She studied the pretty sand-coloured stone-built harbour with its wooden-shuttered tavernas and vine-clad terraces. A few people were sitting at tables in the shade and she longed to be up there, enjoying a moment’s solitude while she mulled over all that had happened. Living cheek by jowl on a busy yacht was beginning to take its toll and she was delighted that the crew were to be given a much-needed break.
Once every surface was spick and span, the perishable food divvied up, the engines shut down and the boat secured, the crew disembarked with their luggage and were immediately besieged by a group of young boys, all arms and legs and enthusiasm, chirping like baby birds: ‘Cheap, cheap taverna. Come. Come.’
Smiling at them all, she was at a loss as to how she could choose one boy as a guide without upsetting the rest.
Jeremy took pity on her and intervened. ‘Hold your horses,’ he told the boys, then turned to Shauna. ‘How much can you afford to pay?’
After a minute’s haggling with a wiry, dark-eyed boy, he settled on an acceptable rate for the night. ‘There you go, Shauna. You might find you want to move on after one night,’ he warned her. ‘It will be basic, but bigger than your cabin.’
‘Anything’s bigger than my cabin,’ she grinned. ‘Thanks for helping me out.’
‘No problem. Are you sure you’ll be OK? You don’t want to come with us?’
‘No. I fancy staying put and exploring for a while. This is my first time in Greece.’
‘Well, enjoy. See you in a week’s time.’
She picked up her backpack, hefted it on her shoulder and without a backward glance at the yacht set off after the boy, who watched her like a lion determined that his prey shouldn’t get away. But with each step she found herself longing for the familiarity and safety of the St Helena. She wasn’t entirely sure she was built for adventure on her own.
The room above Níko’s taverna was small, and it had a tiny balcony looking out over the harbour. Dropping her bag on the bed, she pushed back the faded blue shutters and leaned on the iron balustrade gazed at the view, almost laughing out loud at the antics of a couple of elderly men making their battered fishing boat bob up and down as they argued about something, gesticulating wildly. Below her she could hear the low, murmured conversations of people in the taverna and the clink of cutlery. Her room was sparse but clean and she had the use of a bathroom shared with two other rooms which were currently empty. Níko, the owner, had already brought up a plate of stuffed vine leaves, a half-bottle of retsina and a bottle of water. He spoke excellent English and had fallen on Shauna with great delight as soon as she opened her mouth. He’d worked in Dublin for a few years in his twenties and as far as he was concerned Shauna might have been his long-lost daughter. His enormous moustache twitching with delight, he had called his wife and daughter to come meet the Irish colleen. Even though she’d only been to Dublin twice in her life, he assumed she knew it intimately and asked if Paddy and Maureen still ran O’Donoghue’s on Merrion Row and whether the bakery on Thomas Street still sold his favourite soda bread.
Being on land for the first time in a week felt odd and everything seemed to sway in a disconcerting way, but Shauna was ready to explore her new surroundings. Níko had told her that the best beach on the island was only a short walk away. With the day promising to be a hot one, she set out with her swimming costume, a towel and one of the bottles of water. En route she passed a few tourist shops and treated herself to an English newspaper, a large shady straw hat and a new bottle of high-factor sun cream to protect her pale skin. From under the brim of her hat, she sat quite happily on the beach people-watching for most of the afternoon, not feeling as lonely as she’d thought she might. She took after her dad like that; she’d always been quite happy with her own company.
Smiling at the children playing noisily in the water, she gazed out at the turquoise blue of the sea. At one end, the little horseshoe bay finished with a steep bank of rocks rising to a high cliff overlooking the beach. Now she was on her own, she had more time to think. Confusion dogged her. Had she overreacted the previous day? Demetrios had stopped as soon as she’d asked him to; she hadn’t exactly been fighting him off.
She put the paper away in her bag and lay down for a doze in the sun, her mind already running away to a distant imaginary landscape where she was able to kiss Demetrios with languorous pleasure without having to worry.
On her return, Níko insisted that she come down to the taverna at seven o’clock for dinner.
