She had felt wonderful: soft, wet and burning hot.
He’d drunk in the warmth she radiated and inhaled the intoxicating scent of her arousal that mingled with the vague suggestion of fragrant soap. The feel of her fingers in his hair, the sound of her moans and her voice calling out his name had almost been his undoing. When she had cried out at the moment of her orgasm, the surge of happiness that had run through him was all he had cared about.
Luna was a passionate, sensual woman, only just beginning to discover the wonders of lovemaking. Despite her virginal innocence he suspected she would be wild in bed: unbridled and audacious. Being buried inside her would be paradise. One day soon he would possess her, he promised himself. He would be the first – and the last – man to thrill her. Luna was the one: the kindred spirit for whom he had been waiting, and she would be his forever.
Ruy exhaled heavily. A cold shower would rid him of this hot frustration. He didn’t know what Luna was thinking now, and that merely increased his restlessness.
He slowed the bike at the edge of the gitanos’ camp. The place was quieter now. Dotted about the scrubby quarry, dying fires glowed softly in the dark, half illuminating the shambolic aftermath of the night’s revelry. Tethered goats butted pieces of rubbish with their horns, as well as the passing legs of a few gitanos only now staggering to their beds. Other men and women slept where they had fallen, empty bottles and gourds littering the ground around them; dogs lay motionless nearby, ears twitching. Faint sounds of babies squealing carried on the air, alongside the constant rasping of cicadas and the occasional bleat or bark of an animal.
Leaving his helmet and leather jacket on the bike, Ruy made his way along the main trail leading into the camp. He went straight over to the makeshift courtyard where Morena and Chico were sitting together around a low fire, sharing a pipe. Chico looked up at his approach. ‘So, hermanito, you’re back already. Didn’t expect to see you again until tomorrow.’ He gave a crooked smile, his black eyes shining with amusement.
‘Let’s not go there.’ Ruy dropped down on to an empty camping chair beside them.
Morena handed the pipe back to Chico and stirred the fire with a long stick, allowing the small flames to elongate. ‘She’s very beautiful, Ruy,’ she said, eyeing him closely. ‘Very troubled, too.’
Ruy sighed. ‘Yes, I know, Morena.’
‘She’s a mystery to you, isn’t she?’
He nodded, leaning forward to throw a piece of wood on the fire, watching as it caught. ‘I don’t know what’s happening with me … with us. She won’t let me get close to her and yet there’s something pulling us together.’
Chico snorted. ‘Never thought I’d hear you say that about a woman, certainly not a Herrera! I can see for myself that this one’s different, though.’ He dragged on his pipe, letting the smoke blow out through his nostrils.
Ruy nodded. ‘Yes, Luna’s no Herrera. At least, she’s nothing like the rest of them.’
A lizard skittered across the ground and Chico kicked it with his booted foot, cursing. ‘La bicha, the lizard. Not a good omen.’ He looked up and met the eyes of his friend. ‘When are you going to tell her about the accident?’
Morena dropped her stick. ‘Ave María Purísima,’ she muttered under her breath. At the same time, she cast around for some iron to ward off the evil spirits the small creature might have brought with it, and touched a cold cooking pot beside her, containing the remnants of rabbit stew. ‘Yes, Ruy, you must tell Luna.’
Ruy pushed a hand through his hair. ‘I need to pick the right moment,’ he said. ‘I have to get closer to her first, otherwise she’ll hate me when I tell her the truth.’
‘Well, be careful not to leave it too late,’ warned Morena. ‘Your attraction to each other is destined, and fate will do its work, but you must play your part too if you’re to come through the darkness together and avoid all hell breaking loose first. Destiny sometimes comes at a price.’
Chico joined in. ‘Never mind destiny, amigo. Fact is you need to get on with it, sort it out. I can tell that this Luna, Herrera or not, has got you good. I’ve never seen you so worked up about a woman before. Just be careful.’ He surveyed Ruy thoughtfully.
