Masquerade (31 page)

‘May I have your permission to ask Doña Luz for a dance?’ Andrés enquired courteously. ‘Though I don’t pretend to be as good a dancer as she is, I have the temerity to think that I can hold my own on the dancefloor.’ He turned his head a little to look at Luz intently.

‘Permission granted but you will have to ask her personally.’ Salvador gave his daughter a knowing look, amusement twitching at his mouth. ‘Nowadays I hear fathers don’t have the right to speak for their daughters, more’s the pity,’ he declared. Both men laughed heartily. Ignoring her father’s quip, Luz stared at Andrés, fighting off a frown.

Alexandra’s green gaze moved swiftly between Luz and Andrés. ‘Thank goodness those days are gone! You certainly should ask my daughter yourself, and quickly by the looks of it before she decides to refuse you,’ she laughed. To Luz’s relief, both her parents turned their attention to their guests, whether by design out of consideration for her feelings, she didn’t know. It was easier facing Andrés alone.

He grinned. ‘Doña Luz, will you allow me the honour of this dance?’ There was a note of challenge in his voice as he moved towards her and held out his hand, giving her no time to think up an excuse to refuse him.

Now that he was so close to her again, Luz’s cloak of near-indifference fell away. The power that only Andrés possessed, to make her feel angry, confused and excited all at the same time, triumphed more strongly than ever. Their eyes locked: his were sparkling with mischief, hers were glowing with barely controlled turmoil.

‘Andrés,
mi querido,
there you are!’ The voice of Adalia suddenly broke the spell as she appeared from the crowd. Her eyes flicked uneasily from one to the other, a tight smile plastered to her face. ‘I’ve been trying to get you to dance with me all evening and now I see you’re otherwise engaged.’ She fixed her pale, piercing eyes on Luz, who stared unflinchingly back. If Adalia had decided she was going to make her feel small, she was very much mistaken, Luz thought.

‘Yes, Doña Luz has just promised me this dance,’ Andrés explained, giving Adalia a cool smile.

‘On the contrary, I had not yet agreed to dance, Señor de Calderón,’ Luz told him pointedly. ‘How very remiss of you to neglect Doña Adalia.’ She turned to the socialite. ‘Do please be my guest, I’ve danced enough this evening anyway.’

Adalia’s smile slid into self-satisfaction as she said coolly: ‘Yes, Doña Luz, you must be exhausted after your impressive performance with Don Romero earlier.’

At this remark Luz quickly glanced up at Andrés but his expression was impassive as he met her eyes. But he wasn’t about to give up so easily.

‘Doña Luz, I think your father would think it rather rude of me to abandon you at this point, having taken the trouble to ask you to dance,’ he said, before shifting his attention to Adalia. ‘Besides, I believe one of your admirers looks quite determined to claim you, Adalia.’

He nodded past her shoulder at the enthusiastic-looking young man currently making a beeline for them.

Adalia looked behind her and, before she had time to protest, Andrés pressed his hand into the small of Luz’s back and gently, but resolutely, propelled her away through the crowd. Luz shivered at his touch and realized any objection was now fruitless. Sliding an arm round her, Andrés led her to the dancefloor just as the lights were dimming and the orchestra was engaging in a haunting, slow melody. The soft crooning song struck a chord with the lonely ache in her heart. She couldn’t help but think of Leandro and she missed him. Even though their love was doomed, in many ways the gypsy had made her more sure of herself than she could ever imagine being with the man who had just guided her lightly through the crowd. Andrés moved his palm subtly over her satiny skin, his touch firm and warm on her bare back, searing into her and making her tremble slightly. She tensed, recognizing the familiar, instinctive stir in her body as she responded to his proximity.

