‘Then why didn’t you marry her and let her live happily ever after?’ Good heavens, she thought, she was sounding sour. And he would notice too, because he always did know what she was thinking as though by some process of osmosis, transferring her thoughts from her own head to his.
‘Because I would never have been the only man in her life,’ he said.
She began to argue, ‘You’re not—’
‘But I will be in the future!’
It was impossible to tell him that that hadn’t been at all what she had been going to say. She cast him a swift look of dismay. Not only would he not believe her, but he would insist that she explain further, and to do that he would force admissions from her she wasn’t ready to make to anyone—not even herself!
‘You can’t be sure of that,’ she said in a voice that trembled.
‘Can’t I? Can’t I, Emily?’
She bowed her head, pretending to lean forward to flick some dust from her jeans, but really to hide the fact that she could no longer conceal her emotions. She was conscious of him stopping the car and drawing her into the circle of his arms. She was unable to resist. She felt him put one hand behind her head and the other on the small of her back, moving so gently that she had hardly felt it at first, separating her blouse from her jeans.
‘Have you ever been your own boss?’ he asked her.
‘Not yet. But I would have been.’
His fingers moved slowly up her spine. ‘You’ll have all my money to spend in any way you want. Isn’t that enough for you?’
She tore herself free of him, breathless and ashamed of the weakness that had assailed her limbs at the close contact with him. ‘No!’ she shouted at him. ‘It can never be enough! I want my own money to spend in my own way! I don’t want to be told what to do for the rest of my life!’
‘If you ask me,’ he said, ‘you don’t know what you want. Grow up, little one, and admit that what you really want is me!’
She hit out blindly at the smug expression on his face, but he caught her wrist long before the blow could be delivered, and he actually had the temerity to smile at her—an amused, tolerant smile that set her pulses drumming in a confused panic of anticipation.
‘Shall I prove it to you?’ he asked her softly.
She made no movement at all to stop him. He held her so closely against him that there was no possible escape. She ought to have made some kind of protest, but all she felt was his lips on hers, exploring the contours of her mouth with an expertise she had never known before, drawing from her a response that shattered the last of her reserve. She wound her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer into his embrace, delighting in the hard, masculine feel of him and the strength of the arms that held her.
He kissed her cheek and the lobe of her ear, unbuttoning her blouse without her knowing that he had done so until she felt his searching fingers against the soft, swelling flesh of her breasts.
‘No, Demis, please don’t!’
He released her at once and pushed her back into her own seat, lighting himself a cigarette.
‘Anyone would think you’d never had a man’s hands on you before,’ he said roughly. ‘You play the young virgin very well, my dear.’
She caught her breath with difficulty, pulling the edges of her blouse together with a helpless agitation that wasn’t made any better by the knowledge that he was watching her every movement and that his expression was far from kindly.
‘I haven’t—I mean, I’ve never—’
He took pity on her, doing up the buttons himself with a sardonic smile. ‘No more lies, Emily. You said yourself you liked the spice of variety, remember?’ He bent his head and kissed her lips, without love, as if it were an insult. ‘You wouldn’t escape me now, karthia mou, but I grew out of making love on the back seat of a car a long time ago. I can wait for you until tonight, but I won’t wait any longer, so don’t waste your breath on any further excuses. Your reluctance isn’t particularly convincing.’
She looked straight ahead of her, determined not to let him see how much he was hurting her.
‘I wish you wouldn’t use endearments you obviously don’t mean,’ she muttered. ‘I’m no part of you—certainly not your heart!—and I don’t mean anything to you.’
‘You’re not much of a mind-reader,’ he said lazily. He picked up a lock of her hair between his fingers, pulling on it gently. ‘What do I mean to you?’
She shrugged, refusing to answer. She could still feel the pressure of his arms about her, commanding her surrender, and she wondered that she didn’t resent his easy mastery more.
‘Never mind,’ he went on, dismissing her silence with what he obviously felt was the contempt it deserved. ‘Fate always intended you to be mine, Emily Thorne Kaladonou.’
He stubbed out his cigarette and started up the car again.
‘How much further is it to Kalamata?’ she asked him.
‘It’s not far now.’ His eyes passed over her flushed face and her still dishevelled appearance. He gestured towards her handbag. ‘You’d better tidy yourself if you don’t want the whole crew to start using their imaginations.’ He touched her cheek with a proprietorial finger, before swinging the car out into the open road. ‘There’s no one more entitled to kiss you than your own husband, Emily mou. Blush for the other kisses you’ve received, not for mine! I have every right to take as many kisses from you as I want!’
It was the first time Emily had seen the yacht by daylight. The clean, sweeping lines of the prow towered above the small dinghy that took them out from the busy wharf of the harbour. She read the name Coronis, printed in Greek and Roman letters, and turned eagerly towards Demis.
‘Did you call her after your mother?’ Emily asked. ‘Did she know? I mean—’
‘She was already dead,’ he answered shortly. ‘I doubt if she’d have thought it much of an honour anyway. She would have preferred the working caique I had before. She wasn’t easily impressed by the outward trappings of wealth.’
