Masquerade (18 page)

She had slipped on a black silk-chiffon dress with ruched shoulder straps and a figure-hugging bodice flaring into a delicately draped skirt, and wore towering heels. A ridged cuff in 22-carat gold adorned her wrist, while oversized but dainty gold hoops hung from her earlobes. She debated whether or not to put her hair up and finally opted for a straightforward ponytail. Her make-up was minimal: a hint of eye shadow, a stroke of mascara and a tinge of tinted gloss applied to her cheekbones and lips. The copper tan she had acquired on the beach deepened the blue of her eyes, making them look wider and more vivid. She satisfied herself that she had achieved a glamorous look, without being overdone, but wished it was Leandro she was meeting instead of Andrés.

Luz drove her Volkswagen cabriolet up through the hills of Cádiz, following the directions she’d been given, and passed a final screen of cypress trees artfully concealing the house and the sea behind, like curtains on a stage. The first sight she had of Puesta de Sol was breathtaking. She arrived at the hacienda just as the sun was sinking behind the horizon. Its last flamboyant pink-and-orange flush still lingered overhead, making the Atlantic Ocean that unfolded before her seem on fire. It was such a sight that she stopped the car abruptly and watched as a flying boat taxied across the water, flurrying the golden path of the sun. In the twilight the luxurious villa appeared as a mosaic of smoky green and toasted bronze, white and terracotta,
scalloped by low mellow stone walls and delineated by a mass of turrets, columns and sloping roofs.

Puesta de Sol – Sunset – was a most appropriate name for the place, she thought as she drove up to the house.

She leaned forward and switched off the ignition. Before she had time to move, he was at her side, gallantly helping her out of the car. A half smile touched the corner of his mouth.

‘Welcome to Puesta de Sol, Doña Luz,’ he said softly. ‘You look dazzling.’

‘Señor de Calderón.’ She nodded politely at Andrés as she stepped from the car. His gaze was warm and, as his eyes met hers, Luz looked swiftly away. She was still not accustomed to his uncanny resemblance to Leandro but more than that: she had forgotten how potent his presence was.

She scanned the view. The driveway was flanked by elaborate gardens whose fantastic colours complemented the bizarre fairy-tale nature of the hacienda itself. ‘A magnificent setting you’ve got here,’ she said, wishing she had found more original words to describe the awe-inspiring surroundings.

Andrés gave an easy smile, deepening the faint lines that fanned out at the side of his eyes. ‘Unfortunately, I can take no credit for it. Puesta de Sol is the creation of my Uncle Eduardo, a very spirited and whimsical man, as you know. This is the translation of his empathy with the dramatic into visual terms – I’m just the very lucky man to whom he chose to give it.’

‘Yes, I can see, it’s a marvellous present,’ she agreed, letting her gaze wander across the rippling waters to the now darkening horizon so that she didn’t have to look at him. Handsome as the Devil in his white dinner jacket and dark trousers, his ensemble brought out the bronze shade of his skin, which glowed with health and vitality. His glossy chestnut hair was swept back from a high forehead. Though his gleaming dark eyes didn’t sparkle with the same life as the gypsy’s, they were just as compelling in a calm, enigmatic way and she felt their power already threatening her control over the evening.

He took her elbow briefly, making her nerve endings quiver, and proceeded to guide her through the poetic garden. They passed graceful playing fountains and patios of mild stone, hedges sculpted into tall, moving figures and green leaves wrapped around exotic flowers, which bloomed elaborately inside.

‘I’m pleased that you could come here for dinner tonight. I thought it would help you properly understand the breadth of spirit in my uncle’s work.’

‘Of course,’ Luz agreed quickly.

He paused and she caught his glittering dark stare before he carried on, his tone cool and his manner easy. ‘Eduardo began training his eye when he was very young. My grandparents were keen art collectors and they took him and his sister, my mother, around with them to exhibitions and museums. Of course, after he left the School of Fine Arts in Barcelona he went on to study architecture. As you know, he built and landscaped many important haciendas and gardens in Andalucía.’ He gestured towards the garden. ‘He sketched the idea for this landscaped garden while in Paris.’

She nodded and smiled. ‘Yes, the more I discover about him, the more I realize how great he was.’

