Indiscretion (14 page)

‘It's absolutely beautiful.' She returned it to him.

‘According to ancient superstition,' he continued, ‘diamonds give protection against your enemies, emeralds bring wealth, rubies ensure peace of mind, sapphires secure happiness and amethysts guarantee a good digestion. A rich man would wear a belt set with fifty or so precious stones in the hope of safeguarding all these things: happiness, security, honour and health.'

She gave a teasing smile. ‘In that case, I presume you're a fulfilled and contented man with nothing left to wish for in life.'

In the half shadow, Alexandra could only make out his profile, but all of a sudden he was remote and haughty. She felt him stiffen and guessed that under the black mask his eyes had assumed their steely look again.

‘It's time I went,' he said abruptly, turning to face her. A bitter smile twisted his beautifully moulded lips. ‘It was selfish of me to monopolize you. You must be impatient to return to your admirers, please forgive my rudeness.' He paused, and Alexandra saw his jaw tighten as he suddenly looked around him, listening for something.
‘I should not be here …
Señorita, por favor
, take this piece of advice: leave this house. There's nothing but unhappiness here. Leave El Pavón and leave Spain before it's too late.'

Thereupon, he moved close to her and brushed her cheek lightly again with the tip of his forefinger, gazing intently into her eyes through the slits of his mask. Then, without warning, and before she had time to stop him, he leapt over the balustrade, wrapped himself in his black cloak and disappeared into the warm night.

Bewildered, Alexandra remained motionless for a while. Somewhere out in the darkness a toad croaked harshly, tearing through the silence. The violins had stopped playing and the light-hearted chatter of guests came to her as if through a mist, punctuated from time to time by bursts of pealing laughter, which she found vaguely familiar but was unable to determine why.

Slowly, she made her way back to the brightly lit room, still reeling from the intensity of the encounter with her masked stranger and the unexpectedly dramatic and cryptic warning with which he chose to end it. Deeply absorbed in her thoughts, she did not notice the man who'd been hidden all the while by the bushy foliage of an exotic plant adorning one corner of the terrace. He emerged behind her from the shadows and watched her go, his lips parted in a sardonic smile.

The ballroom was nearly empty. A few couples remained, finding it hard to leave after such a magical evening.

‘
Ah! Vous voilà enfin!
' called Sergio Valentini as Alexandra came in from the terrace. ‘I've been seeking you everywhere, cruel Titania. You mustn't abandon me like that,' he added, lifting his arms to heaven in a melodramatic gesture. ‘But you're quite pale. What is the matter?' he enquired with a frown.

‘I'm feeling a little faint,' she replied, truthfully. ‘You must have poured me too much champagne, I'm not used to such treats. I think I shall retire. I'll be better in the morning.' Without waiting for his reply, she turned to go, leaving him speechless.

She had barely reached the big marble staircase that led to the upper floors when Ramón appeared on the bottom step next to her.
‘Alexandra, where have you been?' He looked at her reproachfully. ‘You promised to keep the midnight dance for me.'

Embarrassed, she evaded his eyes and continued to climb the stairs. There was too much confused emotion in her face that she was still struggling to subdue and she didn't want him to witness it. ‘I went into the garden for some air, I wasn't feeling too well.'

He leapt up behind her and caught her arm. ‘Come into the drawing room. Everyone is anxious to know the identity of the ravishing and mysterious sultana.'

‘Ramón, I really do have a horrible headache. I'm sorry, but I don't feel up to facing them.'

Gently, she pulled away but he waved a hand dismissively. ‘Oh, you've probably had too much of José's punch. It's very potent, you know. I'll fetch you one of Agustina's herbal brews, you'll be better in no time.' He smiled disarmingly. ‘First of all, I insist you come with me,' he said, taking her elbow. ‘We can't keep everyone waiting. Besides,
Abuela
has asked to see you.'

Too tired to resist now, and aware that she hadn't thanked her grandmother for the effort she had put into organizing the evening, she let herself be led by her cousin into the drawing room.