‘It’s a lovely compliment, though!’ Emily exclaimed. ‘I wouldn’t care if it were only a tub that couldn’t go outside the harbour in case it sank!’
He looked at her with his old mocking smile. ‘I’ll name my next yacht for you,’ he offered.
‘Oh, yes, please! I’d give anything for that!’
The gleam in his eyes made her suddenly self-conscious.
‘I may hold you to that,’ he warned her. ‘At least I shall know how to reward you, my lovely Emily. Emily Kaladonou!’
CHAPTER NINE
There were two main staterooms, both of which had direct access on to the deck. Emily, rather at a loss as to what was expected of her in the unaccustomed magnificence of her surroundings, allowed the steward to escort her into the first of the staterooms and was surprised to find it full of her own belongings. ‘Where did these come from?’
‘O kyrios commanded they should be brought on board. I have taken the liberty of unpacking the things you will need for the night only. There will be a woman who will see to your things on Hydra. I hope I have done right?’
Emily didn’t like to say that no one had ever packed or unpacked for her in her life before, except possibly her mother when she had been a child.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘It was kind of you to go to so much trouble. I’ve never been on a private yacht before.’
‘We shall hope to serve you often in the future, kyria. It has been a great happiness to us to know o kyrios has married such a lovely woman.’ The very male appreciation in his eyes startled her. An Englishman would have kept such thoughts to himself, she decided, but she must be growing more Greek by the minute, for she found it quite soothing to her ego to know that Demis’ servants approved his choice and, maybe, even envied him a little.
‘An English woman?’
He shrugged expressively. ‘A rare flower may be found anywhere,’ he answered.
‘Mmm,’ she agreed, ‘but they don’t always transpla
nt easily.’
‘Madam is joking. It’s easy to see she is already Greek in her heart,’ he retorted gracefully.
Then she saw Demis in the doorway. How much of the exchange had he heard? she wondered. Would he think she was being too familiar with his steward? Flirting with him even?
‘Are you Greek in your heart, Emily? Yannis is a very good judge of the English mind. He fought with the British in the last war in Crete.’ He sat down on the end of the gold and white double bed, completely at his ease. ‘Well, karthia mou?’
Emily clenched her fists. ‘Most Europeans feel a little bit Greek,’ she said, averting her face. ‘The basis of our law—all sorts of things—came to us through the gateway of ancient Greece. In England, most of them came via Rome, but they were Greek first of all.’
‘True, karthia mou. But isn’t there another reason why you have a Greek heart inside you?’
‘None that I can think of.’ Her eyelids flickered as she caught the swift glance her husband exchanged with Yannis, who openly-grinned, shaking his head at her. ‘I feel English through and through!’
‘No, no, kyria,’ Yannis denied, obviously still amused. He reverted to his native Greek, reminding her that English girls were either cold, or promiscuous, or both, which wasn’t their fault considering the permissive lives their men allowed them to lead and that they were denied the benefit of having handsome Greek lovers for their husbands.
‘How do you know so much about English women?’ Emily thrust back at him, wrinkling up her nose at the unsatisfactory picture he had painted of her compatriots. ‘Most of us live quite ordinary lives.’
‘I heard the British soldiers talking about their wives in the war, and we have many English tourists here in Greece. The British have many virtues, you understand, they are valiant and they love justice, but they do not understand women.’
‘Oh?’ Emily said even more coldly.
Yannis shook his head. ‘Women will always test to see if a man means what he says, and despise him if they find he does not. We Greeks understand this. In Greece, it is always the man who rules the household, but it is the woman who rules his heart. So, you see, having a Greek husband, your heart must be Greek, for it is his heart you keep within you—’
He broke off, sensing Demis’ faint dismissive movement. ‘The Greeks also talk too much! At what hour shall I serve dinner, kyrie?’
Demis’ eyes were on his wife’s face. ‘As soon as it is ready,’ he answered. ‘Are you hungry, Emily mou?’
Emily shook her head. Food had never been further from her mind. She heard the door close behind Yannis and made a play of checking that she had everything she needed for the night. He had put out a long dress for her to change into, she noticed. Made from creamy-coloured wool, it had a gold belt and some gold braiding on the bodice. It was a dress she knew she looked well in, but that wasn’t how she wanted to look tonight! She wondered if she could change it and lifted the lid of her suitcase to see what else she had, deliberately avoiding her husband’s eyes all the while.
‘Who packed my things?’ she asked, finding the silence unbearable.
‘Chrisoula.’ His tone was dry. ‘I thought somehow that you wouldn’t want Barbara going through your things.’
She looked up at him then. Had he really been so concerned for her feelings at a time when he had been undeniably angry with her?
‘I like Chrisoula,’ she said.
‘Meaning that you don’t like Barbara?’
‘I didn’t say that. I don’t know her very well yet, so how can I say?’
‘You stiffen whenever her name is mentioned. There must be some reason for that?’
