Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain) (9 page)

BOOK: Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain)
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The lights of the monastery across the dark gorge caught Cayetano’s eye briefly as the pair inched past the window toward her little bed. Her hands held on tightly to his shoulders when he found the zip on the back of her dress.
The intensity heightened when he discovered she wore nothing at all underneath it. That was the moment his nerves set in; she may have been an innocent, but she wanted him. Wanted him because she was in love with him. It was a dream he thought would never come true.

Cayetano’s desire would have overwhelmed Luna if she hadn’t been so ready to receive him. Cayetano had her completely overpowered when they lay on the bed.
She had his body to touch, experience and memorise. She had long imagined it but now it was hers to enjoy, and God, she wasn’t going to waste her chance. She couldn’t believe how every inch of her body quivered when he touched her. She had no hesitation in letting him put his hands all over her, to teach her what it felt like to be enticed and teased by a man. She was breathless when Cayetano finally decided that he could no longer deny himself what he desperately wanted. Luna gasped at the feeling of completeness that she got from Cayetano when he gently claimed her. When he cried out in delight with his deep voice, Luna could no longer fight the intensity that raged through her.

They lay in silence on the single bed, curled up against each other,
and hoped that their hearts would cease their pounding, to no avail. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

Luna nodded without
her eyes leaving his. “Is it always like this?” she asked softly.

“No,” he shook his head. “Never in my life has it been like this. I’m in love with you, and it changes everything.”

A loud bang on the door brutally interrupted the tender moment. “¡Dios mio!” Luna cried. “What if it’s Alejandro?”

“Why would he knock on his own front door?” Cayetano asked, and pulled the blanket up over her. Then he remembered that Alejandro forgot his key all the time. He would stand at his own front door across the street and laugh at his friend
whenever he got locked out. There was no escaping this – the drop from Luna’s window was straight into the gorge. Even the most desperate man wouldn’t jump, but Alejandro’s fist in his mouth would be worth it to stand by her. Luna would be his wife very soon.

“Luna?” they heard a woman’s voice call.

“That’s Scarlett,” Cayetano said and sat up in the bed. “You didn’t lock the door!”

“Luna, are you here? I need you,” they heard her call.

“I… I’m just getting dressed,” Luna called back, and hoped that Scarlett wouldn’t come through to the bedroom. But no such luck. A moment later the door flew open and there stood Scarlett. Even in her green trousers and shirt she still looked like a flame-haired goddess.

Scarlett paused for a moment in the doorway, and took in the sight, and rolled her eyes. “Luna,” she sighed. “I need you.”

“Scarlett,” Cayetano said. “You have blood on your clothes!”

“I know that,” Scarlett said and looked down at the splatters all over her shirt. “It’s Sofía’s.”

“What?” Luna cried while she clutched at the blanket to her naked body. “Where is she?”

“She’s in labour at the hospital. Something is wrong. You need to be there, in case the worst happens.”

“Is the worst about to happen?” Cayetano asked.

“I would be very surprised if she or the baby are still alive when we get there.” Scarlett turned and stepped
out, to let them get dressed.

Cayetano appeared by her side a moment later,
and roughly tucked his shirt into his trousers. “You’re unbelievable,” she hissed at him, and hoped Luna wouldn’t hear. “You can’t just shove girls off to Barcelona to have an abortion anymore, you know that, right?”

“I would never do that,” he replied in a hushed tone. “I offered to take care of you, and…”

The conversation halted when Luna came out of the bedroom, dressed in the simple skirt and blouse she had worn earlier in the day. Scarlett noticed in an instant that she had the Medina diamond on her finger. All the work that they had all done to get that diamond, and he had given it to Luna. “Come on,” she barked at the pair. “Let’s pray your family is still in one piece when we get to the hospital.”

8

Valencia, España ~ septiembre de 2009

 

There went the plan. Not that there was much of a plan at all. Cayetano had paced for days after his fight with his father over Luna and his foolish words. He knew how stupid it sounded – in love with a woman he didn’t know. Lust – yes. Besotted – yes. But love? Love was a word thrown around far too often. It had practically lost its meaning. After all, he had claimed to love his wife, and he didn’t. He couldn’t help it; he felt in love with Luna.

Now he
stood outside Excursíones bicicleta del Turia in Valencia, where Luna had said she worked. He had got out of bed that morning and jumped straight in the car. He didn’t have the courage to ring her again, and now he had just driven for four hours to a city he didn’t know, and found the bike office in the Turia gardens. Office was a stretch of the truth. It was a desk under an umbrella, headed up by a young woman who had zero interest in being there. Cayetano was forced to lay on his charming smile in order to coax information out of the girl, who responded to him immediately. Luna never does the morning shift here, because she takes her boys to school and then goes for a run. Call her, she will be going past here soon. Maybe he should call her.... or maybe he could wait and hope to bump into her. That would make him look like less of a stalker. Maybe.

