Blood in the Valencian Soil (Secrets of Spain)

by Caroline Angus Baker

  “No,” she replied, and frowned. “I’ll come back when they find something on him in their records, but I do wonder if the whole thing is pointless.”

  “Perhaps you need to marry someone to stay in the country,” he teased.

  “Yes, well… that has been suggested.”

  “Have a man all lined up, do you?”

  “No,” she smiled. “I can get my work permit renewed. But I want to gain my residency here. I want to do this for myself. From what I know, this man, my supposed grandfather, Cayetano Ortega, owes his family something. It seems he wanted nothing to do with my grandmother when she got pregnant.”

  “How much do you know?”

  “Not much. My mother died when I was young, so I was raised by my father. He lost his own mother when he was young, so family was a subject he didn’t want to talk about.”

  “It sounds as if your father had a very painful time.”

  “He did. He died 10 years ago. My mother had passed away 15 years earlier, and he never got over it. He would talk about her all the time, but I never knew her. He had lost his own mother, and his father was some man named Cayetano from a country he had never seen. We were on our own.”

  Cayetano gently ran his thumb over the back of her little hand. She again wore her wedding ring. “I’m sorry, Luna. Family is valuable. It must have been so hard, to leave behind his only child.”

  “I had just got married when he died, and my husband had promised my father he would take excellent care of me. I think that helped.”

  Cayetano watched Luna take a deep breath. Only the husband hadn’t taken care of her. The conversation had become deep again, and it hurt her. There had to be a way to ease it back again. “You’re right. This Cayetano does owe his family something. Do you know where he was from?”

  “My grandmother, Scarlett, she worked in Cuenca when she got pregnant. My father thought that Cayetano was from somewhere around there.”

  “Perhaps you need to go to Cuenca,” Cayetano suggested. “Have you ever been?”

  “No. It’s not that far from Valencia, but I’ve never visited. I came to live in Spain for reasons that had nothing to do with my heritage, so until now I have had no reason to find Cayetano. It seems that information is hard to find. It seems he just vanished into thin air. That is why my grandmother returned to New Zealand at the end of the war. He just abandoned her.”

  “Are you sure he died? I mean… maybe he just ran off?”

  “You mean, am I sure that he wasn’t dragged from his bed in the night, murdered and stuffed in a shallow grave?”

  “Given the time period, anything could have happened.”

  “I guess anything is possible. From the way my father spoke, his mother must have told him that his father was dead. I can only trust what she said. Of course, I have no one I can ask these things.” She watched as his fingers curved along the back of her hand. When he touched her, it had sent a sharp spike through her senses. Far from home, far from reality, it seemed natural to be out with a man.

  Cayetano shrugged. “I have both of my parents. I also have my mother’s parents in my life. I’m blessed. Even so, if I asked my grandparents about the war, they would not speak of it. El pacto del olvido.”

  Luna held her tongue for a moment. The pact of forgetting. Nobody wanted to talk about the civil war, or even of the 35 years that the dictator Francisco Franco held on to Spain after his victory. Franco was a subject that was never discussed. She looked at the man across the table. He was probably about 40, so born in the late sixties, a time where the years of starvation were over in Spain, yet still a time of exceptional difficulty and atrocious crimes were still committed against innocent people. The Spain they sat in today and the Spain that Cayetano would have been born into were very different. Generalissimo Franco had died in 1975, a year before Luna was born. Spaniards born before Franco’s death, and those born after had totally different lives and upbringings. It was not something she had ever discussed with a Spaniard. La Transición, the transition to democracy had been achieved by smothering the past and Luna knew she was up against decades of fear when looking for her grandfather.

  “Enchufe,” Cayetano said.

  “What about it?” Luna asked. “I’m a foreigner, I have no enchufe.” Enchufe, knowing a person who knows someone who knows someone who could get you whatever you want. A little nepotism never hurt anyone. Except those who had no enchufe.

  “But I do. My sister, Sofía, she works at the Registro Civil. I’ll call her, and see if she can help you. You can’t run back and forward between Madrid and Valencia for a piece of paper that may not exist.”

