Masquerade

by Hannah Fielding

  Everything was of gargantuan size. They were shown by a solemn major-domo into an enormous hallway, where dramatic paintings of conquistadors and bullfighters stared down at them, and then through to the magnificent reception room with its intricately decorated ceiling and dark, rich panelling, carved out of twelve sorts of wood. Very different to the houses in Andalucía, this one was built for the rugged cold and wet winters of Navarre.

  A group of thirty or forty men and women in evening dress, flashing with gold and jewels, were chattering and laughing, smoking and drinking, under a gigantic glittering Baccarat crystal chandelier, brought over from the iconic salon in Paris at the turn of the century.

  All eyes turned on Luz as she and her friends entered the room. She wore a long, figure-defining dress in white jersey with a plunging neckline and a large cutout at the back. The bright white material accentuated her copper tan and her irises appeared almost dark blue beneath her black lashes. The gown was accessorized with a bib necklace of hammered gold circles that lay over her décolletage; by intimating rather than exposing, the jewellery enhanced the mystery, allowing a glimpse of the curvaceous hollow between her breasts. Her hair was piled high on the crown of her head, showing off her graceful, swanlike neck, the perfect oval of her face and her delicate features. As usual, without intending to, Luz stole the show.

  Lorenzo and his sister Adalia crossed the room, hurrying to greet their guests. In flounces of purple chiffon, which suited her colouring to perfection, Adalia looked more beautiful than ever. The sophisticated social butterfly par excellence, she welcomed Carlos and Alba effusively with air kisses. Luz wasn’t certain but Adalia seemed to freeze for the tiniest instant as she turned to her. But if she did so, she recovered herself instantly, extending a pale hand to hold Luz’s, a dazzling smile lighting up her face.

  ‘How divine you look, Doña Luz,’ Adalia breathed, still radiating her perfect hostess smile. ‘I’m so glad you could come. We really must have our lunch date when all this is over.’

  ‘Divine? Oh yes. I think Doña Luz will steal the hearts of some mortal men tonight,’ Carlos joked, glancing towards his sister’s friend affectionately.

  ‘Yes, she truly is the belle of the ball.’ Adalia let out a tinkling laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘We’ll have to hide you from all the jealous wives tonight in case you steal their husbands away.’

  Luz smiled awkwardly. ‘You look stunning, Doña Adalia, and I’m sure any jealous eyes will be looking in a completely different direction tonight.’ She found herself wondering what Andrés might think of Adalia’s beguiling appearance had he been there. Could any man resist such elegant beauty?

  ‘Doña Luz, you’re too kind,’ answered Adalia, appearing gratified by the compliment though Luz still sensed something odd in the glassy depths of her eyes. ‘You must let me introduce you to some of my friends later,’ she continued airily. ‘There must be hardly anyone you know here and we’d hate you to be bored. Besides, given half a chance my dear brother over there will monopolize you all evening and we can’t have that!’ Her expression seemed to brighten before she turned away and engaged Carlos and Alba in extravagantly charming conversation. Luz moved away from them, already tired of the brittle social chatter.

  ‘You look like a dream floating in the clouds,’ Lorenzo whispered as he came up to her. His voice was suave with a suggestion of hidden, provocative aims. Bending over her hand, he raised it delicately to his lips and the gesture felt to Luz as if he were branding her. As he lifted his head, his sharp gaze met hers. She had to concede he was a very handsome man but his eyes, though they attempted to look caressing, seemed cold and calculating.

  ‘You are very gallant, señor,’ she said graciously with only the hint of a smile.

  ‘Please, call me Lorenzo. We should be on first-name terms. After all, we’re working on the same project, are we not?’ he said, taking her arm and leading her further into the room.

  Her dark brows knitted together and she stopped dead. She looked up at him. ‘I’m not sure I understand your meaning …’

  ‘Eduardo’s biography,’ he clarified innocently, as though he hadn’t noticed the alarm and terseness in her tone.

  ‘I wasn’t aware that you were also involved in the writing of this book,’ she said curtly.

