Where the Gods Dwell

by Celia Scott

  The car turned off the road on to a paved track flanked by two huge limestone pillars and started to descend gently. Bright magenta flowers, like enormous furry daisies, grew in a riotous carpet on each side of the path. Oleander bushes massed in a profusion of pink and cream blossoms, and the scent of dittany and wild thyme filled her nostrils. The drive widened, turned once and then they were in front of the villa. Lorna caught her breath at the sight.

  The house stood on a natural plateau that overlooked the valley. Two storeys high, its honey-coloured stone walls glowed jewel-like under the heavy blue sky. On the patio two tall urns, shaped like ancient Minoan pithoi, stood guard beside the glassed doors to the cool interior of the house. Shallow steps led to a garden that was bright with flowers. There were several stone seats artlessly arranged under shade trees, and an oval swimming pool of Olympian proportions, which glittered in the brilliant sun as if it was sprinkled with slivers of silver looking-glass. Beyond the garden stretched a breathtaking view of the Peritakis olive and orange groves, enclosed on both sides by the mountain range that ended at the ocean shore.

  Lorna was so enchanted by the magic of this scene that she did not notice the figure of a girl who got up from one of the lounge chairs by the pool, and came towards her.

  'Miss McCann?' She was taller than most Cretan women, slim and tanned, with glossy shoulder-length black curls tied back with a piece of ribbon. 'I am Ariadne Peritakis. My brother asked me to welcome you.'

  So Jason Peritakis was staying out of the way as he had promised. Lorna knew she should feel relief about this, but inexplicably she didn't. She felt mildly letdown. Like a child who has looked forward to a treat, only to be told she has to go to school as usual. She mentally shook herself and smiled at the girl, whose eyes were the same sea-green as her brother's.

  'Thank you,' she said, 'I hope I'm not putting you to any trouble?'

  'It is no trouble at all,' Ariadne answered, pulling on a cotton cover-up over her swim suit. 'It is a pleasure for us to be of… of assistance… all Cretans love strangers.' She dimpled suddenly, and the proper hostess was replaced by a shy young girl. 'And you afford me the opportunity to practise my English.'

  'Your English is terrific,' Lorna told her warmly, 'if I ever get to speak Greek half as well I'll be very happy.'

  Ariadne flushed with pleasure. 'I must tell that to my fiancé,' she said. 'He does much business abroad… in America. I will require my English for… for the entertainments.'

  'I think you mean for entertaining,' Lorna corrected her gently. She had taken an immediate liking to this friendly child, who seemed so unlike her haughty brother.

  The girl giggled. 'Of course… entertaining. And now if you will follow me I will show you the room Jason thought might be acceptable for your dark-room.'

  She led the way across the patio to a path that went to the back of the house. After the bright sunshine the shadowed cool was like turning on an air-conditioner. They crossed a small courtyard and approached a stone building. Now Lorna could hear the sound of rushing water, and she saw that a narrow irrigation ditch ran alongside the path. Fig trees crowded the banks, and a tree that Lorna had never seen before stood before the door, its purple blossoms glowing in the shadows like votive lights.

  Ariadne preceded her down two steps, opened the heavy wooden door and ushered her inside. She pressed a switch and a naked light bulb that was suspended from the ceiling gave off a harsh light. 'You see! You would have the electricity,' the girl explained, 'and my brother would see that water was brought in by pipes from outside. Of course it is very rough, with only a dirt floor… it was a storage room for many years… but we could arrange it to your requirements…' She looked at the Canadian girl.

  'It's perfect!' Lorna said enthusiastically. 'It's so cool.'

  'And remains so even in the summer's heat. The walls are very… wide?'

  'Thick,' Lorna nodded, pushing her honey-coloured hair behind her ears and turning round to peer into the far corners of the low-ceilinged room. 'Oh! This is terrific Miss Peritakis,' her pretty mouth curved with pleasure, 'I'm most grateful to you… and… and your brother.'

  'Endaxi!' Lorna's obvious delight was catching, and the two girls beamed at each other. 'Then let us go and have a cool drink while you make for Jason a list of things you will need.'

