Luz had barely reached him when he was beside her, encircling her waist and scooping her up in his athletic arms. He twirled with her once, twice, holding her in a close embrace. Caught off-guard, she let go of her bag and her hands went up to his bare shoulders. His skin felt hot beneath her cool palms and Luz caught his slight intake of breath and the tensing of muscles as she touched him. He wore sunglasses so she could scarcely make out his eyes behind the dark screens but she knew from the tautness of his body that they were wild with desire. He lowered her to the sand, dragging her down slowly so she brushed against the length of his frame, feeling his unmistakable arousal against the apex of her thighs. Andrés stilled, obviously trying to control the same violent need that Luz already felt engulfing her.
‘I think we ought to go, don’t you?’ he whispered. ‘The boat is ready. We’re lucky, we have perfect conditions today.’
The impatience in his voice was evident, she noted with satisfaction: he had missed her.
The wind was blowing onshore, which would make it tricky to sail away from the beach, she realized, but Andrés worked quickly. He had already placed their belongings in the dinghy and the mainsail was ready to hoist as soon as they were aboard. Luz helped him drag the dinghy out into the water and, once it was floating clear of the breaking waves, they scrambled aboard and headed out of the cove, the sail canvas beating heavily through the roar of the wind.
They were sailing parallel to the beautiful coastline now, away from Cádiz, heading south. Luz had never come this way before. The landscape was quite different, the shore backed by pinewoods often spliced by great, blond sweeps of beach, and the skyline ringed by cloud-dappled mountains.
From time to time Andrés withdrew his gaze from the horizon and turned towards Luz. Though she could not see the expression in his eyes, she knew he was studying her. They hardly spoke but anticipation swirled around them, outdoing the vigorous gusts of wind.
The sailboat had gathered momentum and Andrés warned that he would be moving into a tack. ‘We’re practically there,’ he announced as he turned the rudder sharply. He’s going to capsize, the wind will flip the sail, Luz thought, ducking under the boom as the boat jibed, but Andrés proved an expert sailor and, as with everything else, he was in total control of his boat.
He smiled. ‘Worried?’ he asked as though he had read her mind.
‘That was a bit close, don’t you think? We almost capsized!’
His smile grew broader and more roguish. ‘No faith, Luz, that’s your problem. I’m in charge, I’m always in charge. Haven’t you learnt that yet?’
He had certainly been in charge yesterday night. Did this man never say anything without double entendre?
‘How can I forget?’ she parried, her eyes glittering with the same mischief she knew filled his. He laughed out loud, and she thought how often he did that now compared to when they first met. It made her smile.
They were approaching what looked like a secluded, curving beach. The view was pure poetry. Distant citadels of cliffs and flying stone buttresses rose above the dark silk water, topped with deep-green cicada-singing pines, gnarled olive trees and wild carobs. On one side was a pretty town, dazzling white in the sunshine, hugging the hill midway; on the other gently rolling and rising vineyards.
Like a bronze sculpture, Andrés stood at the tiller, aiming the boat at a given spot on the beach. As they neared the shore there was a grating sound as the underside of the boat met the shingle. He jumped out of the dinghy and gripped the gunwale.
‘Stay where you are,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll come and get you in a minute.’ He began tugging the craft up the beach, all in one long movement, so the curling waves would not swamp her as they broke along the shore.
As he extended a hand to help Luz out of the dinghy, watching her face as he did so, he said: ‘I can’t decide upon the exact blue of your eyes. Last night, when I held you, they were such a dark cobalt blue, they seemed almost black. Today, they’re more azure, like a cloudless sky on a midsummer’s day.’
There was a flash of genuine amusement on her face as she climbed out of the boat. ‘Thank you, Andrés, very poetic,’ she smiled. ‘Unfortunately, while you hide behind those sunglasses, I can’t repay the compliment.’
He turned his head and looked out to sea, his mouth falling into an impassive line. Was that the hint of a frown she glimpsed? She could see only part of his profile. But his next words were ordinary enough. ‘The glare hurts my eyes, especially when I’m out at sea,’ he explained, facing her again with a faint smile and removing his sunglasses.
