Stormy the Way (7 page)

'I was - was thinking,' she mumbled, picking up her spoon.

'Of what?' he wanted to know, smiling at her.

'Nothing in particular....'

He seemed amused all at once.

'Why, I do believe you're shy — just because we're dining alone. How utterly refreshing to discover a shy young lady these days.' She made no comment and he said, his soup spoon poised, 'Have you had a young man before Paul?'

Inwardly she started, recalling that here in Greece engagements are not broken. But then it had not been her fault, so surely Leon would consider her blameless. Yet she hesitated just a second longer, loath to see this most attractive expression change to one of condemnation.

'Not a s-serious one,' she faltered, popping a small piece of bread in her mouth the instant she had told the lie.

'At twenty-five I should have thought you'd have had many admirers.

You're very lovely, Tara - but I expect you know that.'

She glanced up, flushing daintily. His eyes glimmered oddly and he swallowed hard.

'Thank you, Leon. Quite frankly, I haven't had many admirers. You see, I used to go about a lot with Mum and Dad until - until ... '

'Yes?'

'Until they went abroad,' she said quickly, averting her head.

Savvas entered with the second course and silence fell on the room until he had left.

'A girl who goes about with Mum and Dad,' he mused, his eyes fixed on her bent head. 'In other words, an old-fashioned girl.'

Tara's colour spread ; she wished already that the lie had not been told. But Leon chatted on and the situation eased for her. It was a meal she would never forget as long as she lived. Of all the meals she had taken with Ricky, none had been so pleasurably exciting as this.

She felt she was on the verge of some momentous event, that the evening could not end without a great change taking place in her life.

Paul faded; he did ncrt matter anyway. Her brother and Joan, her parents - none seemed real; only this was tangible, yet unreal too in many ways. To be dining in so romantic a setting with a handsome Greek whose manner was, to say the least, much more than friendly, whose voice was capable of sending exciting tremors through her body, whose black eyes, looking at her with something akin to tenderness, set her senses tingling in the most delicious kind of way.

Inevitably she recalled her grudging admission that he was attractive

... and she remembered also that she had wondered how a woman would fare, should he decide to tempt her.

Thoughts such as these brought colour fluctuating delicately, and because he was watching her she lowered her long lashes, unaware of the lovely picture she made, with the colour taking on a peach tint in the reflected light from above, and the soft shadows mingling with it thrown on to her cheeks by her eyelashes. Her wide generous mouth parted slightly, as if pleading for a kiss.

She heard his intake of breath, saw his fingers tighten on the handle of his knife. She glanced up and he smiled, but in his pagan eyes there glowed the unmistakable embers of desire. She automatically touched her breast, for her heart had jerked almost painfully. This balancing on a knife-edge was too dangerous a position by far. Her nerves quickened, stimulated by the chord of expectation ... and something akin to recklessness.

Their coffee and liqueurs were served in the same room, on a small table by the open window. The music from the record player had stopped, but the trill of cicadas could still be heard and, more faintly, the sound of waves lapping the shore. Lights twinkled on the hillsides; and the summits of the mountains, enveloped in a lustrous moon-flushed radiance, stood out like silver silhouettes against the star-spangled Grecian sky.

Leon took hold of the chair which Savvas had put to one side of the table, and brought it close to where Tara sat. Reaching up, he snapped off the light, leaving just a small lamp shining from the verandah outside. It was rose-shaded and, throwing its subtle glow on to the climbing vines and bougainvillaeas, it turned the entire immediate scene into a fairyland of magic and warmth. A tightness caught at Tara's throat. Escape seemed urgent - but escape from what? And how was she to remove herself without her host adopting an attitude of astonishment at her action? After all, he hadn't done anything.

'So silent,' murmured Leon at last as he picked up his glass.

'Thoughtful, and - still a little shy?' His dark head was cocked, his voice edged with amusement She thrilled to this teasing mood, wondering if she would ever feel the same after an evening such as this.