‘Careful of what?’ Ruy replied.
His friend drew heavily on his pipe and then spoke over the smoke. ‘Her family, that’s what.’ He shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘Luna might be different but nothing happens around a Herrera without trouble showing its face somehow.’ The gitano stretched over to pick up a gourd, shook it, and found it was empty. He spat on the ground. ‘But you might as well go for it – I know you will anyway. Just stop waiting for every last cicada to chirp. Worst case, you’ll have a wound to lick, but that never killed anyone. Although, knowing the Herreras …’
‘Hush, Chico,’ Morena gave him a reproving shove. ‘You think the path of love is easy? True love grows strongest where the path is stony and full of obstacles.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘You should know better, mi amor.’
Ruy shot his friend a wry look. ‘Sí, hermano. If it was that simple, Morena here would never have let your sorry carcass near her in the first place. As it is, love is patient, as well as blind.’ Chico picked up a pine cone from the ground and flung it at Ruy, who dodged it, chuckling. ‘You see, sometimes I’m right, too,’ Ruy said.
The gitano emptied his pipe on the ground. ‘I’m just saying, watch yourself. Her family is poison and you don’t want them sticking their noses in your business. I admit, Luna doesn’t seem like the rest of them.’ He gave a lopsided grin. ‘She certainly keeps you on your toes, and after the dull, forgettable women who’ve trailed after you and stroked your ego, I’m all for that.’
Ruy stretched out his long legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. ‘Luna is more challenging than any other woman I’ve ever known. She’s fiery, unpredictable … magnificent.’ He smiled to himself. ‘One minute, she’s passionate and responsive and looks at me in a way that makes me think all my prayers have been answered. The next, she’s angry, stubborn and defensive, as though she wouldn’t throw water on me if I were on fire.’
Chico let out a deep, gravelly laugh. ‘Like I said, she keeps you on your toes.’
‘She doesn’t know what she wants, that’s all,’ said Morena. ‘You need to treat her gently, Ruy. Be honest with her, though, no matter how hard that is.’
Her knowing glance was enough to make Ruy gaze silently back at the fire.
Be honest.
More easily said than done. He had no idea what his next step should be, or when the right moment would come.
* * *
Luna woke late the next morning. The room was flooded with hot sunshine. Contrary to what she’d feared, she had slept heavily and soundly. She stretched her arms languidly and glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table. Already twelve o’clock! She slid out of bed, pulled back the glass doors and walked on to the terrace. A summer mist blanketed the sea, which was as still and unsubstantial as a desert mirage.
In the sunshine, the confused and tortuous thoughts of the night had almost evaporated. She was feeling calmer and in better spirits; refreshed in the knowledge that this was a new day. Those problems that had seemed unsolvable last night seemed more in proportion in the bright, clear light of morning. She wondered what would happen now, but she wasn’t agitated about it. Instead, she decided not to dwell on whether Ruy would call today, not to obsess about him and what he was thinking. Part of her wanted reassurance from him, to know that he hadn’t thought her a wanton hussy, and yet she also wanted to be alone, to let things settle. If only she could feel like herself again rather than this fractured, impulsive version of Luna that gave her such disquiet.
She had to acknowledge that keeping secrets – ones in her past and in her present – had only made her feel worse, as if she were trying to walk on dangerous ground, fearful she might step into quicksand at any moment. Ruy had said they should have a serious talk one day; perhaps it was time to
straighten things out between them.
As Luna turned back to the house, something caught her eye on the terrace table. Had Señora Sanchez left a little something for her? That immediate thought was dismissed when she saw what it was: a single white rose tucked into a sheaf of paper, weighted down by a rock from the beach. The gentle breeze was lifting one edge of the note in tiny flutters.
Luna’s pulse lurched with tentative excitement. Moving over to the table, she took the note and unfolded it to read the contents.
