Masquerade Read Online Free PDF Page B

her mind had taken in details that at the time she had scarcely noticed, she remembered the powerful smell of smoky log fires and cooking food, the shrill banging of a hammer on iron that echoed noisily in her head and seemed to increase the pain across her eyes, the clamouring of children’s voices and the sense of a glittering-eyed woman leaning over her. But, first and foremost, it was the face of the young gypsy that kept floating into her mind’s eye. She saw his features in detail now: the prominent cheekbones in a narrow, burnished face, the short nose and the generous mouth with full, curved lips. Most of all she remembered his eyes, those elongated green eyes set under perfect brows that had ensnared hers and burned with such fire she had been conscious of little else.
    For a while she remained still, aware of a rare sense of wellbeing. She felt strangely rested – odd after the previous day’s events. Then, in some alarm, she realized she was still fully dressed and that she was wrapped up in a blanket. How had she got here? Who had brought her back? It must have been him. Who had let him in? Carmela and Pedro were away for the night; they were due to return today so it couldn’t have been them. Then she remembered she had left both the gate and her window open, not expecting her outing to be a long one. How did he know her house? It was not as though she was well known down in the town – up until now she had only spent time at L’Estrella during the holidays. And Zeyna … she remembered her horse had bolted. Had the mare found its own way back to L’Estrella?
    She tumbled out of bed. Beyond the French windows opposite, the sea glistened in the distance. The sky was a clear and endless blue, paling at the horizon; the air was soft and the whiteness of the light filled it, dazzling her eyes, still full of sleep. Lost in thought, shewent to the bathroom and ran herself a bath. She washed quickly then pulled on her jeans and a loose white shirt tied at the waist with a white leather belt. Images, voices, scraps of conversation kept rising then receding to the back of her mind like the ebb and flow of tidewater. The only thing that remained clear was the disconcerting impact of the gitano’s eyes and the way it had shot through her like a bolt of lightning. It still startled her when she thought of it.
    As she surveyed herself in the mirror, she noticed that her locket was missing. She cherished that pendant more than any of her other jewels for it contained the miniature portraits of her mother and father. It never left her neck. It had belonged to her great-grandmother, Doña Maria Dolores, who had given it to Luz on her tenth birthday, a year before the old lady died. Luz was definitely wearing it when riding on the beach.
    For a moment her parents’ warnings echoed dimly in her head and the disturbing thought that the young gypsy might have taken it crossed her mind. She dismissed it immediately. Even if she couldn’t vouch for any of the other gypsies, something told her this one was different. He would never do such a thing.
    No, the chain must have broken when she fell off her horse, she thought gloomily. It would probably be hopeless to attempt to find it on the beach, though she would certainly try; and the idea of reporting it lost to the police, as she would have done in England, was pointless here in Spain, she conceded. The morning would have to be spent doing some important chores she had put off, including making arrangements for the rest of her things to be shipped from England, but as soon as that was done she would go down to the beach to look for it. Perhaps she might bump into her rescuer and she could thank him personally for his kindness, she told herself. But before any of that, she had to make sure Zeyna had come back and was unharmed.
    The house was quiet. Pedro and Carmela had obviously not returned yet. She went straight down to the stable block. Zeyna was there in her box, happily