'I'm not shy,' she returned, a smile fluttering.

'You are, my dear. And very unsure of yourself. Are you afraid of something?'

Swiftly she shook her head - too swiftly.

'Why should I be afraid?'

He shrugged his shoulders.

'There's no reason. After all, you're with the man who eventually is to become your brother-in-law, aren't you?' She looked dumbly at him; her hand lay on the table and suddenly it was covered with his own.

'Tara,' he whispered hoarsely, then broke off. The clasp of her hand caused her to cry out and he apologized, but absently. He seemed gripped by indecision and at last he put his glass to his mouth and drank deeply. She said, because she just had to cut into this silence,

'Yes, Leon, I'm with the man who is eventually to be my brother-in-law.'

At that he seemed to take on a satanic look. She peered into those black eyes and was scared.

'You really want to marry him?' he asked her harshly. 'You're as much in love with him as you would have me believe?'

'I-I-'

'Answer me! He's a mere boy. How can you be in love with him—?'

He stopped, and his shoulders sagged. 'I'm sorry,' he said in tones bitter-edged. 'Forgive me.'

A hush fell on the room after this until, their drinks finished, he said, calmly now and with nothing more to his voice than would be expected from the man whose brother she was intending to marry,

'I usually take a stroll before going to bed. As Paul isn't here perhaps you'll accompany me?'

'Of course.' The answer came spontaneously, for she had no wish to put an end to the scene at this stage. For as she sat there, at the dinner-table, in that magic setting, she had allowed the truth to emerge from where it had lain, suppressed, in her subconscious. It had not burst in upon her, staggering her or leaving her dazed and disbelieving. No, it made a gende entry into her conscious strands of thought and, once established, it seemed as if it had always been there, since the beginning of time. With Ricky, love - or what they both believed was love - had come with a flourish. Across the dance hall their eyes had met and a sudden upsurge of emotion had caught Tara in what she thought was an inescapable vortex which was to enclose her for life.

After the break-up she had sworn to finish with men for ever, but here she was, in love with this dark arid rather frightening Greek who was under the impression that she loved his brother and was going to marry him. And Leon .. .? At this stage she dared not ask herself if he was beginning to care, simply because it seemed impossible that he could care deeply for any woman. He was too hard and unfeeling, she had already told herself; added to this was his contempt for women, especially Englishwomen.

'You're not cold?' Leon sounded anxious, she thought, hastily reassuring him. 'Perhaps you should have brought a coat, nevertheless,' he said, and she knew a slight frown had settled on his brow.

'It isn't cold,' she said, hurrying a little to keep up with him. 'It's a beautiful night!'

But even as she spoke the moon became masked, clouds having blown in from the sea, and the darkness thickened with the lengthening distance from the house. Leon took her arm; she quivered and hoped he hadn't noticed. He was almost morosely quiet and although she several times attempted to open a conversation she gave it up in the end, having received only monosyllables in response.

'It's - eerie after the brilliance of the moonlight,' she said after a long time. 'Look at those trees on the mountains — they seem to have taken on the most grotesque shapes.' He nodded, merely glancing over to the mainland, where the forest trees were outlined in the shadows. They reached the extreme edge of the garden and he stopped under a tree. The indecision which had dropped on him a few minutes earlier was gone suddenly and before she had time even to grasp his intention she was in his arms and his hard demanding mouth was pressed to hers. Instinctively she began to struggle, but soon desisted, his very savagery sharpening her own nervous response, and she found herself giving her lips unstintingly, and even thrilling to the far-too-intimate proximity of his sinewed body against her soft and tender curves. Madness! So why didn't she make some sort of move?

But sheer recklessness held her in its grip and she desired nothing more than to remain in his arms, and to surrender her lips to the passionate mastery of his.