They moved into the seething mass on the dancefloor and he took her in his arms, holding her tight, so she was aware of the thundering beat of his heart against her breast. His thigh brushed against hers. The surge of arousal that ran through them both as their bodies met was like an electric shock. Her nipples stiffened; a rush of blood went to her head. She didn’t want to feel this way but her will had been sapped. The music was plaintive, tearing at her, and she closed her eyes, shutting out all sight and sound from her world. Once again she was in Leandro’s arms, drifting in a sweet semi-conscious state, at one with him. She relaxed, melting, as undeniable warmth flooded her loins. Sensitive to her need, Andrés drew her ever closer into his embrace, clasping her to him, feverish and possessive. A yearning sensation filled her but she was not sure where it came from now; she only knew that she was surrendering to it, and to the man holding her in his arms. He had the most sensual touch and she savoured it with wanton abandonment. His jaw was brushing against her temple and she could just make out the spicy aroma of his aftershave mingling with the familiar scent of him. It felt good; it felt right. Time stood still. Above them the stars twinkled like diamonds and the moon was warm and glowing. She wanted this moment never to end.

All of a sudden the psychedelic lights were turned back on, startling her out of her fantasy world, and the orchestra engaged in a lively twist-and-shake number reminiscent of the sixties. Reluctantly she drew away from him, a little dazed. Andrés walked her to her table, his hand still on the small of her back.

‘It has been a pleasure dancing with you,’ he whispered, his jet gaze settling intently on her face as they reached Luz’s seat.

His caressing voice came to her through the mist that still clouded her brain. Moving his palm from her back, he took her hand in his. ‘I’ve been meaning to call you to discuss our project further. Maybe we can meet sometime during the week.’ She felt his fingers tighten their grip.

As he broke into her thoughts it was like an awakening call. She blinked and returned to the present. Her stare fixed on his face.
Amusement danced in the black eyes and she knew beyond a doubt that he was all too aware of the emotions he had elicited in her, but she was beyond caring. Something undeniable had taken hold of Luz, intoxicating her with its heady essence. She nodded and gave him a brief smile. He leaned towards her and though she knew this was neither the time nor the place, she yearned for him to kiss her, every part of her eagerly expectant.

‘I’ll call you in the morning,’ he said. Behind those words lay an emphasized intensity and the tender look in his eyes told her all she needed to know. Thereupon he bade her goodnight, took his leave of Salvador, Alexandra and their guests and walked back to his table.

Half an hour later, she and her parents were being chauffeured back to L’Estrella in Salvador’s vintage Hispano-Suiza and Luz had fallen into silence. She watched her mother doze, her head leaning comfortably on her father’s shoulder, and was relieved to be left to her own thoughts. Salvador had made a few comments on the way back from the Yacht Club and she was well aware that he had noticed Romero’s fervent interest in her – not to mention the young architect’s obvious disappointment at her departure – as well as noting Andrés’ more discreet attentions. Naturally she had pooh-poohed it all when he had teased her about it, but it was obvious that both Salvador and Alexandra had been watching her all evening, weighing up the prospective suitors. Eventually, they had given up their probing, though Luz knew that she had only been let off temporarily.

That night marked the first tremors of a turning point for Luz. She was filled with an intense euphoria, coupled with a vague sense of guilt. She could not deny that while in Andrés’ arms her imagination had run wild; it had been so easy to pretend that the man holding her in his embrace was Leandro. Still, tonight, just like the night at La Fortaleza in Pamplona, the magnetism between Andrés and herself had been unmistakable. Her feelings for this man had crept up on her stealthily like a predator and their very nature was alien and fascinating to her: dark, intimidating, dangerously thrilling. Something had stirred in her tonight, a tingling awareness that
played with her mercilessly. Was this mere sexual excitement? Luz wasn’t experienced enough in matters of the heart to know but she had no doubt the ardent fire that now devoured her equalled his. The kindling had been there from the first moment they had laid eyes on each other, just waiting to be ignited. She knew that she was on perilous ground, yet the idea of not pursuing this reckless feeling, of not seeing Andrés again, was even more disturbing to contemplate.

Perhaps it was not so odd that she should be attracted to both the hidalgo and the gypsy. Despite their different circumstances and upbringing, there were qualities they shared: in their own ways both men were charming, arrogant and manipulative; each with a force of personality impossible to ignore. If Andrés had been the one she had met first, how could she be so sure that it wouldn’t have been to him that she would have lost her heart?

Nevertheless, she felt a poignant stab of disloyalty towards Leandro as she mulled these thoughts over in her mind. True, the gypsy had rejected her but she had no doubt he loved her profoundly. Had her body’s response to Andrés this evening meant that she had given her love for Leandro its final farewell?

