Legacy

by Hannah Fielding

  It was funny how Ruy could touch a chord in her like that. Their relationship, what it was, was full of revelations. Indeed, it delivered surprises about herself. For instance, Luna had never regarded herself as particularly intuitive about people, but now she sensed with absolute certainty that something troubling had happened in Ruy’s past, some story that lay behind the edge in his voice – and the stirring of tenderness she felt deep inside disturbed her.

  ‘Perhaps your father simply trusts you to carry the torch, to keep up the connection with your gypsy family. If he can’t be there, at least you can do it for him,’ she offered.

  Ruy turned to her, surprised, with that same searching glance which always made her feel turned inside out. ‘Perhaps … I always find it odd that even though he has more gitano blood in him than I do, I think I feel a stronger bond with them.’

  By now, Luna was engrossed in this side of Ruy that was emerging. He seemed to be able to switch on the suave, sophisticated intellectual when he wanted to, as he had done at the conference and on the plane; but since then, she was seeing more glimpses of the wild, restless gypsy beneath.

  ‘What is it that attracts you to the gitanos?’

  Ruy looked thoughtful. ‘Many things. Their lust for life, their unique customs and traditions … the fact that they live close to nature. Their unparalleled capacity for having fun,’ he added with a grin.

  A smile tugged at her lips. Oh yes, she could see how he would find that appealing. ‘Which no doubt partly accounts for their unfortunate reputation,’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘A centuries-old reputation and not always deserved. It’s true, their nomadic lifestyle, as tinkers, musicians and fortune tellers, lent itself to begging and stealing and now modern gypsies, who are hard-working and honest people, get tarred with the same old brush.’

  He glanced at her and shrugged. ‘Yes, they have traditions that involve drinking and going wild, but their hearts are as full as their brandy bottles and bursting with fiery passion.’ His gaze continued to follow the road. ‘Growing up, I couldn’t keep away from that explosive energy. It used to draw me like a hypnotic flame.’

  She studied his strong, handsome profile, wondering distractedly about those perfect noble features and from which parent he had inherited them. Tonight she would find out soon enough and the thought made her slightly edgy. Still, her curiosity was proving stronger than her nerves.

  ‘What about your mother?’

  ‘My mother?’ he repeated with a warm smile. ‘What do you want to know about her?’

  ‘Is she from Cádiz?’

  ‘Yes, she was born here, though she was educated in England. She’s from one of the oldest aristocratic families in Spain, the ones you’ll meet tonight, who own El Pavón.’

  Ruy explained that his grandfather, Salvador de Rueda, had come from a dynasty of winemakers and stud owners, though horses were his main passion – that is, until Ruy’s grandmother, Alexandra de Falla, had arrived in Spain in 1950. A cousin of Salvador’s but not by blood, she had grown up in England before being reunited with her estranged Spanish relatives. Her independent ways had been a constant challenge for the conservative young Salvador, not to mention the Duquesa – Salvador’s great aunt and the matriarch of the de Falla family. As Luna listened to Ruy she could tell that he loved his grandfather deeply and, despite differences in outlook, their relationship was smoother than the one he shared with his father.

  When Luna steered the conversation to his mother, Luz de Rueda, Ruy’s face became instantly animated. He was quick to laugh about her outspoken comments or how she had so much energy he was always telling her to slow down. It was clear that the rebellious streak Luna saw in Ruy was threaded through the generations of women in his family and not just a result of his gypsy blood.

  ‘My mother is beautiful. Fiercely independent, of course. She’s always given my father a run for his money,’ Ruy chuckled. ‘She met and fell in love with him, not knowing he was half gitano. It’s a complicated story and theirs wasn’t an easy path. It seems to be a theme in my family,’ he added wryly. ‘Then again, as the Bard himself put it so aptly, the course of true love never did run smooth. Again, it’s another story for another time.’

  Ruy’s head was still facing forward, and now his expression was unreadable. He shifted his weight behind the wheel and there was a moment’s pause. ‘Have you ever been in love, Luna?’

  Her gaze fixed on him. ‘No, have you?’