Doña María Dolores was seated regally in an enormous armchair upholstered in maroon brocade. In her dress of beautiful black lace, adorned by three rows of large baroque pearls and a diamond brooch, she fitted her grand surroundings perfectly. Her queenly bearing and the imperious flash of her eyes attested to the fact that she was sovereign of the house and, at this moment, she was most definitely holding court. A small crowd of men and women, bereft now of their masks, make-up a little smudged, outfits slightly ruffled by an evening of games, dancing and other pleasures, were gathered around her.

The old lady's face broke into a broad smile. ‘Come, Alexandra, my child, let me introduce you to our friends, who are all eager to meet you. This is your cousin, Salvador,' she said, turning to the figure standing behind her chair, half hidden in the shadow, ‘I don't think you've met.'

The young man moved out into the light and gave a slight bow. ‘At your service, dear Cousin.'

Somehow Alexandra heard his voice before she took in his appearance. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart leapt uncontrollably and she gripped the side of her grandmother's chair in case her legs, which had suddenly turned to jelly, should give way. The world narrowed, the others in the room might as well not have been present. She met the penetrating grey eyes and held their stare. On the terrace they had been partially hidden from her by his mask; now they watched her steadily, twinkling with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

Salvador had exchanged his sultan's costume for that of a Basque peasant, which was perfectly moulded to his muscular form, setting off his broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist and lean hips. Once again, Alexandra was painfully aware of his uncompromising good looks. Her mouth went dry. Under his piercing gaze she felt herself tremble as her mind went back to the kiss they had nearly shared earlier. She stammered something incomprehensible and moved away, letting Ramón guide her around the circle of guests as though in a dream, smiling feebly at some, shaking hands with others, and trying desperately to exchange small talk. Her mind was numb but her head ached violently; the pulse in her temples beat desperately, eradicating any possibility of intelligible conversation.

After half an hour Alexandra simply could not bear it any more. She could sense Salvador's eyes following her the whole time, though he never tried to speak to her again. Taking leave of her grandmother, she hurried out and back to her room. Fully dressed, she threw herself on to the great bed and, away from prying eyes, buried her head in her pillow and wept like an adolescent after her first disappointment in love. She felt like a fool, played with and rejected. Finally, thoroughly exhausted, she fell into a deep sleep as the small hours crept towards dawn.

* * *

Alexandra didn't see Salvador again until the next evening. After a day spent walking alone in the orchards with her book, she had ended up in the drawing room, where they had been introduced the night before, and sat down at the grand piano. She began to play one of her favourite pieces, Beethoven's ‘Moonlight Sonata', allowing herself to be carried away by the music.

From a tender age she had shown an aptitude for music. She'd been delighted when her father had given her a piano. One year in Cheyne Walk, much to everyone's astonishment, the brand new Steinway had been delivered to the house with a note from Don Alonso. Aunt Geraldine, who herself played the violin well, had been glad that the girl's father had at least remembered his daughter's musicality and, in turn, she had ensured her niece nurtured her talent. From then on, when Alexandra was not reading a book or writing her stories, she began to teach herself to play, finding some release for her pent-up emotions. Without being a virtuoso, she had mastered her favourite instrument. Over the years she had derived enormous pleasure from it and had gladly entertained friends at musical evenings, a regular pastime in her circle made up of artists, intellectuals and musicians. Writing was her passion but playing the piano provided a different kind of escape and relaxation. More often than not it was at the keyboard that she found inspiration for her novels and that evening she felt growing within her that very special impulse.

Standing in the doorway, Salvador watched her lost in her music. Her copper hair was still scooped up in the complicated braid she'd worn the night before, leaving exposed the nape of her graceful neck. All the French doors were open to the garden and the drawing room was bathed in evening light.

He moved and the floor creaked under him, causing her to turn. How long had he been standing there, she wondered, as her heart leaped into her mouth and her gaze met his. Again, Salvador's look held so many different things but tonight there was tension and a restless quality to it.

‘Good evening, little cousin,' he said as he ambled towards the piano and leaned against it. ‘I didn't know you had a talent for music as well as a gift for writing. What else do you hide behind those mysterious eyes?'