  ‘Well, only indirectly. Our family owns an extensive collection of Eduardo de Salazar’s paintings, especially his earlier work. No doubt they should be incorporated in his biography. They have never been properly archived and it only makes sense that it’s part of the project. Of course, you would need to spend some time here at La Fortaleza, a prospect that would give me great pleasure,’ he declared, the pressure of his fingers tightening a little on her arm.

  ‘Our collaboration on Eduardo’s life story is essential, I’d venture to suggest. And I, for one, will find the whole thing fascinating. I’ve made it known that I’m perfectly happy being a contributor and editor. In fact, I’d positively enjoy it.’ He gazed at her dumbstruck face before adding: ‘Look, I’m a little surprised Andrés hasn’t mentioned this to you. I hope I haven’t put my foot in it, but it has always been the plan.’

  A plan on which she had obviously not been consulted. How dare they? To presume she’d work as an unpaid hand, archiving their wretched collection, and then to have this pompous creep presume to edit her work. Insufferable! Luz’s eyes sparked but she managed to smother her anger, instead giving Lorenzo her most charming smile. Again, he appeared oblivious to the undercurrents as he took two glasses of sangria from a passing waiter and offered one to her.

  ‘Señor de Calderón and I are still in the early stages of outlining the project,’ Luz declared, letting the chilled wine soothe her dry throat. ‘I’m sure the Herrera archives will be on the agenda the next time we speak.’ She wondered what else was on Andrés’ agenda that he had not yet deigned to discuss with her.

  Lorenzo smiled at her over his glass as he sipped slowly. ‘And when you do, I look forward to making myself available to you at La Fortaleza whenever possible.’ He gave a courteous nod of his head but his gaze travelled over her in a way that made Luz recoil inwardly and look away.

  Why had Andrés not told her about this? What was he playing at? First she had found out about the archives from Adalia and then Lorenzo Herrera had announced his involvement in the project … There had certainly been no hint of her spending any time at La Fortaleza with Lorenzo, which of course was unthinkable. She was appalled at the thought of how far Andrés was trying to use her. Once again he had left her feeling wrong-footed and confused.

  She caught sight of Adalia, throwing her head back and laughing conspiratorially with a group of admirers. Luz hadn’t forgotten the socialite’s knowing comments about Andrés. Watching her now, it seemed to Luz that Lorenzo’s sister had the kind of allure and self-assurance that Andrés most likely would find captivating. Not for the first time she felt a strange pang at the thought of what their ‘special relationship’ entailed.

  ‘Your sister looks very happy this evening,’ she mused, groping for a change in the subject.

  ‘Ah, yes, my sister. So she should, I suppose,’ Lorenzo replied casually. ‘After all, she and our friend Andrés are, I imagine, close to announcing their engagement.’ He glanced at Luz and smirked. ‘Though if he’s ever to settle down he’s going to have to give up his, how shall I put it … democratic appreciation of the fairer sex.’

  She stared ahead, not daring to speak. Why, instead of relief, did she feel a strangling lump in her throat? So there was something between them … more than something. How many more disturbing revelations about Andrés de Calderón were there to come? Of course, she had sensed that Adalia had set her sights on him, despite her description of them as merely ‘old friends’. What was strange was that her declaration about his dalliances with other women hadn’t seemed to bother her in the slightest. Maybe Adalia felt such a degree of confidence in her power over Andrés that his previous history matt
ered not one jot to her. Luz glanced again at the beautiful blonde woman holding court. Why did her insides suddenly burn with a slightly sickening feeling? She should find Lorenzo’s sister a welcome diversion in whatever game Andrés was playing, she told herself. And yet he had kissed Luz …

  She blinked and swallowed uncomfortably. ‘I’m sure that Señor de Calderón and Adalia will make a fine match,’ she said softly.

  From that moment, the evening ahead stretched uncomfortably before Luz. Her head spun with uncertainties and she badly wanted to get away from the social glitter, where suddenly everyone seemed to be playing games. She tried her hardest to steer Lorenzo in the direction of Alba, whose glances kept flicking longingly to the torero’s face, as if therein she might see something to stir her hope. Luz smiled and nodded, even laughed, in all the right places but Lorenzo’s words were like cold fingers of dread squeezing at her heart.