  At the mention of his name Lorna's smile faded. 'There's no need to trouble your brother, Miss Peritakis,' she said, 'I'll give the list to Professor Spanakis and he'll get everything. There's a fund to cover such expenses.'

  'I know,' Ariadne replied quietly, 'my brother has provided it.' Seeing Lorna's surprise she went on quickly, 'I tell you this so you will not feel under any… any… obligation to my family. I also would ask you to keep this information to yourself. It is not generally known we have financed the excavation.'

  'I won't tell anyone,' Lorna assured her. She was not too pleased by this disclosure. It made her feel as if she was Jason Peritakis's employee.

  They went to a corner of the patio that had a view of the hillside and the orange groves below. A vine had been trained over a trellis to spread a canopy of shade over a table and chairs grouped beneath it. Leaning back in the blue-and-white covered lounge chair, Lorna could see tight clusters of hard, unripe grapes, that would be plump and heavy with juice by the time September came.

  'My mother sends her regrets that she is not here to welcome you,' Ariadne said while she poured them both glasses of ice-cold 'vissinada', 'but she had to go to Iraklion. There is still much to prepare for the wedding.' She tried to look blasé, but the hand holding the jug of cherry drink shook with excitement at the thought of her coming marriage.

  'When is the great day?' Lorna asked. She looked out over the sun-drenched hills and idly noticed a cloud of dust moving towards them.

  'In two weeks.' Ariadne bubbled over with eagerness. 'All the people of the village are invited. And the people from the dig as well are to come to the reception. We are all very, very happy. My fiancé's family owns a shipping line: It will be a good alliance for both our families.'

  Lorna felt her liberated hackles rise. 'What about you?' she asked, more sharply than she intended. 'Will it be a good alliance for you too?'

  Ariadne looked at her in surprise. 'But of course. We are very much in love, Kosti and I.'

  'Well, I think he's a very lucky man,' Lorna said sincerely, hoping this would make up for her former sharpness.

  'Thank you. But believe me I am lucky too. I have known Kosti since I was a child, and always I have been in love with him,' the Greek girl confessed shyly.

  Touched by this confidence Lorna smiled at her young hostess. 'I'm very happy for you, Miss Peritakis,' she said warmly.

  'Please to call me Ariadne,' the girl said, 'I feel we are friends, and surely friends are not so formal?'

  'No, they're not. My name is Lorna.'

  The two girls shook hands solemnly, then Ariadne laughed gaily. 'And now we are friends for life. That is the way in my family. We are constant in our affections.' Lorna didn't feel she had known her new friend long enough to enquire if this constancy applied to their antagonisms as well, so she merely smiled and sipped her 'vissinada'.

  By now Lorna could see that the dust cloud she'd noticed earlier had materialised into a figure on horseback galloping towards them. She could hear the thud of the horses hooves on the rock-hard earth. Horse and rider disappeared from view behind a jagged rock, then reappeared just below the house, and now she recognised Jason, elegant in cream riding breeches and dark green shirt, the wind raking his black hair off his forehead as he galloped home.

  Trying not to appear obvious Lorna gathered her purse and camera and rose to go. 'Thank you very much for the drink, Ariadne,' she said, 'and for showing me the dark-room. I'll make out a list and get it to you by tomorrow.'

  However, Ariadne wasn't about to let her escape. 'No wait, Lorna,' she said, 'Jason has just arrived. He will take you back to the site.' Lorna made some weak e
xcuse about it only being a mile, and she needed a walk, but Ariadne refused to listen. 'A walk in this heat? No Lorna. Jason will drive you back. He will be happy to do it.' Lorna doubted this, but she sat down again and kept quiet.

  A few minutes later Jason joined them, his hair still tousled from his gallop. He gave Lorna a formal little bow, then flung himself into one of the chairs opposite her, looking at her intently all the while. She became uncomfortably aware that the hollow between her firm breasts was visible in the low neck of her T-shirt. She straightened in her seat in an attempt to somehow get the knit material to become less revealing, but it didn't seem to work. Jason's mobile mouth turned up slightly, and his eyes grew bolder. At last he withdrew his gaze and accepted the glass of 'vissinada' that Ariadne offered him.