Surely Andrés’ attraction to her was purely erotic, fulfilling a carnal need? After all, if she were to believe Lorenzo, her employer was engaged to be married to Adalia, though they had not exactly behaved as a couple tonight, that was for sure. Nonetheless, Luz was well aware of the Spanish traditions that ruled the women in her country. Men often had dalliances before they committed to marriage; it was widely accepted. Spanish society also demanded that a woman be a virgin on her wedding night. This truth had never really occurred to her until now and its acknowledgement came as a shock, prompting tears to her eyes. She flinched away from the thought: it hurt too much. It meant that somehow she was just as taboo to Andrés as she was to Leandro. Andrés could never commit to Luz in any serious way now, even if she wanted him to. This was not England. Her brief idyll with the gypsy was an unforgiveable indiscretion. She had broken a vital social code of conduct. Even in this day and age, it would be
a very broad-minded and self-assured Spaniard who could happily do away with what her countrymen called
la honra.
Andrés may have a tremendous ego but, going by what she knew of him, she very much doubted he was free of prejudice.

Soon they were back at L’Estrella and after Luz had said goodnight to her parents she undressed slowly in her room, her mind and emotions still circling in agonizing loops that made her toss and turn on her pillow.

When she eventually got to sleep, she dreamt of Leandro; a lively, tangible, erotic dream. They were lying naked on the silvery sands, bathed in moonlight, soothed by the lulling break of small waves on the beach. He was on his side, his head leaning on one hand propped up by his elbow, while the long tanned fingers of the other drew slow, sensuous circles over the quivering skin of her stomach, inviting her desire with every stroke. His hypnotic green irises never left hers, revelling in the intimate plea that he read in her eyes. Though savouring his caresses, her hungry body demanded more and more. She passed her tongue over her dry lips, her back arched and her thighs parted as she motioned how he could please her most. She closed her eyes now. Still his caresses were butterfly-like as he traced the feminine contours of her body, roaming lower and lower until his hand brushed between her thighs, gingerly exploring, tantalizing and tormenting to heighten the final thrill.

She wanted to feel him, touch him, gratify him with a little of the pleasure that he was so generously lavishing on her. Clasping the thick silk of his hair in her fingers, she opened her eyes. A midnight gaze now held hers, burning with desire that would not let her go. She didn’t care and gave herself completely to him. And as the excitement built inside her, the stimulation of his fingers grew stronger and suddenly exploded into flames that leapt through her body like quicksilver, licking her secret parts with overwhelming incandescent sensations.

She cried out so loudly that she woke with a jolt, finding herself moving, rocking to and fro and shuddering uncontrollably under the
effect of her explosive climax. Then, as she gradually came back down to earth and realized that it had all been a dream, she remembered that it had been Andrés’ face she had seen at the end. Leandro would never be hers and Andrés was a tormenting phantom that would never let her rest. She sobbed bitterly, tears of self-pity flooding the pillow in which she had buried her face, her nails clawing desperately, disconsolately, at the soft mattress.

She slept until late. When she got up, she was thankful to learn from Carmela that her parents had already returned to El Pavón. She had no desire to be submitted to their eager interrogation once more.

With the new day the effects of the dream had evaporated slightly, though she remained disturbed and in a state of confusion. She had to get used to the fact that there was no future for her with the gypsy. Never would she find peace unless she got over him. The resolution made her feel better. It stifled the ache in her heart that gripped whenever Leandro invaded her mind. But still, too often, thoughts of Andrés haunted her.

Romero had already rung, Carmela had told her, her eyes gleaming with all sorts of innuendoes which, to the housekeeper’s disappointment, Luz immediately quashed. Still, Carmela would not be fobbed off so easily. Was he the
valeroso caballero
, the gallant gentleman who had sent her the red roses and from whom she had received a letter not so long ago? He seemed very nice,
y tan cortés
, so courteous and eager over the telephone. His name was well known in Andalucía, as was his gallery. Many
señoritas
must be after him. He was a
muy buen partido
, a very good match. Luz agreed that he was probably all that but she was not interested and Carmela should put the story and her hopes to bed.