‘I will reserve the best table in the house for you.’ He beamed at her and she smiled back as she climbed the stairs that curved up the side of the building up to her room and a very welcome cool shower where she washed the salt and sand away from her skin and let the water flow through her hair. Afterwards she sipped a glass of beer on the balcony while watching tourists disembark from a tour boat. It looked as if plenty of alcohol had been involved as they were all in high spirits. A couple wrapped themselves around each other, leaning against the harbour wall, kissing without inhibition, completely oblivious to everyone around them. She envied them their lack of self-consciousness, remembering the pleasure that Demetrios’s kisses had brought her.
At seven o’clock, wearing the one dress she’d brought with her, feeling Níko’s kindness deserved it, she slipped down the stairs to the taverna.
‘My Irish despoinída! Come, come.’ Prancing ahead of her like a delighted show pony, with a touch of pompous pride that made her smile, he skirted around the main dining area and led her up a small flight of steps to a pretty terrace under a pergola laden with clouds of pink and orange bougainvillea. With a picture-perfect view of the harbour, it held three tables discreetly separated by olive trees in large pots. The aromatic scent of scores of rosemary bushes bursting from window boxes on the balcony filled the air.
‘Please.’ Níko pulled out a chair at a table set for two with a candle already burning in a delicate white china votive. She lowered herself into the seat, grateful for Níko’s gallant ministrations. He was very sweet and this was all very romantic, but she felt a bit silly sitting out here on her own. He fussed over her, bringing her a menu, a complimentary glass of retsina and brushing a stray leaf from the table. Then he bustled off. She opened the menu, resolving to ask him when he came back if she could move into the main dining room, where she’d have people to watch instead of sitting out here on her own.
‘Would you mind if I joined you?’
Her heart leapt into her mouth at the familiar deep voice. ‘Demetrios!’
‘Would you mind?’ The diffident question made her smile expand with sudden joy. Couldn’t he see the light in her eyes, her hands shaking on the menu?
Unable to say anything, she shook her head and took in every delicious detail of him as he lowered himself into the chair opposite. He raised an eyebrow at her choice of wine.
‘I think we can do better than that.’ Without him uttering a word, Níko appeared. He threw his arms around the younger man and the two greeted each other like long-lost brothers, talking rapidly in Greek, none of which she could understand. Whatever Demetrios had said, Níko quickly snatched her glass away and hurried off.
‘What did you say to him?’
‘I said that a woman as special as you deserved a better wine.’
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, lifting her chin and giving him a direct look.
‘I will leave if you’d like, but I wanted to apologize in person.’ His smile was rueful as he fiddled with the tines of the fork in front of him. ‘I’m sorry that I wasn’t as respectful as I should have been. My mama would have been ashamed. I think she would like a good girl like you.’
Honesty prevented her from letting him continue. She held her hand up to stop him.
‘You stopped when I asked.’
‘But still, Shauna, I should—’
‘I wouldn’t apologize for kissing you.’ Her voice was calm and her gaze on his handsome face direct. He deserved honesty.
Those dark eyes studied her face before he picked up her hand. ‘Does that mean you forgive me?’
‘There’s nothing to forgive.’
‘I feel I’ve been clumsy. I’d like to … will you come out for the day with me tomorrow?’
A whole day with Demetrios, without having to look over her shoulder and worry what anyone might think.
‘Yes,’ she couldn’t help a smile breaking across her face. ‘I’d like that very much.’
Níko returned with a bottle of chilled white wine, the condensation running down the elegant glass bottle. He made much of opening it and pouring it to taste.
‘You taste it first,’ Demetrios told her firmly, pushing the glass towards her.
‘I don’t know anything about wine.’
‘All you need to know is whether you like it or not,’ said Demetrios, watching her face with that careful intensity she was now becoming familiar with.
She sipped at the cool, fresh wine, instantly knowing that this wasn’t anything like the cheap plonk she’d downed in the student union bar. ‘It’s lovely.’
Níko filled both glasses and with beaming approval backed away as if he were their very own fairy godmother. Shauna narrowed her eyes. ‘How did you know I was here?’