Perhaps she had been wrong; there was nothing troubled about his look now. His jet-black stare fixed on her intensely, in a sensuous, enigmatic way that sent her falling into its depths. Suddenly she felt shy and nervous as if they had just met for the first time.
‘The perfect spot to spend an idle and delicious day,’ she said, dragging her eyes away from him to survey her surroundings properly. She looked back at the enamelled sea, the colour of pure cobalt, bathed in the exhilarating white light refracted from the rocks and the talcum powder sand. What a jewel! This was an unadulterated place, undiscovered and almost wild, where the only occupants were the sea creatures and birds.
‘I discovered this beach one afternoon when I was a teenager,’ Andrés explained, with a distant, dreamy look as his gaze moved beyond her. ‘At the time I was deeply troubled and needed to clear the confused thoughts in my head. Ever since then, whenever I have a problem, I come here to think. To my knowledge it’s never been explored and has remained secluded and immune to the demands of the world.’ He smiled ruefully, lifting their things from the boat. ‘When I return home, after a few hours spent in this place, I’m calm and have usually found an answer to my problem.’
‘Yes, I can see why,’ said Luz, smiling. ‘It’s stunning, like a natural sanctuary. Is that a cabin?’ she continued, noticing a tiny thatched hut as she wandered up the beach. Tucked away in a far corner, it was shaded by a few bedraggled palms.
‘Yes, I built it. Sometimes it’s quite cold out here in winter. The wind is sharp and the sea gets quite choppy.’
Luz felt an uncomfortable wrench in the pit of her stomach. He didn’t just come here to clear his mind, she thought. This was the perfect love nest for his mischievous games. Was she the first to come here or had there been others? Andrés caught her eye. She was convinced once again he had read her mind. Damn her expressive, transparent face! It gave away her feelings every time, without fail.
Andrés watched the light blush rise and fade in her cheeks. ‘Relax,’ he said, the familiar flicker of humour twinkling in his dark irises. He dropped their bags on the sand and came closer. Lifting her face up, his gaze bore into her troubled eyes. He viewed her gravely.
‘This is my secret place. I’ve been jealous of it and have never wanted to share it with anyone,’ he whispered, his low voice charged with meaning; he paused a little and then his mouth moved slightly into a wry smile, ‘until today.’
Once again Luz was captive of his will and her lips parted imperceptibly, inviting the kiss she had craved since they had separated the night before.
‘I don’t want any other,’ he murmured softly, tracing butterfly kisses slowly down the curve of her cheek to her throat. ‘From now on, there will be only you mi tierno amor. Solo tú, para la vida y para siempre.’ His mouth trailed back up, securing her lips and sealing his words with a kiss that was everything she had yearned for.
Finally, they pulled apart and he stroked her cheek with his finger.
‘Are you hungry, Luz?’
She looked up at him. ‘For food?’
‘Señorita de Rueda, that is not something you should say to an alleged womanizer,’ he murmured, his eyes darkening.
She raised an eyebrow, watching his mouth, which was still only inches from her own, the same mouth that had been all over her body only the night before.
‘I know, Senor de Calderón, you’re clearly
a bad influence on me.’ It was true, she didn’t know where these wanton feelings were coming from but she was beginning to enjoy them.
He grinned. ‘We should eat. You’ll need your energy. Besides, difficult as it is for me not to have my way with you right here, delayed gratification will make dessert all the sweeter.’ His molten, dark eyes gazed down at her and so much longing flooded her that Luz thought her legs would turn to jelly.
‘Come, let’s get under the shade,’ he said and led her to the palms overhanging the hut. They dropped down on to the sand, listening to the swish of the seawater washing against the rocks and the quarrelsome cries of gulls fighting overhead.
It was a wild beach, like no other she had seen in Spain, with soft dunes to lie in and umpteen coloured shells to collect. Nothing could disturb this spot, its sequestered beauty and its magic. She could quite understand why Andrés had chosen it for his secret den.
