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"I'm in a time warp." Katherine stared up at the mix of gothic and Queen Ann style buildings that lined the stone sidewalk of Old Town. Each structure was a piece of art, ornately carved with thinly paned windows and wrought-iron balconies on every floor. Some were coloured a forbidding brown or bright whitewashed stone; others were more of a flat gray, but each one had vibrant splashes of colours in their awnings or window boxed gardens with bright red or yellow bunches of flowers.
"How old are those buildings?" She studied the pointed roof topped structures on the far side of the Bay, feeling like she stood in the middle of a blended modern metropolis and an ancient Greek market place all at once. "Are they apartments or businesses or mosques?"
"All of the above." Santiago followed her gaze then spoke to Miguel before the other man returned to the car. She was going to have to explore the inside of all these buildings before she left. Her guiltiest pleasure back home was to go to old estate open houses and antique sales in turn of the century homes. She loved to be able to peruse the classic architecture and escape into history, imagining what her life would have been like living in another time and place. A frivolous waste of time, according to Jon, but an indulged private pleasure for her.
"I would love to go out and see that island." She turned and watched one the ferries leave the crowded dock in front of the buildings and chug out through the bay.
"We will then," Santiago assured her, placing a hand on her lower back.
She couldn't stop smiling up at him.
"Shall we go in?" He nodded at the brown brick building ahead of them. From the open gates that people strolled through, packages and plates of food in hand, it stood six stories from the cobblestones she stood on. "My businesses are run from the first three floors," he gestured up to the set of arched windows and curved iron balconies above their head. "Some of my staff maintain apartments on the fourth and fifth floors, my place is at the top for when I finish late and do not want to drive to the hotel."
"Hotel?"
"Yes. We have several Ibbara Hotels throughout the Mediterranean. The Plaza is our flagship location but it is further in town. There is an apartment on the top floor, where I entertain..." he stopped talking.
She scowled. "Women?"
He stretched out his hand. "Come. Let us go inside."
Katherine pursed her lips and returned her attention to the bustling street behind her before she looked longingly over the beach and water.
"Do not worry," Santiago chuckled. "I will see that you get to explore everything Donostia has to offer."
"Hmm," she looked back at him. "Think I'd like to see this flagship hotel actually." She mumbled, wondering exactly how many women he entertained there. She frowned at the arched doorway to his office. "1805?" She read the bold black letters carved into the archway stones. Ibarra Donostia. 1805.
"Yes. My family helped to rebuild the city after Napoleon finally went home. The carving was a thank you to mark the effort."
Katherine followed Santiago through the breezy archway into a busy courtyard.
"We call this the office square."
Katherine looked up from the low spouting water fountain grounded into a cluster of stones, a group of young children throwing coins through the streams, up to the square mezzanines that overlooked the entire arcade. "I can see why." She picked up on some of the conversations going on around her, few in English, most in Spanish or Basque. A child's peal of laughter rang out as the children switched from throwing coins to chasing each other through the water's spray. The people who sat at the tables around the fountain didn't even lift their eyes to the frolicking children and sudden shouts of joyful noise, they just drank their coffee, talked on cell phones or tapped on tablets while the children played.
"Shouldn't those kids be in school?" Katherine smiled at the way the children carelessly tossed more coins before chasing them and each other into the water.
Santiago shrugged as they walked through a market and stopped at an iron caged outdoor elevator. "I believe it is another holiday or some such thing. Children are always welcome to play."
Miguel appeared beside them, luggage in hand, and pushed the elevator's call button.
Katherine thought of Tariq. "I hope he's okay."
Santiago took her hand as the elevator door opened and they stepped inside. "I am sure my nephew is fine. We will call once upstairs if that will put your mind at ease." He punched a series of numbers into the button pad.
Katherine watched the market place drift down below her feet as they rose upwards. She realized she was no longer worried about Tariq's safety, only that he was emotionally settled with her being gone. She was in the middle of deciding what that meant when the elevator door opened to a first-class panoramic view of the Bay. "Wow." She stood blinking in the elevator doorway until Santiago nudged her into the room. They weren't that far up, just six floors, but her eyes could skim rooftops and the picturesque skyline before being drawn to the blue expanse of the sea.
"You approve of the view?"
She gaped up at Santiago. "What's not to approve of? It's spectacular."
