Moon of Aphrodite (15 page)

locals...'

'Oh, I think it's probably true.' She managed a wintry little smile. 'It al makes too much

sense.'

It explained only too wel her grandfather's mild reaction to the news that Damon had

been making love to her, she thought. Presumably a few liberties were permissible
with

one's bride-to-be. She remembered Damon's voice demanding to know whether she

was stil a virgin, and hot, angry colour stung her cheeks. No doubt if she had answered

in the negative—and how she wished she had done just that I —plans for the marriage

would have been quietly dropped. And she remembered the maid Yannina's obvious

bewilderment when .she had laughed at the very idea of having a husband. Everyone, it

seemed, knowing everything, except herself.

'Are you al right?' Craig queried sharply. 'You look almost il . God, I'm sorry—I should

have kept my mouth shut.'

'Oh, no.' She met his gaze steadily. 'I'm grateful to you, actual y. Forewarned is

forearmed, after al .'

'I see.' A note of amusement entered his voice. 'Am I to infer that you don't welcome

the prospect of becoming Mrs. Leandros? I reckon that probably makes you unique.

From al accounts, he can choose any woman he wants, and frequently does.'

'I'm wel aware of that.' Helen had a brief image of the dark beauty she had seen in his

car in Athens. 'It doesn't add to his attraction as far as I'm concerned. But you're quite

right, I have no intention of marrying him, or anyone else for that matter.'

'Good for you,' Craig said cheerful y. 'I wish you luck in the battles
ahead. That's if there

are any.'

'Oh, I'm sure there wil be,' she said ironical y. 'Don't they say when Greek meets Greek,

then comes the tug of war? And I am partly Greek through my mother.'

And there was another saying, she thought. Something about fearing the Greeks when

they, came bearing gifts. Her original instinct to reject al Damon Leandros' overtures

had been the right one. Instead she had al owed her curiosity to lower her defences,

and she had no one to blame except herself if she now found herself in an intolerable

position.

'Thespinis.' She looked up with a start to find Kostas standing over her. 'It is time we

returned to the vil a. Kyrios Michaelis wilt be anxious. Please, thespinis, come now,' he

added, giving Craig Lassiter an openly inimical stare.

Helen thought rapidly. She supposed she could refuse to return, and evade the

inevitable search party, so that she could leave on the next ferry, but that wasn't a

satisfactory solution to her problem. It would mean leaving her clothes and most of her

personal belongings behind, not to mention her passport. Besides, she had very little

money with her, and certainly nothing like the cost of her air fare back to Britain, and

she had to be practical. She would have to write to Hugo and ask him to book her a

seat on a return flight from Athens and send her the ticket. But that would take time,

and in the meantime she would go quietly on with her holiday as if she was total y

unaware of the plans being made for her future.

She rose, picking up her bag, and Craig got up as wel .

'Do you have to go?' he asked in an undertone. 'I was real y beginning to enjoy this

morning.'

'I don't want to worry my grandfather by being unnecessarily late,' she said quietly.

'And there'l be other mornings. I've enjoyed this too.'

Kostas was muttering under his breath al the way back to the car.

'You should not have gone with that man, thespinis,' he said when they were on their

way back to the vil a. 'It is not right. Kyrios Michaelis wil be angry with us.'

'Then why bother to tel him?' she countered sweetly. 'It's al right, Kostas. In my

country, women are al owed to have a drink with a man.'

'But this is not your country, thespinis,' he said sul enly. 'Besides...' he hesitated.

'Besides, Kyrios Leandros wil also be angry?' she completed the sentence for him. 'But

he isn't here, Kostas, so that doesn't real y matter either. And I don't care what Kyrios

Leandros says or does or thinks anyway.'

And I hope that gets back to him, she thought vindictively, registering the look of

shocked disbelief her companion turned on her, and a smal satisfied smile curved her

lips.

She had thought that after their quarrel Damon Leandros had decided to go away and

stay away, but in the light of what Craig had told her, she now wondered if he was just

biding his time. He had probably kept in touch with her grandfather al along, she

thought, biting her lip savagely. Wel , that didn't matter either. It was immaterial how

many little victories he could congratulate himself on winning. The final one would be

hers, when she returned to England alone.

For a second the word 'alone' and al its connotations startled an odd pang from her,

but she told herself she was just being foolish. After al , she wasn't real y alone. Waiting

for her in London was her father and the life they had made together, just as if she had

never been away. Yet was anything ever as simple as that? Was she real y thinking that

she could go home and pretend that the last few weeks had never happened? She

wasn't
sure she was even the same person, and she knew whom to blame for that, she

thought wearily. From the moment Damon Leandros had walked into her life, she had

felt confused and apprehensive, and his subsequent behaviour had only served to

deepen the conflict in her emotions. She told herself that
she hated him, yet barely a

day had passed when she hadn't thought of him at least once, and she was disturbed

and bewildered by the way in which images of him seemed to be taking control of her

mind, waking and sleeping. She didn't want to think of him, yet he was always there,

hovering at the edge of her consciousness, disturbing and bewildering her in his

absence almost as much as he had done when very much present.

One night she had even dreamed about him—a dream which it had humiliated her to

recal in the bright, searching light of day, leaving her feverish with longings she didn't

want to admit, even to herself. Her mouth went dry as she remembered how real it had

seemed, so real that when she woke her body had moved restlessly across the bed,

unable to believe she was alone.

Alone. That word again, she thought, her mouth twisting as she stared unseeingly out

of the car window. Why was she suddenly obsessed with loneliness?

