Wife For A Night

by Devine, Angela

  exclaimed. 'I could stay here for half a dozen lifetimes and never get tired of it.'

  'Could you?' asked Philip in an odd voice. Then, before she had a chance to answer, he went on talking. 'Speaking of photographers' paradises,' he said briskly, 'I've taken the liberty of sending your prints of the windmills of Mykonos to a photographic agency in Athens. The man who runs it, Tassos Astrinakis, is a very fine photographer himself. He used to do some of my travel brochures for my earlier hotels. But, like you, he hankered after better things. These days he earns his bread and butter doing high-quality greetings cards for the tourists, and has an exhibition once a year of his artistic photos. If he likes your work I'm sure he'll try to help you.'

  'That's very kind of you, Philip,' said Kate in a troubled voice. She was touched by his efforts to help her, but still uneasily conscious of a need to keep him at arm's length. After all, he was still Irene's fiance, not hers.

  Should she really be accepting favours from him like this?

  'Well, I hate to see talent go to waste,' said Philip casually. 'But now let's go and see my marina site.'

  They padded along silently over the uneven ground. In most places the track was wide enough for them to walk abreast, but at times it narrowed so much that they had to go in single file. Although there were no tall trees, many of the shrubs had dense, bushy branches that tore at Kate's clothes and the ground underfoot was rocky and uneven. She had to tread carefully, and it was rather a relief when Philip called a halt in a small clearing overlooking the sea.

  'Look down there,' he commanded, pointing to the north-west. 'See where that spit of land forms a natural breakwater? That's where I'm going to build the marina.'

  'Oh, yes,' said Kate, shading her eyes against the glare. 'Is that the Eleftheria moored down there at the moment?'

  'Yes, it is,' agreed Philip.

  He came a step closer to Kate and his hands rested lightly on her shoulders.

  His face was so close to hers that she could see each individual eyelash, the glint of desire in his brown eyes, the warm sensual curve of his mouth and the way his chest rose and fell as frantically as if he had been running a long, hard race.

  'Don't, Philip!' she begged breathlessly, backing away from him. 'You know we agreed not to--!'

  Her foot hit a low outcrop of rock and there was a shrill, protesting squawk from beneath it. Kate stopped in bewilderment.

  'What was that?' she demanded.

  'What was what?' asked Philip.

  'That noise. Didn't you hear it? Listen, there it is again.' Crouching down on her heels, she peered under the outcrop of rock. 'Oh, Philip, look! The poor thing! It's a seagull, isn't it?'

  Philip knelt down too, and looked in under the overhanging rock at the pathetic grey and white bird that was sheltering there. Its plumage was still glossy and beautiful on the wings and back, but the white breast- feathers were stained with blood and one leg dangled limply. Yet, in spite of this, the bird lowered its head and shrieked defiance at them.

  'A stray cat or a dog from the village must have got it,' said Philip. 'Poor thing. It'll never survive with that broken leg.'

  Kate's eyes filled with tears.

  'What are we going to do?' she asked. 'We can't just leave it there to die.

  Can't we splint its leg or something?'

  Philip shook his head compassionately.

  'I don't think it's got a hope,' he said gently. 'See how the breast is torn too?

  The kindest thing we can do is to put it out of its misery. Look, Katarina, you

  go on down the track a bit and I'll deal with it. Take some photos or something, and I'll catch you up in a little while, OK?'

  Kate's lip quivered, but she nodded. Deep down she knew Philip was right.

  Hastily averting her eyes as he picked up a rock, she hurried off down the track.

  She had only gone another two hundred yards or so when a patch of purple heather halfway down the rugged hillside caught her attention. Against the dazzling blue water of the sea it made a stunning composition, and she undipped her camera case, took off the lens cap and moved cautiously down towards it. Squinting into the viewfinder and tiptoeing around to locate the best angle, she was scarcely aware of the rest of her surroundings. She adjusted the focus ring very slowly and leant forward to take the shot.

  'What the hell do you think you're doing?' demanded a furious voice.

  Kate gasped as the camera was wrenched savagely out of her hands and flung to the ground. As her vision took in the wider view, she had the sudden appalled realisation of what had happened. A half-naked couple had been lying on a rug in the bushes only a few yards from her subject and she had disturbed them.