  He laughed and shook his head. ‘No, I haven’t. So we both have much to learn.’

  Luna wasn’t sure where he was going with such an ambiguous remark and kicked herself for firing back her response without thinking. She had allowed the conversation to stray in quite the wrong direction.

  ‘I think we’ve become sidetracked,’ she interjected hastily. ‘You still haven’t really answered my question about why you moved away from mainstream medicine and developed alternative practices.’

  He cocked an eyebrow and smiled. ‘Luna, I believe it was you who asked me about my gypsy family.’

  ‘Touché,’ she conceded. ‘And so …?’

  Ruy glanced at her and then stared back at the road. ‘There was never any doubt in my mind that conventional medicine would be my starting point. When I was just out of university, I came across a very wise gypsy, who first introduced me to herbal remedies and hypnotherapy – of course she didn’t call it that, but it amounted to the same thing. I could see how powerful they both were.’ Ruy drummed his thumb lightly on the steering wheel. ‘She taught me everything she knew and when I began my career in oncology, that knowledge took root in my mind. I began to study the effect of herbs on disease.’

  ‘I wondered if the herbalism had come from the gypsy part of your background,’ noted Luna. ‘Go on, tell me more.’

  ‘As you probably know, I’m interested in stimulating the immune system naturally. Our clinic has developed quite an arsenal of nutritional supplements and herbs to support the body. In fact, they do much more than that. They’re actually able to direct and charge the body’s own immune responses.’ His eyes shone with energy. ‘The more success cases we can build up, the more we’ll be able to push for funding for further trials.’

  ‘The press has certainly been taking an interest in your work. Of course, the scientific community will only counter that the media are always gullible, prey to slick marketing.’ She glanced at him quickly. ‘Then again, I’m sure I can guess your answer to that.’

  ‘Whoa there!’ he said, cocking an eyebrow. ‘I hope you’re not trying to ruin my evening …’

  She smiled quickly. ‘No, not at all.’

  ‘So, why do I get the feeling I’m being interrogated?’

  Luna snapped to attention under his speculative stare. ‘How can you arm yourself against the sceptics unless you learn to think like one and anticipate their arguments?’

  ‘Fair enough, I suppose. But this is my night off from all that.’

  She had the grace to look rueful. ‘Sorry, I just can’t help looking at things from every angle.’

  ‘Including me, it seems,’ he grinned.

  ‘Especially you,’ she said wryly.

  He laughed loudly and the rich, husky sound of it shot heat straight through her.

  ‘You know where it all started for me? It was the history of plant remedies that was the first hook, if you like. I learned a lot from my wise gypsy friend and her herb garden.’

  ‘I can see the fascination in that,’ Luna agreed. ‘I loved that part of our general science course at college … quinine from cinchona, morphine and codeine from poppies, and aspirin, of course, from white willow.’

  Ruy nodded. ‘Exactly. The list is huge and we’re still discovering more. Take mistletoe …’ He paused, slowing down as they approached the Carranza Bridge, where the traffic was becoming heavier.

  ‘What about it?’ Luna replied. She gazed out of the window for a moment at the silvery-lined clouds, lit by the moon. Fasci
nated as she was by what made Ruy tick professionally, it was becoming increasingly difficult to focus her attention on probing him about his work when her mind was wandering to the glamorous evening ahead that they would be sharing.

  ‘Viscum album … European mistletoe. Used for centuries to treat various ailments. Only now it’s becoming one of the most widely studied alternative therapies for cancer. Now there’s a tonic for the immune system, not to mention its most important therapeutic function.’

  Luna turned back to him. ‘And that is?’

  ‘Making it far easier to steal a kiss from a young lady at Christmas.’ The roguish grin was back again, and with it Ruy’s demeanour had reverted to boyish mischief.

  She couldn’t help but laugh and studied him surreptitiously, her eyes tracing his profile from his perfect brow down to his sensuous mouth that moved so easily to laughter or a devastating smile.

  His eyes sparkled at her provocatively. ‘The Druids viewed it as a sacred symbol of vivacity and fertility because it could blossom even during the frozen winter.’

