Moon of Aphrodite (7 page)

'You don't speak English,' Helen said resignedly, and turned away, to find the man in

the white uniform beside her.

'Welcome to the Phaedra, Miss Brandon,' he said with a heavy accent. 'It is pleasant on

deck, ne? But there are refreshments below, it you prefer.'

Some coffee, Helen thought longingly. The scents and flavours emanating from the

tavernas they had passed on the way here had served to remind her just how hungry

she was, and how Damon Leandros had rushed her off from the hotel without al owing

her to order the soup she had craved.

'I'd like to go below,' she said rather shyly. She looked round the deck. 'Is—are the

other passengers there too?'

'As you say, thespinis.' He smiled with a flash o£ white teeth and led her to a

companion way. The passage it led to was wider than she had expected, its wal s

panel ed in wood, and there were doors on each side. The first one they passed was

open and glancing in Helen saw it was the gal ey. A swarthy
white-coated steward was

busy putting the finishing touches to what appeared to be an extensive cold buffet. If

this was for the benefit of the passengers, as she supposed it must be, then it was clear

no -expense had been spared. It was incredible, she thought. The only explanation

could be that there were two classes of ferry available to Phoros, one for the general

public, and this one for the exclusive use of the privileged classes who had their holiday

vil as on Phoros. It al fitted in with everything
that had happened to her on the journey

so far—the private jet, the luxury o£ the hotel. There were definite advantages in being

related to Michael Korialis, she thought with a certain irony, and probably that was what

she was intended to think.

The officer stopped so abruptly that Helen, lost in her meditation, nearly cannoned into

him, and knocked softly on a door, before opening it with something of a flourish, then

standing aside to give Helen access to the large saloon beyond.

Her dazed eyes took in deeply cushioned leather seating, low tables, and
a wel -stocked

bar in one corner. And al for her benefit, because there wasn't another soul in there.

She took a wondering step forward, and then from the doorway behind her the last

voice in the world that she had expected or wanted to hear ever again said softly,

'Welcome on board the Phaedra, Eleni.'

SHE turned and stared at him, her face, her whole tense stance reflecting the shock and

disbelief she was experiencing.

'You!' She was almost choking. 'But why—how...?'

'It is quite simple-' He moved forward, shutting the saloon door behind him—shutting

the world out,, she found herself thinking wildly, shutting them in alone together. 'I

took my own car and a different route. Did you real y think I would al ow you to leave

me behind, and make the rest of your journey alone? Your grandfather asked me to

bring you to him, and I shal do so, Eleni, whether you wish it or not.'

'Wel , I don't wish it,' she said defiantly.

'You have already made that more than clear. But you must have realised by now that

in spite of your hostility to me, I find certain compensations in your company.' His eyes

rested momentarily on her mouth, then moved downwards, slowly and 'deliberately as

if he was mental y re-creating the physical action of stripping the simple navy dress

from her as he had done only a few hours earlier.

She said rather faintly, 'I think I'l go back on deck.'

'And I think that you wil stay here,' he said quite quietly, his body a barrier between

her and the door. 'I warn you, Eleni, if you provoke a scene, you wil make no one

ridiculous except yourself. The crew wil obey my orders and not yours. Now sit down.

Dimitri wil be bringing our meal in a few minutes.'

'Food would choke me,' Helen declared with furious inaccuracy.

'That is unfortunate,' he said sardonical y. 'Then you may sit and watch me eat.'

She flung herself down on the long cushioned seat that ran the length of. one wal of

the saloon.

'I wil make you sorry for this,' she muttered in a low voice. 'I promise I'l make you

sorry!'

'I believe that you wil try,' he said slowly. 'It remains to be seen whether you wil

succeed. If you continue to deliberately provoke me, you could be the one who is

sorry.'

'Arc you threatening me, Mr. Leandros?'

'No, merely warning you, Miss Brandon,' he retorted with mocking formality. She longed

to hit him, to see her finger marks on that dark face, but she did not dare. She couldn't

be certain what kind of reprisals he might exact, and she did not want to find out.

There was another swift deferential knock at the door, and the steward entered, his

eyes flicking curiously from one to the other. He spoke to Damon Leandros in Greek,

and received a brief reply in the same language.

Helen crouched on the seat, watching sul enly as the man pul ed up one of the tables

and placed a chair careful y opposite where she was sitting. In a matter of moments a

spotless linen tablecloth had been added, together with cutlery, plates and wine

glasses.

Damon Leandros walked over to the bar, and picked up a bottle of whisky.

'May I offer you a drink, Eleni?'

'I want nothing from you,' she bit out at him.

'If you continue to lake that tone, you may get more than you bargain for,' he said

harshly. 'Dimitri speaks no English, but he is far from deaf, and you wil oblige me by

behaving civil y in his presence. Now, I ask you again. Would you like a drink?'

She did not look at him. 'Yes—thank, you. I—I'l have a retsina' she added with a shade

of bravado.

His brows rose and be gave her a searching look. 'Real y? You would not prefer Martini

or Campari?'

'I'd like retsina,' she insisted stubbornly. 'I know what it's supposed to taste like, and I

stil would like to try it.'

He shrugged. 'As you wish.' He poured a modest amount of pale liquid into a glass and

brought it to her, before settling himself in the chair opposite. She knew he was

watching her intently to see her reaction as she lifted the glass to her lips, and steeled

herself. As it was, even the first cautious sip caught her by the throat, and for a few

seconds she was terrified that she was going to choke ignominiously. It was like

drinking pure resin, she thought furiously, and she was sure he had done it deliberately,

because she knew there were many quite mildly resinated varieties available.

'Cheers,' she said ironical y, setting the glass down.

