Indiscretion (49 page)

Alexandra listened avidly in the hope of finding out something new that would throw some light on Salvador's ambiguous character. But it seemed Doña Inés had pretty much withdrawn from the world at that time, in mourning, and had little else to add.

‘However,' she continued, ‘one fact remains certain. The young count has always been considered a man of honour by those who know him. Even the rumours resulting from his relationship with the gypsy girl have never managed to tarnish his reputation, I can assure you. These scandals crop up from time to time but no one takes them very seriously.'

‘My feelings for Salvador run so deep,' Alexandra whispered desperately. ‘How will I ever be able to forget him?'

‘Go back to England,' advised Doña Inés, placing her embroidery on the table in front of them. She smiled at Alexandra, leaning forward and placing a reassuring hand on her arm. ‘Who knows? Maybe later some happy combination of circumstances will bring you together again. Fate will give you both a second chance. The world is full of the unexpected! There is some truth in the old Moorish saying: if it's
maktoub
, written in the unknown, that you are meant for each other, then neither the oceans, nor the deserts, nor the whole universe will be able to keep you from one another. And you will meet again.'

Soothed by these words, Alexandra went up to her room. The discussion with the
duenna
had clarified some of the questions niggling away at her and had confirmed, moreover, that she must at all costs avoid a confrontation with Don Felipe until after the bullfight.

Tomorrow, before the reception, she would go to him to clear up the misunderstanding. Determined to be humble and take all the blame for misinterpreting his intentions, she would stress her admiration for his skills, as well as her gratitude for his hospitality and kindness during the past weeks; then, she would strongly advocate friendship and beg his forgiveness for having unintentionally misled him and hurt his feelings.

Alexandra would have preferred to write a letter, one that would be delivered once she was miles away from Granada so that he wouldn't try to come after her, but she realized that would be unfair and cowardly. Whatever his faults, Don Felipe had always been considerate towards her, while she, in return, had only been deceitful. At the very least she owed him an honest explanation.

That night, before going to bed, she composed a short note to Don Felipe, requesting a meeting immediately after the
corrida
, and gave it to Juanita, asking her to deliver it first thing in the morning. Finally, she turned out the light, thankful that she would be extricating herself more or less unscathed from a tricky situation. By this time tomorrow she would be on her way to Gibraltar.

A
lexandra woke up with a start, momentarily unaware of where she was. Juanita was drawing back the curtains of her bedroom window and sunshine flooded the room, its warm shafts caressing her face.

‘I hope the
señorita
will forgive me,' Juanita said as Alexandra lifted herself up in bed, bleary-eyed. ‘I did knock, but the
señorita
didn't answer. I was afraid the
señorita
would be late for the
corrida
this afternoon. It's already ten o'clock.'

It had been a terrible night. Alexandra had hardly slept, assailed by doubts and overwhelmed by confusion. Finally, in the early hours she had fallen into a deep sleep.

‘That's all right, Juanita, you were right to wake me.'

‘Would the
señorita
like me to iron her evening dress?'

‘No, thank you, it's already packed.'

‘No,
no
,' the servant shook her head vehemently. ‘I'm sorry, but the
señorita
's evening clothes need ironing again.'

Alexandra frowned. Was the maid trying to be difficult again? ‘I won't need any evening outfits today, since Doña Inés and I are leaving for Gibraltar this afternoon after the
corrida
. Thank you, Juanita, that will be all,' she declared, slightly irritated. Yet the maid stood there staring intently at her with her great dark eyes. ‘Thank you, Juanita, that will be all,' she repeated. Feeling increasingly uneasy under the Spanish girl's penetrating gaze, she pushed herself further up against the pillows. ‘You can go now.'

‘Forgive me
señorita
, but maybe the
señorita
doesn't know that the journey has been postponed,' Juanita announced with a pert smile, scrutinizing Alexandra's face for the effect produced by this titbit of news.

Alexandra's heart sank and she swallowed hard. What had gone wrong? Whatever it was, she didn't want the maid to see her anxiety. ‘I don't know what you're talking about,' she muttered, fighting to keep a blank expression. ‘Run along now and let me get dressed, otherwise I'll be late for the
corrida
.'

‘But
señorita
, you don't understand …'

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Doña Inés hurried into the room, looking agitated.

‘Good morning, my dear, I have some bad news,' she said, coming straight to the point. Then, noticing Juanita, she asked the maid to leave them alone and close the door behind her. The girl cast a lingering glance at both of them before she left. Doña Inés hovered about aimlessly for a few seconds before settling herself in the armchair opposite Alexandra's bed. A frown wrinkled her usually smooth forehead. ‘There's been an outbreak of summer fever in La Línea de la Concepcíon. For the time being, the town is under quarantine and the authorities in Gibraltar are not letting anyone across the border.'