She sighed under her breath, dosing her eyes and leaning back against the seat. They

would soon be back at the vil a, and she had to assume at least the appearance of

tranquility for her own sake as wel as her grandfather's.

Somehow or other she had to find a diplomatic means of getting across to him that his

plans for her were as doomed to failure as those he had made for her mother. It

wouldn't be easy, she thought sombrely, but the situation had been of his making, not

hers. And Damon Leandros' continuing absence
would help. Perhaps, after al , she was

worrying about nothing. Maybe he had already decided that he had as little taste for

this proposed marriage as she had. With luck, she might never even have to see him

again.

Beside her she heard Kostas
give a little exclamation in his own language. Rather

wearily she opened her eyes to see what had attracted his attention, and her first

thought was that she had fal en asleep and was dreaming again. Because, impossible

as it seemed, there was a helicopter standing on the smooth green lawn in front of the

vil a. She leaned forward, staring in disbelief.

'See, thespinis.' Kostas sounded almost triumphant. 'Kyrios Leandros has come. Is

good, ne?'

Helen didn't reply. She was incapable of speech, and aware at the same time that her

pulses were behaving most erratical y. Because he was there. She could see him,

standing by the front door, watching the car approach, a pair of dark glasses concealing

the expression in his eyes. He was casual y dressed, with dark blue denim pants

emphasising the leanness of his hips and the strong length of his legs, and a matching

shirt unbuttoned almost to his waist.

As Kostas brought the car to a smooth halt he moved, descending the steps with easy

grace. Helen began to fumble with the catch on the passenger door, but Damon was

there before her. The door swung open, and his hand was on her arm, helping her out

of the car, and she had to restrain a gasp as his fingers touched her bare flesh. It was

al too reminiscent both of her dream and the potent reality which had preceded it.

Abruptly she pul ed away from him,

'I can manage, thank you.' Her voice was slightly higher pitched than she had intended.

'As you wish, Eleni.' His voice was smooth, and she could read nothing from his tone.

'Your grandfather is waiting for you. He has been a little anxious.'

'I can't think why. I'm quite capable of looking after myself.' But not, she thought

wildly, when her heart was hammering, and her legs were threatening to give way

under her as they carried her up the steps to the front door.

Instinctively, but hating herself at the same time, she looked round to see if he was

following.

He wasn't. He was standing beside the car and Kostas was talking to him in a low, rapid

voice, using many gestures. Damon stood with his head bent, nodding every so often

as if to encourage Kostas' confidences. Helen did not doubt that they concerned her.

He's tel ing him I met Craig Lassiter, she thought.

And even, as the realisation crystal ised in her mind, Damon lifted his head and looked

up at her and she was suddenly, appal ingly aware of an icy, furious anger which

seemed to reach out like a blow from a mailed fist. l

For a moment she stood there, weathering the storm, her tongue flicking out to

moisten her dry lips, then with a feeling of almost overwhelming relief she heard her

grandfather's voice in the hal behind her, and turned and ran to him as if for refuge.

And remembered too late as his arms closed round her, and his voice began to scold

her fondly for making them al wait for lunch, that al she was doing was running to

another part of the trap-that had been set for her.

HELEN lay on her back, staring up into the olive tree above her. It was her favourite spot

on the beach beneath the vil a, affording some measure of protection from the fierce

afternoon heat. Here, the sun only dappled through the brandies, warming without

burning, highlighting the long supple shape of the silvery leaves, and the clusters of

rounded fruit which nestled among them.

She thought, 'Mother. I love your country—and I've got to get away from it, for exactly,

the same reason as you did.'

She felt sudden tears prick behind her eyelids, and rolled almost defensively on to her

stomach, pil owing her head on her folded arms. She fought weakness with anger,

going over in her mind the events of the seemingly interminable lunch party she had

just endured.

Damon had stil been angry when he had joined them at the table in the pergola. She

had known it, although she had to admit that he gave little obvious sign of it. He talked

and smiled and joked with her grandfather, but al the time Helen was aware of tension

simmering between him and herself. It unnerved her, and she only picked at the gril ed

sardines in, a tangy lemon sauce which wore served as the first course, causing Michael

Korialis to comment chidingly on her lack of appetite.

Helen could only guess at the reason for his annoyance. She supposed it was because

she had insisted on going to the vil age and had met Craig Lassiter there, but where

was the harm in that? Unless he realised that

Craig had told her about the proposed marriage plans, and that she would be now more

than ever on her guard against him. There could be no other reason. Even if she had

given signs that she was wil ing to fal in docilely with their schemes, Damon could not

expect her to shun the company of al other men for the rest of her life, so such an

attitude under the present circumstances was total y unreasonable.

He said very little to her, but as she forced herself to eat, she was conscious of his eyes

watching her intently, and her uneasiness grew. The tension lifted a little with the

unexpected arrival of Thia Irini. It was the first time she had made one at the lunchtime

parties on the terrace since Helen's arrival, and Helen was frankly surprised to see her

usual y vinegary expression had been replaced by as near an approximation of a beam-

ing smile as the older woman could manage.

Damon rose, kissed her hand politely, and seated her next to him with an air of: great

respect, after which it could be said that Thia Irini monopolised the conversation, to

Michael Korialis' obvious annoyance. She chattered to Damon, showing more animation

than Helen had thought she was capable of, and as the conversation was conducted

solely in Greek, Helen felt absolved from the responsibility of trying to take part in it,