Luz was annoyed with herself that she felt a small pang of disappointment on finding that Andrés’ invitation to dinner seemed prompted by business after all and not because he actually wanted her company. In fact, why should she have thought otherwise? His first request for dinner had been refused and now he had clearly chosen to put the two of them on a different footing. As a rebuke this was a kind one and probably sensible, too. She had hated his game-playing after all.

His deep, warm voice startled her from her internal battle of self-reproach.

‘Did you know that Eduardo often used napkins to sketch his visions on?’

She nodded as they made their way along a path, momentarily distracted by a statue of a Minotaur roaring silently to the heavens.
‘Yes, I’ve read about that. He spent so much time frequenting the Café de Flore, the famous haunt of Surrealists of the day, he often resorted to grabbing napkins to draw on. Unfortunately, hardly any of those sketches survive.’

‘Absolutely right – except for the one of this garden, which is preserved in the house.’

Luz looked up at him and nearly gasped. ‘Really?’ This was an intriguing revelation. She touched a fragrant cluster of yellow jasmine overhanging the path, wondering how these extraordinary surroundings looked originally when they were nothing more than a set of scribbles. ‘Can I see it?’

‘Yes, you must,’ Andrés answered mildly, glancing sideways at her, ‘but you need to see everything in its full glory first. I’m afraid you won’t be able to see much tonight, it’s already getting dark. The place comes to life in the sunshine,’ he continued, as his shapely lips curved into a wide smile, showing perfect white teeth. ‘We will have to make a lunch appointment next time, or maybe a breakfast one? The garden at dawn is at its most spectacular.’ He was beaming down at her with the sort of contrived innocence she was sure he had certainly never known. That mouth of his was so familiar, so dangerous.

Luz managed a stilted smile. ‘Of course, whatever it takes,’ she said, realizing too late how he would interpret those words and wanting to eat them as soon as they were out of her mouth.

Predictably, his eyebrows shot up; soft irony twisted his mouth as wicked midnight eyes fixed on hers. Luz looked away, feeling his continued amusement as if he were scanning her thoughts.

‘I saw you at the ball,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘You looked ravishing, a real, mysterious Princess of the East.’

Now it was her turn to lift a quizzical brow. ‘So you recognized me?’

‘Immediately.’

Luz felt her cheeks burn. She had missed neither the challenge in his voice nor the sardonic glint in the look he gave her. This was tantamount to admitting he had consciously avoided her company.

‘Is that why you spent most of the evening running away from me? After all, I was your hostess …’ she parried, deliberately insinuating his conduct had been rude. She knew she sounded nettled but she had ceased to worry what the high-and-mighty Andrés de Calderón thought of her, she told herself.

‘So you thought I was running away?’

‘You never made yourself known to me.’

‘And that upset you, did it?’ His face was deadpan, though his mouth held the ghost of a smile.

He was laughing at her, she decided, and her face began to heat. His arrogant and patronizing manner was intolerable. In his suave way he seemed to want to humiliate her again. It was incomprehensible. If he was still annoyed at her omitting to mention her first job on her CV, why had he gone ahead and offered her the assignment? How he expected them to work together in this sort of atmosphere defied logic. She had tried to ignore it before, but she had never been a doormat and he was not about to turn her into one. She was very tempted to tell him to take his biography to the Devil, but the words ‘act in haste, repent at leisure’ rang in her head so she bit her tongue. Still, she would find a way of showing him she was a match for him any day.

‘It’s not the way one’s guests normally behave on such occasions …’ Gritting her teeth, she kept walking.

He looked at her and came to a sudden standstill, his hand resting on her arm. A half-moon had risen in the smooth, cerulean sky. Luz was conscious of his nearness and masculinity as they stood facing each other in silence. Very gently he lifted her chin and met her stormy gaze.

‘I had no idea you would be offended by my behaviour,’ he murmured, his velvet-black eyes gently stroking. ‘I simply didn’t want to bother you. As you had turned down my dinner invitation without giving a reason, I thought it would be thick-skinned of me to force myself on you.’ He dropped his hand. ‘I was your guest, as you say, which would have made it difficult for you to refuse
me a dance. I made sure my own costume left no doubt as to my identity, giving you the choice to speak to me or not.’ His stare was unwavering, his tone almost humble. ‘And that, Luz, is the honest truth.’