‘Wild oyster beds and sea urchins lie everywhere around here, tangled on the rocks of these little creeks and inlets,’ Andrés told her. ‘I grew up near the sea. Oyster gathering, crabbing and beachcombing were a great part of my life. A lonely but very rewarding pursuit.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll go and get some for our lunch,’ he said, jumping up with one athletic movement, his joints as agile and supple as those of a feline.
‘I’ve brought a picnic,’ she said, smiling up at him.
‘Excellent! We’ll supplement it with whatever I’m able to gather.’
‘Shall I come with you?’
‘It’ll be quicker if I’m on my own. Besides, the sun is already hot and I’d feel guilty if you caught sunstroke.’
He produced a knife and a child’s brightly coloured pail from the canvas bag he had brought with him. Her eyes widened as the steel blade, catching a sunbeam, flashed dangerously. ‘My tools – I’ve had them since Eduardo bought me the boat. I never went out without them,’ he explained, his eyes softening as he thought back to obviously happy memories. ‘Wait here. I won’t be long. I’ll be just over there, see?’ He pointed to a rocky spot a little further down the beach.
As he went off she turned over on her side, resting on her elbow, and dug her fingers idly into the fine sand, scooping up handfuls, which she poured swiftly between her fingers back on to the beach. She watched him move away, graceful and lithe as a panther, muscles rippling under his skin, his strong back tapering to a lean waist. Leandro … all Andrés’ movements reminded her of the gypsy. At times like this, as her eyes followed the distant golden figure scrambling nimbly over the rocks, the similarity edged on the uncanny. She sighed. Would she never be able to put her Romany lover out of her mind?
Andrés was soon back, his bucket brimming over with spiky brown urchins and small wild oysters. He resembled a god of the deep, his long, wet chestnut hair glistening with droplets of seawater, which picked up the sun’s rays. Passing a tanned hand over it, he squeezed the water out of his ponytail and smiled.
‘There are drawbacks to long hair, don’t you think?’
But she could not think, spellbound as she was by the statuesque perfection of the man looking down at her, his heavily lashed dark eyes equally mesmerized as he took in every detail of her body.
‘Here you are, mi princesa,’ he said, laying down the pail at her feet. He sprawled across the sand beside her and linked his hands behind his head, his brown muscular body stretched out to catch every sunbeam, his limbs hard, smooth-skinned and the golden colour of polished oak. ‘We’ll have lunch in the hut, don’t you think?’ he suggested, then grinned. ‘That way we won’t get sand in our butter.’
The interior of the hut was very primitive. A couple of tree stumps served as seats and a large flat rock as a table. Hurricane lamps, a small stove and candles stood on the windowsill with a box of matches and a pack of cigarettes. A large shelf, of some sort of dark iron, held a kettle and a few pots and pans while an earthenware urn, which he explained that he filled with cool water from a nearby stream, lived next to the door with a pile of wood and kindling. Deep-sea fishing and snorkelling gear were piled up in one corner. Still, the plain layered bedding made out of straw that lay in the opposite corner did not go unnoticed. He gave her an oblique look.
‘Sometimes, when the winds have come up suddenly and the sea is rough, I’ve spent the night here,’ he said, answering her unuttered question. He paused and smiled rakishly. ‘Alone, I swear,’ he added, lifting his hand to his heart.
They lunched in the comfort and shade of the little thatched cabin, seated on the low tree stumps, and augmented their picnic of wine, bread and butter, dried meats, hard-boiled eggs and salad with the sea urchins and oysters that Andrés had gathered from the rocks. He split them using the edge of his knife. With bread, butter and a squeeze of lemon they were delicious.
They talked and laughed a lot – easily, lazily, because the wine was velvety and sensuous. Tasting it, their moods mellowed in anticipation of the next few hours they would spend in each other’s company. All the while their bodies ripe for pleasure as they savoured this tantalizing awareness.
Luz tipped another citrusy oyster into her mouth and, without thinking, licked the salty liquid from her lips. She glanced up and found Andrés watching her intently. If he had chosen oysters as an aphrodisiac, she mused, it was unnecessary. The electricity between them had been palpable from the moment they had met on the beach. ‘Have you been outside Spain much?’ she asked, mesmerized by his steady gaze.