  'I-I'm sorry!' she stammered. 'I didn't mean to intrude! I was just photographing the heather. I didn't even see--Oh!'

  For she had suddenly recognised the girl who was struggling to pull on her red bikini-top. It was Irene Marmara. Giving up the struggle as hopeless, Irene flung aside the flimsy scrap of material and wrapped a towel around herself. Then she scrambled to her feet and confronted Kate angrily.

  'How dare you spy on Yves and me?' she demanded furiously. 'I'll have you fired for this!'

  'I don't think so, Irene,' said a harsh voice.

  They all gazed up the hillside to the track where Philip stood looking down at them. Kate saw Yves Sauvignon close his eyes for a moment and shudder.

  Then Philip sauntered down the hillside towards them. His gaze flickered contemptuously from Yves's brief swimming- trunks to Irene's discarded bikini-top, then came to rest on his fiancee's face.

  'I think this farce has gone on long enough,' he said curtly. 'Irene, I must ask you to consider our engagement at an end.'

  CHAPTER SIX

  IN THE stunned silence which followed this announcement Kate heard the soft lap-lap of the waves at the foot of the cliffs, the hoarse braying of a donkey in the distance, the rapid uneven thudding of her own heart. Then Irene let rip with a torrent of invective in Greek. Flinging herself on Philip, she clawed at his face and pummelled his chest with her fists.

  'You louse!' she shrieked. 'How dare you try and make me look a fool like this?'

  'You're making yourself look a fool,' retorted Philip sharply.

  Seizing her wrists, he held her at arm's length and glanced contemptuously at the towel which was slipping precariously off her shoulders.

  'If you've quite finished your little sunbathing session with your lover, I suggest you get dressed,' he added scathingly.

  Flinging him a venomous glance, Irene hastily pulled a T-shirt over her head.

  'We were only sunbathing, you know, Andronikos,' put in Yves nervously.

  Philip's gaze flickered incredulously over the younger man's tanned, youthful physique.

  'You must think I'm a fool if you suppose that I'll believe that,' said Philip harshly. 'And, even if it were true, I would not want my future wife sunbathing half- naked with another man. But you can spare me your lies.

  I'm well aware that you and Irene have been lovers for several weeks now.'

  'Well, what if we have?' demanded Irene defiantly. 'You've never spent any time with me. You're always too busy slaving away in your office, trying to impress people with how important you are. And you never want me to have any fun or go anywhere or do anything. At least Yves is good company, which is more than I can say for you!'

  'Then you should be delighted that you're no longer faced with marrying me,' retorted Philip in a dangerous voice.

  Irene paled.

  'That wasn't what I meant!' she exclaimed. 'All right, Philip, so I had a bit of fun with Yves, but what does it matter? I've never interfered with your pleasures! No doubt you've been sleeping with that little slut of a photographer ever since she arrived here, but I've bitten my tongue and looked the other way. And, if you want to keep seeing her, I'll do the same thing after we're married.'

  'You're not listening, Irene,' said Philip in a hard voice. 'We aren't getting
married.'

  He turned away, but Irene caught his arm.

  'That's ridiculous!' she cried. 'This engagement was arranged when I was a child.'

  'I know,' agreed Philip bitterly. 'Perhaps that's why it's been such a dismal failure. If we'd had our choice as free adults I don't think either of us would have chosen each other. You think I'm stern and humourless and a killjoy, and I think you're a selfish, frivolous brat. Face it, Irene: we're well rid of each other!'

  'No!' screamed Irene. 'Philip, you can't humiliate me like this in front of the entire village.'

  Philip sighed wearily.

  'What's the village got to do with it?' he demanded. 'You don't have to tell them I broke the engagement. Say you did it yourself. Tell them you wanted to marry Yves instead.' He cast the Frenchman a swift malicious glance.

  Yves shifted uncomfortably.

  'Now just a minute--' he began.

  But Irene pushed him impatiently aside, still keeping her hold on Philip's arm.

  'I'm not interested in marrying Yves!' she cried. 'Philip, listen to me! You can't just push me aside because of a meaningless affair. That has nothing to do with our marriage. We've been promised to each other for years—it was a business arrangement!'