  Luna glanced down at her hand again. Now, all of his fingers caressed the back of her hand. His large fingers more or less covered her entire hand. She glanced back up at Cayetano; he had leaned right forward over the table as he looked back at her. His honey brown eyes were soft as they gazed back at her, and flecks of green in his eyes sparkled. Luna became aware of how revealing her low cut dress was. She had brought it to keep her cool in the hot weather, but with the fiery eyes of the Spaniard on her, it turned up the heat. “I don’t know,” she said. “I think Madrid was worth the trip.”

  “I would like to think so,” Cayetano replied. “You never know what you will find in Madrid.”

  “Maybe something I didn’t know to look for.”

  “Perhaps.” His fingers began to trail up her arm, and they delighted every inch of skin they touched. “How was ‘The Garden of Earthly Delights’ at the Prado? As sexually liberating as you hoped?”

  Another playful smile graced her face. “Yes, thank you. I’m a believer in sexual expression.”

  “Really?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. He hadn’t expected that.

  “I just think people should be able to express themselves how they like, with whoever they like.”

  “I think I should have come and looked at these naughty paintings with you, it would have been quite an excursion.”

  “I’m interested in 18th century Spanish art and 15th and 16th century Italian work. Most of it is religious, or dark.”

  “The humble bull-minder can’t keep up with that.”

  “Humble isn’t a word I would use.”

  Cayetano couldn’t help it. His lips were stuck in a broad smile. They had been most of the night. He wasn’t sure what it was, but the foreign girl had him in trance and she didn’t seem to realise it. “Maybe I could seduce you into some dessert?” he asked.

  “I think you mean convince.”

  “No, I meant seduce.”

  “I’ve never been seduced.”

  “Never? Do you like to be in charge instead?”

  Luna nodded once and watched the grin on his face. It was fun to play with him. He was charming and flirtatious. What the hell are you doing, Luna? You don’t even know this man. Somehow that didn’t matter, he stirred an emotion in her that had been dormant for years, and she didn’t even feel guilty about that.

  “Perdón,” came the voice of their waiter. Cayetano and Luna sat up straight again, surprised at the intrusion. “¿Necesitas algo?” he asked politely.

  Luna glanced at Cayetano and shook her head. “I don’t need anything. I’m done with dinner.”

  “I know I am,” he replied. “¿Puedo tener la cuenta, por favor?” he said to the young man.

  “No, I will pay,” Luna interrupted. “I’m the guest here.”

  “You will not, a gentleman wouldn’t allow that.”

  “Are you always such a gentleman?”

  “Claro. Of course. Will you allow me to walk you to your door? After all, you have been attacked once today already.”

  The bill settled, Cayetano and Luna walked through the silent lobby and took the short elevator ride to her floor. The ride was made in silence, but Luna was well aware of how close to her he stood. His whole body radiated a masculinity she hadn’t been able to appreciate in a while. It was a raw attraction, something she didn’t realise she
was brave enough to indulge in until now.

  “This is my room,” she said and gestured to the door only a few steps from the elevator. He had held the door for her. Nobody did that anymore.

  “I told you that it wasn’t safe for you to walk on your own,” he joked. “Lucky I was here.”

  Luna leaned back on the door of her hotel room and held her breath. Cayetano stood right in front of her, one arm against the door, his elbow just above her shoulder and leaned into her. “You didn’t have to walk me to my door.”

  The most lascivious heart-pounding smile poured over Cayetano’s face. He ran one finger over her bottom lip, and felt the palpable tremble that ran through her. “Is it true, what you said earlier?” he asked quietly. “That you have never been seduced?”

  “It’s true. I don’t get myself into positions where men think they can seduce me.”

  “Have you ever wanted to be seduced?”

  “Many times,” she whispered as Cayetano brought his lips to hers. It was such a soft and gentle kiss, a hesitant moment as their flirtations came together for the first time. He ran an arm around her waist, and she weakened to him, folded into him while he poured his lips over hers. His addictive and captivating taste surged through her as her hands grasped at his shoulders. His tongue parted her lips, and she let herself yield to him. Now was time to think up an excuse to stop being so reckless, but her mind no longer cared. Damn you, cava.