‘What do you mean? How did you find out?'

‘I heard it on the radio after you'd gone to bed last night. And close friends of mine called this morning. They've just arrived from Algeciras and were full of the news.'

‘It might just be a rumour,' argued Alexandra. She thought back to Aunt Geraldine's comments about communications in Spain. ‘Are you sure the reports are reliable?'

‘I can't be sure that the town is still in quarantine today but it's highly likely. I've tried to ring various friends who live in that area but all the telephone lines are busy or down. It's impossible to get through to anyone. I do think it would be unwise to risk setting out today, unless we hear any news to the contrary.'

She looked at Alexandra's worried face. ‘And I'm afraid, my dear, that's not the only piece of bad news,' she went on grimly. ‘Don Felipe came round early this morning to apologize that he won't be able to meet you straight after the
corrida
. He received your note, but he has some business to attend to with a couple of
aficionados
. Apparently, they're coming all the way from Toledo to see him.'

This was just about the last straw. Wearily, Alexandra sank back into the pillows on her bed and closed her eyes. ‘What am I going to do? I can't go to that party and act as if everything is all right,' she protested, ‘Felipe is planning to announce our engagement!'

Doña Inés stood up and made for the door. ‘Listen, Alexandra, you mustn't worry, you're not alone in all this. I'll be at the reception too, and one way or another, we'll deal with the problem together,' she said resolutely. ‘Now, my dear, I must let you get ready and I need to finish dressing myself. Time is marching on, we should be leaving in an hour.'

Alexandra felt trapped. There was an odd sense of inevitability about all this. It was as if invisible influences were at work, inexorably playing havoc with her life, preventing her from leaving Spain. This was the second time that fate had interfered with her plans. She thought of the Moor's
maktoub
and of the gypsies. Was all of this ‘written'? Maybe there was some truth in those weird superstitions after all. Her stomach churned at the idea but she swiftly admonished herself.
No, no, absolute nonsense!
She was just the victim of a coincidental combination of circumstances. Rousing herself from these unwelcome thoughts, Alexandra slipped out of bed and began preparing herself for the afternoon's event.

* * *

There was a lively atmosphere on the terrace when Alexandra and Doña Inés arrived at the Hacienda Herrera that evening, after the
corrida
. Several lanterns adorned the trees of the garden, which was artistically floodlit for the occasion.

Despite the beautiful setting, and the party mood around her, Alexandra was decidedly nervous. All afternoon at the bullfight she had been tense, her mind endlessly going over the conversation she planned to have with Don Felipe. It didn't help matters that thoughts of Salvador continued to distract her. She remembered that first time in Ronda at the Plaza de Toros. It had been such an intense day. Salvador had been there, with Doña Isabel. Alexandra remembered how she had looked at Don Felipe through rose-tinted glasses then, finding him exciting and dashing. And later, Salvador introduced her to the Flamenco with a fire she would never forget. Afterwards, at the Parador de la Luna, the enthralling day had culminated with their achingly passionate embrace … It seemed so long ago and now Alexandra was a world apart from those happy memories, and from the man she loved. All she felt now was dread.

In order to boost her morale, she had taken special care in choosing her gown for that evening. She also knew that Doña Isabel would be there, attempting to outshine her guests. Don Felipe's sister had just returned from Cádiz and although she had managed to avoid her at the
corrida
, tonight would be more difficult.

Alexandra had opted for an elegant Schiaparelli gown, an ivory-and-gold long Grecian dress which Aunt Geraldine had bought her in Paris, and which she had worn only once before to go to the opera. The tightly cinched-in waist and flaring flounces of cream-coloured chiffon showed off the elegant contours of her slender, willowy figure and brought out the warm glow of her skin; the golden tan she had acquired after days of exploring the markets of Granada gave her a healthy radiance and accentuated the green of her eyes. With her bare shoulders gracefully peeping out from gossamer frills, the low V-neckline of her close-fitting bodice emphasizing the firm line of her breasts, she was reminiscent of some ancient diva as she glided through the drawing room, straight and tall, picking her way carefully among the selected crowd of socialites beginning to fill the place.

Don Felipe immediately spotted them. He was at the other end of the room, greeting guests with Doña Isabel. Alexandra could
have sworn she saw his smouldering ebony eyes narrow slightly, although his mask-like features broke into a smile. She was still aware of his powerful but inscrutable feline beauty, but as he made his way across the room towards them with that characteristic lithe grace, bringing to mind the double-faced stone animals at his
bodega
, she realized that everything about the
torero
had now taken on a slightly repulsive aura.