  Philip looked down at her with an expression that held more pity than anger.

  'That's just it,' he replied. 'I no longer want a marriage that is only a business arrangement. When I marry I intend to marry for love, Irene. Now stand out of my way!'

  With an impatient sigh he shook her off. Losing her grip on his sleeve, Irene staggered back and looked wildly about. Her gaze settled on Kate and she gave an angry sob.

  'You little bitch! This is all your fault!' she cried.

  And, running at Kate, she gave her a violent push. Kate gasped, but Philip's arms came round her like hoops of steel as he steadied her on her feet.

  'You slut!' panted Irene. 'I'll go to the papers about this. I'll drag your name through the mud. You'll wish you'd never crossed me, you pathetic little nobody!'

  'Irene!'

  Philip's voice was like a whiplash.

  'If you ever do anything to tarnish Kate's good name I'll make you wish you'd never been born!' he promised. 'Do I make myself clear?'

  'Oh, very clear,' seethed Irene contemptuously. 'She's just what you deserve, you peasant! You never had anything until my father took you on and supported you. You owe everything you've got to the Marmaras!'

  'On the contrary, Irene,' said Philip through his teeth, 'you owe practically everything you've got to me. But I'm not prepared to argue with you about it.

  I wish you and Yves joy of your new life! Come, Katarina.'

  He took Kate's arm and hurried her up the hillside towards the path. Irene's voice floated after them.

  'You won't get away with this!' she howled. 'Do you hear me, Philip Andronikos? I'll ruin you. You'll pay for what you've done to me. Both of you!'

  Kate gave a small shaky sigh as the welcome shrubbery closed round them again.

  'Are you all right?' asked Philip, glancing down at her.

  'Yes, I'm fine,' agreed Kate, pressing one hand to her rapidly thudding heart.

  'Just a bit shaken up. Oh, but Philip, she's scratched your face!'

  She put one hand up to his cheek, but found her fingers caught and held.

  'I think I'll live,' said Philip with a laugh. 'And I doubt if she's even spoiled my beauty. So let's get back to my house, shall we? I think we've got things to discuss.'

  He kissed Kate's fingertips, then caught her hand in his. All the way down the track he hummed a Greek melody under his breath. The same wild, rousing song he had played on the bouzouki the first time they had met. Kate looked at him in perplexity.

  'Are you sure you're all right?' she insisted.

  'Better than all right,' replied Philip. 'Intoxicated is more like it.'

  The path took a sharp twist, revealing a villa half hidden by rambling gardens on a hillside overlooking the sea. There was a high stone fence inset with wrought- iron railings and a garden dominated by pines and cypresses.

  Philip opened a small metal gate to one side of the main driveway and led

  Kate down a gravel path flanked by flowering plants. Somewhere a fountain was splashing musically into a pool, and lizards darted away at their approach. Then a curve in the path revealed a large whitewashed house, covered in blazing scarlet bougainvillaea. Philip took a key from his pocket and unlocked the heavy, carved front door.'I don't think you've been in my house before, have you?' he asked casually.

  He flung open the door and ushered Kate inside. She paused for a moment, dazzled by the sudden coolness and dimness. Then her eyes grew used to the change in brightness and she looked round her. She was in a spacious hallway with doors opening on either side and a huge marble staircase curving away out of sight to the floor above. Overhead hung a vast chandelier, which caught the light from the central stairwell and gave it back in a hundred refracted rainbows. The walls contained recessed niches, each of which held a beautiful piece of art. A Chinese jade statue, a porcelain jug, an ancient Greek vase.

  'Oh, Philip, it's beautiful,' she breathed.

  Philip shrugged.

  'Recently I'd begun to think that it was rather like my life,' he said thoughtfully. 'Glamorous, full of expensive possessions and completely empty. But then I met you.'

  He was gazing down at her now with a hungry, yearning expression and, like a sleepwalker, she moved into his arms.

  'Oh, Philip,' she whispered.

  He caught her against him so fiercely that she cried out, then he turned her face up to his and kissed her. A long, bruising kiss that seemed to make her bones turn to water so that she could hardly stand when he released her.

  'Will you marry me?' he asked abruptly.

