off the rocks near the place where I lifted those oysters. The water there is crystal-clear.’ As they walked, their arms brushed, sending Luz’s pulse skipping
frantically. His mouth curved seductively into a smile. ‘It’s one of the rare surviving sea gardens, a well-kept secret, teeming with all sorts of marine creatures and strange vegetation,’ he added invitingly.

‘A well-kept secret? I’ve a feeling I’m going to like it,’ said Luz, returning his smile.

He stared at her for a moment with some unfathomable emotion before looking up at the sun. ‘I hope so,’ he murmured.

Equipped with masks and snorkels they headed to the rocks. The sand was searing hot and scorched the sensitive soles of Luz’s feet. She gasped. In a flash Andrés gathered her up. The surge of blood in her veins was instantaneous as she was overtaken by the torrent of erotic feelings that had been simmering for so long. He held her tightly, his arm resting around her waist, the light down feathering his chest brushing sensuously against her skin. Swiftly and smoothly he walked across the blazing beach to the rocks beyond.

‘Be careful not to step on those spiky black sea urchins,’ he cautioned as he put her down gently.

His arms were still around her as Luz’s feet came into contact with the crisp, cool waves that licked the lava rocks and the frothy foam that gathered around her slim ankles. Her toes sank into the soft sand beneath the shallow water. ‘Mmm, that feels good,’ she murmured.

A tremor ran through Andrés’ body and their eyes locked. Luz’s little moan of pleasure, innocent as it had sounded, blew on the already hot embers quietly burning in them both since their lovemaking the night before. He tensed, his eyes glinting, and she could tell his control had finally snapped. She saw the desire burning fiercely in his gaze. The flames that raged through her now were like nothing she had experienced before.

‘Does it feel as good as this?’ Grasping her by the shoulders, he pulled her forcefully to him, searing her lips with the passionate demand of his mouth. He hooked his thumbs under the straps of her bikini and slid them down, his searching hands freeing the firm curves of her naked breasts; then he reached behind to unfasten her skimpy top and flip it away. His strong fingers were exquisite on
her skin as he kneaded her breasts gently and teased the pink peaks that responded before he had even touched them.

BOOK: Masquerade
13.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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