  'Thank you kookla.' His expression softened when he looked at his young sister. 'Well, Miss McCann,' the gentle look faded, 'will the old storeroom be a satisfactory dark-room?'

  'Just perfect, thank you. I'm sure Professor Spanakis will be most grateful to you,' Lorna replied with chilling formality.

  Jason raised his dark brows quizzically. 'And you? Do you also share his gratitude?'

  A flush of irritation spread over Lorna's high cheekbones. Damn the man! He was succeeding in making her appear unappreciative. 'Of course,' she replied brusquely, 'I'm grateful for anything that helps me in my work.' She was conscious that this sounded discourteous, and she grew slightly pinker.

  Jason regarded her coolly. 'How fortunate for Professor Spanakis that he is blessed with such a dedicated worker.' He turned to his sister. 'I think Miss McCann must be a perfect example of the liberated North American business woman,' he said derisively.

  'And I think you should not continue to address her as "Miss McCann",' Ariadne said hastily, sensing the tension between them, 'her name is Lorna, Jason.'

  'Lorna,' he repeated it, 'Lorna. A beautiful name. You will permit me to use it?'

  'By all means, Mr Peritakis.'

  'Come!' he mocked her. 'Surely it is considered inequality for me to use your first name, unless you call me… Jason.'

  'Jason!' She rolled his name on her tongue like a disagreeable pill. 'Jason. Very well.' She stood up again. 'But now I really must be getting back to work.'

  'Allow me to finish my drink, then I will drive you,' he said.

  'There's really no need…'

  'Mou Theos Lorna! Do me the courtesy of not arguing with every suggestion I make,' he snapped. He pushed his half-empty glass away and went on in a quieter tone. 'Even if you were to run down the mountain with the speed of a goat it will still be quicker by car. The scenery will still be there, waiting for your camera.'

  'The light won't.' She glared at him mutinously, noticing crossly how attractive he looked. His green linen shirt was unbuttoned and a fine gold chain glinted against the crisp black hair on his chest. He exuded male animal magnetism—and she could have hit him!

  'Etsi!' He got to his feet, exasperated. 'Do not let me keep you from your work for one moment more. Come! I will drive you now,' and he strode off.

  Hurriedly Lorna said goodbye to Ariadne and followed him. Without a backward glance he made his way to the garages. The black sedan was parked nearby, but he ignored it, going instead to a workmanlike jeep that stood beside a red sports car. She could also see the pale shape of the white Mercedes, as well as a stationwagon. She wondered how many cars the Peritakis family owned. So many automobiles under one roof seemed a bit excessive.

  Jason leapt into the jeep in one fluid movement and turned the key in the ignition, pointedly not assisting Lorna, who climbed into the passenger seat and put her sunglasses back on, trusting they would hide the anger in her blue eyes. For two pins she would have told him what to do with his jeep, but she reminded herself that he had solved the dilemma of the dark-room, and that her boss wouldn't be too pleased if she offended their benefactor.

  With a vicious stab Jason stepped on the accelerator and the jeep roared along the flower bordered drive down to the road. Lorna was forced to cling to the edge of her seat as they zigzagged down the mountain, tyres squealing at every turn. The wind swept her short bright hair off her face, and she felt as if all the bones in her body were being rattled out of their sockets. Within minutes they arrived at the site and skidded to a stop with a screech of brakes. He switched off the engine and again the silence of the mountains, broken only by the ever-restless river, enclosed them. A dark-winged butterfly fluttered past.

  'So!' he said, 'I trust I got you here in time.' He still seemed to be in a temper.

  'Thank you,' she replied, climbing out of the jeep, 'a very skilful display of dangerous driving.' She wasn't in the sweetest temper herself.

  'Were you afraid?' he asked.

  Lorna, who had no intention of being patronised by Jason Peritakis or anyone else, answered him in an offhanded tone. 'Afraid? Good Lord, no. I've always enjoyed fast cars.'

  He glared down at her, a disappointed little boy whose bullying wasn't working. 'I do not believe that is true,' he said.