  'W-what?' she exclaimed, taken aback by the suddenness of it all. 'Philip, have you gone crazy?'

  He laughed. A joyful, ringing laugh that made the staircase echo.

  'No,' he retorted gladly. 'Quite the reverse. I've just gone completely sane and stopped caring about things that don't matter a damn, like money and property and tradition. I don't want any of that, Katarina. I just want you.'

  'Are you sure?' asked Kate huskily.

  'Surer than I've ever been of anything in my life,' said Philip firmly. 'Now, will you marry me or not?'

  He gave her a small, impatient shake and she found herself halfway between tears and laughter.

  'But, Philip, you're rich and well known!' she cried. 'And I'm nobody! And you've only known me for a few weeks. How can you possibly want to marry me?'

  'Katarina,' he said urgently, 'the reason I've succeeded in life is because I've always known exactly what I've wanted and gone after it. And I want you.

  What's more, I'm not even asking you to marry me any more. I'm telling you.

  You've got to marry me! Is that clear?'

  His eyes smouldered, his chin jutted forward and his body took on a fierce, determined stance, as if he were going into battle. Kate gave a small, gasping laugh, then beat on his shoulders with her fists.

  'Yes,' she wailed. 'Yes, Philip. That's clear!'

  His gaze softened and he looked down at her with an intense yearning hunger that made her quiver with desire.

  'You don't have any objections, do you?' he asked.

  She caught her lower lip in her teeth and shook her head wordlessly. With a sudden sharp intake of breath Philip lifted her bodily off the floor and ran for the stairs.

  'Philip, put me down! Stop! Where are you taking me?'

  He paused on the landing to plant a swift, burning kiss on her lips.

  'You know where I'm taking you!' he replied throatily. 'And don't pretend you don't want it too, Katarina. Your body betrays you!'

  He glanced down at the flimsy material of her bodice, where his strong brown hand caressed the swelling mound of her breast. She saw that her nipple was a hard, urgentpeak against the thin fabric, and her face flamed. A
tiny gasping moan escaped her.

  'Don't fight it, my darling,' urged Philip exultantly. 'I want to enjoy every inch of your beautiful, precious body.'

  He kicked open a door and carried her into a room more lavish than she had ever seen before. In a daze, Kate noticed magnificent wall tapestries, carved antique furniture, a large gilt mirror that caught the light from the windows and filled the room with radiance. Then Philip set her down in the middle of an enormous four- poster bed and she no longer noticed anything but him.

  His eyes were dark and dilated with passion, and his breath came in a sharp uneven rhythm as he stared down at her. One powerful hand touched the velvety softness of her cheek and then trailed slowly and ecstatically down over the swelling curves of her body. Kate let out a tiny moan of delight and felt herself shudder beneath his touch.

  'You are beautiful, agapimou,' breathed Philip. 'And you are mine. All mine!'

  With suppressed violence he began to tear off his shirt and trousers, wrenching at buttons and fastenings, so that Kate heard the sharp ripping sound of torn fabric. Then he flung away his clothes and stood before her, totally naked. A tremor ran through Kate and she stared at him, transfixed.

  His body was beautifully proportioned, with lean, powerful muscles and an amazing quality of animal magnetism. Dark springy hair covered his chest and ran in a thin line below his navel. As he moved towards her she saw the rippling interplay of muscles below his skin, and a throbbing tide of desire flooded through her.

  'Your turn now,' he whispered, setting his lips to her throat so that his breath tickled her. 'I want to stroke and caress every part of you, Katarina. I want you to ache and shiver and burn with longing for me, just as I do for you.'

  Some primitive instinct of shyness made her struggle for an instant as his hands touched her breasts. But he bore her down with the full, urgent weight of his body, holding her pinned beneath him with one powerful hand, while the other unbuttoned her blouse. It was a task he performed wantonly, caressingly, delighting in the blush that coloured her cheeks. But, before he was finished, impatience overtook him and he wrenched open the last three buttons, exposing her naked skin to his gaze. She tried to hide her face against his chest, pressing herself against his rough hair and breathing in the spicy masculine scent of him, but he would have none of that. With barely controlled force he thrust her back against the pillows and gazed down at her exultantly.