Dear Luna
I’m sorry if things went too fast for you last night, but I’d be lying if I said I regretted any part of it. All my reason seems to evaporate when I’m with you. There’s something between us that neither of us can deny. Whatever it is that is troubling you about being with me, we can fix.
Hard as it will be to stay away from you today, I suspect you need your space. Just know that you are never far from my thoughts.
Ruy
Luna’s heart raced as fast as her mind. Picking up the rose and breathing in its strong, heady scent, she gazed thoughtfully at the vast blue ocean, glittering with infinite possibility under the bright sun.
Her stomach gave a little somersault at the thought of Ruy’s eyes burning into hers, sometimes with tender warmth, other times with a fierce passion that ignited an answering blaze in her, scorching and uncontrollable.
Thoughts of his herb garden, that Morena had mentioned, drifted into her head. He had talked about taking Luna up into the hills himself one day. I learned a lot from my wise gypsy friend and her herb garden, he had said. Apparently it meant a great deal to him.
Why not go this afternoon?
She was suddenly filled with energy. First, she needed something to eat – after such a long sleep she was starving. Then she had planned to pick up some food at the market. After that she could have her walk, catching the rays of the late afternoon sun. That’s what I’ll do, she thought. I’ll find his garden.
She chose a simple linen dress that came just above the knee and covered her shoulders. It was a pale mint colour that suited her delicate complexion and sheath of champagne-blonde hair, which she deftly tied in a ponytail ready for the hike ahead. She rustled up a quick meal made from the last of the chorizo and peppers in the fridge. As she washed her face, she noticed in the bathroom mirror how her skin glowed from the sun and how much healthier it seemed. It made her look younger somehow – less the efficient scientific researcher. This, together with her ponytail, gave her the air of a schoolgirl about to engage in a game of hopscotch or French skipping. Something indefinable in her expression had relaxed and opened and, for a moment, she blinked at her own reflection.
Luna had an instinct that once she had seen his herb garden, she might begin to understand Ruy better. His role as gypsy healer was integral to him, sparked by an inheritance, an almost sacred bloodline, which had shaped the man he was. Unless she appreciated the particularities of his healing role and its significance – the mantle his former gypsy mentor had bequeathed to him – she would never wholly get to the heart and soul of the man. The garden was as good a place as any to start.
While she was there she could gather some herbs and identify them later, with the help of the reference books Ruy had lent her. She might even analyze the more interesting ones at the lab. He wouldn’t mind her showing some initiative, would he?
She sighed. Who was she fooling?
If Ruy was so attached to this place, his private sanctuary, she was also curious to see it for reasons that were wholly personal. It was a way of getting closer to him, even though she knew that doing so might be pure folly, but she didn’t care. Now she was giving in to a spontaneous urge that took her by surprise but was liberating.
Walking past the table her laptop caught her eye again. She stopped and flipped the lid open. Taking a deep breath, she hit ‘send’. The article had gone to Ted, it was in the lap of the gods now. ‘Let’s see what happens after this,’ she murmured to herself.
A couple of hours later she set out, having been to the market and stocked up on some supplies, which she took home to her almost-empty fridge. She drove across to the mainland, past the small harbour and beyond, then parked under the shade of some olive trees and took the path Morena had pointed out. It snaked inland, away from the bay and towards the wooded part of the hills. She recalled exactly which path it was, remembering it zigzagging like a vivid silver scar over the hillsides. Before she set off, Luna clipped her small pack around her waist: it contained a bottle of water, a slim plant identification guide, her camera and a torch.
She took in the quiet beauty of the scene, spread like a feast in front of her eyes, and lifted her face to the sun, letting its warm beams permeate her skin. Whatever was said about the dangers of ultra-violet rays, it felt good. The air was soft but warm. She climbed up the winding path through the wildest and most stunning scenery, with little white cottages strewn here and there like glistening pearls in the afternoon sun. Although from a distance the hills presented an appearance of bare rock, she found that trees, shrubs and wild flowers were in abundance there, and she stopped several times to examine one plant or another. Some she knew, others were unfamiliar and not even referenced in her book of plants and herbs.
