Moon of Aphrodite (16 page)

and was able to become absorbed in her own disturbing thoughts.

From remarks her grandfather had made before the meal, it seemed that Damon had

been invited to stay at the vil a as his guest, and that the helicopter which had brought

him would be leaving soon without him. She indulged herself for a while with fantastic

plans to stow away in the craft, but she soon admitted that any such plan was

unfeasible. For -one thing, the helicopter might not be returning to Athens, and for

another she had no idea if there was any form of cover in the thing which would

conceal her until they had taken off. But even if there was, she would be discovered

sooner or later, she decided pessimistical y, and the thought of being flown back to

Phoros and dumped ignominiously back at Damon Leandros' feet was unbearable.

Somehow she had to find a way of getting through her remaining few weeks at the vil a

without upsetting her grandfather, at the same time avoiding Damon as much as

possible. He was a proud and arrogant man, and surely if she continued to show him as

plainly as possible that she wanted
nothing to do with him, then any ridiculous notions

he or her grandfather might harbour about marrying
her to him would wither and die.

She recal ed what Craig Lassiter had said about him. When there were women in the

world ready and, eager to become anything he wanted them to be, then it was hardly

likely he would continue to pursue a girl who made it clear that she found his company

repulsive.

Besides, she told herself, she might just be reading a great deal too much into some

harmless local gossip. It was only a smal island and the doings of the wealthier

inhabitants must be one of the chief sources of entertainment.

She hoped fervently that this was in fact the case. The story Craig had outlined had

repel ed her by its cold-bloodedness apart from anything else. If she had understood

him correctly, the implication was that the man her mother had been intended to many

had been Damon's older brother. She racked her memory trying to recal what Maria

had said about this unknown prospective bridegroom, but al she could remember was

that the betrothal had been presented to her mother more or less as a fait
accompli.

She bit her lip. Had the same thing been planned for her? Surely they must have known

that, her reaction would be exactly the same as Maria's—repugnance and flight.

Every so often Michael Korialis tried robustly to interrupt
the conversation between

Damon and his sister, speaking in English, and trying to draw Helen into it too, but Thia

Irini, Helen saw with some amusement, was not easily gainsaid. She continued to

engage Damon's attention with a kind of determined intimacy, her slightly claw like

hands with their splendid rings touching his sleeve as if she was afraid his concentration

might wander. Helen had to give him an unwil ing ten out of ten for courtesy. He was

charming to the older woman and deferential, and gave no sign of the impatience and

irritation which was consuming Michael.

Although she could have sworn her name had never been mentioned, Helen was at the

same time uneasily aware that the conversation seemed to concern her. Occasional y

Damon's eyes flickered in her direction, and her grandfather's expression was openly

anxious at times.

Helen wanted to say, 'Look, it doesn't matter if. she's uttering dire insults, because I

don't understand a word of it,' but it instead she took another forkful of veal stew,

smiling innocently at her grandfather.

It was during the dessert, a kind of sponge cake flavoured with almonds, that Thia Irini

addressed herself to Helen for the first time.

'It is a pity you do not speak our language,' she said in her slow, fractured English. 'You

would learn many things that you should know.'

Such as the fact that you don't like me, Helen wondered silently. I don't need to speak

Greek to understand that.

Before she could formulate a reply, Michael Korialis spoke. 'Al that wil
change

tomorrow when Madame Stavros joins us,' he said repressively, and Helen saw Thia

Irini's eyes flash in displeasure. 'Eleni wil soon learn to love and speak her mother's

tongue.'

Helen shook her head. 'I wouldn't count on that, Grandfather. I—I never
was much

good at languages, I'm afraid—and in such a short time ...' She shrugged expressively,

her eyes fixed
on her plate.

Damon said smoothly, leaning forward a little, 'But where there is the wil to learn,

wonders can be achieved even in a smal space of time. Wouldn't you agree, Eleni?'

'I real y don't want to waste any of the time I have left here on lessons which wil be

wasted when I get home,' Helen said level y. 'I'd rather spend it with Grandfather. That

was why I came, or had you forgotten, Mr. Leandros?'

'I haven't forgotten—anything.' His eyes were veiled, his expression enigmatic, but the

warning in his cool tone was unmistakable, and she tensed.

Michael Korialis was smiling, 'Your lessons would not be wasted, pedhi mou.' His face

was guileless. 'This wil not be the only holiday you wil spend with me, I hope. And

another language is always an asset. There arc many things that Madame Stavros can

teach you.'

Such as how to be a meek, submissive wife, Helen thought, schooling herself to surface

tranquility although she was inwardly seething. Wel , the good lady wil find I'm

remarkably stupid, I'm afraid!

Lessons in Greek were to be the first step, she supposed, to be followed by expert

tutoring in grooming and the finer points of etiquette—anything, in fact, that the wife of

a wealthy and powerful man would be required to know in order to fulfil her role com-

pletely, and keep his household running smoothly.

And if she hadn't caught that virus, Helen thought. I'd probably have beer lapping her

lessons up by now. If I'd gone into Kyritha, then she would have been with me. and I

would never have met Craig and found out what they were up to.

She pushed her plate away, and leaned back against the wooden slats which formed

the back of the seat. As she did so, she realised that Thia Irini was staring at her with a

look of real malignance in her eyes. But why? Helen wondered helplessly. What on

earth had she done to provoke such a reaction? In spite of the fact that her great-aunt

knew, or admitted to knowing, so little English, Helen had made every effort to be

pleasant whenever they encountered each other, but from the first evening she had

sensed this implacable hostility, and she was at a loss to understand it.