She felt Doña Inés squeeze her arm. ‘Try to get Felipe on his own soon, my dear,' she murmured, ‘before he's tempted to make his announcement. I'll be here if you need me to talk to him afterwards.' When Alexandra shot her an anxious look, Doña Inés simply patted her hand reassuringly, telling her, ‘Only you can speak with him first. Now smile, and go with him. I know you'll choose the right words.'

Alexandra had to fight the instinct to back away from the
torero
when he took her arm. As he led her off to introduce her to some of his friends, she couldn't help but glance nervously over her shoulder at Doña Inés. She thought she saw a flicker of apprehension behind the older woman's kindly features.

Alexandra's head buzzed with a dizzy fever. All she could hear was a staccato chattering, punctuated every now and then by a sharp laugh or exclamation, and the eternal rustling of fans, like the fluttering of moths in the warm evening air.

‘You should always wear your hair this way,
querida
,' whispered the
torero
in her ear, his eyes travelling over the mass of auburn coiled locks dressed in a high chignon at the crown of her head, a style that accentuated the pure oval of her face and her high cheekbones. Alexandra made an effort to smile.

‘Are you still suffering from a headache?' he asked, sensing her stiffen.

‘Yes, a slight one,' she said softly. Indeed, it was stifling in the brightly lit drawing room and her head was beginning to feel as if it were being squeezed in a vice. If she didn't speak to him now, it might be too late, and concentration would fail her.

‘Felipe, there's something I must tell you …'

He put a finger to her lips, his other hand still grasping her arm firmly. ‘Enough,
querida
, there'll be plenty of time for talking later. There's nothing, I'm sure, that cannot wait.' There was a controlling urgency in his voice. His velvet black eyes were staring at her intensely as he made a sweeping gesture with his hand. ‘Look, so many guests who are dying to meet you.'

She had no desire except to run away from this throng of waxen, richly attired dolls, through which she was now being paraded on the arm of a man from whom she recoiled almost with revulsion but the
torero
's grip was tight. Anyhow, her legs felt heavy, incapable of responding to the simplest of commands.

Before Alexandra could protest any further, a plump, bald man with a bushy moustache beckoned to the bullfighter. Don Felipe made his apologies and followed him. Together they disappeared among the guests and Alexandra hurried off, relieved at the chance to get some air. She would go back inside in a few minutes and find Doña Inés, she decided. Together they would work out how to tackle Don Felipe again.

Leaving the terrace, she went down the steep steps to a cobbled footway lined with flowering shrubs, cacti and aloes. The very feel of the balmy night air invigorated her; already her headache was receding. She knew the Hacienda Herrera quite well by now and walked quickly along the sweet-scented path, distancing herself from the merry chatter and laughter of the crowd until it had died away. Soon she came to a gently sloping plateau on the edge of the garden, set with cypresses, across which was an incredible view of the Sierras soaring above the rooftops of Granada.

Sunset smouldered over the orange groves and olive trees. In the distance, the Sierras loomed with a strange foreboding in the fading light, their summits fiery and menacing. With the fragrance rising from the nearby tobacco plantations, the evening air was as intoxicating as opium.

Alexandra stared at those mute giants, so far away, towering impassive and unshakable, braving the harshness of wild nature
with silent courage. Suddenly, the message of the Sierras came to her in this clear twilight: like them, Salvador faced life, distant, impenetrable, inflexible in his resolution, determined in his actions, confronting his fate with stoicism — a fate, like the night winds of winter howling through the mountains, that was unleashing itself against him with unrelenting fury.

She leaned against a cypress tree, her heart filled with an inexpressible melancholy, trying to take in for the last time the incredible beauty of the place. As she did so she felt her soul slowly wither in despair, along with the dying sun. Soon she would be leaving and every experience she had tasted there — all her hopes, her sorrows, these beautiful landscapes and the strange sensations that Spain had awakened in her — would be nothing but the cold, grey ashes of memory.

The sun plunged behind the mountains. Although the temperature had dropped a little, it was still hot. Soon it would be night. Alexandra took one last yearning glance at the sad purple summits, and then slowly turned, preparing to go back to the party.

And that was when she saw him. She froze. Salvador was standing on the edge of the garden above her, just a few feet away from the trees, his tall, dark figure looking out to the horizon. Their gaze met and locked. Alexandra's eyes widened, and he stared back at her, his lips parted in shock. Her mouth went dry. There was an instant of silence, a brief lull in time when the world seemed to have stopped.

Then, with a stifled exclamation, they were in each other's arms again, their long-denied yearning driving them, the old chemistry exploding back into flames. Salvador's mouth closed over hers as he greedily pulled her against him. His kiss was demanding, savage, almost primitive in its ardour, and went on until the last shards of reason fled from her and only the consuming flames of passion remained. He was devouring her with the hunger of a man seeking salvation, and Alexandra savoured his taste, making her dizzy.