  She was not sure which revelation had unsettled her most. Memories of that evening she had spent with Andrés on the beach kept flashing into her mind … the way he had looked at her with those dangerously beguiling eyes and held her hand so tightly as they walked, as if he was afraid to let her go. Why had she let herself be drawn into his ridiculous charade? How did he manage to disturb her emotions with such force? He was determined to dominate her in every way, whether professionally or in private, she decided. Was this his last flirtation before settling down for good? Anger bubbled up again. What overbearing arrogance and deception! She wished she could give the man a piece of her mind right now.

  Adalia’s effusive cries of affectionate welcome signalled her wish had been granted rather sooner than she thought. Luz turned to find Andrés standing like Mephistopheles at the entrance to the drawing room. His dark evening suit emphasized his overpowering satanic good looks and the air of danger he carried with him like a second skin. Her mind went blank for a moment, as it was now accustomed to do whenever she saw Andrés unexpectedly, before outrage gathered in her again. Across the room his slow smile met her scowl and the battle flashing in her eyes, just before he was partially shrouded in a haze of purple chiffon.

  With Adalia on his arm, he moved from one group to another, courteous, charming and … forbidden. The aristocratic-looking socialite had claimed him and was intent on making it quite clear to everyone present.

  Luz felt a pinch in her chest as the pair mingled with the small gathering. She did not stop to analyze her feelings; after all, why should she? Her opinion of Adalia had already gone down: at the very least, Lorenzo’s sister had been disingenuous in Pamplona. At worst, she had sent a well-disguised warning shot over Luz’s bows, while feigning friendship.

  As far as Luz was concerned, Andrés was deceiving and contemptible; she would gladly have nothing more to do with him. Unfortunately they were bound together, for better or worse, on this project and there was nothing she could do about it but stand up for herself and fight for her rights. She would also be the consummate professional with Andrés de Calderón. Whatever remorseless Nemesis had loomed over Eduardo de Salazar’s biography and plagued her from the very start, Luz was determined now more than ever not to let herself be beaten. However difficult and discouraging, she would see the whole thing through to the bitter end.

  Lorenzo was by Luz’s side again when his sister and her beau came to a halt a few steps in front of her. Adalia gave Luz a direct gaze. Was that a look of casual innocence or a flash of triumph? Luz lifted her chin, deigning to give Lorenzo’s sister only the briefest glance before arching an eyebrow at Andrés. His velvet-black irises regarded her with a remote kind of amusement that was somehow challenging and insolent. Her hands clenched; she must control herself. This was neither the time nor the place to have a scene, however much she needed to get her resentment off her chest. There was an odd pause while they considered each other, then he held out his hand and his face broke into that familiar charming smile.

  ‘Luz,’ he exclaimed, ‘such a pleasant surprise.’ His gaze briefly swept over to Lorenzo, then back again to her. The sardonic expression in his eyes deepened into something Luz couldn’t quite fathom. ‘What brings you here, the festival or other interests?’

  His insinuation did not pass unnoticed. How she wished she could swipe that Cheshire cat smile off his handsome face. She cursed the hot, treacherous pink that washed up her cheeks. As usual, she was letting him get to her. She glanced at Lorenzo with the brightest smile she could manage before her eyes flitted back to Andrés.

  ‘Oh, this and that. My interests are quite wide-ranging,’ she heard herself shoot back, not quite knowing why she had given him such a boldly foolish answer.

  A transient spark registered in Andrés’ dark irises and his demeanour stiffened imperceptibly. ‘Then I wish you the best of luck in your endeavours,’ he muttered coolly. The affable smile he gave her, she noted, did not quite reach his eyes.