Damon was rising, excusing himself from the table with the brief explanation that he

had to give the helicopter pilot some instructions before he took off.

'I shal rest,' Michael Korialis announced. 'What do you plan to do, pedhi mou?'

'I shal go on the beach as usual,' Helen said reluctantly, guessing that her grandfather

intended Damon to join her there when his business with the pilot was completed.

'You wil not swim so soon after a meal,' he said sharply,

'No, of course not.' She appeased him with a smile. 'But I want to make the most of the

sun while I'm here. When I go home, we'l be moving into autumn in England.'

Her eyes lifted, ful of innocence, to his face, and she caught the merest flick of a smile

on his lips, a secretive-ness in his eyes, and she had to look away to conceal the anger

and disappointment in her own expression.

She had turned away and gone up to her room, angrily pul ing off her clothes and

strewing them on the floor, as she hunted through the drawer's for a bikini. She chose

a black one she had not worn before, covering it with a hip-length black muslin shirt

with ful sleeves
for her walk down to the beach. On one of her earlier sunbathing

expeditions she had set off through the garden just in a bikini, and had come face to

face with a young man who was delivering something to the vil a. The way he had

leered at her had made her feel hot al over, and now she took the precaution of adding

a towel ing jacket or a shirt top before venturing out of doors. She slid her slender feet

into a pair of heel ess mules and collected her dark glasses, some lotion for her skin and

a paperback novel.

She had half expected to find Damon waiting for her in the hal downstairs, but the

house seemed deserted, although she could hear Thia Irini's voice scolding someone—

probably a hapless maid—somewhere in the distance.

She moved languidly through the sundrenched garden. The paths were dusty again,

although each morning they were sprayed with hoses to keep the worst of the dust at

bay. The hum of the cicadas seemed almost drowsy in the intense heat. As she moved

away from the house, along the narrow paths flanked by parched-looking flower beds,

Helen was conscious of an almost irresistible urge to look over her shoulder. Someone

was watching her walk down to the beach, she knew it. She straightened her shoulders

and lifted her chin. She had to appear tranquil and carefree at al costs, and innocent of

what was going on to the point of dumbness, if that was necessary.

She shivered slightly in spite of the intensity of the sun, the memory of Damon's

unspoken but nonetheless terrible anger surfacing in her mind. What could have

triggered off such a rage, she simply could not comprehend.

Nevertheless the shadow of the memory seemed to hang over as she tried to relax on

the beach. She opened her book, but the words danced meaninglessly in front of her

unseeing eyes.

She thought on a gust of anger, 'Oh, damn and blast the man! I'm getting
obsessive

about him. I can handle the situation. There's no way I can be compel ed into marriage

against my wil in this day and age.'

As she lay there in the shade of the olives, half dozing, she found she was repeating

the last words over and over again in her head as if they were a charm.

She was so very nearly asleep that she did not hear his approach. The first sign she had

was the splash of cool liquid on her heated skin, and then, as she came awake, the

shock of his touch on her exposed back, moving and gently massaging, as he rubbed

the sun lotion into her flesh.

Helen sat bolt upright, her head spinning dazedly, as she stared at him,

'Did I startle you?' he smiled, but without any particular warmth as he observed her

instinctive lunge away from him across the straw beach mat and out of his reach. 'The

sun has moved, and your skin was becoming reddened.'

'That is rather the purpose of the exercise.' She stretched out her hand for the bottle of

lotion, but he ignored her gesture.

'But it is dangerously easy to blister in this heat. You should protect your skin.'

She wanted to say childishly that she would rather become one large blister than have

him touch her again, but she remained silent, very conscious of the briefness of her

bikini, and his eyes upon her.

After a while she said, 'I suppose my grandfather told you where to find me.'

'I would have come to the beach anyway. I like to swim in the late afternoon.'

'Then I'l leave you to it,' she began, reaching for her shirt, but he detained her, his

band on her ankle.

'Won't you swim with me, Eleni mou?' Again his smile did not reach his eyes, only wryly

twisted the corners of his mouth.

'It's too soon after lunch,' she said quickly. 'I—I think I'l go for a walk instead.'

'As you wish.' He got to his feet in one lithe moment and bent down to her, reaching for

her hand to pul her upright, and she realised too late that he intended to come with

her. 'You wanted this?' He picked up her shirt and held it for her to slip her arms into

the sleeves.

It was no real kind of protection, she realised rueful y, as she thrust her feet back into

her sandals. It was altogether too thin and flimsy, and it covered her only to the tops of

her thighs, its sole fastening a button and loop at her midriff. It shielded her from the

onslaught of the sun, but that was al . As a garment it was more provocation than

anything else.

And the tormenting remembrance that Damon had seen her in even less only served to

increase her self-consciousness.

His hands had seemed to linger on her shoulders as he had helped her put on the shirt,

but he did not attempt to touch her, to take her hand or her arm as they walked along,

and she was thankful for this without real y knowing why. She had thought she would

almost welcome a confrontation between them—to tel him she knew his plans and

wanted no part of them, but now she was suddenly not so sure. She sensed a tension,

a restlessness about Damon, and found herself wishing obscurely that she had stayed

in the house where at least there were people within cal .

He said abruptly, 'If you continue to walk so fast, you wil turn your ankles on the

stones.'

'Your concern for me is quite overwhelming,' she flashed. 'I mustn't get sunburned, and

now I mustn't sprain my ankle. Anyone would think you had some kind of vested

interest in my wel -being!'