There didn’t seem to be anything else that would be suitable for her to wear. Chrisoula had made sure of that! There were several pairs of jeans—every pair she possessed, in fact—and tops of all kinds, both warm and cool, and several changes of underwear, but remarkably little else.
‘I told her to put in your swimming things,’ Demis said reflectively. ‘I like to see you in the water, if it’s warm enough.’
Emily didn’t know how to answer that. ‘One or two dresses wouldn’t have gone amiss,’ was what she did say. ‘And I can’t find any make-up at all.’
‘Have a look in the dressing-table,’ he advised. ‘You may find something there.’
Obediently, she went and looked. In the top drawer was a whole range of cosmetics bearing the house name of a famous Parisian firm she had heard of often, but had never been able to afford. She opened the nearest bottle of scent and tried a little on her wrist. With a small cry she recognized immediately where she had smelt it before. It had been on Hermione.
‘I’d rather not use these,’ she said out loud.
Demis frowned. ‘What foolishness is this?’ he demanded. ‘Of course you will wear them!’
She held the drawer so tightly her fingers ached. ‘Why should I?’
‘Because I wish it.’ He strode across the stateroom to her, taking the scent from her in an impatient movement. ‘What is wrong with my choice? I find it very pleasant—young and innocent!’
‘It isn’t me,’ she said stiffly.
He laughed harshly. ‘You could be right! But, as they were bought with you in mind, you’ll have to make the best of them—or go without!’
‘How do you mean, they were bought with me in mind?’ she couldn’t resist asking him.
‘I consulted your mother about your taste and had them sent to the yacht from a shop in Athens. It seems your mother was mistaken.’
‘No, no, she wasn’t.’ Emily avoided the quick gleam in his eyes, feeling decidedly foolish. ‘I thought they’d been chosen for somebody else.’
‘Somebody else?’ He sounded extremely angry. She nodded her head. ‘Did you really buy them for me?’
The glint in his eyes became more knowing. ‘Do you doubt it, Emily mou? Whom else would I have bought them for?’
Hermione’s name rose to her lips, but she swallowed it down again. ‘How should I know? I don’t know the names of all your women!’
He put a hand under her chin and raised her face to his. ‘You’re not very consistent, agape. Why should you resent the women I’ve noticed in the past when you don’t scruple to fling your boy-friends in my face? Did you expect to have a husband who had no experience of your sex at all? A Greek husband at that? You ask too much, karthia mou. You’re in no position to complain if I keep half a dozen mistresses, are you? But it so happens that you are the first woman I have invited on board my yacht—if it’s any comfort to you!’
‘Barbara—’
‘Not even Barbara has been on board at the same time as myself—though as my sister she can hardly be included in the term “one of my women”, can she?’
Emily hesitated. Then, ‘You tell lies too!’ she said suddenly.
He was sufficiently startled to release his grasp on her chin. ‘Emily, I warn you—’
‘You do too! You told me your sisters would give you a good reference for managing their affairs for them. That may be true of Chrisoula, but it certainly isn’t true of Barbara! Is it?’
She was gratified to discover that she had disconcerted him.
‘I know you’ve done your best for her—and I expect she knows it too, underneath. Only you did ask for me to try and strike back, you know, and I can’t always be expected not to throw any brick that comes to hand, even if it’s clearly marked, “This one will land below the belt!” What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander too,’ she went on, annoyed to hear a quivery note in her voice.
His arms enclosed her, drawing her up on to her feet. ‘My dear girl, if you’ll believe that, you’ll believe anything. It may be unfair, but might is still right in the battle of the sexes. How will you prevent me from seeing other women?’
‘I shan’t try,’ she claimed. ‘It’s nothing to me whom you see.’
‘Is it not?’ he asked. ‘Including Hermione?’
‘I don’t wish to discu
ss Hermione, if you don’t mind.’
He let her go, but she was equally conscious of him without his arms about her. She could feel every muscle in his body and the hardness of his flesh as much as if she were still in his embrace. She watched him pick up the bottle of scent again and hold it beneath his nostrils.
‘So that was it,’ he said at last. ‘Jealous little cat! It isn’t Hermione’s usual choice, you know.’ He swung round towards her. ‘Next time, I’ll have something especially created for you and buy the recipe so that nobody else will ever wear it. Will that suit my lady?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said coldly. ‘You can’t do things like that.’
‘If one has money one can do practically anything.’
She snatched up the scent and defiantly dabbed herself with it. ‘Well, you shouldn’t!’ she berated him. ‘You shouldn’t indulge anyone to that extent. It’s—it’s indecent!’
His eyes held hers. His were light and seemed to look right through her. She noticed inconsequentially that his lashes provided a dark frame for them, making them seem lighter still.
‘I have only one wife. Why shouldn’t I indulge her if it pleases me to do so? Are you afraid I may ask more from you in return?’
She tried to disengage her eyes from his, but the power that emanated from him prevented her. ‘Demis, I would have told Keith I was married. I began to tell him, but I couldn’t remember my name. All I could think of was Kaladonis—’