Masquerade (47 page)

‘I love you, Luz. I can’t live without you. I want to marry you,’ he whispered miserably.

‘What sort of love can you base on deceit?’ she retorted hotly, turning back to face him, the sapphire blue of her eyes now a stormy grey.

‘I need to tell you everything before I can go.’ His voice was shaky and he was trembling. ‘Don’t think this confession is easy for me. God knows how much I have been dreading this moment of truth. And there’s more.’

‘Don’t bother explaining, I can guess,’ she sneered. ‘You were taking your revenge for what my father did to your mother. Right?’

There was a silence. ‘It was not quite like that,’ he told her carefully. ‘My mother wanted me to make you fall in love with me and then leave you, in the same way your father left her. I went along with her game because I knew that you would be mine anyway. She had no idea I had met you already, or that we were seeing each other and had fallen in love.’ He was still watching her face. ‘I made sure that Leandro moved into the shadows very early on and Andrés took over.’

Luz’s eyes widened. ‘You must be really proud of yourself,’ she declared quietly. ‘Not only did you manage to deceive me but you’ve also hoodwinked your own mother. What will she say when you tell her you want to marry me? Or are you planning to lie about that, too?’ Her savage stare hit him head-on and he started painfully.

‘My mother’s dead, Luz,’ he explained in a strained voice. ‘She was dying of cancer and didn’t have long when she demanded I carry out her vengeance. She died a few days ago – that’s why I wasn’t able to keep our date and why I was unreachable.’

For a few seconds Luz was nonplussed, not knowing what to say.
Absence carries its reasons
, that’s what her own mother had said. It seemed she was right. Luz’s features finally relaxed.

‘I’m sorry, that must be hard for you,’ she uttered softly. Forgetting herself, she covered his hand with her palm.

Within seconds he had pulled her to him and his mouth was on hers, fiercely coaxing. She had no time to breathe, to think, to resist. Temptation fuelled her already stirred senses, her own unabashed desire overwhelming the sense of betrayal that still gashed her heart. With a catch of her breath that merged into a sob, she felt her body yield to his touch, pliable as a liana, the better to feel him. She kissed him back hungrily, releasing all the love, the pent-up fever that had tortured her days and nights since they had last been together.

Still kissing her, Andrés moved her on to his lap and his hand slid inside her nightwear. His deft fingers found the swollen curve of one breast. Luz cried out as she felt the heat of his fingers on her skin. She was aware of how badly he wanted her when he pulled her closer and his hardness throbbed against her, begging for relief.

Tears rained inside her as a part of her wept for the vain hope of their love. She tried to remind herself of why she must put any thought of Andrés out of her mind; of what she would be letting herself in for if she submitted to the urge threatening to overtake her. But she had no future with Andrés. She loved him more than life itself, every inch of her craved him, but how could she build a future with someone who had betrayed her so profoundly?

Still, she was weak. She had no will when he kissed and stroked her the way he was doing now. Damned either way, she was drowning in the flood of sensations his caresses were creating; the dampness between her thighs and the ache of her flesh told her she was defeated. Her desire for him to take her, fill her, make her his own possessed her to the exclusion of everything else – so what use was fighting?

Would she ever be able to let her hands roam wantonly over another man as they were now doing with Andrés? She could feel him quiver with pleasure under her exploring fingers in the knowledge that she held as much power over him as he did over her. Would she ever again know the erotic excitement of experiencing her love so freely, so sensuously? There were no secrets now, no inhibitions as her mouth moved over his. They were attuned to each other, discovering hidden places that aroused them both to fever
pitch, giving and taking with equal hunger and urgency. There was an almost hopeless desperation in the way she touched his face and curled her fingers tightly in his hair. How she loved the feel of his skin, the smell of him … every part of him.

‘I love you,
quérida
,’ he murmured between drinking in the sweetness of her kisses. ‘We’ll get married, and all this will be behind us for ever.’