Cayetano strolled away from the desk, which was surrounded by yellow bicycles that waited for tourists, and took in his surroundings.  Just beyond the shade of the Puente del Reina bridge that took traffic over the park, was a children’s playground, already full of people for the day. Valencia’s park was amazing; he had heard all about it but had never visited. Seven kilometres of riverbed now void of water after it was diverted after the flood of 1957. Now, sunk into the earth, it was a long maze of parks, playgrounds, sports fields, cafés, and even an opera house and science museum that sat at one end, and a zoo at the other. It was marvel. A few metres above him was
the buzz of the city that went past both sides of the Turia riverbed, but the oasis just below the city in the park was silent. No wonder tourists wanted to bike through it every day.

Cayetano turned when he heard a noise behind him. There was a group of cyclists that had stopped not too far from him. These were the serious cyclists, all dressed in their racing gear. Cayetano took a quick look at their bikes, not knowing anything about them. That must have been the type that Luna used to work on. The moment he thought about her, he had to tighten his grip on his cane. Just the thought of passing her in the park made his heart beat a little faster.

“If that lazy-ass Darren wants to come riding, he needs to show up on time,” one of the cyclists moaned.

“Look, here he comes,” said another.

Cayetano turned and looked at the men again. One pointed down the main pathway through the park. He looked through the trees and the locals out strolling, and saw Luna. She ran alongside a man who slowly rode a bike. That must be The Darren. Even from a distance he could see Luna’s smile. She must have been talking about something funny, because this Darren guy seemed to be laughing while he pedaled. Her ponytail of black curls bounced back and forward, and she waved her arms around as she told a story.

“He
took those kids to school this morning,” Cayetano overheard one cyclist say.

“He is a smart man. Pretending to like the kids will get you in the bed of the mother,” one joked.

“Fabrizio hasn’t been dead that long,” another quipped.

“Yeah, but it’s so obvious that
Darren is banging her already. Moved in to help her with the kids? Please. We all know that they’re screwing around.”

Cayetano frowned. What a rude thing to say. He would have loved nothing more than to jam his cane into that guy’s wheel when he went to leave.

“You’re just jealous,” another said.

“You bet I am. All the money she has after Fabrizio died? She is rich, and giving herself away in return for a bit of babysitting. I’m next in line to have a turn at riding her.”

The group laughed as Darren and Luna approached them, the dirty grins on their faces visible from where Cayetano stood. He took a few steps back and was now completely out of sight behind the huge stone bridge pillar. Now he really was a stalker. He watched as Luna spoke to them for a moment, before Darren joined them and the cyclists headed off in the opposite direction. Darren kissed her cheek before he left.

Cayetano paused for a moment,
while Luna fiddled with her phone that she had pulled from her pocket. What the hell was wrong with him? A month ago he had been on top of the world – he was an athlete, a star. A month ago his career was on a high and everyone wanted a piece of him. Now he was reduced to walking on a cane, and too nervous to approach the woman he wanted to see. Seeing Luna with Darren had thrown him – she had said something was going on with him, and the crude comments of the others did nothing to help the situation. Do it!

“Luna?”

Luna turned when she heard her name behind her. “Cayetano!” she exclaimed. “Um… hello. What are you doing in Valencia?”

“Well…. I can’t work, so I took a holiday,” he bluffed. “They say the Valencian beaches are the place to go if you want to avoid the tourists.”

“Yeah, yeah, Valencia isn’t a tourist trap like further down the coast.” Awkward small talk. Great. “Where are you staying?”

Shit.
“Just over there,” he lied and pointed over his shoulder.

“At the Barceló?”

“Yeah.”

“Across the street from my apartment building?”

The stalker rating just went off the chart. “No, I’m lying. I drove here to see you.”

Luna couldn’t help but smile. So much for playing it casual. Just the words were enough to make her want to giggle like a teenager again, and she never did that. “Why didn’t you just call me? I figured that after our
last meeting that you weren’t interested anymore. Today is the twins’ first day back at school after the holidays. You have caught me in my ugly running gear, so you may never want to see me again.”

Cayetano eyed her up and down. Didn’t she know how beautiful she looked? Not just because of her short sh
orts and fitted shirt were skin-tight on her body, but because her cheeks were flushed and rosy, and her wild hair all out of place. She looked fresh, young… the opposite of how he felt on his cane. “You’re so beautiful it hurts.”

“Liar. You’re off your crutches. How are you?”

“Good. The leg feels great. I will make a full recovery. This cane? Barely need it.”

“Right.” She knew what men were like with injuries. “If you didn’t know where I lived, how
did you plan on finding me?”

“I knew where you worked. Maybe you could show me the Turia on a bike.”

“I don’t think you’re ready for the bike, Cayetano. But you know that. Besides, I’m not working today.”

“Maybe there is something else we could do on a date?”

“Are you asking me out?” Luna watched him fidget with his cane. He was a different man since he sustained his injury. It had knocked the confidence out of him. “I might go out with you again if you bring the cane.”

“You like the cane, do you?” he teased, and he watched her snigger. “Can I ask you something,
Señorita Tour Guide?”