He nodded at Miguel who left the bags in the middle of the room before returning to the elevator. "It is all an open concept. You should be able to find everything with ease. Kitchen, dining room, sitting area, washrooms" Santiago nodded and pointed out the very opulent spaces, separated by simple, dark wood furniture and thick area rugs. The rich hues of colours mixed with the polished wood made everything very masculine with a quaint urban artistic style.
She immediately loved the leather chaise beneath the windows. "Somehow, I can't see you laying on that."
"My mother's idea," he shrugged. "She updated the decorating in here a few years ago. The bedroom is around this corner, as well as the shower and sauna."
Katherine looked at the sliding glass doors at the other end of the restaurant-style kitchen. "Does that lead outside?"
"In a way." Santiago took her hand and led her to the frosted sliding doors. They stepped out into a waist-high stone veranda that overlooked the marketplace five stories below. Street noise, talking, the children's continued laughter, and the smell of fresh coffee and baked bread filled the air.
"This is really something." Katherine stepped around the patio café table and chairs to get a better look at the view. Sure enough, there was the market they had just walked through. People coming and going between the shops, the fountain and children, the café tables and chairs all occupied. "Amazing. Seriously. Who built this place?" She looked upward to the open-air roof and fluffy white clouds that drifted by.
Santiago leaned against the veranda's stone wall. "My great-great-grandmother oversaw its construction. The common area below was once used for horses, a go-through to the stalls in the back. Work carts and trolleys were loaded up there before being brought out to the street." He nodded toward the Bay. "Shipyards and the port covered most of this area back then."
Katherine looked back through the kitchen to the bay scene outside the window. "Of course." It only made sense. The area did remind her of a busy port with the movement of people and bustle of activity on the street. The waterfront shops that lined the street before giving way to the long boardwalk that stretched the length and curve of the beach made it easy to imagine the whole area as a traditional seaport with ships in the distance and men unloading cargo from ones that were docked. She could see old-world taverns in place of the existing cafes, and comfortable low-rise inns where the taller hotels now stood.
"Katrin," Santiago's voice came dark and quiet across the patio. She turned to see him watching her intently, and a flutter of excitement niggled at her tummy at the possessive look that had crept into his eyes.
"Come." He barely nodded as a summons.
She looked at his outstretched hand and hesitantly crossed the small space to where he stood. Before she could ask what was wrong, he pulled her against him, his mouth immediately on hers, drawing her into a long kiss that curled her toes, and had her breathless in seconds.
When he finally lifted his mouth, reluctantly letting her lips stray from his, she stared up at him, her palm splayed on his hard chest, his firm muscles expanding beneath her fingers, the rest of his body, especially his hips were rigid where they pressed against her stomach and soft thighs. "What was that for?" He shifted, bringing them impossibly closer together, and her womanhood heated in response.
"I like having you here." He traced a finger down her cheek then kissed her again, this time with an intense focus that made everything else around them fall away. He spread his hands around her bottom and lifted her further into his body. "I do not want you to go anywhere. I must go down to the offices for a few hours but will return before dinner. If you can be patient, I will not be long, and we can have pintxos before dinner."
His mouth was intoxicating and made her heady with want and easy agreement. "Of course," she replied, still breathless. "I know you're here for business. I won't get in the way."
"You are never in the way." He leaned down and took her mouth again in another long, heated kiss before he lifted and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. "Your arrival has been a gift. An awakening."
Excitement flared and swamped her senses from where his lips conquered hers down to her lady parts, now steeped in heightened sensation. Everything inside of her was alive, her curiosity and anticipation, her dormant sexuality and intrinsic yearning clamored to be set free. She pressed her firm nipples into Santiago's body and kissed him back in a burst of wanting. When he teased her with his tongue, she brazenly chased his into his mouth with a groan.
"Katrin," he whispered then sank down to one of the café chairs, tugging her with him so she straddled his lap, her airy skirt bunching around her waist. He held her hip down with one hand and ran his other one over the hard peaks of her breasts. She arched into his palm and rolled her hips against his, the natural pull to stroke herself against his manhood, magnetic.
His fingers tightened on her before he growled. "I want nothing more than to open my pants and stroke myself into you this time."
Moving before she could talk herself out of it, she reached down and fumbled with Santiago's belt buckle and buttons before she unzipped his pants and reached inside his fitted boxers. She held him in her hands then stroked her fingers from his base to tip.