  ‘Andrés, mi querido, didn’t you know?’ Adalia gave a glittering smile, pulling a little more tightly on his arm. ‘Lorenzo and I bumped into Doña Luz in Pamplona. As you can see, she and Lorenzo had an instant rapport and he made sure to invite her along to the party.’ Her smile faltered only slightly as she turned to Luz. ‘And of course I was delighted that we should have the chance to see Doña Luz again.’

  Luz inwardly cursed herself once more for not keeping quiet or saying something that placed some distance between herself and Lorenzo. It had only given Adalia the opportunity she needed to encourage the misunderstanding.

  ‘Fate is indeed a curious thing,’ Andrés said, his gaze hovering brief ly on Luz before he moved on, Adalia in his wake. As they walked away she cast a glance over her shoulder, her mouth twitching with satisfaction.

  From then on, the evening advanced on leaden feet. Though many young men made a point of trying to engage Luz in conversation, she was distracted and felt an oppressive awareness of Andrés that she tried constantly to shake off.

  Dinner seemed to take forever. Luz was seated at the far end of one of the long tables set with white tablecloths and ornate candelabra. The dining room was dramatically lit with exposed dark beams running across the vast ceiling; it was dominated by a gothic stone fireplace that would add admirable heat to the room throughout one of Navarre’s bitter winters. At the other end of the table, Adalia was taking every opportunity to lean into Andrés and whisper in his ear, touching his arm and laughing.

  Luz’s sense of humiliation mounted. How could she have been foolish enough to trust him? Professionally, he was wrong-footing her for the second time despite his promises to ‘start again’. And emotionally, why could she not smother these urges towards him that she did not want to feel? She despised Andrés for having such control over her, and she hated herself for letting him. Adalia was declaring her territorial claims and Luz fought a rising sense of irrational jealousy. She tried not to look in their direction but instead engaged her dinner partners in conversation. Every now and then irritation and curiosity got the better of her and she glanced up; on more than one occasion meeting Andrés’ challenging dark gaze before he looked away.

  Luz did not eat much, and drank quite a bit, so that even the light and fruity sangria began to have an effect on her senses. After her concerted efforts to ignore Lorenzo’s cloying overtures, he had at last given up on her. By the looks of it, Alba seemed to have finally gained his attention and the pair were involved in an in-depth discussion opposite her. At least one good thing has come out of tonight, she thought, as dinner drew to a close. Carlos was flirting happily with a young socialite, who looked up at him with fluttering eyelashes and adoring eyes, while Adalia’s claws were still deeply embedded in Andrés. Though it was not a particularly hot night, Luz found the place stifling; she needed some air. After picking up her evening bag, she moved on to the terrace and down into the garden where everything was still.

  Under the night sky the grounds, like the house, were singularly grand and solemn, outlined only by high walls and treetops. Silence reigned
and a sense of mystery hung over the whole place as she walked haphazardly along a dark avenue of giant trees. At a turning, she came out unexpectedly on to a glade and face to face with the river. The view of the house from the bank was awesome: the massive fortress stood out majestically under a waning moon, in all the light and shadow of which night is so fond. It was the perfect setting for the images of wizards and werewolves her imagination conjured up as she gazed around her. Despite the fact that it was not at all cold, she shivered.

  ‘Lost, or strayed?’ asked a deep, sonorous voice breaking the silence.

  Luz turned abruptly to find Andrés leaning against a tree just a few paces behind her. Shrouded by darkness, there was nothing to distinguish him from his gypsy double. Her heart jumped wildly and the breath caught in her throat. She realized with rising alarm that the sexual tension that seemed to gather between them like a pacing animal when they were together had returned now, more potent than ever.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she said, fighting to keep the emotion out of her voice.

  ‘I could ask you the same thing,’ came the unhurried answer.

  She sensed rather than perceived the sarcastic smile and her chin rose. ‘I have a bone to pick with you.’

  ‘Yes, I thought as much. You’ve been sending me unfriendly vibes all evening, though I’m not sure what I’ve done to justify them,’ he said grimly.

  She regarded him with contempt. ‘Is there any end to the depths you would stoop to to get what you want? Madre de Dios! Yo no lo creo! I don’t believe it. You are the most devious, unscrupulous …’