  ‘A hardy plant,’ she agreed, amusement still playing on her lips. ‘One noted for its worrying toxicity too.’

  ‘Ah, Señorita Ward, such cynicism! Did you know that in eighteenth-century England the kissing tradition first caught on among the servants? The custom was that men were allowed to request a kiss from any woman caught standing under the mistletoe, and refusing was viewed as bad luck.’

  ‘Then I have a feeling it’s a good thing for you this masked ball isn’t at Christmas,’ Luna laughed, taking her chance to tease him for a change, rather than the other way round.

  ‘You wound me, Luna.’ He exaggerated a crestfallen look.

  ‘Oh, I think it would take a lot for a woman to wound you, Ruy.’

  ‘That depends on the woman,’ he said, his gaze shifting to her momentarily. The silence hung in the air. Then Ruy’s mouth curved into a smile. ‘Now, isn’t it my turn to play interrogator? I’m intrigued to know more about your background.’

  Luna suddenly wanted to forget who she was and enjoy the fantasy that it did not matter. ‘Let’s just talk about something else for a while.’

  ‘So you’re intent on preserving that mystery you’ve been denying.’ He grinned. ‘Very well. Then I’ll keep my questions for another time. Tonight you are Luna, Queen of the Night, or maybe Princess Budur from A Thousand and One Nights, and I will be Prince Kamar Al-Zaman who fell in love with her.’

  ‘You said you’d tell me the legend.’

  ‘Haven’t you read the famous Persian stories of A Thousand and One Nights?’

  ‘No, unfortunately not,’ Luna confessed. ‘I wasn’t given many stories to read when I was little. My father bought me a leatherbound set of Encyclopaedia Britannica but seemed to forget a child needs stories too.’ She paused, remembering she’d never actually been read to as a child either. ‘Looking back, sometimes I feel I missed out on part of my childhood. Only once was I treated to a weekend of fairy tales and legends. It’s actually one of my fondest memories of Spain.’

  ‘Go on. I’d like to hear about it,’ Ruy coaxed her.

  She gave a self-conscious laugh, before continuing. ‘I was probably about six. We were invited to a hacienda in Jaén … Olivar. One of the most romantic places I’d ever seen. It was a converted old olive mill in the hills, with hectares of olive groves. How many, I don’t know. The owners were American, friends of my father. The evening we visited, we sat in the garden, next to a man-made lake with a waterfall, while our hosts told us myths and legends about the olive tree.’ Luna gave a little wistful laugh. ‘Images of that evening remained a long time with me, and I remember crying bitterly when I heard that the house had been sold. You see, I’d always hoped to go back. It’s funny how relatively small things can mean so much to a child …’ She paused and then added pensively: ‘I often wonder what’s happened to it … who lives there now.’

  They had climbed away from the coast, having finally crossed the congested Carranza Bridge, and had just joined the queue at one of the toll booths for the A-4 motorway to Jerez.

  Ruy was a good listener. She could sense his natural-born intuition, as he probed: ‘Was it the setting or was it the legends that touched you most?’

  She shrugged. ‘Oh, I don’t know. The whole evening was magical. It still brings an odd lump to my throat when I think about it.’

  ‘Children are very impressionable,’ he agreed. ‘When I was a child, my father used to tell me these wonderful stories at bedtime.’ He chuckled. ‘My favourite was that romantic legend of Prince Kamar Al-Zaman and Princess Budur. Both names mean “moon” in Arabic and ever since I’ve been fascinated by the moon … the fairest star in heaven, as the story says.’

  He took his eyes off the road for a second to look at her and, even in the dark shadows of the car, she could see they glittered like sapphires. ‘And tonight, dear Luna … tonight, the moon is within my reach.’ The vivid blue of his eyes grew more intense and he stretched out a hand and gently trailed a warm finger down to the curve of her chin. He met her wary amber gaze as a wave of helplessness threatened to engulf her …

  How could she ever protect herself from the hypnotizing enchantment this man had over her?

  The car behind hooted suddenly, bringing them back to earth. Ruy waved an apologetic hand out of the window, paid the toll and they were off again.