"Oh love," he sucked in a breath and groaned deeply as she caressed him. "Not here...on a chair. Let me take you to my—ugh..." an animal sound rumbled in his throat as she stroked his balls with her fingertips.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, groaning and shifting, his fingers grasping her bare thighs as he strained in unadulterated pleasure in her ministrations. Katherine followed him and leaned down to captured his next moan into her mouth. Shamelessly, she pressed her breast out toward his face. He opened his eyes and looked at her, expression dark and full of lust at her blatant invitation. He used one hand to tug at her blouse and force her buttons to pop away, and when the material fell from her shoulders to the crook of her elbows, he unclasped the front closure of her bra so her breasts bounced free and into his waiting hand.
She moaned and arched and ground herself against him, the bunched material of her skirt between her legs frustrating her efforts.
He released one of her breasts to sort out her skirt until her naked thighs and damp panties were exposed to his eyes and uncovered manhood.
"I want you to ride me." He became the aggressor and ran his thumb across her veiled womanhood making her gasp and tighten her thighs against his.
He pulled aside her panty and stroked her while she stroked him, the pleasure of his fingers unlike anything she'd ever felt. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back as he used his thumb to press at the hard nub of her clustered flesh while she rode his hips as he demanded, the heat intoxicating as it tore through her core. "
"Santiago—" she breathed and gripped his shoulders, moving faster against his skillful hand. Frissons of pleasure ran up and down her body, from her ribs and piqued breasts directly to her womanly centre. "Oh God, Santiago—not again..." She drover herself into his hand and closed her eyes as he pinched her nipple his thumb maddening between her legs until she moaned and dug her nails into his shoulders, riding his hand and hips as the world spun out of control.
"Yes again," He held onto her hips and reared against her as she squealed with pleasure, the sound mixing with the busy street noise below. "So perfect." He grunted like an animal as her womanhood pounded in uncontrollable contractions against him, her thin panties and tummy suddenly drenched with his unexpected release. "Goddammit." He pressed his face between her naked breasts then licked at her nipple growling again.
*****
SANTIAGO BOUNCED THE Pelota ball once then swung his arm in a wide arc before slamming the small sphere at breakneck speed into the concrete plaza wall.
No more control than a schoolboy.
Disgusted with himself and his lack of self-control with Katrin earlier, he ran forward, beating out his opponent before slapping the ball into the wall, again and again, each time harder and faster than before. His freshly taped hands stung with the force of the hard, round surface, but the punishment and penance felt good, the expenditure of energy just what he needed against the continued thrum of sexual lust still vibrating through his limbs. He may have just spilled himself all over Katrin, but his body wanted more, demanded more, needed a hell of a lot more if it was to reach any sense of true satisfaction where she was concerned.
A long time ago, he had mastered the art of self-controlled orgasm and ejaculation with women. It was what allowed him to go all night, hold off coming until he wanted to, but earlier with Katrin, his body reverted to some base instinct and stormed ahead toward animal satisfaction without his permission. She had flipped a switch and triggered him to go full caveman when she orgasmed against his stiff, naked length. Next time, there was no question that he would thrust himself inside of her, there was no way he could not trust himself not to.
"Hooray!" The children who had eagerly given up the makeshift street court cheered and the people that walked in the plaza stopped to watch him play the ancient game, street style with their bare hands instead of using equipment and bats.
He had been playing Pelota on the street since he was young, waiting for his father to finish work in the office, he'd slip outside the courtyard door and run through the crowds to where other children played the old sport, using discarded tape they found in nearby garbage cans for their hands.
Wack! Wack! His opponent slammed the ball against the wall, forcing Santiago to give a sharp start and run before he walloped the ball back into the stone, the perfect angle making his opponent dive and miss a return. The crowd cheered again at the winning point, and the children ran up to Santiago as he shook his opponent's hand, one of the boy’s father, who had been out playing with his son during his lunchtime.
Santiago watched as the boy jumped into his father's arms and cheer with pride even though his papa had just lost. When he was young, because his own father worked so much, away bullfighting and then off travelling with his mother, Santiago had taken an extreme comfort being at the villa surrounded by the rest of his family, he told himself that was enough, but secretly he longed for his father's undivided attention and vowed that when he had children of his own, he'd spend all of his time with them, devoted to his family.
"Will you play again? Where do you live? How did you get so good?" The children peppered Santiago with questions as he pulled off his wrist bands and wiped his face. He wanted to be his own son's hero one day. He smiled down at the boys and tried to answer each one of their questions as quickly as he could until they fell strangely silent. Santiago turned to see what had captured their busy attention and even that of the father's.