'Ya sas.' He lifted his own glass courteously, a faint smile playing round his mouth. 'Is

the retsina to your liking?'

'Perfectly,' she lied. 'It—it's everything I've always heard about it.'

Dimitri was bustling backwards and forwards. Helen heard the subdued pop of a wine

cork being withdrawn, and prayed that it was something slightly more palatable. He set

a platter of crusty bread on the table, and a bowl of something that looked like

mayonnaise, but smelt intriguingly of garlic and other things. Helen could not restrain a

slight gasp when he placed a dish of huge succulent prawns on the table between

them, then withdrew from the saloon at a slight unsmiling nod from her companion.

Helen was sorry to see him go; the prospect of dining tête-à-tête with Damon was a

disturbing one. She remembered the last time she had dined in his company at the flat

in London, and the unexpected aftermath, the memory
of which stil had the power to

tighten her nerves and make her mouth dry.

She stole an unobtrusive glance at her watch, wondering how many hours of his

company she would be forced to endure before they reached Phoros. She took another

sip of retsina, and found to her surprise that it improved on acquaintance. Which was

more than could be said for her companion, she thought, and smiled to herself.

'You are amused about something?' He was leaning back in the chair, watching her with

half-closed eyes.

'Not real y.' She gave a slight shrug, then leaned forward and helped herself to one of

the prawns.

He pushed the bowl of dip towards her. 'Would you like to try some of this?'

'I don't know,' she said doubtful y. 'If it has a lot of garlic ...'

'Don't worry,' it was his turn to be amused, 'I intend to have some too.'

She had taken another sip of retsina before she realised what he meant, and flushed

hotly. 'You flatter yourself, Mr. Leandros!' 'I think we both know that I don't,' he said

evenly, and his eyes went to her mouth again, his expression suddenly sensuous as if

he was remembering exactly how its softness had felt under his.

Helen took another hasty sip of her drink, and another prawn, shaking her head

vehemently as he offered the dip again. He shrugged and put the bowl on another

table, offering her the bread in its place, with an ironic smile.

She took a piece, then steadying her voice, she said in what she hoped was a normal

conversational tone, 'I take it that Phaedra is in no way part of the normal ferry service

to Phoros.'

'In no way,' he agreed.

'So you lied to me,' she said.

'In what way did I lie?'

'You let me think we would be travel ing on the ferry. You knew perfectly wel that I—

that I wouldn't want ...' her voice tailed away lamely.

'To sail off with me into the darkness of the Aegean night?' he asked smoothly. 'You

have only yourself to blame
for that. We could have left several hours earlier and

reached Phoros in daylight. And I did not lie. I mentioned only a sea journey. It was

you who decided we would be travel ing on the public ferry.'

'That's just playing with words,' she said hotly. 'You should have told me what was

real y happening. Does —does Phaedra belong to my grandfather?'

'No,' he said. 'Are you disappointed?'

'Just curious,' she said. 'I suppose it belongs to another of his wealthy friends. He's

lucky to have so many.'

'Michael has perhaps been more fortunate in his friends than in his relations,' he said

drily.

Helen went rigid. 'That is an abominable thing to say!' Her voice rose in anger.

'Oddly enough, I did not mean you. But are you real y trying to claim that your

behaviour has been beyond reproach?'

'I am going to Phoros. Isn't that what everyone wants?'

'Not if you are going ful of resentment, determined to rub salt into old wounds, Eleni. If

you are going to your grandfather to exact some kind of personal retribution, then it

would have been better if you had stayed in London.'

'Now he tel s me,' she said savagely. 'What shal I do? swim back to Piraeus?'

'No,' he said coldly. 'Try and search your heart for some glimmer of the compassion I

found in you that night in London.'

She opened her eyes wide, staring at him over the rim of her glass.

'Of—I see. It's the soft yielding bit that turns you on. That was where my last so-cal ed

glimmer of compassion led, wasn't it—to being grossly insulted by you.'

'You have a gift for
exaggeration,' he said harshly. 'Also for provocation. I would take

care, Eleni.'

'It's you that needs to take care,' she said recklessly. 'I won't forget any of it, you know.

The ambiguous remarks, the degrading way you treated me this afternoon—I'm going

to tel my grandfather every sordid detail.'

'I see I didn't underestimate your capacity for vengeance,' he drawled. Perhaps you

also underestimate me.'

'I don't think so.' Helen set down her empty glass. She felt quite lightheaded, and

wondered uneasily whether it was anticipation of her coming victory, or merely the

effect of retsina on her stil empty stomach. She hastily ate some more bread, and

helped herself again to the luscious prawns.

'I'm glad to see you have recovered from your indisposition,' he said indolently after a

few minutes. 'Also that the colour has returned to your face. You clearly enjoy the

stimulation of a light.'

'I always considered until now that I was the peace-loving type,' she said tartly. 'I

suppose you find that difficult to believe.'

'A desire for peace is usual y the prerogative of the elderly. Someone as young as you,

Eleni, should love life and al it has to offer.' He finished his whisky. 'Perhaps until now

you have only been half alive.' 'I've been perfectly happy,' she said indignantly.

'That is impossible.' Deftly he opened the wine and poured it into the waiting glasses.

'Perfection in happiness is not so easily attained. You have possibly been content, but

no more.'

Helen tilted her chin. 'May we change the subject, please?'
she requested coldly. 'I've

no wish to sit here and listen to your assumptions about me.'

He smiled and lifted his glass in a mocking toast to which
she made no response

whatever.

Dimitri appeared silently to remove their plates and serve the next course—-tiny

chickens, their flesh delicately flavoured with herbs, and a large serving tray set with

dishes of every conceivable type of salad. Finger-bowls, with flower petals floating on