Masquerade (35 page)

‘It’s mind-blowing,’ she told Andrés. ‘Really, I had no idea. Nothing in my research suggested Eduardo’s creative vision was so hugely productive and multi-faceted.’

‘He was an extraordinary man and a brilliant artist. A handful of critics have in the past upset me because they can’t understand his art and choose to misinterpret it.’ His face hardened. ‘It’s been said that his work aimed to shock or confound.’ The dark eyes flashed with disdain.

‘They’ve got it all wrong, distorted everything he stood for. What his admirers respond to is the harmony and purity of saturated colour. Every piece is a hymn to God’s creation, a celebration of nature and beauty in all its forms. Even with Eduardo’s more disturbing images, there’s a compelling truth in them somewhere. He knew exactly how to capture the duality of life: pleasure and pain, light and dark, truth and lies. And at the end of the day he managed to express all of this in his art, in stunning form.’

His eyes glittered as he paid homage to his uncle’s genius. She had never seen Andrés speak with such passion. It was a sort of fire of which she had always been aware but which he kept rigidly in check. Only once had she witnessed it, when she had seen him lose his cool in his office, about Lorenzo’s archives, but that was different: he had been angry then.

‘It’s obvious you were very fond of your uncle.’

‘Yes.’ He nodded thoughtfully. ‘He was always generous with his time and taught me a lot. We were very close.’ Then his gaze shifted away. There was a short pause when he tried to get a grip on the emotion that seemed to have flooded him. ‘He said I reminded him of himself when he was young,’ Andrés smiled ruefully. ‘A kind thought, but I certainly don’t have his genius.’

‘He’s really captured the essence of Cádiz’s beauty,’ Luz remarked, her attention now caught by three large paintings of the city of light, each depicting a time of day:
Dawn, Noon
and
Dusk.

‘Yes, he was fascinated by Cádiz’s extraordinary luminosity. He used to ride his horse along our vast beaches at different times every
day to catch the city’s clean-swept Atlantic light, which changes from hour to hour.’

They had almost reached the end of their tour. As they went through the last arch, Luz’s breath caught in her throat as she came face-to-face with a statue that stood at the centre of a smaller room. Lifesize, it was surrounded by representations on a smaller scale of the same person, in various positions and in different materials.

She turned to Andrés, who was standing in the archway, leaning against one of the pillars and watching her silently.
‘La Pouliche,
am I right?’

He nodded. ‘The love of his life,’ he murmured. There was a small choke in his voice, which caught at Luz’s heartstrings. As their gaze held for a moment, she thought she read something there of a deep sadness, but it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared.
It must be my imagination
, she thought, and turned her attention back to the sculptures.

‘There’s almost no documentation about her, but when I delved deeper in my research, I noticed the few references there were hidden away,’ Luz continued, beginning to circle the statue. ‘It’s fascinating. She’s hardly mentioned in the books written about him and I’ve never come across a sculpture or even a painting of her before today.’

‘He uncovered this shrine to his muse only a few months before his death. No one knew anything about its existence before that.’

‘She looks a great beauty and a sensual one at that. She also seems very young.’ Luz observed, looking up at him. ‘Who was she? Why did Eduardo not marry her?’

Andrés shrugged. ‘I tell you, he was very ill when these works came to light.’ His jaw was set in a grim line, eyes hooded, his expression revealing nothing.

Luz searched his face, trying to read his features. Suddenly she sensed that he resented her questions. But how was she supposed to write about his uncle if she couldn’t get to grips with her subject?
La Pouliche
– it was her official name – contrary to all the information she had gathered so far, had clearly been a great part of the artist’s
inspiration. Luz continued to walk around the room, examining each and every one of the numerous small standing and reclining figures of
La Pouliche
, The Filly. Always in a relaxed attitude, the beautiful body of Eduardo’s muse knelt, stood or reclined, arms draped about her head, each part of her alive and sensually provocative. Luz paused in front of one of the bronze busts of the model, whose head was thrown back in an arrogant taunt, her mane of hair cascading untidily behind her. She could almost see the fire seething in the large, animated eyes. Where had she seen that look before? ‘Are there no paintings of
La Pouliche
?’ she asked, suddenly surprised at this obvious gap in the collection.

