‘You rightly spoke about gaps that needed filling when you outlined your plan to me this morning and I’ve told you that I’m always here to help. I thought it a little premature to load everything on to you before now.’ His eyes searched her face. ‘I didn’t realize the amount of information you had gathered in such a short time but I hadn’t wanted to pre-empt or influence your thoughts in any way. I’m obviously biased, since Eduardo and I were extremely close, and the works held in the archives at Puesta de Sol are closest to my heart. Maybe I should have talked about other specific collections before.’
Luz swallowed hard before speaking, trying to conceal the tremor in her voice. He made it all sound so logical, simple; honest even. But there was more to this, she knew, and she felt a fresh wave of anger bubble to the surface.
‘Why didn’t you tell me that archiving the Herrera collection was part of my contract? Why didn’t you also …?’
‘Hey, wait a minute,’ he interrupted, leaning forward. ‘Archiving the Herrera collection has never been on the cards.’
Liar! she thought, but managed to remain composed. ‘Not only was I told it had all been arranged at the early stages of the project but I was also informed that Lorenzo would be an editor and contributor, and that I would have to work on site at La Fortaleza, which I’m afraid is totally unacceptable,’ she stated coldly.
‘You were told what?’ His eyes darkened and there was a dangerous edge to his voice.
Not for the first time since the beginning of this assignment, Luz wondered what she had got herself into. Andrés seemed genuinely taken aback. She had anticipated he would find a plausible reason to enforce his decision. After all, she had to concede that even though it did not suit her, and she certainly did not relish spending any time alone with Lorenzo, the plan to archive the Herrera collection and other portfolios did make sense. Eduardo de Salazar was a prolific and diverse artist; she would have thought with such a variety of works, records and some sort of indexing would have already been set up but, if not, Andrés would surely see that this was probably the time to do so. And one could argue that Lorenzo might be helpful in the process, though not to the degree the vain torero imagined.
‘There was never any talk of this,’ Andrés continued, his dark irises glittering with fury. ‘Eduardo’s work in its entirety has already been catalogued. He was not only an artist but also a shrewd and meticulous businessman. There is not a stroke of his paintbrush that has not been listed, photographed and archived. Who,’ he demanded, ‘who told you these lies?’
Luz sat absolutely still. She stared up at him, confusion and doubt shadowing her eyes. There was an uncomfortable pause. ‘Lorenzo, your friend and business partner,’ she answered calmly. Andrés acknowledged the jab and his jaw tightened. ‘He made it very clear that we would be working closely together,’ she added.
‘What?’ At this, Andrés swore robustly. Luz had never seen him angry; it was a fascinating revelation. His voice sounded like thunder in the otherwise silent sunlit room and his face appeared almost barbaric, eyes lethal. This was either news to him or he had passed up a very promising career with the Royal Shakespeare Company.
He pushed back his chair roughly and stood up, glaring ahead of him. Looming over his desk he looked like a fallen angel, raised from the bottomless pit to take out his wrath on mankind. A muscle jerked in his jaw and his midnight gaze moved to her face as he struggled to remain calm. He placed a hand over his heart.
‘Luz, you must believe me when I tell you that I would never dream of putting you in that sort of position.’ Outwardly, he might have had the finesse and charm of the sophisticated gentleman, but it struck her as an irony now that the hidalgo seemed closer to a gypsy at heart.
He strode across the room. The fabulous animal-like vitality he barely held in check was formidable. Luz’s spine tingled as, reluctantly, she felt herself aroused, somewhere deep and hidden. He clenched his hands into fists to keep a lid on his anger, which was threatening to explode. In two strides he was at the door and opened it briskly. He called out to his assistant: ‘Is Don Lorenzo still in his office?’ His voice was cool and Luz marvelled at how quickly he had managed to regain his composure.
‘No, señor. Don Lorenzo and Doña Adalia have just left for the day.’
Andrés nodded and came back into the room. The volcano seemed to have died down as swiftly as it had erupted. Still, his eyes burned into Luz as he stood facing her, before he settled down once again into the chair behind his desk. He paused for a moment, lost in thought, and the atmosphere changed subtly.