She bridled under his latent mockery, holding back a biting reply, and merely glared at him. Her green eyes deepened to dark emerald, glinting resentfully.

‘I haven't seen you today, Salvador. I trust you've had a good day.' She deliberately remained aloof, determined not to succumb to her irritation.

‘I've been riding.'

‘All day?'

‘Yes, Balthazar, my favourite horse, needs a good deal of exercise.' Salvador watched her face and she tried to steady herself under the intense gaze of those eyes. ‘He's a fiery stallion, a handful to ride, a vigorous horse. But he's got a good heart and a sure footing in these rocky hills.'

‘So, do you exercise him every day?'

‘No, most of the time Fernando takes him out … But I find there's no better way to release tension than to ride recklessly on a wild horse.' The grey-blue eyes twinkled with mischief as he added, ‘Presumably when you are tense you exercise your passions on the piano?'

How did he know the way she felt? The way she'd been feeling since she had been in his arms the night before. She didn't like it one bit that he could read her so well.

Picking up her music, Alexandra made no reply and began to leave the room but he caught her swiftly by the wrist and pulled her towards him.

‘You know, your eyes are even more hypnotic than your photo.' He stared at her, the fingers of his hand softening their grip, and she was acutely aware that he was only a step away now.

‘What photo?'

‘The one in your grandmother's study, she showed it to me not so long ago. It was how I recognized you at the harbour.'

She gritted her teeth at the thought of his deliberate subterfuge.

‘Alexandra, are you still angry with me for last night?' He was serious now and his gaze bore deep into her stormy green eyes.

But she had no time to answer, for someone had just come into the room, disturbing their tête-à-tête. Alexandra pulled her hand from Salvador's clasp and stepped away.

‘The door was open so I came in without knocking,' explained the beautiful redhead. She walked over to the piano, an enigmatic smile floating on her lips, which became more fixed as her eyes moved from Salvador to Alexandra and back again. Her extravagant lilac satin dress had dozens of flounces of tulle. She wore no hat but carried a white lace parasol and a fan. Even though she looked as though she had stepped out of a nineteenth-century romantic novel, she was elegant and undeniably attractive.

Alexandra was hit by the same feeling of déjà vu that had swept over her at the ball. In a flash, she remembered the scene she had witnessed at the Church of Santa María. This was the young woman with pealing laughter who had lit a candle, with whom her cousin had been talking at the gate that day.

‘Salvador,' continued the redhead in honeyed tones, ‘you must introduce me to your charming companion.'

Salvador tensed. His steel eyes narrowed imperceptibly. ‘Doña Alexandra de Falla, my cousin,
Marquesa
Isabel de Aguila.'

‘Ah yes, I see,' went on the newcomer in caustic tones, though still smiling. ‘The little cousin in exile who's come to ingratiate herself with her Grace the
Duquesa
.' She took off her white kid glove to display a tiny hand, which she held out haughtily to Alexandra.

The insult hit Alexandra like a whip; her cheeks turned a burning red.

‘I'm sorry, but the art of ingratiation seems to have suddenly deserted me.' Ignoring the outstretched hand, she turned abruptly and walked out of the room, desperately trying to hide the tears of humiliation threatening to scald her eyes.

‘Isabel,' she heard her cousin growl indignantly as she reached the hall, ‘you could have spared your malicious comments. That was cheap and unworthy of you.'

‘Come, Salvador,' replied the
Marquesa
in wheedling tones, mixed with an undercurrent of reproachment, ‘I was only teasing. Don't get so worked up. What does this girl mean to you that you take her feelings so much to heart? You don't seem to …'

Alexandra was already too far away to hear the remainder of the phrase, or Salvador's reply. Out of sight now, she ran up the wide staircase. Once in her room, she gave full vent to her feelings. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours she felt ridiculed and humiliated. She could not fathom why Salvador had gone to such lengths to orchestrate his absurd masquerade at the masked ball. Surely he realized she would soon discover his true identity? Equally, she saw no justification for the other woman's outright hostility, which she had made no attempt to conceal.