Andrés did not answer immediately; he seemed to ponder what to say. ‘There are a number of paintings but they’re being cleaned prior to us archiving them,’ he said finally.

‘Can I have a quick look?’ Luz continued, sensing he was holding back something she could not put a finger on.

His mouth twisted. ‘You’d be better off viewing them once they’re in a presentable condition,’ he replied tightly. He was suddenly prickling with defensiveness; she could almost see his hackles rising. It was clear he wanted to be anywhere but there.

‘Some of those paintings were stored in a badly ventilated cupboard,’ he said, ‘and have been damaged by the damp. I’ve kept them all together, you’ll see them in due course,’ he added.

But the tone was final: he obviously had no intention of showing them to her. It was no use insisting, so she let it go.

‘Are we at the end of the tour, then?’ she asked, smiling up at him, hoping to mellow his mood.

The brooding darkness in his eyes cleared, like stormclouds drifting away. He smiled back at her. ‘Yes, for now. There are still the gardens, but they can wait until this evening before we go for that moonlight swim.’

Silence throbbed between them for a split second. His eyes, guarded before, now shone wickedly. Her pulse quickened as she stared into them. He had planned it all, and she had no doubt he had some
surprises in store for her. Warmth flooded her loins in anticipation. She swallowed hard, trying to fight the heat rising within her.

‘Shall we have lunch?’ he asked casually. She was pleased to see that he seemed unaware of the turbulence seething inside her. ‘I’ve told them to prepare it in the vine loggia. It’s only a short stroll from here and the walk is mostly in the shade. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it would be too hot for a picnic on the beach. And the loggia has a view of the sea.’

‘It all sounds lovely,’ she said enthusiastically.

And so they moved from the gallery, down the stairs and out into the sunshine. They had emerged from the back of the house on to a series of paths criss-crossing a section of the garden.

The day was hot and luminous. Luz blinked, a little dazed, and her eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the light. She took her jacket off and inhaled sharply as she felt Andrés’ palm come to rest in the small of her back. As he guided her towards the shadiest path beneath some tall trees, she could feel the pressure of his strong fingers through the thin material of her blouse. She liked the sensation and unconsciously leaned a little into them. He tightened his grip, his palm stretching slightly against her waist. Quietly she walked along, trying to ignore the proud thrust of her nipples straining against her bra as the warmth of his touch radiated on her skin and she felt herself melt with longing.

With great effort she managed to move away, frustrated and a little panicked at the strength of her arousal. He did not stop her; she was relieved: if he was aware of the tempest besieging her he didn’t show it, merely sauntering on a few paces before turning back.

‘Is anything the matter?’ he asked innocently.

Damn the man
. Of course he was aware of what was going on inside her and he was enjoying it.

‘No, nothing at all,’ she managed to say, trying to steady her erratic breathing.

‘Sorry, I didn’t realize, I’ve been walking too quickly. How very ungentlemanly of me,’ he said, deliberately slowing his pace so she
could keep up with him. His gaze now roamed over her slim body, slowing to linger for a few moments on her breasts. She knew he could see her nipples tighten further under his stare and the heat rushed to her cheeks as well as spreading down between her thighs. Seeing his eyes darken, Luz hurried past Andrés, sensing him pause a moment before he followed.

She turned her attention to the numerous amphorae overflowing with colourful flowers, which stood among the variegated shrubbery and exotic trees. Luz got the impression she was walking in a scene straight out of a Technicolor film, the midday sun acting as a powerful projector to illuminate the sumptuous garden.

As they came to the long stone loggia overlooking the ocean, she was overwhelmed by the bird’s-eye view of the whole of the coast and, on missing the step up, she stumbled. Andrés, only a few paces behind, was quick to catch her. She fell back against him and found that he was unmistakably aroused. He wanted her.

An instant later she was swept into his arms and locked in his powerful embrace. Fire shot through her blood. She released a helpless little moan as his warm lips claimed and devoured hers with fierce and blatant hunger. She returned his kiss with equal ardour and wound her arms around his neck as her legs turned to jelly, pressing herself against him, wanting to absorb him.

Her mouth had opened hungrily, beginning to receive his darting tongue, when they were abruptly, though discreetly, called to attention by the tactful cough of a waiter bringing in lunch. They broke apart. Luz felt herself blush to the roots of her hair with mortification, even though the poker-faced retainer went about his job without batting an eyelid.

