Moon of Aphrodite (18 page)

for any kind of flight because his arms were round her, drawing her against him, and

his mouth was searching hers with a hunger he did not even attempt to dissemble. Her

head fel back helplessly, her lips parting beneath the onslaught of his kiss. Earth and

sky swung round her in a dizzying arc, and she closed her eyes involuntarily as his kiss

deepened and her body melted, dissolved into pure sensation.

Her last coherent thought was that this was what she had been afraid of, what she had

known she must not al ow to happen at al costs, and then she was no longer thinking

because instincts she had not even guessed she possessed had taken over, and her

hands were sliding compulsively up to Damon's muscular shoulders, while her mouth,

mindlessly wil ing, responded to every intimate demand that his made of her.

His lingers found the single button on her shirt and slipped it free of its loop. The

almost paralysing grip that she had been held in slackened perceptibly, and his hand

began to move on her body, his fingers circling smoothly, tantalising on her bare

midriff, before seeking the supple
indentation of her waist. His other hand moved to the

nape of her neck, stroking it gently, lifting the pale strands of hair and letting them drift

like silk through his fingers. Shivering with pleasure, she arched her throat towards him

and his mouth left hers in immediate response to explore its long curve and linger on

her frantic pulse, before moving downwards inexorably, inevitably to her breasts.

His hand slid down her spine, and the catch on her bikini top gave way. Helen gasped

helplessly, but it was too late for protest. His lips had already brushed the narrow straps

from her shoulders, and his dark head was bending to take what plunder he would.

His mouth might have been ruthless before, but it was like velvet, like silk as he kissed

her breasts, his tongue tracing tiny spirals of delight on her burning skin. Her fingers

twined almost convulsively in the soft thickness of his hair, and she felt an involuntary

moan of pleasure rising in her throat.

The time spun, endlessly, exquisitely past as Helen sank deeper and deeper into the

spel of Damon's lovemaking. His hands and mouth were making havoc of al her

previous imaginings of what passion could be, and she whispered his name Soundlessly

over and over again as her body awoke under the lingering sensuality of his

exploration.

At some time, an eternity before, he had stripped off his shirt and thrown it to the

ground, before pul ing her down beside him. She had surrendered eagerly, wil ingly,

her hands beginning their own tentative journey of discovery.

'Agapi mou,' his voice was incredibly husky, his eyes dark with desire as he stared down

at her. 'Se thelo poli. I want you so much, my sunlit goddess.'

Her immediate impulse was to draw him down to her, to let the wild world of the

senses drown her in surrender. She knew she had never wanted anything so much in

her life. She wanted Damon, wanted his arms around her, his mouth on hers as he

initiated her into the ultimate ways of love. But it was as if. his muttered words had

broken the ring of sensual enchantment which had enclosed her, because suddenly she

remembered what else he had said before he had begun to make love to her—that she

was ripe for love as her mother had been before her. Would the consummation he was

urging her to be an act of love, or simply an act of possession in order to ensure that a

chosen bride of the Leandros family did not escape a second time?

She said on a little gasp, 'No—Damon, I—I can’t. Please ...' Her hands came up not to

ding but to push him away as he leaned over her, a slight smile curving the harsh lines

of his mouth.

He whispered, 'Don't be frightened of me, matia mou. I'l make it beautiful for you. I'l

make it beautiful for us both. You wil see.'

'No!' There was panic in her voice. The skin of his chest and shoulders was warm silk

under her fingers as she tried ineffectual y to thrust him away from her, but beneath

was the
hardness of bone and muscle, and she was just beginning to realise how alone

they were in this isolated spot, and that if Damon chose to use force there would be

little she could do to resist him.

She said again, 'No,' and then, desperately, 'There— there's someone coming. Listen!'

His mouth twisted in amused scepticism as if he recognised the age-old feminine ploy,

but he rolled away from her a little and half sat up, listening.

They both heard it at the same moment—the tiny jangle of a bel somewhere near at

hand, and seconds later, voices. Children's voices.

Damon swore furiously, then reached across Helen urgently, snatching up her shirt and

bikini top and pushing them at her. Her hands were shaking so much that she could

hardly cope with the fastening, but at last she was covered again, and slipping her arms

into the sleeves of her shirt.

It was a strange little procession which came into view on the other side of the hollow.

It was led by a nannygoat with a kid at her heels. She wore a bel round her neck and

Helen found herself wondering if it was al a weird coincidence born of her own desper-

ation, or whether she had been aware of the sound of the bel in some recess of her

mind even before it was in earshot.

Saved by the bel , she thought, and had an insane desire to go into hysterics.

The children followed. Three of them—two boys and a girl, who was wearing a dark red

dress which had obviously been cut down from a garment belonging to some much

older member of the family. They smiled shyly when they saw Helen and Damon, and

cal ed out a greeting in their own tongue which he returned.

Helen stole a glance at him. He had moved right away from her and was sitting on one

of the shaped stones which had once been part of a column, lighting another cheroot.

He looked cool, and total y in command of himself and the situation. The events of the

last few minutes al seemed like some strange erotic fantasy.

Helen got to her feet. Reaction was beginning to set in, and the relentless ache of

frustrated desire, but even that was nothing to the
sense of shame and anger which

was starting to overwhelm her.

If Damon had not spoken when he did, given her time to think, she would have been

his by now, total y and mindlessly. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip until she

could taste blood.

