Stormy the Way (11 page)

And he was. She saw him off on the morning boat, which had come in loaded with passengers, most of whom were met by Poriot relatives; one or two others, late tourists, were approached by the taxi-drivers.

'Thanks for everything.' Ricky looked decidedly downcast at leaving.

'I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused you.'

She smiled at him.

'Don't keep apologizing, Ricky. It was no trouble, you know that. I'm only too glad that it wasn't worse. Take care for a while - mind what you eat.'

'I shall!' He was on the boat and she on the quay. 'Good-bye -
dear
Tara! Can I write to you?'

'I don't think—'

'Please…'

'All right. But don't forget what I said: have a talk with Freda.'

His smile disappeared.

' I might, but it won't do any good.'

The boat: was moving; the small gathering on the quay was waving wildly. The Greeks always got excited for nothing at all. She lifted a hand as Ricky raised his. He blew her a kiss and, because she pitied him, she did likewise. And just then she turned her head, acutely conscious of eyes fixed upon her. The
garsoni
she had noticed the other day stood about a couple of yards from her; he was now waving vigorously to someone on the boat.

Tara turned and walked away, across the
plateia
with its high clock tower and cenotaph, with its
tavernas
and steamship agents' offices, its hotel and shops, and its crowds of people, there to see the
Marina
depart.

She wondered why she should be excited at the thought of Leon's return. For the five weeks of their marriage he had scarcely spoken to her; she felt sometimes that he hardly knew she was there at all. They ate together when he was in; they took their drinks on the patio, and that was all. They never walked together, or chatted, or went out visiting. Leon had never entertained, but she knew that he used to do so because Savvas had told her. The owners of other white villas scattered about the wooded hillsides were his friends, Savvas had said, and they used to come and dine. They were Greek shipowners and oil millionaires, and some of them were in the hotel business.

Altogether it had been a dull existence .. . and yet each time he went away for a few days she experienced this feeling of excitement at the thought of his return. What was she hoping for, in her subconscious?

He would never even notice her, let alone show any interest in her. As for his ever coming to care.... It was an absurd thought, and yet she would daydream sometimes, allowing her threads of imagination to unwind from the tight ball of despondency which for most of the time engulfed her, and she would live in a world of ecstasy, live through that delicious interlude when on that wonderful evening he had claimed her, and kissed her with such possessiveness and passion.

She had responded, sublimely unconscious of the trap into which she was stepping. The days that had followed her promise to marry him had been ones of sheer undiluted bliss, a prelude - dangerous on more than one occasion - to more rapturous delights in store.

And now, after almost six weeks of marriage, she had never known her husband.

It was inconceivable that he could remain aloof, that he never for one single moment desired her. Inconceivable because his lovemaking had been tempestuous and passionate; he had wanted her then, she felt sure. But that had been only desire for her body which, at one particular moment, was no different from that of any other woman.

Had he taken her then - and she refused to dwell on whether or not she could have resisted him - it would have been merely for convenience, for the momentary satisfaction of desire.

Tara was eternally grateful that she had never been really tempted by Leon, for she never would have wanted him to take her for that reason only. Much as she wanted him now she would not have him take her without love.

He would be home late in the evening and Tara told Savvas to have the dinner ready for half-past nine. She found herself taking a long while over her toilet, and dressing with exceptional care. Her dress was long and flowing, and tight where it ought to be tight. The neckline was high, but nevertheless she wore a silver chain and a cross which her parents had bought her before they went away. In her hair, newly-washed and gleaming, she put a tiny diamante star. This and the chain and cross were her only adornments, but as she glanced at herself in the mirror she felt more than satisfied with her appearance. What was she hoping for? she asked herself again. And she suddenly realized that she was putting up a fight, a gentle feminine fight, to win her husband's love.

He had accused her of marrying him for his money; die had neither received any from him, nor asked for any. She had very little of her own, but as she bought only bare necessities it was going a long way.

Surely he would soon begin to doubt the accuracy of his conviction.

That he was waiting for her to ask she had no doubt, but while ever she had a
drachma
in her purse she would manage.

He looked tired when he arrived and she commented on this. He looked at her with an odd expression before allowing his eyes to wander over her slender figure. She flushed adorably and lowered her lashes. Her lips were parted invitingly and for a long moment Leon seemed quite unable to take his eyes off her. She saw to her surprise that a muscle was working in his throat and that those black eyes gleamed with a strange and rather frightening light. She smiled, and said again that he looked tired.

'You work too hard,' she ventured shyly. 'Have a rest, Leon.'

A half-smile broke after being suspended for a while. Her eyes lit up and she held out a hand to receive the briefcase which he held.

'The dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. You've just time to

- to. ...' She allowed her voice to fade, as his arrogant brows had risen; a gesture which admonished. Tm sorry - I shouldn't have said that -

about your having time to wash and change, I mean.'

'You didn't say it.' Cold tones and terse. 'And don't - if you know what's good for you.' And with that he went upstairs, taking the briefcase with him.

Dinner was a disappointing meal, for Leon was not only silent, but there was something about him that filled her with a strange fear. Was he human, this unfathomable Greek who held her heart unknowingly? Or was he descended from the heathen gods who ruled the Hellenes in those far-off days of paganism? His black eyes pierced her very soul, as they regarded her across the candlelit table.

She had looked forward to his homecoming; now, she desired nothing more than to escape to the safety of her room, and this she did just as soon as she could. And when she got there she stood trembling by the bed, wondering at his brooding silence and the terrifying expression in those hard unfathomable eyes. There was something different about him tonight, something which had caused her heart to beat over-rate and her nerves to become tensed and remain so for the duration of the meal.

Tears sprang to her eyes as a result of her disappointment. She had not expected any real show of friendliness, but on the other hand she had not for one moment dreamt that her husband, by his silence alone, would put such fear into her.