  Now the traffic had cleared and the road stretched straight ahead, lit only by the beam of the car’s headlights and the pale moon above. They travelled in silence for a long while, each lost in their own thoughts as the car shot through the night. Ruy was a fast but not reckless driver and Luna was surprised at the speed of the vintage Austin. He manoeuvred the old car with smooth, masterly skill. No doubt as he did the legion of women that swooned at his feet, Luna guessed. Her father once likened women to cars in a way that had made her feminist hackles rise, saying they needed to be treated gently but with a masterful hand.

  ‘Do you have a boyfriend, Luna?’ he asked suddenly, without preamble.

  Luna blinked before curbing the sharp retort that quivered on the tip of her tongue. ‘No,’ she replied truthfully. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Why? I can’t believe a beautiful woman like you could still be single.’

  She was used to this line – a cliché many had used before him, but no one made her heart beat as fast as this when they had asked her.

  ‘What about you?’ she asked, turning to look at him.

  He grinned provocatively and glanced back at her, mischievous devils dancing in his eyes. ‘Likewise … A bit of luck, isn’t it?’ A dark eyebrow lifted interrogatively, inviting her answer.

  He was either being presumptuously forward, or else he had a strange sense of humour. Was he teasing her? Or was he one of those men who sailed on life’s vast ocean without anyone ever challenging their behaviour? She decided to ignore his question and change the subject. ‘I thought you were going to tell me that romantic legend.’

  Ruy eyed her. There was a touch of amusement in his irises. ‘Is that what you want? I thought we were doing pretty well.’ He smiled at her innocently.

  Luna raised a challenging eyebrow. Now’s my chance to warn him off, she thought. She smiled back sweetly, though there was the faintest note of reproach in her voice. ‘Don’t push your luck.’

  He allowed his gaze to flicker over her for a moment. Then he laughed, a frank open laughter, deep in his throat. ‘You can’t make up your mind about me, can you?’ It was more of a statement than a question. ‘I’ll tell you the tale of Kamar Al-Zaman and Princess Budur, but you’ll have to wait until later. We’re about to turn off for El Pavón and it’s a long, romantic story.’

  Chapter 6

  The ball was in full swing when, a few minutes later, the Austin swept through El Pavón’s imposing gates.

  ‘We’re here,’ Ruy whispered as smoothly they made their way up the winding drive.

  Weeping willows bord
ered the sides of the gravelled approach, their stooping branches trailing in the slow waters of the canal that irrigated the grounds. In the distance, the imposing ancestral home stood out among the surrounding shadows like a dazzling jewel, bathed in moonlight. Lights blazed a welcome from its elegant windows and, together with the carriage lamps mounted on its whitewashed walls, competed with the star of the night and other constellations. Sweeping violin music drifted out from somewhere inside the house while guests had spilled on to the open terrace at the front to enjoy the evening air. A kaleidoscope of lanterns hung like fireballs from arbours and twinkled softly through the thick foliage of shrubs in the beautifully landscaped gardens. Fountains were dotted about, and their fine spray sparkled with a million rainbows as though spouting a rain of little gems. Clothed in mystique and timeless romance, the hacienda glowed in festive mood, greeting its guests with open arms.

  Luna was used to homes of the rich in California, where her father had a sprawling ranch-style house, but the understated sense of history that El Pavón exuded was singularly impressive. As the car followed the curve of the lawn and neared the entrance, her appreciation of this beautiful scene was suddenly usurped by butterflies invading her stomach. She tried to calm herself. Fixing her gaze on the ancient portico, she attempted to determine whether its neo-classical columns were seventeenth or eighteenth century.

  By the time Ruy had pulled up in front of the house, Luna had abandoned her distraction tactics so she breathed deeply and resolved to pull herself together. The car’s discreet throb of power died and Ruy switched off the engine. A valet hurried towards them. Ruy gave him the keys, then reached into the back seat for his turban and mask, and jumped out, coming round to open the door for Luna.

  He held out his hand – it was large and firm and the feel of it made her tremble. ‘Encantador, ravishing,’ he murmured under his breath as he helped her out. He smiled lazily as his gaze settled on her, brilliant with life.