‘Have dinner with me tonight at Puesta de Sol and I will prove to you that there’s no truth in what Lorenzo told you.’ His voice stroked her, his eyes were caressing. Something stirred in Luz that she did not stop to question.
‘I will ensure that you can visit Eduardo’s archives at my home whenever you have the need,’ he said. ‘I should have sorted out all this before, I realize now it was wrong of me not to have done so. Please forgive this lapse,’ he said humbly. ‘As for Lorenzo,’ he added, the fallen-angel look flickering dangerously in his jet irises, ‘I will deal with him when I see him next.’
For a moment Luz was nonplussed. Her deep-blue eyes questioned his sincerity. In the light of this revelation, she really had nothing to reproach him for – apart from the fact, of course, that he had pounced on her like a ravenous wolf that night at La Fortaleza. After her violent reaction she was quite sure he would not attempt that stunt again, or at least not for the time being. She would be safe from him, surely?
As she marshalled her thoughts, she was so tempted to believe this time that he meant what he said. Still, she had been there before and where had it got her? Humiliation at every turn. Wrestling with logic, she tried to be businesslike and put her work before her unsettled pride; but pride won. She couldn’t bear to be his puppet, her string jerked by him whenever he so chose.
‘I’m afraid I have a previous engagement tonight,’ she heard herself say.
His jaw tightened. ‘Then maybe we can make it another night,’ he paused, ‘at your convenience.’
Yes, that’s better, she thought, adding: ‘I will take a look at my diary and let you know.’
Andrés looked at her steadily, his gaze challenging, and suddenly a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘I will learn to be patient,’ he muttered. There was something about that dark voice that made her cheeks flush. He turned his gaze away and once again seemed lost in thought, leaving her with his beautifully etched, arrogant profile to admire. The curtain had come down, it was time for her to leave.
Luz stood up. ‘I really must get on,’ she said, extending her hand.
Slowly, he stood up too. His dark gaze moved back to meet hers, steady and night-like. He took her hand and held it firmly.
‘Luz, I know you’re wary of me,’ he said and, though his tone was calm and collected, she could see his irises burned with fire. ‘I realize that it has been in great part my fault. I’m not asking you to lower your guard … I’m merely requesting a truce for the time being until we know a little more about each other. Can you do that?’
There was a brief, electric-filled second while Luz braced herself, ignoring the pounding of her heart and the warmth flooding her body. Again he was violating her senses. Why did he have to look so much like Leandro? She couldn’t be sure what his true feelings were, instead she could only think of her own. The way he was looking at her sent her pulses skittering. Her defences locked into place.
‘I’m here to do a job and I don’t see the need for endless soul-searching,’ she stated plainly.
The flames in his eyes leapt and intensified, scorching her. He shook his head sadly and gave a defeated sigh. Letting go of her hand, he raised both his in a desperate gesture.
‘Remember,’ he said, ‘I tried to reach out to you.’
He looked hurt; she had managed to puncture his ego. Luz could see he was deflated, so why was she not basking in triu
mph? All she wanted to do now was get out of his office and run far away from the powerful and dangerous hold he had on her. She could feel it creeping up on her, tantalizing her, his potent sex appeal rendering her vulnerable and defenceless. These feelings were both unfamiliar and unwelcome. She shrugged.
He stared at her blankly. ‘Is that really how you want it, Luz?’
‘I don’t want anything from you, Andrés,’ she told him, her eyelids dropping so he could not see the struggling emotions behind them. There was a defensive look in her eyes when she lifted her gaze abruptly, her chin tilted in challenge. ‘You took me on to write a biography, you don’t need to win a popularity contest. Don’t worry, I’ll deliver.’
Once more the old tension had sprung up between them; the barrier that had never truly been lowered was quickly raised again. He crossed over to her swiftly and, before she could move back, lifted Luz’s chin to meet her sapphire eyes.
‘You’re as stubborn as a mule,’ he said, ‘but you’ll come round.’ His smile was mild, at variance with his words. His face was so near that she couldn’t help but stare at that perfectly sculpted mouth, remembering how it had felt on hers.