"So this is the work you had to do in the office?" Katrin came up beside him with a big relaxed smile on her face. There was no trace of sexual frustration about her. Indeed, she looked perfectly satisfied in her long airy skirt and colorful top, hair loose and sexy around her shoulders as she held his eyes for a brief moment.
His body tightened as blood rushed between his legs, pleased that he had satisfied her so undeniably. "And is this how you rest?"
"With all this outside my window? She spread her arms and turned around. "Not likely."
"You are a very pretty lady. Is she your wife?" One of the boys asked Santiago. More blood rushed through his system and converged south, making his dick jump.
"Kaixo," the boy's father greeted Katrin, then continued to speak in Euskara.
Katrin smiled politely and nodded until the man finished speaking. Santiago pulled his eyes from where the skirt clung to her shapely legs and explained to the father in Euskara that she did not speak the language.
The man's eyebrows shot up. "My apologies," his face coloured as he put his hand over his heart. "You look so very Basque."
"So he keeps telling me." Katrin smiled and nodded at Santiago then put out her hand to introduce herself. Santiago noticed she did not wear her watch. There was never a time in Canada when she was without it, referring to it constantly while Tariq visited, making sure and keeping the visit day exactly on time. She permitted Malik to spend the specified time with his father deemed by the court and never a minute more or less.
"Sir," Santiago broke in, "may I introduce, Katrin Alesander-Casey."
"Ah, Alesander." The man took Katherine's hand and kissed it. "From your mother. You are of here after all. We have many of your people living near us, except they still use the original form of your name, Alesandese, the defender of mankind."
"Really?" Katherine's eyes brightened. "Defender of mankind? Wonder why our version was changed? I like the original." She put her hands on her hips and made a thoughtful expression.
"Most likely because your people are very traditional, and followed the great Sabino Arana for many, many years until—" the man glanced at Santiago, "they fell out of favour and fled." He looked away.
Katherine's eyebrows shot up. "Fled? Fled where?"
"Ireland mostly." The man glanced at Santiago again then out over the plaza as he rubbed his son's hair.
Katherine looked at Santiago. "You never told me that."
"Nor did your mother." He shrugged. "I was avoiding information overload." He looked at the other man and nodded. "It is her first-time home and—" he finished the rest in Euskara.
"Oh," the man raised his eyebrows and tilted his head with a smile.
Katherine scowled at Santiago. "English please," she hissed before she turned back to the man and smiled brightly. "But I am learning a lot about my culture. So tell me, who is Sabino ... Aran?"
"Arana," Santiago corrected. "And he is the father of Basque Nationalism."
"Oh how interesting," Katherine gushed. "And I'm descended from him?"
"Kind of." He frowned at her eager excitement. "Not really. Your mother's people, most likely your grandfathers and great uncles, supported him."
"My apologies." The man glanced from her to Santiago to the plaza clock. "I must take my leave. My lunch break is over and I must get this young man back to his mama."
"Oh of course." Katherine's face fell. "Well, it was nice to meet you."
"Bai." The man nodded and walked away
Katherine glowered at Santiago. "You scared him off." Her features crumpled in accusation to Santiago. "And you did it on purpose."
Santiago could almost see the wheels turning in Katrin's mind. "Katrin. I don't think you are prepared to hear about your family's descent from Basque separatists. People who would now be called terrorists. He left that part out."
"Yes I am interested and very prepared," she looked at him. "I want to know everything. I know there is a story here and you can tell it."
He sighed. "Bai. There is. But again, I doubt it is something you truly want to hear. Would you not prefer to learn the basics of pelota?" He gestured toward the court where the rest of the boys had returned to playing.
"Oh no, you don't." Katherine grabbed his upper arm and tugged him away. "You aren't going to distract me with something shiny. I want you to spill."
"Spill something shiny?" He let her lead him through the crowd, back toward his office. "What does this term mean?"
"It means don’t try to distract me with something new in order to avoid telling me something I want to know."
"Oh."
"Yes oh. Now, separatists? My family's name? It's not fair you know more about me than I do!" Her excited admonishment was palpable though destined to be short-lived. A family history of terrorism was nothing to be excited about, even for a Basque national.
"Katrin, perhaps we can avoid such a morbid topic?"