‘Yes, a lot. I travelled all over the world in my early twenties after I left university. I was still looking for adventure, I suppose.’ He broke off some bread, smearing it with butter and biting into it.
‘And did you find it?’
Andrés chewed quickly then grinned. ‘Invariably. I studied anthropology, including tribal differentiations. That took me to Peru, to reservations in North America, aboriginal grounds in Australia. I spent some time with the Maoris in New Zealand. Papua was particularly interesting. I found myself among the Kombai clan. I was a kwai, which means spirit or ghost but it’s also a term used to describe an outsider. So I was regarded with suspicion for a while, until I was befriended by the chief’s son.’ He saw the question in her eyes and glanced away, reaching for his glass to take in a gulp of wine. ‘But that’s a story for another time. Suffice to say I was finally accepted into that clan, but not before one of them accused me of being a Khakhua-Kuma.’
Luz was intrigued. ‘What on earth is that?’
‘A man who practises witchcraft.’
She tried not to laugh but couldn’t help it. ‘It seems the Kombai are a very good judge of character,’ she added, smiling.
He grinned and took a knife to one of the oysters. ‘Cannibalism was still carried out by the Kombai as a form of tribal punishment for male witches. If the chief’s son hadn’t defended me I could have been eaten.’
Luz stilled. ‘Goodness, Andrés, are you serious?’
‘Absolutely.’ He eyed her mischievously. ‘Though I’m glad I escaped the pot, I think my flesh would have been rather delicious, don’t you?’
She shuddered. ‘I don’t even want to think about it.’
He laughed out loud, prising open the oyster shell. ‘You don’t want to think about my delicious flesh? I’m mortified, Doña Luz.’
‘You know what I mean.’ She shot him a wry look but as he raised his head to tip the oyster into his mouth her eyes dropped to the tanned, muscled, naked thigh so near to her. Yes, his flesh certainly did look delicious. She cleared her throat softly, adding: ‘Where else did you travel to?’
‘I managed to make it to the Naga Hills in north-east India, a beautiful land of hills covered by flowers but full of precipitous ravines. I stayed with the secluded hilltop tribes there for a while. That was fascinating. They may have stopped practising headhunting now but in most respects they still live in a hidden world of ancient traditions that haven’t changed in hundreds of years. It was an incredible experience.’
He lo
oked younger and carefree when he spoke of his globe-trotting exploits, quite a different man to the one who spoke of his childhood and his family life. Not so brooding, Luz thought. She looked at him quizzically, a little awestruck.
‘And you actually lived with all these native people?’
‘Yes, of course. I had to in order to study their ways.’ He smiled a dazzling smile.
‘Apart from being rather dangerous, by the sound of things, it must have been so, well … basic.’
He shrugged. ‘Once you get used to it, you just accept that aspect. Human beings only need the basics, Luz,’ he added softly, with a sensual undertone. She felt her skin heat as her eyes were once again drawn to his perfectly formed mouth, which curved into a slow, lazy smile. ‘Then it’s just a question of following that society’s rules.’
‘Yes, and I suppose some are just more complicated than others,’ Luz murmured. She sipped her wine, wondering at the kind of unwelcome judgements she must be inviting, with her recent behaviour and now just being with Andrés.
‘We’re all tribal,’ he continued. ‘Nations, families, blood ties, class … You yourself returned to your own tribe when you came back to Spain, wouldn’t you say?’
She had never thought of it that way. ‘It does feel like that. I was never truly comfortable until I was back home with my family. But I’ve never had adventures like yours. I wish I had travelled more and seen the world. It sounds so exciting, seeing other cultures, being able to reinvent yourself wherever you go.’
A hint of a frown creased his brow. ‘It’s liberating, yes. But most paths lead full circle, and everyone’s journey is different.’
‘A woman’s journey is more restricted,’ she answered ruefully.
Andrés nodded. ‘Granted, in Spain there are certain expectations for a woman. I can see that England must have suited your mind and your spirit in many ways.’ His expression became fervent as he regarded her. ‘And now you feel Spain coursing through your blood again, letting free a part of you that’s new and frightening.’
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