So now she knew how frantical y, fatal y easy it was to be carried away by passion. She

had not imagined she could be so easily aroused, so easily brought to the point of

surrender. She had not imagined, although she had suspected, how Damon's

lovemaking would overcome her inhibitions and reduce her to eager sensuous

compliance.

She thought
savagely, 'I don't even like him.' But the words echoed emptily in her mind,

and at the back of her brain a new realisation was being formed, unwanted and

unwelcome but growing in strength and conviction no matter how desperately she tried

to shut it out.

Suddenly she knew the truth, beyond al reason, al denial. And soundlessly she

whispered to herself, 'Oh, God! I've fal en in love with him.'

HELEN paced restlessly up and down her bedroom, pausing at intervals to glance at the

pendant watch which she wore on a long gold chain round her neck. It would soon be

time to go down to dinner, and she was frankly dreading the prospect. Because at

dinner she would have to face Damon again.

She had not spoken to him, or even looked at him after that burning moment of self-

revelation in the temple. She had been too afraid that she might betray herself utterly if

she did. She was too newly aware, too vulnerable to be able to mask her feelings.

So she had walked past him in silence, her eyes fixed on the uneven floor, and followed

the giggling, talking children and the bleating goats up the slope and away to safety.

She had been half afraid that Damon might attempt to detain her, or at least to come

after her, especial y when the children's path diverged from her own at last, and they

went off waving gaily, their white teeth flashing in cheerful grins. But the vil a was in

sight by then, and she was stil alone, she realised with a thankful glance over her

shoulder.

No one saw her as she entered the house and slipped up to her room, and she was

glad of it. The last thing she wanted was for someone to notice her dishevel ed hair, her

swollen mouth, and the dust that liberal y streaked her shirt, and draw their own

conclusions.

She dropped the shirt and the bikini on the bathroom floor and stepped under the

shower, gasping as the freshness of the water touched her heated body. Her skin and

hair were dean and tingling when she had finished, but she had not managed to scrub

Damon's touch from her body or clear the memory of his kisses and caresses from her

mind as she had hoped. As indeed, she had needed to do.

It would be so easy
,
she thought despairingly, to simply go with the tide to accede to

whatever demands, whatever plans were being made for her without further struggle.

Merely the thought of becoming Damon's wife was enough to make her body suffuse

with heat, and her pulses quicken and flutter, and if al she had wanted was the

gratification of her newly-awakened body, then she would not have hesitated.

But that wasn't enough. It couldn't be enough, she told herself over and over again as

she walked her bedroom floor. Sexual attunement was important in marriage, but it

was not al -important. And what did she real y know of Damon, except that he had

taken command of her senses and emotions? He was just the man her grandfather

wanted her to marry, because years before her mother had refused point-blank to

marry his brother. This would have been a severe slight to the rich and powerful

Leandros family, she could understand that. She could understand too that they would

want compensation for the loss of Maria and her dowry, as wel as for being made to

look ridiculous, but surely the recompense could have been made in money and not in

flesh and blood years later.

She had to admit that from the moment she had laid eyes on Damon Leandros, she had

had to fight her unwil ing attraction to him. Had her unconscious mind been warning

her even then of what her consciousness had tried to reject as ludicrous—that Damon,

if he wished, could exert total and complete control over her mind, body and soul?

But she didn't want to be owned, as if she was some new piece of stock to be acquired

on the open market.

Because that was al this marriage would mean to Damon. She had no idea of the

extent of the business dealings between the two families, but she knew that her

mother's intended marriage to Iorgos had been intended to consolidate this.

And now, because Iorgos was dead—and not, she had any reason to believe, from a

broken heart over his lost bride—Damon was prepared to take over. It was al so

horribly cold-blooded—so inhuman.

She knew, of course, what the compensations would be—Damon's money to spend,

travel, the kind of life other girls dreamed about. He would make love to her as and

when he chose, until the novelty wore off, she thought, gnawing her lip savagely, and

eventual y she would bear him a child. And that, she supposed, would have to be

enough. If she was honest, for many women it probably would be enough. A girl from

his own country would accept the limitations of such a marriage and find her own

happiness in it. But it would not be enough for her. Loving him, how could she agree to

marry him, knowing the most she could hope for would be a corner of his mind, and

none of his heart?

He had told her he wanted her, but he had never said he loved her. With his technique

as a lover he probably never needed to say it, she thought cynical y. Craig Lassiter had

said something too about Damon being able to have any woman he wanted, and from

what Damon himself had hinted about his late brother, womanising seemed to be a

family proclivity, Helen thought unhappily.

And after the marriage, was she intended to think that al that side of his life would

simply be relegated to oblivion, or would Damon expect to go on playing the field in the

world's
capitals while she sat at home like—like faithful Penelope?

Temper rose within her, and she looked round furiously for something to smash, but

she could find nothing, except a bottle of her favourite scent, and she was loath to

sacrifice that in the cause of bad temper. Of course, she told herself, her anger waning

as the humour of the situation struck her, if she became Madame Damon Leandros,

then she could have a whole row of bottles fil ed with the most expensive Parisian frag-

rances to smash whenever the fancy took her. The thought was so ludicrous that she

smiled involuntarily, the smile fading as she heard a knock at the door.

She tensed, staring at the panels, as if she was trying to conjure up the face, the