  “This is the time that I politely say goodnight, isn’t it?” he asked, his lips almost touching hers. He didn’t want to move from his spot against her.

  “I suppose it is. Though I was about to I invite you in… to enjoy the view.”

  “I’m already enjoying the view,” he whispered.

  Luna’s hand fumbled to get the door open, and the two of them stumbled into the dark room. Having his body against hers sent a deep ache through her, an ache she hadn’t felt in a long time, and she realised how desperately she missed it. She didn’t even know this man, yet he set her on fire. The last time she had felt like this, she had only been a girl, awakened by the man who would become her husband. Her husband.

  “Wait,” she stumbled, and pulled her body from his. They were entangled in a frenzied fumble of hands and mouths, and it was too much. When did she become this woman? This weakling who couldn’t decide what to do? Luna wasn’t soft, she was fiery. For almost three long years she had been a quiet, prim and proper mother of two. For almost three years, her risk-taking nature had been suppressed by pain, and it saw an opportunity to be wild and stupid. So why couldn’t she just take it?

  Cayetano stood with his fists clenched for a moment and tried to maintain some level of composure. “I’m sorry,” he said through a deep breath. “I am. If you want me to leave…”

  “I don’t know what I want,” she replied. She was in danger of being swept away by him, and maybe that was what she wanted. “But I’d like to find out what I want.”

  Cayetano stepped forward and brought her back into his embrace. He wasn’t about to screw up his night of guilty pleasure. This wasn’t cheap sex, they had spoken of seduction, and that was what he wanted. It had been so long since Luna had felt a kiss from a man; he knew that. He had to be soft yet strong, gentle and firm, loving and passionate, all at once. He wanted to touch her until she felt dizzy, as if she would to melt into him. He brought her lips to his, a sincere and resounding kiss, and when their lips parted she gasped for air. Kisses and cava, an intoxicating combination. She wanted to be seduced tonight. He held her against him and kissed her again, eager to taste her supple lips that were happy to accept his affection, happy to surrender to what he wanted to give her. She felt vulnerable in his arms, and he didn’t dare to push her further than she could handle. Her hands dropped the buttons of his jacket, and Cayetano felt a jab of need shoot through him. She wanted to undress him, and God, he wanted that himself.

  Luna felt overpowered by the situation she found herself in, and she didn’t care. She was dizzy on the sensations of his warm body against hers. She held her breath when she felt him unzip her dress, and the blue fabric pooled around her feet on the floor. The cold, lonely voices in her head were lost to the heat her body experienced against the bare flesh of another person. She had thought that she would never feel like that again. When you meet the love of your life, you don’t move on from that. Luna wasn’t the girl she once was, she was now a woman who yearned for the physical power of a man. All of her senses took the man in, one urge at a time. Her eyes drifted from his, down to just below his right shoulder to a huge, violent scar that disfigured his skin. Her hand instinctively went to the wound and followed its lines over his defined chest, further and further down his body. It was a horrific injury once. Luna’s hands stopped when they reached the button on his trousers, but she knew the scar went further, and she wanted to see all of him.

  Cayetano watched as her ice-blue eyes came back to meet his. The look on her face suggested she had abandoned her guard. “Indulge me,” she murmured.

  With one quick sweep, he picked her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed. He wanted her, even still half-dressed that was obvious, but there was no rush. There was so much to touch, so much to elicit. He gave her a slow and powerful kiss when she began to undo his trousers. While she seemed ready for the passion he could show her, she was still as stunned as him at the spontaneous emotions that they invoked in each other. He felt her tremble as his hands ran over her skin and curved in between her legs, and she cried out through their hungry kiss. He knew that he should slow down, but the awakening she brought in him must have rushed through her as well, and any rational thought was long gone. Her hands were on his body, curving over him, and the way she touched told him how much she wanted him. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. She was no shrinking violet.