She pulled back abruptly, and looked at him in a daze before half-falling off his lap and taking a few steps away. A slight breeze came up from the sea; the atmosphere was warm and scented. Across the garden, beyond the trees and shrubs, the Atlantic glistened. The tall lighthouse of Cádiz harbour vied with the moon and stars in lighting up the night. There was a long line of ships tied together and anchored at the entrance to the port. Tiny launches lit with paper lanterns scuttled over the water, looking like children’s boats. The Puerto de Cádiz was busy tonight.

She felt as if she were being dragged into an abyss, clinging to the edge of bittersweet memories before being swallowed whole.

‘No, Andrés,’ she told him, ‘tonight I will give myself to you for the last time. There’s no future for us, I could never trust you again. I love you but part of me hates you, too. I don’t think I could live with that.’ Her voice was flat, completely devoid of emotion; it was so strangely unfamiliar to her, she did not recognize the sound of it as she spoke, looking straight out to sea. It might tear her apart but this could be her only way of saying goodbye, just one last time.

She heard him catch his breath as if smothering a gasp. Her heart was breaking for him, for her, for their beautiful love that now could never be. Marujita had won; the
gitana
had found her revenge.

There was a hushed silence. ‘Hate is an ugly word,
quérida
,’ Andrés said, slowly and stiffly now. ‘There is nothing more I want, Luz, than to make you mine, now and forever, but if you won’t marry me then I can’t take what is not, and never will be, my right to take.’

She turned back to face him, anger rising swiftly again, spurred on by his rejection. ‘You’ve made love to hundreds of women.
You took me before. Not once, but so many times,’ she jeered. ‘What’s the difference?’

He was standing now, his face distraught. ‘Before I met you my heart was closed, so I didn’t know any different. You opened it up with your innocence, your spontaneity and generosity. When we made love I was confident of your love, I had no reason to believe that one day we would not be together forever. Love doesn’t judge. Love forgives unconditionally. For me now,
quérida
, the act of love is not only a union of two bodies but the communion of two souls. I don’t want your body without your heart.’

A small voice inside pleaded with her to think again before it was too late but the hurt was still too raw and too great for her to listen. In rejecting her, he had just poured oil on the fire that already blazed within her.
Sanctimonious hypocrite
, she thought. His words only served to humiliate her and make her feel cheap. How dare he insinuate that she was wanton and lustful? How dare he turn the tables so as to lay the failure of their relationship at her door!

For a long moment no words came, just the storm fermenting deep inside Luz. Her mind was in a whirl and her heart began to thump in her breast. She had given him all that she had, and he had broken her. Only one need hung in the air now, to the exclusion of all else, and that was for him to disappear from her life. All the smouldering anger blazed up.

‘Get out!
Go
!’ she ordered, as though speaking to the most despicable creature she had ever seen, ‘and I hope I never set eyes on you again!’

Andrés’ green eyes darkened fractionally. He regarded her silently for what seemed an age, tortured pain written on his face, reflecting her own agony inside, and then he went without a word.

Numbly, Luz looked up at the tranquil starlit sky and then at the less tranquil but beautiful sea, shimmering like some live silver sheet under the caressing light of a misty moon. There were the passing ships, with lights twinkling from their mastheads and cabins, moving slowly out to sea, escaping towards new horizons.

The very foundation of her world had been cracked wide open; it lay shattered around her and she had no idea how to mend it. She envied those ships. For her the horizon was all fogged up. What new life could she escape to? How could she trust and love again after Andrés?

She leant against the balustrade, head in her hands. Oh, what had she done? Twisted pride and oversensitivity had wrecked her love, and her life, and now only the relics of joyful bygone days were left for her to dwell on. Tears flooded her. She sobbed for her lost love for she knew that she had truly burnt her bridges now and there was no turning back. Grief and bitter disillusionment, not least in herself, seeped through every pore. Andrés had accepted that she never wanted to see him again. She could not bear the thought that he was forever lost to her. If only she could claw back her words. Her hands clenched hopelessly into fists.

‘Andrés, I love you,’ she cried with all her might into the darkness but he was already too far away to hear.