‘Listen to me, Luz de Rueda. One day those two beautiful legs of yours will bring you back to me.’ His mouth moved a little closer still. ‘I don’t want you to fight me, I want you yielding … consenting.’
She was so disturbed by his touch that it took a few seconds for what he had just said to sink in and then the sheer thrill of it rushed through her. Her pulse leapt erratically, her head pounded painfully, the blood ran riot in her veins. Then, just as she thought he might kiss her, he let go of her, brushing the back of his hand against her cheek. She jerked her head away.
‘Don’t hold your breath,’ she muttered, stony-faced, without looking at him.
She turned and left the room without a backward glance.
* * *
In the still dark, early hours before dawn, Andrés stood on his veranda at Puesta de Sol, far above the raging sea, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. Though tired and totally dispirited, he could not sleep. The more he tried to extricate himself from a situation he had mishandled from the very beginning, the deeper he was sucked into the quicksand he had created, it seemed. Anyhow, there was nothing he could do for now.
Was Luz coming round to him? He remembered the heady sensation of her against him in the garden of La Fortaleza, the taste of that sweet mouth. His body still seemed to ache from the sharp need and the passionate mutual energy she had so suddenly and so determinedly withdrawn from. And yet he could feel her struggling with herself today when they stood so close, his own frustration charging his desire. There was a shimmering heat between them that she surely couldn’t deny, despite her confusion. He had ached to kiss her, to make her realize that she wanted him as much as he desired her. Still, he was not normally the kind of man to kiss a woman against her will, no matter how much he yearned to do so. For a second he had been tempted to go after her when she stormed out of his office, resolving in some primal way to bend her will to his, but more pragmatic thoughts had prevailed.
Andrés was always master of his emotions; he had to rein himself in. When Luz had told him of Lorenzo’s outrageous attempt to lure her to La Fortaleza on the pretext of working together on the Herrera archives, he thought his blood would boil with the fire he so often had to keep in check, causing him to rage out of control. Even with Lorenzo, he would have to be careful for the time being. He could not do as he pleased until fate had unravelled its path and he could not be sure exactly what course that would take. It would not be easy for a man like himself. No woman had made him yearn the way Luz did, had made him burn with such exquisite pain.
All through their meeting he had found her so beautiful, with her deep-blue eyes flashing with enthusiasm; she was passionate and alive. But not only that: he admired her intelligence and the perceptive insights she’d had when discussing Eduardo. The book would not be just a bland narrative of Eduardo de Salazar’s personality and work, it would be a lively explanation of his life and his art, too. He had been right to follow his heart and take her on. So he had hung on to her words in silence, interrupting her rarely, only for her to clarify a point; all the while making sure he kept a firm grip on those hormones clamouring for him to ravish her. To bide his time would be the hardest thing he had ever done but she had to come to him.
He remained there for a long while, a solitary figure; his only company a single pale star shining in the west, hanging above the trees along the cliff tops, sharp black outlines that the darkness exaggerated. Broodingly, he gazed down at the water roaring and sighing up the sand and listened to its song echoing through the night. There was a distinct sadness in its melody, as in the expanse around him, he thought, a sadness reflecting his own hollow despair.
Only when the star had gone in and the pale dawn sky looked coldly down upon him did he start back. The air was fresh, keen and bracing. He stared up at the sky, still streaked with gashes of purple, poised between night and day. Until his plan had come to its conclusion and all the players had played their part in this melancholy drama, he would not be free. Pulling up the collar of his jacket, he made his way back to the still-sleeping world.
CHAPTER 9
It was nine o’clock in the evening when Salvador, Alexandra and Luz arrived at the Cádiz Yacht Club for the Fiesta de las Rosas, a charity ball in aid of cancer research. Salvador had received an invitation to take a table from the foundation’s chairman, Andrés de Calderón, and without consulting Luz had gone ahead and put together a list of guests for the gala night.
