Under the Spanish Stars (27 page)

Mateo's lips grazed hers as his fingers lightly travelled up her leg, across her belly and towards her breasts.

Leaving a trail of kisses on her neck, he whispered, ‘Maybe I should stop thinking too much.'

Breath caught in her throat. ‘Yeah, maybe you should.'

* * *

Charlotte pried open her eyes as the orange and yellow from the rising sun filled the hotel room. Slowly removing Mateo's arm, which lay protectively across her body, she got out of bed, grabbed some clothes and padded to the bathroom. Turning on the taps she ran just enough water to fill the basin and gave her body a quick wash with a cloth. She donned jeans and a T-shirt, peeked her head around the door and observed Mateo sleeping peacefully, the sheet draped tantalisingly across his stomach, just low enough for her to eye off those damn gorgeous hipbones that she wanted to—

Gah! Stop the torture!

Saying goodbye to Mateo felt wrong but what choice did she have?

Moving over to the window, Charlotte picked up the painting she'd attempted only days before. The light from the early morning fell across the canvas, accentuating the bold colours of the brushstrokes and, as she looked more intensely at her work, she felt an overwhelming connection.

‘You are awake early. Come back to bed.' Mateo leant on one elbow and the sheet fell south. Maybe just one more time they could—

‘Charlotte?'

‘Hmmm?'

‘What is happening in your head?'

‘You don't want to know.' She sat on the edge of the bed, ensuring there was some distance between her and Mateo.

‘I think I do.' He reached over and ran a finger up her arm.

‘Mateo …'

‘You did not mind last night.'

‘And I would not mind this morning, either, but we have to be realistic. My flight leaves in a few hours and—'

‘I understand.' He stood and let the sheet drop on the floor before gathering his clothes and entering the bathroom, clicking the door shut. A moment later water ran in the shower.

She suspected he didn't understand at all.

Trying to keep busy rather than let her mind get the better of her, Charlotte gathered her clothes and assorted notebooks and pens and stuffed them in her suitcase. She turned to stare at her half-done painting and the oils beside it, not sure what to do with them. Leave them? Take them? What to do, what to do? Placing her hands on her hips she narrowed her eyes at the representation of a life she could have—a life full of art and creativity, of tapping into one's soul, one's joy. Something shifted inside her and the room turned in a long, slow spin, her balance faltering ever so slightly.

‘You are deep in the thoughts again, I see.' She turned to find a fully clothed Mateo, his dark hair slicked back and his exposed skin smooth and shiny. Why, oh why had she said no to one more round of sexual hijinks?

‘Listen, Mateo, about before—'

‘You were right not to come back to bed. I appreciate the time we have had but I understand your need to return home. It is a shame, but what can I do?'

She dropped her hands by her side and looked at her freshly painted hot pink toenails. How the hell could she say goodbye to him?

‘You helped me realise it is possible to care deeply for someone again.' Mateo gently rubbed his thumb against her cheek. ‘We had potential.'

Of course they did. Still did. But how? She lived so damn far away. Then again life rarely offers chances at love and for some, that opportunity never arises. Yet here she stood, preparing herself to walk away from a man she could happily give her heart to. For someone so averse to risk, she was about to take the biggest risk of all.

1944—Katarina

The audience leapt to their feet in the Teatro del Arte, some wiping away tears between clapping and shouting appreciation. Once again, the
tientos
proved the most popular
palo
of the set and Katarina wondered if her carefully choreographed moves with the codes mixed with her emotions gave more depth. For months now, Katarina had been dancing code and the stress had started to wear her down but she pushed on regardless, praying all this risk and hard work would pay off.

Taking one last bow, she left the stage with her tight-knit group as Federico waited in the wings, wearing the same frown he'd sported for months.

‘I'll be back in a moment.' Salvador took off in the direction of the bathroom.

‘Tonight was perfection.' Raul's eyes shone with enthusiasm.

‘It's not
duende
, though.' Katarina tried to keep disappointment out of her tone but failed.

‘Stop the expectations, then it will happen.' He squeezed her shoulder.