"No, we cannot." She tugged on his arm again. "Stop delaying."
He sighed. "Alright then, but only because you insist. We will walk and talk." Santiago threaded his fingers through hers. "I would like to return to the loft for a shower before pintxos this evening."
A half-hour later, Katherine flopped down onto the restored turn of the century couch in Santiago's loft, the details of his story still rumbling around in her mind. "So, my family is part of a terrorist group." She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "I don't even know what to think about that."
"Well, as I said. It was a long time ago, and long before you were born." Santiago reassured her. "The Basque conflict and the ETA separatists have long since disbanded, and they were what you would call the diehards or extremists. Of course, there will always be those who feel Euskadi should be separate from both France and Spain but ..." he shrugged his shoulders.
"What about you?" she twisted her mouth in thought. "Do you feel Basque Country should be separate as if I need to ask?"
Santiago shrugged again. "I feel we are already separate and will forever be. Time and history have made us so. What is in your heart is in your heart."
Katherine smiled. "Exactly what I imagined you'd say." The man was wild, like an indigenous people or species, always there as a part of nature but at the same time separate from the rest of society. She sighed. How much of that was her too? Was that why she never quite fit in while growing up? And even now still felt like a round peg in a square hole? "Well, I guess I know why my mother never spoke about her life here. It all sounds very cloak and dagger."
Santiago sat down on the coffee table before her, and she wanted to laugh at such a casual move made by this very formal man. She couldn't imagine him sitting on a table back at Malik's house during her visits. She hid the smile begging to come to her mouth.
"She was most likely instructed not to do so by your grandparents." He clasped his fingers and pressed his thumbs together.
Katherine twisted her mouth in thought again. "Well, that would be my grandmother. She ran the house."
"As all Basque women do." Santiago tilted his head.
Katherine thought about the truth of that statement. Her father never said anything about how their house was run. He didn't seem inclined to either, but that was her view from the perspective of a little girl. "I never knew my grandfather. I was told he died before I was born." Katherine considered that her mother and grandmother were probably on the run when they headed to Ireland, her grandmother fleeing the marks of a separatist husband and family. Sheesh. Who would have thought her family history was so ... checkered? All this time she'd just thought they all came from some far off boring place nobody had ever heard about. Basque Country. Camelot. Shangri-la. They all had seemed the same to her.
Santiago leaned toward her, his elbows on his knees. "Family history is important here, Katrin. Even a separatist one. It is all a part of you, who you are and where you come from."
"Thanks. I think."
Santiago laughed. "We do not get to choose our family."
"No," she agreed. "I guess we don't." Wonder what Jon would have to say about her now revealed questionable past. Relief that she had gotten an annulment no doubt, his good name left untouched. His puffed-up vanity and colossally fragile ego were the real reasons he did not challenge her annulment. University boards tended to frown upon their professors and department heads found in men's rooms with their pants around their ankles, on their wedding day with a squealing freshman bent over the sink beneath them. All Katherine had to do was remind Jon of that compromising incident to have him scribbling his name on the papers so fast he almost set fire to the documents.
Katherine focused on Santiago's strong forearms and work-worn hands. After watching him play pelota and feeling the heavy hardness of the ball, she now knew where at least some of the callouses on his hands came from. Clearly, when this man was faced with frustration or stress, he went out and played ball instead of jumping on top of the closest co-ed.
"If you would like, we can look to see exactly what your family's history and movements were right before they left Basque Country."
Katherine leaned forward and kissed him, her heart soaring when he immediately kissed her back. "I would really like that." She lifted her mouth from his.
"For a kiss like that, I will take you to the old archives and the old men in town so we can hear their stories. There is not much they do not know about our history and country."
Katherine couldn't stop smiling. "That would be great."
After Santiago's quick shower and her own change of clothes, Katherine found herself sitting in the middle of Old Town again, this time with men who would be her grandfather's age, if he were alive, with bright knowing eyes and sharp memories, listening to Santiago's translation of their stories about her grandparents and other extended family and their tumultuous time in Basque Country.
Right then, as they drank hot tea and before she thanked the men and said goodbye, she promised herself to come back here one day, and spend at least a month discovering her family and the place they originated. It was time she did something for herself, pursue a heart's desire for the simple reason that she wanted to and would like to, not because she had to.
Katherine put her hand into Santiago's and kissed him again on the cheek. "Thank you for bringing me here."
*****