Andrés dismissed him gently. ‘We’ll serve ourselves,’ he told him. ‘Just place the food on the trolley and the wine on the table and we’ll do the rest.
Gracias
.’

Dark irises gently teased the look of embarrassment on her flushed face as they crossed the loggia to the table. When the man was out of earshot, Andrés smiled at her reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry,
he’s like the three wise Japanese monkeys: “See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.”’

Luz eyed him sceptically. ‘He must be used to this sort of thing,’ she observed, still a little shaken and ashamed of the awkward episode. What had got into her since her return to Spain? She had never been fast, had never exposed her feelings so blatantly and had certainly never entertained the sinful thoughts and images that assailed her now.

His smile was uncertain. He looked a little puzzled. ‘Why do you say that?’

She flashed him a wry look. ‘You’re a notorious womanizer, Andrés. Don’t try and deny it.’

He raised one dark, rakish eyebrow. ‘I resent the word “womanizer”. I am a lover, not a womanizer.’

‘I don’t see the difference.’

‘Have you ever been made love to?’ His voice was low, his expression soft, his gaze gently stroking her.

She stiffened. ‘That is none of your business.’

‘A womanizer takes a woman to satisfy his own desires, a lover gives as well as receives pleasure. With me, a woman’s need is never left unfulfilled.’ The dusky eyes studied her with narrow intent. ‘One day, Luz, I will make love to you, and you will know what it means to be truly loved.’

Her brows lifted and, though goosebumps broke out over her skin at his words, Luz’s pride couldn’t help but rear up. She met his stare challengingly. ‘That’s a very arrogant statement. Don’t you think you’re overrating yourself a little?’

‘I won’t answer that,’ he wryly drawled. Andrés merely pinned her with a bold look, his dark eyes moving over her. His sculptured, sensual mouth curved up seductively. ‘As you say in English, the proof of the pudding is in the eating.’ He poured them both a glass of red wine and picked up a bowl of small olives.

‘Here, taste these. They come from my own olive grove,’ he said, offering them to her. Chocolate-brown, they were hardly bigger than swollen raisins. She helped herself and he popped one into his own
mouth. ‘Their flesh is thin, but their flavour is full. They’re small but potent with taste.’ Luz met his glittering eyes as they regarded her over the rim of his glass, eyes as dark as sin, and she knew, without doubt, to what he was alluding.

He had fired the ignition. She felt the inevitable stir his provocative insinuations had created in her already sensitized body. He was addling her brain. Andrés did not need to touch her for her to want him: he did it with words or silently with his eyes. The man was the Devil himself. How had she ever allowed herself to become so vulnerable? She glowered at him.

Andrés saw the look on her face and laughed that low, hoarse laughter that came from deep in his throat. ‘Come, Luz. You can’t expect a hot-blooded man, faced with such a beautiful, sensual and desirable young woman, to remain unmoved and not be tempted to enflame her.’ He winked at her, continuing the flirtatious charm. ‘Come on, give me your plate, I’ll serve you,’ he said lazily, standing up and moving to the oversized trolley that served as a side table, where the waiter had laid the food.

‘Let’s eat, time is getting on and the cold lobster soufflé will melt. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’ He paused. ‘In more ways than one,’ he added, eyeing her with an amused glint.

Luz’s deep-coloured eyes turned from blue to grey and, before she could unleash the whipping retort so clearly gathering in them, he laid down the plates and put his hands up in surrender.

‘An attempt at humour, nothing else, I swear!’ he said with a broad, endearing grin.

They lunched in the sheltered intimacy of the spacious loggia, which marked the edge of Puesta de Sol and its gardens. Its graceful stone columns were invaded by vines and wisteria, thick foliage creating a haven of leafy freshness and shade. The banks of roses surrounding the entrance exhaled a heady scent, enhanced by the heat of the relentless summer sun. And then there was the ocean, its dazzling iridescent tones shimmering like a dream in the early afternoon haze. Turtle doves cooed beneath the purple jacarandas to
the side of them, while the breeze carried sea fragrances on its breath; down below, the lulling sound of breaking waves set a soothing tranquil pace to the afternoon.