‘How?' She rested a clenched fist on her hip. ‘I'm too busy concentrating on what I
have
to do, not what my body wants me to do.'

‘Shh.' Raul stepped in front of her. ‘Careful.'

‘I'm tired, okay? We've been doing this for months and nothing's happened.'

‘It could take a while before we see results. Just keep doing what you are now. Word has gotten back that they are very happy with your work.'

Katarina stared at the empty stage, craning her neck as she watched the audience members slowly exit, fuelled with excitement from an evening at
the theatre. They had no idea that right in front of their eyes, codes to help a war against Franco were being distributed.

‘Before I forget, another letter arrived for you today.' Raul fished in his jacket pocket and handed over the missive from the fictional flamenco teacher in France.

‘So soon?' She opened it then spotted Federico striding towards them, hands clasped behind his back. Quickly folding the paper, she shoved it down the front of her blouse.

‘You had a decent performance this evening,' he said.

‘Thank you.' Katarina studied Federico, the familiar air of surliness hanging around him.

‘I've been watching you.' Federico's words sounded calculated and she didn't dare glance at Raul, scared an action such as this might draw more attention.

Her heart raced and she lifted her chin higher. ‘And?'

‘And there's something different about your dancing. I noticed the change a while ago, but thought I was imagining it but tonight cemented my musings. There's something … deeper with your work. Like you are more connected than ever.'

Katarina's mouth grew dry and her mind whirred, trying to come up with a feasible explanation. ‘Since starting with your company, I feel like I've found my home. I—'

Federico waved his hand in a dismissive manner. ‘It is not this. It is …' He narrowed his eyes. ‘I am not sure but whatever you are doing, keep it up. I like it. The audience likes it. My reputation likes it. The Lobos' banker likes it even more.'

He turned on his heels and strode into the shadows. As much as she wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, she kept herself poised, aware Federico could now be studying her from a dark corner of the theatre.

‘Let's go.' Raul grabbed her elbow and guided Katarina to the dressing room. He pushed open the door and they quickly entered, closing it behind them.

Panic grew in her belly. ‘What if he's on to us?'

Raul shook his head vehemently. ‘He can't be. Didn't you hear what he said? He
likes
the changes in your dancing. If he suspected anything then you would know about it. I would know about it. Listen, we don't need to worry about him. There're other things I'd rather discuss.'

Raul moved in close, his warm breath dancing across her neck. His lips met her skin and a rush of love ran through her.

‘Raul …'

‘I've missed you.'

She closed her eyes, revelling in his affection, basking in his nearness. They'd made love only hours before their performance but for Katarina that was too long ago. She needed him, wanted him—now.

Katarina's fingers deftly undid the buttons of his shirt as Raul slid the blouse off her shoulders. With locked lips, their hands made light work of each other's clothing, their breath coming out in short, sharp bursts.

A knock on the door made them freeze.

‘Katarina, are you in there?'

Raul's eyes widened and Katarina slapped a hand over her mouth at the sound of Salvador's voice. Motioning for Raul to get dressed as she did the same, Katarina called out, ‘I'll just be a moment.'

With them both in a respectable state again, Katarina pointed at the chair and Raul dutifully followed her instructions and took a seat. Turning the handle and swinging the door wide open, Katarina plastered a smile on her face, even though her heart beat so hard and fast she feared it would fracture her ribcage.

‘What took you so—' Salvador's gaze travelled to Raul who sat on the chair, his legs casually crossed. ‘I'm sorry if I've interrupted … something.'

‘You haven't interrupted anything.' Katarina smoothed down her skirt. ‘We're just going over this evening's events and figuring out what we can do better.'

‘Given tonight's performance I doubt you have anything to improve. They absolutely loved you.' Salvador stepped into the room and put his arm around her shoulders.

‘They love all of us,' she smiled, feeling heat rush across her cheeks.

Raul stood and walked towards the door. ‘I'll leave you two be as I must meet Federico. Thank you both for a great performance tonight.'

‘You're welcome,' said Salvador.