'Tara. ...' He held her from him at last, but his mouth still caressed her cheek and her neck and would have sought pleasure lower, but she inserted a protective hand. A soft laugh escaped him before she was crushed to him once more and her head forced back as he kissed her with all the pagan ruthlessness of his unbridled ancestors. 'Tara .. . say you love me. Say it!'

She shook her head, but it was stilled instantly by his imperative hands.

'Leon ... Paul.' She must mention Paul, even though he was as nebulous as a dream. Leon would consider it very strange indeed if she forgot all about her 'fiance'! 'I'm - engaged—'

'Say you love me,' he demanded harshly. 'I've seen it in your eyes tonight - yes, and before that, but you didn't know. You love
me
! Do you hear?'

'Yes, but-'

'Yes! You've said it,' triumphantly as those bands of steel took possession of her even yet again. 'You're mine, Tara, mine! Do you understand? You can't marry Paul now. You were meant for me; it was fate that brought you here ...' He allowed his voice to fall to silence as he looked deeply into her eyes. Her own eyes shone, but she rather thought he would not notice as clouds still partly obscured the moon. 'My own sweet love,' he whispered presently, 'we cannot allow three lives to be ruined. With Paul it is calf-love; I saw this at once. With you - well, my dear, I don't pretend to' know what it was.

I'm sure you truly believed you loved him - am I right?' he asked before continuing. It was so easy a way out of what had at first appeared to be a most difficult situation, and she seized upon it instantly.

'Yes, Leon, you are right.' Such deceit - but what; did it matter so long as no one was to be hurt? She could scarcely tell Leon the truth at this stage— No, indeed not! She actually shuddered at the thought, having witnessed the great strength of him, and the ruthlessness. This in love ... so what in anger? She hoped she would never make the mistake of arousing that.

'Say you'll marry me,' he went on when she had answered him. 'Say it, my dear, beloved Tara.' The name rolled, deliciously, and her emotions soared and r in a little access of desire she pressed close against him and knew the pain and pleasure of his unleashed passion as the whipcord hardness of his body came very close to demanding complete surrender. Sanity intervened and, pale and frightened, she pushed against him, and to her relief he spared her any further temptation. T must own you, my dearest. When will you marry me?'

Vibrant with suppressed ardour the voice. She managed to say in shaky tones, 'I'll marry you whenever you want me to, Leon.'

'Sweetheart! My dearest darling—' His lips found hers and a long, long silence fell before, reluctantly drawing away, he said, 'We must be gentle with Paul, my love. Shall I tell him, or will you?'

'I must tell him,' she returned rather quickly. Paul was too young to handle a situation like that. So amazed would he be that in all probability he would blurt out the truth - that Leon needn't be contrite because he and Tara weren't engaged anyway. Tara would have liked to mention Paul's inheritance, but refrained, admitting that this was not the time.

'He isn't going to take kindly to our marriage, but that can't be helped.'

Leon seemed almost callous, she suddenly realized with a frown.

Noticing it, and obviously perceiving the reason for it he added more gently, 'It's for the best, Tara dear. As I said, it's only calflove, for no young boy of twenty knows his own mind. He'll be over it in no time at all, you'll see.'

She nodded, too much in love to think of anything except her own happiness, but at the same time wishing she could tell Leon that Paul would not need to get over it, as he had never been remotely attracted to her, much less in love with her.

THEY were married in England, early in the morning, leaving soon afterwards for Poros, as Leon wanted to have their first night in their own home. This suited Tara, since she could imagine no more romantic place for a honeymoon than the villa, set in its lovely exotic gardens, with the views to the mountains of the mainland just across the strait, and the delightful little harbour with its bright fishing boats and caiques splashing colour against a background of tree-clothed hills.

Sitting in the plane, Tara mused over the events of the past three weeks. Paul - and his astonishment. He was delighted, though, as Tara promised faithfully that he would receive his inheritance, as she would use her influence with her husband. Androula was at first quite shocked, anxious for 'her poor brother' until, impatiently, Paul had told her he had already got over it.