‘News travels fast. There aren’t many beautiful, red-headed Irish women on the island and … Níko is a cousin of my father.’
She raised an eyebrow, surprised by this.
‘Don’t be taken in by the humble surroundings. Níko is an extremely successful businessman. This is one of five tavernas he owns, as well as a hotel in Crete. Like me, he gravitates back here in the summer months. This island is our home. Tomorrow I hope to show you why I love it so much.
‘Now, what would you like to eat? Níko’s wife, Teresa, is an excellent chef; she has worked in Paris, Athens and London. Her spanakopita is the best I’ve ever tasted – but don’t repeat that, my yaya would never forgive me.’ Over the top of the menu his eyes crinkled at her with a conspiratorial smile that made her think of a small boy up to no good.
‘I promise.’ She grinned back at him. ‘But only if you tell me what it is. And what is a yaya?’
‘In Greek γιαγια means grandmother. And spanakopita is a filo pastry pie with a filling of feta cheese and spinach flavoured with dill and parsley. It’s delicious.’ He leaned forward and added in a confiding whisper, ‘Chantelle makes a very good version on board the yacht.’
‘She spoils you. Doesn’t it get …’ Her voice began to trail off, but he tilted his head encouragingly, ‘I’m not sure I’d like it if everyone always said yes to me.’
‘You have it all wrong,’ he replied, with a twitch of his mouth. ‘My father is harder to please than most. The work we did has pleased him, though. I am in his good books for once.’
‘Weren’t you before?’
Demetrios tilted his head, thinking before he spoke. ‘My father … some people think he’s a hard man, but all he’s ever wanted was provide for his family. He helped Níko get started. He’s generous to people who are prepared to work hard, and he despises laziness. He thinks I need direction, and that’s what he’s been trying to provide me with for the last couple of years.’
When the food arrived, it was every bit as good as Demetrios had promised. Shauna bit into the crisp flaky pastry and sighed with pleasure at the contrast of sharp, salty feta with herby spinach. ‘This is delicious.’
‘I told you.’
His smug arrogance provoked an exasperated roll of her eyes. ‘And you are always right.’
‘No, not always. That’s what I like about you. You challenge me. You don’t care who I am.’
‘As my mother would say, in the eyes of God we are equals.’
She studied the open vee of his shirt and the crisp glossy dark hair revealed before sliding her gaze to the strong masculine forearms and then the chiselled jawline. ‘I’m not sure my mother would approve of you at all.’
She grinned at him as he burst into delighted laughter.
‘You always know how to put me in my place, Shauna O’Brien.’
They finished their meal and carried on talking long after the guttering candlelight had sputtered out. It was only when Níko apologetically came and said the restaurant was now closed that they realized the other dinners had long since gone and the harbour lights were starting to go out.
Demetrios escorted her to her door.
‘Thank you for a lovely evening, Shauna.’
‘Thank you.’
When her eyes met his with a shy smile, the tenderness of his gaze shook her.
He leaned forward and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. ‘Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning, after breakfast. Say, nine thirty?’
She gazed up at him, longing welling up and took a step forward, but he stepped backwards, lifting his hand in a sharp salute.
‘Until tomorrow.’ He turned and walked away, leaving her restless and twitchy. It took ages for her to fall asleep, it seemed impossible to settle. When she finally stilled, the bed felt as if it were swaying and she was back on the boat. Her dreams, when she did fall asleep, were full of Demetrios.
Chapter 10
The white hull of the speedboat bounced over the waves as the wind tugged at her hair, tossing it around her face as she held onto her hat with both hands.
‘This is wonderful,’ she cried above the sound of the engine, looking back at the foaming wake spilling out behind them, cutting through the dark navy sea like a plume of feathers.
Demetrios stood at the wheel, his face turned into the headwind. He shot her a quick smile and pushed the throttle to increase their speed.
‘Want to drive?’ he asked.
‘Absolutely not, I want to enjoy every minute of this.’