Katarina didn't look directly at Raul because she didn't want to give away the turmoil creating havoc inside her. She desperately wanted to ask if they'd meet later. Raul exited and Salvador sat on the chair her lover had just warmed.

‘So how long have you and Raul been with each other?'

‘What?' She shouldn't have been surprised by his question but it did knock her off kilter.

‘You've started up again. A blind man can see it. When I first heard he was paired with us I had a feeling he would be too much temptation for you.'

‘I didn't think it would be an issue.' Her tone held too much protest.

‘It's not an issue, especially because you've spent years lamenting giving up your one true chance at love.' The corners of his mouth kicked up. ‘Are you happy?'

‘More than I could ever have dreamt possible.' She dipped her head, embarrassed at being caught out.

‘There is nothing to be ashamed of, sweet Katarina. You are a good person with a beautiful heart. You should have a chance at finding love. Maybe you will find that personal
duende
we have spoken about.'

‘The potential for
duende
is there,' she said but didn't fully believe it. Working for the Maquis put immense pressure on them as a couple and individually. Maybe once this was over, if it ever was over …

‘I'm happy for you.'

‘Thank you, Salvador.' She walked over and gave him a peck on the cheek.

‘What was that for?' The smile travelled all the way to his eyes.

‘Thank you for having faith in my dancing, and in me, and for taking me in when I needed help so desperately and now, for not judging me even after I've kept a secret from you.' Swallowing back the tears, she said, ‘You're my real family, Salvador, and I'll never forget all that you've done for me.'

Salvador frowned. ‘That sounds like a goodbye.'

‘No, no, it's not.' She forced her tone to sound chipper. ‘I just don't tell you often enough how much I appreciate all you've done … do … for me.'

‘Thank you, but you've done much for me. You taught me family doesn't have to be related by blood.' Placing both hands on her shoulders, he said, ‘We make a great team.'

‘Yes, we do.' She nearly choked on her reply, the guilt wadding in a big ball at the back of her throat. It would be so easy to tell Salvador the plan, especially as he hated Franco like her, but he had a young family while Katarina and Raul were free to do as they wished. Salvador needed to be kept in the dark for his own protection.

‘Someone's dropped something.' Salvador stood and bent over near the door. He picked up the folded paper and opened it before Katarina had a chance to race forward and snatch it out of his hands. She stood by, her palms sweaty, as he read the letter. ‘It's for you, I believe.'

‘Thank you.' She grabbed it and tucked it back in her bra. The damn letter must have fallen out when Raul had peeled off her clothes.

‘You never had a dance teacher that went to France.'

‘I …' She couldn't lie her way out of this one.

‘What's going on?'

‘Nothing.' She studied her manicured nails.

‘That's a whole lot of nothing in that letter. Why are you receiving news from a woman who lives in France and claims to have taught you years ago? Why is she sending you instructions on new sequences for steps?'

‘Please, don't ask questions.' She looked up, her eyes pleading with his.

‘Why not?' Salvador ran his hand through his hair, a sure sign his anxiety had risen. ‘What are you up to?'

‘Nothing, all right?' Wringing her hands in her skirt, she said, ‘Just leave it be.'

‘I won't.'

‘You have to.'

Stepping forward, he used his broad shoulders and height to block any chance of her squirming out of his space. ‘Does this have something to do with Raul? Are you two doing something you shouldn't?'

‘Salvador!' She tried to sound indignant, but her voice shook. ‘Raul and I are very much in love, we—'

‘There's more to it than that.' Taking a couple steps back, Salvador's expression softened and he said, ‘It's not like you to keep secrets from me. First your relationship with Raul and now this French dance teacher.'

‘She's Spanish and is living in France.' It surprised Katarina how easy it was to speak about this fictional woman as though she truly existed. The sequences appeared to be written by someone with a deep knowledge of flamenco so perhaps it was someone who was once a teacher. Or still was. Either way, she'd never know. Holding Salvador's hand, Katarina said, ‘Thank you for your concern but you don't need to worry.'