No words came to her in reply. At that point she was struck by the sheer force of Andrés’ personality and lamented her inexperience of men and their games. This man had a way of making her lose her usual self-assurance and feel disorientated and emotional. She knew that he had enjoyed toying with her at the ball, as if he couldn’t help himself, but there was something else in his eyes now: a warring of pride, caution and something so intense that it made her stare back at him. Luz could see he was fighting to control the emotions that she seemed to inspire and she abruptly lost her breath.

His gaze bored into her. In that moment his features blurred and fused in her mind with those of Leandro so, when his head bent down towards her and his mouth brushed hers with infinite tenderness, soft, warm and eloquent, her eyes closed and her lips parted to receive the kiss. He smelled clean, fresh, with a hint of tantalizing aftershave. Her heart pounded and she didn’t know what to do with her hands, still lying limply by her side. The world began to tilt and left her sliding away into the whisper of that kiss. Yet beneath the silky intensity of it she sensed a sort of thorniness to him, something she could not put her arms around but at the same time was begging her to try. She found herself wanting to, but then it was too late.

‘And now, shall we have dinner?’ he murmured softly against her lips, lifting his head away. For a second he stared at her again before recovering himself and gracing her with his devilish smile.

Slightly taken aback by this abrupt change in mood, but nonetheless relieved that he had not taken the interlude further, Luz acquiesced, a little shaken. The taste of his mouth was still on hers and she realized that some shocking, unknown part of her had urged not to break away.

They dined in secluded privacy on a small terrace at the bottom of the garden that jutted out, suspended like a ship’s prow above the
ocean. Below, where miles of white sand skirted the bay, a series of rocks and creeks with deep pools of blue water shielded a private beach. Shallow flights of steps led down to it from the terrace and the rhythmic drum and sigh of the sea sounded through the night air.

The moon and the stars, pendant in a sapphire sky, watched over them as they worked their way through a three-course dinner of caviar,
filets mignons
with mustard-and-port sauce and a sumptuous cold chocolate soufflé. They talked in detail about the plan for Eduardo’s biography, fleshing out subjects for every chapter, each of them getting caught up in different ideas but agreeing on most things, which surprised Luz. All the while, she felt his ebony eyes on her, attentive, appraising, often inscrutable. On occasion, she found herself ensnared in their dark mystery, so much so that she found it hard to concentrate on the thread of the conversation.

Around the terrace were long stone troughs filled with water, the sides of which held reliefs of winged water creatures – nymphs, perhaps. Exquisite white lotus flowers floated on the surface and Luz immediately thought back to her favourite Eduardo painting,
The Immortality of the Crab
, with its giant lotus petals holding other worlds within them. She had noticed the flowers as soon as they had taken their seats and being surrounded by them as they discussed Eduardo’s work gave her a curious feeling, as if her secret longings were being whispered to her in this magical place.

‘You like lotus flowers?’ Andrés cocked his head to one side, watching her.

‘Lotus flowers? Oh, yes. Yes, I do.’

‘I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been looking at them all evening. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?’

‘Stunning, and so captivating displayed like this. Eduardo certainly seemed to have a penchant for them.’

‘Birth and rebirth, fertility and creation, all themes that fascinated my uncle. The long stems symbolize our connection to our origins.’

Luz stared at them again. ‘Of course, I hadn’t thought of that. How funny.’

‘Funny?’ He raised an eyebrow.

‘Oh … just that I had forgotten that.’ Luz glanced at him, noticing his finger was touching his perfectly sculpted lips again. It was a habit he had when something bemused him, she noticed, and she found it as distracting as ever.

Andrés pulled a bowl of fruit across the table between them. It was piled with figs, grapes and pears. ‘Eduardo often worked these into his images, too. It’s that Renaissance symbolism you so rightly pointed out. May I?’ He offered her a plate.

‘Yes, please do. I love fruit,’ she answered graciously, though her antennae were already switched on. She knew full well their symbolism.

‘Figs for loss of innocence.’ He placed one on his plate and reached for the grapes. ‘Lustful thoughts.’ His gaze settled on her face as he pulled off a bunch. ‘And pears for faithfulness.’