Cork oaks grew far and wide, offering shelter to a colony of magpies, which flitted from tree to tree. Evergreens, with their dark foliage and gnarled and stunted trunks, looked almost as ancient as the huge boulders of grey granite and sandstone that lay scattered along the way, which Luna guessed must offer convenient hideaways for a host of insects, birds and wild animals. She looked out for a white vulture or black eagle, both of which her guidebook had indicated might be seen here, having ventured from the sierra to make this place their habitat, but she was out of luck. From time to time she came across large patches of sweet-smelling wild flowers: pink mallows, red and purple poppies, yellow spiny broom, white daisies. Bees and butterflies in ephemeral colours she never dreamt existed fluttered in the gold light of early evening. In the placid countryside with its lengthening shadows, there was an almost unearthly stillness.
Already low in the sky, the sun was gilding the stunted olive groves. The solitude and the sound of the wind whispering among the trees in the fading light of dusk caught at the strings of Luna’s heart and tears welled up in her eyes. The melancholy beauty of her surroundings was breathtaking. Suddenly a wave of longing washed over her: a desire to be loved and cared for that was almost an ache, the sort of love only a man could satisfy. All at once she found herself wishing that Ruy were there to share the magic and serenity of the place.
She glanced at her watch. It was almost eight and she hadn’t yet found the herb garden. She ought to think of starting back, maybe save it for another day. It would not be a good idea to be wandering alone in these wooded hills after dark. Already she had been walking for a couple of hours so it would take her a good while to retrace her steps, even though much of her route would be downhill.
Nevertheless, it didn’t turn out to be as simple as she had predicted. At some point Luna realized that she must have taken a left fork, when she should have chosen a right, and now her route was looking wholly unfamiliar. At first, though irritated that she hadn’t done the sensible thing and brought a map, this didn’t overly concern her as she could tell by the position of the rapidly sinking sun that she was walking in roughly the right direction. So long as the sun and the sea were to the right of her she couldn’t go far wrong, could she? But now the path bore her sharply to the left, into a stretch of pine woods that she hadn’t come through earlier, and she was finding it increasingly difficult to keep a safe footing on the carpet of pine needles, criss-crossed by snaking roots. She berated herself for coming out here on a mere whim and not planning the route more meticulously with her usual sense of caution.
Darkness was gathering about her, a gloom that was felt rather than seen, and a distant rumble echoed through the hills. There was a sudden chill in the air and
she lifted her head to the sky. An ominous black confusion of thunderclouds was moving in swiftly in a rolling formation directly above her. As she advanced through the wood, the solitude she had appreciated earlier now made her shiver with trepidation, and she found the sound of the wind whispering among the pines positively eerie. The density of the foliage and the cloud cover was such that she could no longer get her bearings at all. Where was the path of cork oaks she had come through on the way up?
Luna was so busy looking around her, trying to gauge where she was but not paying attention to where she was placing her feet, that she stumbled and fell. She found herself skidding on her heels down a steep slope that lay to one side of her path. Coming to rest at the bottom, and about to pull herself upright, her ears picked up a sound. She paused a moment, listening.
Above the soughing of the wind in the pines, she could definitely hear a voice: the crystalline notes of a woman singing. The limpid tremolo echoed like a love call in the night. Then another voice – a man’s, this time – answered with soft warm notes to the accompaniment of a guitar. Luna almost laughed with relief. The sounds came from nearby; her troubles would soon be over. Without a doubt, the owners of those beautiful voices would help her find her way. She took out the torch from the pack she had around her waist, turned it on, and carefully made her way towards the sound.
Luna picked her way through brush and undergrowth to a small path that wound its way through the trees. Now she could see a clearing ahead of her, surrounded by pines. A moment later, her eyes widening in surprise, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Shock, disbelief and finally chagrin flashed across her face.
Legacy Page 34