She got undressed at last, and put on an enchanting nightdress of fine diaphanous nylon. After brushing her hair she opened the window and stood looking out over the pine forest to the sweep of the sandy shore below. Starlight gleamed on the water of the strait, and moonlight sprinkled the hills with silver. Palms waved against a purple sky and the inevitable cicadas broke the nocturnal silence, whirring in the olive trees growing beside the dry river bed. The breeze blew cool and refreshing on her face, teasing the hair she had so vigorously brushed only a moment ago. She turned suddenly, moved rather by instinct than by sound. Leon stood in the doorway between their rooms, clad in a black dressing gown so that he did at this moment seem like Satan himself. Her heart turned a somersault as, dry-throated, she asked,

'Wh-what d-do ydu w-want?' Fear choked her - for what reason she knew not. But that all-black figure standing there was enough to frighten the bravest heart.

'Come here,' he ordered in a very soft tone, and pointed to a spot on the carpet in front of him.

She stood very still, wondering if her heart would give up, and she would fall where she was, for undoubtedly it was undergoing a tremendous strain.

'Leon,' she faltered, putting a hand to her throbbing breast, 'I don't understand. Why have you come into my room?'

'I said, come here—'

'No! You frighten m-me— Oh,
no!'
With furious strides he had reached her and she was caught by the wrist and dragged from the window alcove into the centre of the room. 'You're hurting me!'

'Who,' he said between his teeth, 'is the man you've had here while I've been away!'

SHE stared for a moment, conscious only of the burning fury in his eyes, and of the excruciating pain running right up her arm, the result of his merciless grip on her wrist. The man? But why should he care?

'He was a friend,' she managed, amazed at the steadiness of her voice.

£He was a friend at home, that is, and he came to visit me.' She tried to glance through the mirror, wondering if she were as white as she felt, but the tall lean figure of her husband intruded.

'Friend!' he snarled, pure savagery glaring from his eyes. 'Friend, you say! Lover, more like! To bring him here - to my house, making me the laughing-stock of the whole island—'

'No - no, you're wrong,' she began, but stopped, crying out as he gripped her bare arms and shook her so violently that she came close to losing her senses. The room swam before her eyes; the black-clad figure with the fiendish expression seemed to be on top of her, crushing the very life out of her. Oblivion would have been welcome.

She wept, and before very long great sobs shook her whole frame.

'How c-can you accuse m-me of such a th-thing?' she cried, soothingly touching the bruises on her arms as he released her. 'Ricky came to - to see m—'

'Ricky ... and who is this Ricky?' The change of tone was staggering but no less frightening. His voice was soft now, dangerously soft; the fury still burned like molten embers beneath the surface. Frantically she glanced around. If only she could escape!

'I knew h-him at home. Leon—' She stretched out her hands. 'You're frightening me. I haven't done anything wrong - believe me.' She looked at him straightly; her grey eyes, glistening with tears, were wide and honest, but he seemed so incensed that his vision was impaired.

'You brought your lover here - to
my house
, in my absence! No sooner had I stepped foot off that boat than I was told of it! And of your throwing kisses to him as he left - a few hours before my return - a few hours—' His teeth snapping together, he took hold of her once again and shook her so ruthlessly that, almost insensible, she gripped at the front of his dressing- gown, terrified that she was going to faint.

The action seemed to sober him and he stopped. But the fire in his eyes remained and, picking her up, he dropped her on to the bed. 'You can prepare yourself for another lover,' he said, and undid the girdle of his dressing- gown.

'I won't!' She sat up, and tried to get off the bed, but a hand pressed her down again. 'Leon, for pity's sake listen to me! Allow me to explain. Ricky was ill, that's why he had to st—' The rest faded, smothered by the barbaric pressure of his mouth on hers. His dark face swam before her eyes and blackness had begun to close in on her even before, with an outstretched hand, Leon snapped off the bedside lamp.

Dawn in all its Eastern glory invaded the room and she awoke, amazed to discover that she had actually slept. She turned to look at her husband's dark head against the snowy whiteness of the pillow, and her breath caught. How could that satanic creature look like this?-

calm, reposed and .. . incredible as it was, innocent, like a child almost. There was relaxation where in wakefulness his face was taut; the fine lips seemed to curve, almost imperceptibly, whereas their more familiar aspect was one of firm unsmiling severity. The black heathen eyes were masked; she stared, fascinated by the long thick lashes, before her glance moved; upwards, to the peak which cut into his forehead.

Snatches of memory sent the warm blood surging into her face ... and at that very moment he opened his eyes. A hand stole up to the cheek nearest to him, but he was already smiling with sardonic amusement at her blushes. Swiftly she slid from the bed, reaching for a
neglige
. A soft laugh escaped him at her action and her cheeks became more brilliant than ever.

'Escaping, eh?' Leon hitched himself up on one elbow and regarded her with humour as she slipped into the
neglige.
'How far do you think you can get ... if I decide to make love to you again?'

She turned her back on him, but their eyes met through the long slender mirror fixed to the wall.

'I don't suppose it would be any use trying to get very far,' she admitted with honesty.

'You're a puzzle to me, Tara.' She saw that he frowned as these unexpected words were spoken. 'Tell me about this man whom you've had here while I was away?' No humour in the voice now, nor even a hint of softness. His eyes glinted; she could see this even from where she stood. Reaching out, she took up a hairbrush from the dressing-table and used it to sweep back the hair from her face.

'He was a friend from home.' She shuddered as with a switch of memory she lived again through that dreadful scene when, last night, she had tried to explain about Ricky. Automatically she touched her mouth, then slid her fingers away and looked through the mirror, amazed that her lips were not swollen and bruised.