  Cayetano took his time with Luna, despite the mutual craving they felt. She wanted to be indulged, to be seduced, and yet that was what she was doing to him. He was being swept away by the power of a woman he didn’t know. She had been blown into his life, and that only served to make it more eruptive. Cayetano had taken many lovers in his time, but none of them had sent such a message of desire through his veins as Luna did. The patient and sensitive nature to their passion defined the night in his mind forever. It was a powerful and satisfying seduction. He was so exultant he would have forgotten his own name if Luna hadn’t called it out. The desperate way she struggled to breathe when they moved together made him shiver. The way she dug his fingernails into his skin sent excitement through him. The way she curved her legs around his, and held on to him when they rocked against each other delighted him. Luna wanted the night of guilty pleasure as much as Cayetano did, and it shattered every sense in his body when they worked their way over the edge of satisfaction together.

  The whispers of morning light had come in the window when Cayetano woke. It had been a long time since he stayed all night with a woman. Usually he found an excuse and left, but after he had made love to Luna, he simply didn’t want to go. He had sat up on one elbow, and listened to her while she spoke to him. His hands continued to trace along the inside of her leg during the light and intimate conversation. He had fallen asleep when the exhaustion of their union had taken its toll. It was not the night for him to be up late – in fact, it was now early morning and his world would be wondering where he was. He jolted awake when his body realised where he was, and in the process, he had woken the sleeping beauty in his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” he said in her ear. “I have to go, preciosa.”

  “Oh,” Luna said, and sat up, and held the sheet against her chest. “Of course, yes.”

  “I have to go to work.” Cayetano sat up next to her. “I must be running late already. Sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine,” she stuttered. “You go.”

  Cayetano ran his hand against her cheek and cupped her face in his hand. “It isn’t because I want to leave, I promise you.”

  “It�
�s no problem,” she smiled. “We don’t have to pretend this is any more than it is. You should go and do what to you need to do.”

  “It’s not what I want to do,” he whispered, and brought his lips to hers. The second they touched he felt the power of their connection again. The way her kiss seared into him made him ache. He didn’t want to go anywhere. His hand drifted away from her face, and took the sheet from her fingers, and let it fall so his hand could touch her body. His fingers grazed past a nipple as his hand clutched at her breast, and he knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Before he knew it, they were in the bed again, entangled in each other. He could swear that tears were going to come to his eyes. Inside this hotel room was a stolen season of life. No one would ever know what happened, and he could forever enjoy the astonishing moment of raw passion he felt for this woman. To hell with work. To hell with obligation. Pleasure was as fragile as glass. Like glass, this spell had to be broken, and they both knew it.

  4

  Valencia, España ~ agosto de 2009

  No matter how smooth the train trip from Madrid to Valencia was, Luna thought she would be sick. She sat curled up in her seat with her head against the window. The view out across the plains of Castile-La Mancha, with the fields of sun-scorched earth stretched out before her, but she couldn’t even open her eyes. She wanted to bawl, cry out the agony of what she had just done. Her eyes were wet under her huge dark sunglasses, and she didn’t dare move a muscle, or the droplets would pour down her face. She could barely move her muscles anyway. Her body ached, awakened when Cayetano had made love to her. She must have held on to him tight with all four limbs, because every time she moved, everything burned in pain. She throbbed from the inside out from what they had done, whether that was from the physical act that they had committed – twice – or from the guilt. She had slept with a man who she didn’t know. A few cheeky glances and a few flirty lines and she was on her back. Luna wanted to wake up this morning and feel good about herself. She had overcome a massive hurdle in moving on after the death of her husband, but she had thrown herself away on a mistake. Luna wasn’t cut out for this; she wanted to love someone. Sure, when she lay in bed at night she wanted a man there, but a physical partner wasn’t enough for her. Since there was no man for her anymore, a sexual substitute didn’t suit at all. She felt conflicted in so many ways. Cayetano had asked for her phone number, and she had given it to him, but she didn’t expect to hear from him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear from him, but if she gave out her number it meant that she could fool herself and think that they had just had more than a cheap one-night stand. None of this made any sense. Last night it had seemed like a great idea. To have him close made her feel alive again. She had woken up to another world. A world where she wasn’t miserable, and that only brought on more guilt. Her husband was dead. You shouldn’t get over that and be happy. This man, this Cayetano, was dangerous. He had brought feelings she didn’t know she wanted to have bubbling to the surface.