Indiscretion (38 page)

‘Doña Alexandra, I'd love to show you more of the grounds, if you'd like that?'

Alexandra looked up at his hooded gaze. She could read nothing in those jet-black, gleaming eyes of his, but all the same they seemed to burn with a hypnotic intensity. ‘Yes, very much so,' she answered through a slight haze.

They had come out into the tranquil courtyard. A vaulted gallery, supported on Doric columns and surmounted by magnificent sculpted capitals, surrounded the internal quadrangle. Alexandra found she had to hold on to Don Felipe's arm a little more firmly than she intended as her senses shifted in and out of focus.

As they made their way slowly across the courtyard, Alexandra became aware that the capitals above the columns were adorned with carved faces of animals, the expressions of which shifted constantly
with the interplay of light and shadow. Here, where the light was intense, a lion smiled broadly; there, in the shade, the same smile seemed transformed into a fierce snarl. Near it, a monkey with a comic little face grimaced mischievously in the sunlight, while on the shadowy façade of the covered walkway, he took on an almost sinister expression. Though the air was hot and heavy, Alexandra gave a tiny shiver.

The quadrangle was quiet, lying golden beneath the sun, while under the plane trees dwelled pools of grey-blue shadow. A fountain of pink granite warbled gently in the centre, surrounded by tubs of miniature lemon and orange trees, dwarf roses and other scented shrubs. Alexandra was still feeling distinctly as if she were floating rather than walking, and her unsteady vision took in the myriad fleeting colours in the courtyard, shifting with each turn of the light and shade. She looked back at one of the columns: a fox who had seemed to be dozing in the semi-darkness of the walkway now watched the couple with a smug grin; and a snake, languid in the shade, was flicking out its forked tongue in the sun, as if ready to attack. Alexandra turned her head away from them and kept moving, blinking against the light.

After they had visited the gardens beyond the courtyard, she allowed herself to be guided by Don Felipe towards a twisting path to the right of the building. It meandered through a cluster of low rocks to the cliff edge, and then to a descending stone stairway, perhaps one cut into the rock by Christian slaves under Moorish rule, she mused. The thirty steep steps were oddly flanked by freestanding granite columns and led down to a mosaic terrace below.

Unlike the meticulously maintained quadrangle, this part of the property had been abandoned to the mercy of the weeds that grew all over it: couch grass, buttercups and bindweed lived together in joyous profusion and gave the spot an air of gothic decay. Here the landscape was hazy and silent, almost hauntingly so. Only occasionally did the staccato chirping of crickets disturb the solitude.

The melancholy desolation of the place hung like a flimsy shroud over everything. A sudden sadness swept over Alexandra and her
concentration shifted; she missed a step and slipped, but before she could fall headfirst down the steep flight of stairs, Don Felipe caught her. He tightened his grip.

‘Lean on my shoulder,' he said in a hoarse voice. ‘These steps are dangerous. If it wasn't for the fact that the view of the neighbouring towns is so spectacular, I wouldn't have brought you down here.'

Finally, they reached the terrace. Perched on top of a rock, and dangerously projecting over the sea, it was a masterpiece of architecture, one that retained a certain grandeur despite the crumbling stone and brambles. Four pink granite columns, placed at the corners of the monument, were topped with capitals delicately sculpted with mythological flora and fauna. Mirroring the columns on the stairs, they soared dramatically skywards, as though in supplication to some mythic deity.

The floor was entirely covered by slabs of mosaic depicting the twelve signs of the Zodiac surrounded by various heavenly bodies, geometric patterns and demonic monsters, which enhanced the atmosphere of pagan archaism. Alexandra shivered again.

‘Where are we? I feel there's something almost evil about this spot,' she murmured, as she looked around her. Not for the first time since her arrival in Spain, her sixth sense was whispering to her, warning her to get away from this place.

Don Felipe appeared not to have heard her comment or, at least, chose to ignore it.

‘Alexandra, come and look.' He drew her attention to the magnificent landscape that stretched out beneath them.