He’d arrived earlier with a heavy cool box and a large bag, refusing to tell her what was in either, although he did hand her a bottle of water after he’d helped her into the stylish, streamlined speedboat. She tried to play it cool but couldn’t help examining the small boat; she’d never been in anything like it in her life. Leaving the harbour, he’d steered right so that they hugged the coast for a while, travelling parallel to sand-coloured cliffs that teemed with birds launching and landing on the sheer sides. She was fascinated by the changing shades of the sea and the magnificent rainbow of blues and greens from the pale turquoise, to the sun-dappled pockets near the shore, through to the rich, secretive dark navy of the deeper water.
After a while he slowed the boat and they rounded a towering cliff into a small bay with a tiny strip of white sand fringed by turquoise shallows.
‘Our very own beach.’
‘It’s gorgeous.’
‘Inaccessible except by sea. Not many people come here. Certainly not tourists.’
He brought the boat to within a few feet of the beach and then switched off the engine and dropped the anchor. When he climbed over the side, the water was only at waist height. She handed him the box.
Then she jumped in, bracing herself for icy cold.
‘Oh,’ she squealed in delighted surprise. ‘This is lovely. It’s …’ It wasn’t warm but it wasn’t the freezing cold that she was used to. Looking down through the crystal-clear water she could see the shadows of tiny fish darting across the sandy surface. Sunlight dappled through the water, creating dancing streams of light and movement.
She followed Demetrios to the beach, her feet sinking into the softest sand she’d ever known.
‘I think I might be in heaven,’ she sighed contentedly, watching as he dropped the box and turned straight back to the boat to retrieve the big canvas bag.
From this he pulled plush velvety beach towels, a parasol, a bottle of sun cream.
‘You’ve thought of everything.’
‘I hope so.’
She sat down on one of the towels, glad that she’d put her bikini on under her light cheesecloth dress.
Demetrios stripped off his shirt and in averti
ng her gaze from his chest she found herself looking at his tanned legs instead, which was almost as distracting.
‘Did I tell you I am going to build a boat?’
Shauna laughed, ‘You might have mentioned it a hundred times.’
‘I am going to build a boat for you. You make me want to create something, something that is as beautiful and unique as you are.’
‘I’d be happy with a bunch of flowers,’ she said, ‘or just a smile. My dad always says, “May your heart be happy, may your smile be wide, and may your pocket always have a coin or two inside.”’
‘I think I would like your father.’
‘And I think he would like you … especially if you build me a boat to sail home in.’
‘The Irish Sea is a bit choppy, no? I think I could do it.’ He waved his arm dismissively at the sea.
She laughed. ‘Remind me not to get a lift home in your boat.’
‘I will call it Beauty, after you.’
Shauna giggled, not thinking for a moment that he meant it.
They whiled the day away reading on the beach, swimming in the sea and eating a picnic of freshly made pitta bread, tzatziki, a crunchy salad of sweet tomatoes, cucumber, onion and feta, and glass bottles of chilled Coca-Cola. Demetrios told her about his magical childhood growing up on Ithos, until it was cruelly snatched away from him when he was sent to a first-rate private boarding school in Athens.
After lunch Shauna lay on her stomach and picked up her book; she had finished her Jackie Collins and was now reading The Thorn Birds. It had been left behind in one of the cabins and found its way into the pile of lost items in the corner of the galley. Her mother would have been utterly shocked at the thought of a Catholic priest falling in love, but Shauna was enjoying the romantic element and the idea of forbidden love. Today though, with Demetrios so close to her, it was impossible to concentrate.
Beside her, Demetrios lay dozing. She couldn’t stop herself gazing at his face while his eyes were closed, his hazel eyes protected by the fringe of dark lashes. If a man could be said to be beautiful, then he was. It was a strange kind of torture being so close. She realized she really wanted to touch him and for him to touch her, but he’d been the perfect gentleman all day. Even when they’d been swimming, he’d kept his distance. She sighed and went back to her book but before long found her eyelids drooping. Eventually she gave in and rolled on to her back, letting sleep envelop her.
Under a Greek Moon Page 8