“Sure.”

“Over here,” he said and edged back in the direction of the 200 year-old stone pillar of the bridge. “I saw something in here,” he said and pointed around the side of its thick form. “There are little holes in the stones…”

“Oh, yes…” Luna said and followed him. “That was for when…”

Luna was cut off when Cayetano dropped his cane and pulled her into him. He pressed her between him and the stone wall, and said, “we need an icebreaker.” She looked at him, his eyes were dark and potent with the desire he had, complete with those trademark green flecks. He wound his arms around her to hold her close, and thrust his lips on her. He tore her mouth open with his tongue and dived deep into her.

The profound spike of want and yearning grew in Cayetano when her body fell into his embrace. Luna practically folded into him, and completely yielded to him, but she wasn’t weak to him. She was strong, powerful, as set alight like him. Her hot tongue flicked in his mouth, searching for a release from the wanting that matched his own.

Luna struggled to catch her breath as Cayetano’s scorching lips trailed down her neck. He had his legs either side of her, which held her tight in position against the wall, and she giggled at his touch. They were getting too heated for being in public, but she wasn’t sure if she cared.

“Cayetano…”

“What?” he muttered, and brought his darkened eyes up to hers.

“I have lived across the street from the Turia for years, so I’m aware of how much ‘public affection’ goes on in Spain. But you really need to slow down. We are not 16.”

“No one will ever know,” he whispered. “This is Spain, you don’t have to be 16 to come to the park to…”

“Break the ice?”

“Exactly.”

“Do you smuggle women into secluded parks for a kiss often, do you?” she asked, and he let her go, and they straightened themselves up again. She bent over and picked up his cane and brushed the yellow Valencian dust from its black paint.

“When I was growing up, I lived with my parents, and my sister, and my grandparents, all in our three bedroom apartment. Privacy was easier in public than it was at home.”

They left the private little spot and headed back out onto the main path through the park. She ran her hands through her long black ponytail that started high on her head, and said, “I see couples out here all the time, and they are not always teenagers. I think the close family ties that Spanish families have interrupt romance for couples of all ages. More babies would have been conceived in this park than in homes all over this city.”

Cayetano laughed as the two walked along the cobbles, and they stepped out of the shade of the bridge and into the bright Valencian sunshine. Despite only being a few hundred miles from Madrid, the city was totally different. The energy of this city was more relaxed than back home. “I would love to say I took lots of girls for ‘a walk’ in El Retiro, but my parents didn’t let me out very often. I was already in training with the bulls in my teens.”

“Wow, they pushed you hard.”

“Sí, but I wouldn’t have all I do if they didn’t.”

“You do want it, right? I mean, you don’t just do it because they want
you to be a torero?”


It’s me who wants to do it, I suppose. It’s an adrenalin rush. My family’s reputation is built on it, I have to do it. It’s also centuries of tradition, and I’m the one who upholds it for my country. It’s an art, not a sport. What I do is a precise and dangerous performance. It’s not the bloodletting horror people think it is. The bull will die by my hand, but it dies an honourable death.”

“I agree.”

“¿Sí?”

“Yes. I like bullfighting, I just don’t know too much about it. I’m not one of those women who fight to have it stopped. No way.
But there are many people who are very critical of bullfighting.”

“Trust me, I hear it all. People have told me that I must be sick to want to kill animals. Or that I’m compensating for my lack of masculinity. Or that I call bullfighting an art because I’m not smart enough to understand ‘true’ art forms.”

“Ouch! I read that the financial crisis is harming bullfights. If cities and towns can’t afford to run the events, the art will die a slow death, especially with it banned on live television at the moment. It’s commercial value has diminished.”

“My career hasn’t suffered but other people have lost their jobs. The
anti-taurinos consider all these types of losses a victory. Job losses aren’t a victory for anyone. But the anti-taurinos don’t protest that often, and I don’t care what they think.”


I can think of many things I would protest to have removed from today’s society before bullfighting.”

Cayetano grinned and watched her walk beside him. She had a spring in her step. Her words were full of enthusiasm, no matter what they were talking about. She made him feel old. “Most women hate it.”

“That must make it hard to get a date. Other than having a wife, that can’t help either.”

“Ouch. The lady bites.”

“Yes she does.”

“I thought I made my position with María clear the other day.”

“You did, you did,” she dismissed his worried tone. “I’m teasing.”

“I don’t want to have to smack you with my cane.”

“Come on then,” she said. She jumped in front of him and bounced up and down in her expensive running shoes. “Give it a shot.”

Cayetano reached out to tap her thigh with the rubber end of the cane, but she jumped back out of the way. “Going to have to do better than that,” she goaded him.

Cayetano tried to poke her with the cane again, without any attention to where he walked. He tripped in a crack on the cobbles and stumbled forward. Luna grabbed him, but her small frame was barely able to hold his muscular frame. They stood pressed hard against each other for a moment. “This is the best date ever,” he said.

BOOK: Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain)
13.16Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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