The following afternoon Alexandra and Salvador sat opposite their daughter in the comfortable living room of L’Estrella, listening intently as Luz told them most of what had happened over the past few days. Her parents had arrived for a flying visit on their way to see some old friends in Cádiz, who had procured a few horses and wanted Salvador’s advice, though Luz realized that their main agenda was to check in to see if she was all right. As soon as she saw them, she knew she would have to tell them the truth, no matter what their reaction. They were expecting to hear why Andrés had stood her up for dinner; they would never in a million years guess the terrible story behind it. Now, Luz sat cross-legged on the high-backed sofa, nervously playing with the cushion in her lap.

It took her a while to unburden herself of the whole chain of events: how Andrés had seemed at his birthday party, his argument with
Adalia, then the sailing trip the following day when he had rescued her from the water. Salvador and Alexandra spoke little throughout, their expressions ranging from curious to concerned. With a faltering voice, Luz told them how Andrés had revealed his double identity as Leandro, the gypsy with whom she had first fallen in love; and then she watched their horrified faces as they heard that he was the son of Eduardo de Salazar and the gypsy Marujita, who had given birth to him in prison and was now dead.

When Luz reached the part about Marujita’s plan of revenge, Alexandra gasped. She clutched Salvador’s hand before rushing over to Luz and taking their daughter into her arms. Salvador cursed under his breath; frowning, he went over to the side cabinet to pour himself a drink.

Alexandra’s instinctive gesture was Luz’s undoing and at this she finally burst into tears. ‘It’s all such a mess. I just don’t know what to do now,’ she sobbed quietly against her mother’s shoulder.

‘My poor
niña
! To think that you went through all this alone,’ said Alexandra softly, as she stroked Luz’s satiny hair soothingly. After a few moments she pulled away slightly and held Luz’s shoulders, looking at her intently.

‘Can you see now why we were so over-protective of you? We always distrusted the gypsies, even though Marujita’s family had left the camp at El Pavón.’ Alexandra paused. It seemed to pain her to use the
gitana
’s name.

‘We never knew where she’d gone after she left prison but we didn’t want what happened with her all those years ago to come back on you somehow.’ Her face contorted with anxiety and regret. ‘And look what happened, even after all our efforts to keep you safe.’

Salvador gazed at his wife and daughter and came over to kiss the top of Luz’s head. His face had been thunderous at the notion that anyone would have tried to threaten his family. Now, more than anything else, there was sadness in his eyes.

‘She can’t hurt you or any of us any more, God rest her troubled soul. There was so much hate in Marujita, even when she was young,’
he said, swallowing a mouthful of manzanilla. He glanced at his wife and a look of understanding passed between them.

‘The man I saw her dance with in Jerez years ago, the one I told you about,
querido
,’ Alexandra said, looking up at her husband, ‘he was an hidalgo, not a gypsy. That must have been Eduardo de Salazar …’ She paused. ‘It was the only time I ever saw real love in her eyes.’

‘I remember,’ he murmured. ‘The moment I first saw him I knew she would be gone. It was the first time I could see a way of untying myself from her. I didn’t know who he was at the time but I hoped she would find happiness with him. Perhaps she did, for a while.’

‘So, Don Andrés was at least the product of true love,’ Alexandra quietly stated.

Salvador sank back down into his chair, seeming to grapple with his thoughts. He then asked Luz: ‘Did he always know he was half-gypsy?’

After wiping her eyes with a tissue, Luz shook her head. ‘Not until he was sixteen. He lived as Eduardo’s nephew, not his son, until Eduardo died.’

She then related what Andrés had told her, about how he had been adopted by his aunt and uncle as their own and had found out the facts of his birth from Eduardo on the artist’s deathbed. Afterwards he had sought out Marujita and it was then that his gypsy roots had taken hold and he began to live a double life.

Salvador raised his eyebrows. ‘It can’t have been easy, finding out you’re not who you think you are. And half-
gitano
, too.’

‘He always seemed like a complicated young man but this is beyond what I ever imagined,’ Alexandra said, gazing at Luz with wide eyes. ‘All those years and no one ever knew. How could he be
her
son?’ she added, as if to herself.

‘I know,
Mamá
. I thought the same.’

Salvador glanced at his watch. ‘Sorry, I ought to call the Belmontes. We’re going to be later than we thought. In fact, perhaps we should postpone until tomorrow and stay with you tonight,
niña
? You’ve been through a lot.’