Two weeks had passed since Luz’s meeting with Andrés at his office and she was still confused about the way it had ended. Everything seemed complicated as far as she was concerned, full of the kind of risk that she dared not formulate even in her own mind. The prospect of seeing him again made her nervous. She had tried to wriggle out of the event but, when her parents insisted, she capitulated without much fuss to avoid awakening their suspicions that everything was not going smoothly with her employer.
An oasis of green, white and blue, the yacht club was at its most glamorous that evening, lit by candles and flood lamps. The heat of the day was gone. Gone too were the brightly fringed umbrellas that had been a constant protection against the fierce sun. Inside the clubhouse the decor was very nautical, with ships’ lanterns and lots of canvas and polished wood. Most of the guests came from a small pool of people in neighbouring towns and almost everyone knew each other. The mood was relaxed, convivial and comfortably tribal. The women wore summer evening dresses in light, delicate fabrics while the men were in dinner jackets. Tables were adorned with white tablecloths, glass candlesticks and vases of colourful, sweet-smelling flowers.
The table Salvador had reserved was outside with a prime view of the harbour. Atop it, red roses stood in a small crystal vase, some of their petals scattered on the white tablecloth.
Luz spotted Andrés as soon as she walked out on to the vast terrace. He was sitting at the table next to theirs with Lorenzo and Adalia, three other young beauties, two beaus and the elderly couple she had noticed him with in the box at the theatre. At the sight of him, her heart fluttered wildly before sinking in her chest. Their eyes met and he bowed his head gravely to her. Luz smiled back demurely. She would have preferred to have her back to him but the way her father had placed her made it inevitable that she would look straight into Andrés’ eyes every time she lifted her head. It was unnerving. At this distance and in the semi-darkness she couldn’t distinguish the colour of his irises and it was as though Leandro was sitting there in front of her. Andrés’ proximity and the beauty of the night whipped up her memories afresh. She felt a melancholy loneliness, a deep hollowness as an overwhelming yearning to see her gypsy lover once again consumed her.
Above their heads was a sapphire-hued sky and millions of twinkling stars of all sizes lit up the night. They seemed so near to earth that Luz felt she c
ould stretch out her hand and pick one from the dark blue canopy. The sea shimmered peacefully in the moonlight and broke and foamed in a mantle of white froth along the shore. In the harbour, a stone’s throw away, there were fishing vessels riding at anchor, rocking and rolling on the incoming swell. Yachts were tied alongside the quay, pleasure craft had tucked themselves in wherever they had found a berth, and an array of coloured boats had been dragged up on slipways for hull scraping.
Salvador and Alexandra’s other guests arrived just as they were settling into their seats; among them were Antonio de Cabrera, his wife Callida and their son Romero, an architect who owned one of the largest art galleries in Seville.
Luz looked exquisite in a Grecian-inspired backless halter-neck of powder-blue silk chiffon. The simplicity of the gown and the crystal-studded belt she wore defined her shape, accenting the slenderness of her waist. Her shiny black hair was arranged in a complicated braided chignon that Agustina, who had come all the way from El Pavón for the evening, had dexterously achieved. Teamed with chandelier diamond earnings and a delicate diamond necklace, the effect was breathtaking. She exuded a goddess-like glamour that did not go unnoticed by the young architect, who set about entertaining her with animated conversation as more guests arrived.
After a while Romero leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out under the table. The architect was a tall, aristocratic young man with straight dark hair and honey-coloured eyes in a kind face that was expressive and quick to produce a waggish smile. ‘This really is a beautiful night, equalled only in its perfection by Aphrodite sitting next to me.’ He looked at Luz and grinned. ‘Even the stars are jealous of those sapphire eyes of yours.’
‘Romero, are you always such a shameless flirt?’ Luz smiled into her glass as she sipped her sangria.
‘Always – and without exception,’ he replied. ‘What can I say? I’m an incurable romantic. Besides, it’s not every day that I have such charming company, señorita. You know, my parents often drag me to such evenings hoping to match-make me with a suitable young señorita, but usually I end up being propelled towards some tongue-tied wallflower or a girl who insists on stepping on my feet when we dance. I do hope you’re not going to step on my feet later, Doña Luz?’ He waggled his eyebrows comically.
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