  She shrugged her slim shoulders. 'I'm not in the habit of playing games.'

  'I think you are,' he hissed. 'I think you are not honest. You were not honest the other night.'

  Astonished, she gaped up at him. 'The other night?'

  'In the cafe. When I danced.'

  'What are you talking about?' She was thoroughly bewildered.

  'I am talking about your lack of honesty,' he said. 'When you rejected me the other night you were playing games with me. I do not enjoy that. It would have been more honest to have told me the truth.' His eyes glittered coldly.

  She removed her sunglasses in order to look at him fully. 'The truth?'

  'Yes, the truth!' he spat back at her. 'Instead of letting me believe I was displeasing to you, it would have been more… more honest… if you had told me that you rejected me… not because I was annoying you… but because you already had a lover.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lorna looked at him with open-mouthed amazement. 'You seem to have lovers on the brain,' she said finally.

  'You do not deny it?' he shot back.

  The slim thread of Lorna's self-control broke. 'Why should I?' Her voice was tight with anger. 'I wasn't aware that I had to account to you for my private life.'

  He glared at her through slitted eyes. 'You are right,' he said, 'but when you are living under my roof I would ask that you do not flaunt your affairs. As you have doubtless discovered, in Crete we are not as… emancipated… as you are in North America. In my house I trust you will behave with discretion.' Before she had a chance to reply to this insult he had started the engine and roared away.

  Trembling with impotent fury she joined her colleagues, who had stopped for lunch and were sprawled in the shade of a cluster of olive trees. She flung herself down beside Susan and savagely tore a piece of bread from one of the crusty loaves.

  'Well?' Susan looked at her enquiringly. 'What's the villa like?'

  'The villa is beautiful,' Lorna replied, her mouth set grimly.

  Susan prompted her. 'Well? Go on. Describe it.'

  'I can't. I'm too mad.'

  Susan looked amused. 'Had another tangle with dreamy Jason?' she asked.

  'Dreamy! You mean nightmare! He as good as accused me of being a scarlet woman.'

  'No kidding?' Susan mumbled through a mouthful of firm anthotyro cheese. 'Did you set him straight?'

  'Why should I?' Lorna crammed a black olive in her mouth and chewed it furiously. 'It's none of his business how I live my life.'

  'You have to understand that he's a Cretan,' Susan went on munching steadily. 'He's bound to be jealous. It's his nature.'

  'I know what his nature is. Obnoxious! I have never met a more infuriating man.'

  'That's only because he fancies you,' her friend said placidly, swallowing the last of her cheese. 'If he didn't he wouldn't make scenes.'

  'Oh! Don't talk such bloody rubbish!' She disposed of her oli
ve pit, hurling it in an arc with unnecessary force. 'I hardly know the man.'

  Susan began to methodically peel an orange. 'For someone you hardly know he sure gets under your skin. What's that old saying? "Methinks the lady doth protest too much".'

  Lorna pushed her long slim fingers through her hair. 'I didn't mean to lose my temper with you, Susie,' she said ruefully, 'but everything seems to have become so… so difficult. First my having to move away from the taverna… and you. And then that rotten business about the seal stones. That's put a blight over everything.'

  'Now there I agree with you,' said the older girl. 'But the person who took them may own up. Then everything will be okay.'

  But Susan was overly optimistic. The forty-eight hours passed and no one came forward. The pall of gloom hanging over the archaeological dig grew. People found themselves staring speculatively at each other, asking the silent question—'Are you the one?' And their meal times, formerly so noisy and cheerful, became withdrawn affairs, with small knots of friends trying not to look suspiciously at their neighbours. Professor Spanakis had called in the authorities and every member of the dig had been questioned and their rooms searched. As the director had foreseen morale was at an all-time low.

  Lorna found the general dejection catching. And added to this she had an additional problem. Not a serious one, but a problem nevertheless. It didn't take much imagination to figure out that Jason must think she was having an affair with Nikos, and she had a shrewd idea that Nikos, in his drunken ramblings the other night, had planted that particular seed. She couldn't decide how to handle this. The prospect of a confrontation with Nikos didn't thrill her, but she didn't see any alternative.