Indeed, to the west of the bay, the fortified town of Rota presented them with all the ingredients of a vibrant, quaint picture. Vividly painted boats bobbed cheerfully on the shimmering waters or dozed on the golden sand. Salt marshes gleamed in the distance, while further on, a white semicircle of modest houses with green shutters winked in the afternoon sun.

The writer in Alexandra had no difficulty in embroidering this canvas still further with her inner eye. Hers was a rich tapestry, where
brightly coloured laundry hanging at the windows flapped and snapped in the wind; where a busy population of tanned fishing folk spread out their nets on the ochre sand, while swarms of copper-skinned children gambolled in the white foam of the waves that came and went, snaking their way along the shore.

‘That is Cádiz,' said the
torero
, as he pointed to a rocky peninsula rising out of the ocean to the south; not quite an island, it was poised like a white lily in the middle of the sea. ‘The Moors compared it to a “dish of silver in a bowl of blue”. It really is an exceptionally lovely city, maybe the most beautiful in Spain, well worth a visit. My mother has a house there, where she spends her summers. My sister and I often visit her during August. Maybe you'd care to join us this summer.'

Bewitched, Alexandra merely nodded absentmindedly, busy taking in the magnificent view and distracted from her momentary unease. She wanted to inscribe every detail of this breathtaking setting on her memory so that she could translate its splendour on to the page when she got back. If only she could put pen to paper here and now.

‘May I be indiscreet?' the
torero
asked, once again the first to break the silence.

‘You may,' she said, without turning.

‘How is it that such a charming and accomplished lady as yourself isn't yet married?'

Had she been in a different frame of mind, Alexandra would have found his bold question discourteous, even offensive. As it was, she felt somewhat light-headed; her sense of reality was disconnected, as though she were in a dream, and instead she was simply amused. What was it with Spaniards? She vaguely remembered that Salvador had also enquired about her marital status, or something to that effect, but hadn't he put it more subtly?

Alexandra shrugged and laughed. ‘I suppose I haven't yet found my soulmate.'

‘Is there no one special waiting for you back in England?'

‘No one,' she glanced at him, then turned back to stare out at the sea, only giving Ashley the briefest of guilty thoughts. ‘And that's just
as well because, if there had been, I wouldn't have been able to prolong my stay in your amazing country.'

‘You like our country then?'

‘I do indeed, very much so. At times I find your customs and traditions a little bizarre … and certainly quite conservative, but that's only because they're alien to me. At least they were. Now I've become more or less used to them, I think.'

To the west the setting sun, huge and incandescent, was poised to plunge into the azure sea. Alexandra half expected it to emit a colossal hiss as it vanished into the ocean.

Time was marching. Her head was beginning to ache. Around her everything seemed to be swaying gently, as if she were in a boat. The sherry had been much more potent than she'd expected and she regretted drinking so much, so quickly. They should be starting back as she would be late for dinner but she simply couldn't tear her eyes away from the view. After all, it would be a shame to miss the sunset. A feeling of defiance swept over her again; what could possibly be wrong in enjoying it all? Enraptured, she turned, smiling, to find her companion's burning gaze upon her.

‘I knew you would fall in love with this spot as I fell in love with you, Doña Alexandra, the moment I first laid eyes on you.' He moved a little closer. ‘Do you think that you could have the same feeling for me?'

This was a dangerous game. She ought to have recognized the signs and put a stop to Don Felipe's outburst of passion there and then but for weeks Alexandra had been silently burning for Salvador. The fire that had been repressed, stifled by the combination of unfortunate circumstances and Salvador himself, was suddenly liberated under the influence of the wine, the magical setting and by the force of the bullfighter's ardour. The touchpaper had been lit and now the intensity of her feelings took on a power that seared through her inhibitions.

‘I must say, I have never met anyone like you, Don Felipe. You're courageous, flamboyant, interesting … a prince among men.
How could a woman not be sensitive to all that?' she exclaimed, giving free rein to her turbulent emotions and unconscious thoughts, hardly realizing that she was falsifying the situation, both in regard to herself and to her companion.

Had she been given a moment to let her thoughts untangle, Alexandra would have qualified her wild outburst. And later, once the elation of the moment had passed, once she had looked at things with a cool head, she might have regretted their shared moment altogether. Yet, for the time being, such regrets held no sway; in those chaotic few seconds even the memory of her love for Salvador was momentarily lost, carried away by the quiet sea whispering against the shadowy cliffs.

And then, before she could resist him, the
torero
had forcefully drawn her to him, pressing his mouth to hers. Horrified, she was abruptly jolted to her senses as she felt the warmth of his hot lips, the alcohol on his breath, and the probing tip of his tongue. She struggled helplessly, attempting, in vain, to push him away with both hands but he held her prisoner against his lean body. Panic rose in her throat; she was suffocating. She tried to scream, but his forceful kiss made it impossible. And then all of a sudden …

‘
Alexandra!
' The shout rang out in the twilight, startling the couple. She wrenched herself out of her captor's tight grip, realizing, quite suddenly, the compromising position she was in. Looking up, her eyes fell upon a dark figure that she would have known anywhere.

Salvador stood at the top of the stairs, fists clenched at his sides. Rooted to the spot, Alexandra felt her cheeks burn scarlet under his icy gaze. He was the last person she expected, or wanted, to see at this moment. His face was ghostly pale and his mouth formed a colourless line as he stared down at her in the waning light of dusk.

‘So this is where you're hiding, my dear Felipe,' he said sardonically, his eyes narrowing slightly as he came down the steps. Alexandra could see that his mood was almost summoning a storm to break overhead. ‘I should have realized I'd find you here. The criminal always returns to the scene of his crime … You should have been
locked up a long time ago … As for you, young lady,' he added chillingly, barely looking at Alexandra, ‘I thought you had more sense than to listen to the fairytales of the first Don Juan who whispered sweet nothings in your ear. Obviously, I was mistaken.'

‘Come, come,
amigo
, what a holier-than-thou attitude,' scoffed the
torero
. ‘To my knowledge, your copybook is hardly without blot. The whole of Jerez awaits with bated breath the next episode of the unsavoury saga with your gypsy lover.'

Salvador crossed the space between them in two strides.

‘Scoundrel!' he roared as he leapt at Don Felipe and landed a crashing blow to the
torero
's jaw.

‘Salvador,
no
!' shrieked Alexandra, frozen in horror.

Don Felipe let out a grunt of surprise at the blow, but then returned it in a flash, sending Salvador staggering backwards. The duel had started, and on the terrace at the edge of night, under a sky still red from the seething sun, the two men fiercely squared up to each other, while Alexandra looked on helplessly.

Now the fiery orb had set and a reflected gleaming line crossed the cloudless sky like a second horizon. A breeze was beginning to wrinkle the surface of the water below which, up until then, had retained a glassy smoothness. Nocturnal shadows stole furtively from the west and slowly gathered round the trio on the terrace as though setting the scene for an archaic tragedy.

Although of different heights and builds, the two men were of equal strength. While Salvador was tall and well built, with square shoulders, long muscular legs and slim hips, Don Felipe was of average height with a lithe body, full of feline agility and velocity. He deftly warded off his rival's first blows, his almond-shaped watchful eyes anticipating Salvador's tactics from behind their long eyelashes, as he weaved and ducked, never once losing his balance as Salvador's fists came at him repeatedly.

With jaw clenched, his expression impenetrable, Salvador wasted no effort, choosing to stand firm and leaving it to the bullfighter to lead the fight. He gave short staccato blows, vigorous and regular,
threatening to disorientate his opponent with their straightforward power and ferocity.

‘
Please
, both of you,
stop
!' Tears were streaming down Alexandra's face as she inched her way around the two men, but they were oblivious.

Don Felipe suddenly went for his whip and Salvador leapt upon his opponent, knocking it from his hand. With a roar, he began pummelling his fists into Don Felipe's face. Bellowing with equal fury, Don Felipe managed to throw him off and Salvador landed with a sickening thud on his back. By the time the
torero
had come at him again, Salvador was already on his feet, blocking a blow with his arm and striking hard and fast below Don Felipe's ribs.