by Anna Cleary
Shocked at her own terseness, she turned away, misting with tears all at once. How pathetic she was, grieving for a place when she was young, alive and had her health, while her parents’ youthful lives had been so rudely interrupted.
She wiped her eyes, then felt a strong arm slip around her waist.
‘He chose to live here,’ Sebastian said firmly. ‘He chose an Australian wife. He chose this as his child’s homeland. Your homeland.’
‘I know that, all right? I know.’ She slipped from his grasp.
‘Hey. Steady there.’ He touched her bare arm, sliding his hand around the muscle as though unable to keep from savouring the texture of her flesh. He frowned. ‘Isn’t there anything in this country you like?’
He looked so mystified, with his dark eyes so serious and intent, his black brows bristling in puzzlement, her heart shook all at once with love for him.
She said softly, ‘There is, lover. There’s you.’
She stood up on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips, her hands on his ribs, relishing the charge of response in his lean, vibrant body as he held her hard against him and took command of the exchange.
The flare-up was smoothed away, and afterwards she couldn’t remember why she’d been upset. She smiled wonderingly down at the graves.
‘It’s been good to see this place. I’ve often imagined it. Now I have, I don’t really feel they’re sad, you know, Sebastian? I think somehow they’re up there in the ether, smiling and wafting around like clouds. Do you…?’ She turned to look at him. ‘Do you feel like that when you go to visit Esther’s resting place?’
His eyes slid away from her, and he bit out rather curtly, ‘I don’t go.’
On the way back to the car, Sebastian held her hand, but he was silent on the way home. He’d withdrawn a little, and she couldn’t help brooding. She’d told him she liked him, but despite his warmth he hadn’t responded in kind. Had like been too close to that other word? The one she longed to hear?
That evening they drove up into the Blue Mountains for some star-gazing through a giant telescope belonging to a friend. They stayed overnight in a chalet, and the next day explored some of the little villages interspersed with the magnificent scenery, including some truly awe-inspiring gorges. But as the weekend drew to a close, though there’d been good times, she’d had anxious ones as well. Times when Sebastian was with her in the flesh, but was it only the flesh?
Could her instincts be so wrong? Did such a passionate, tender guy only feel desire?
On Monday evening, the day before she was due to receive her inheritance, he arrived home earlier than usual.
‘Hello, beautiful,’ he said, embracing her. ‘Good day?’ Though he smiled his dark eyes were searching, as if he had something on his mind.
As she served the meal they chatted about small things, the minor comings and goings of each others’ days, but Ariadne was conscious of him being preoccupied.
Was it her imagination, or was he cooler than usual, though he praised her for the dinner? When the meal was over and she was about to put the tea on, he took her arm. ‘Leave that. Come and sit down. I need to ask you something.’
His lean, dark face was serious, and she felt a stir of anxiety about what was coming, especially when he chose his armchair rather than the sofa next to her.
He dug into his jacket pocket, and produced an opaque plastic bag and handed it across. ‘I picked this up this morning.’
He watched her so intently she hardly dared open it. Wonderingly, she shook out a slim parcel of tissue paper. As she unrolled the paper, with a flash of blue something cool and heavy slipped into her hand. She gasped to see her own bracelet of sapphires, their glittering fires as brilliant as ever.
‘Oh.’ Stunned, she stared at it for seconds, then looked quickly up at him. ‘How? Where’d you get it?’
He reached into his jacket pocket again and fished out her passport holder. ‘I found this in my pocket the other day. I’d forgotten all about it being in this suit. Today I took the passport out to flick through and the receipt for the pawnbroker slipped out. Then I remembered something the jeweller mentioned on our wedding day.’ He made a sardonic grimace. ‘Lucky you only hocked this. They ripped you off pretty disgracefully, I’d say.’
She flushed. ‘I know they did. But there was no need for you to worry, Sebastian. At the time I just needed some—temporary funds. I always intended to redeem the bracelet myself. Once…’
‘Once you had your inheritance.’
She blinked. ‘Yes.’
He continued to scrutinise her face. Her heart started to thud and she felt a flush mount to her neck. ‘Ariadne…’
He leaned forward in his chair, his dark eyes grave and compelling. ‘I don’t want to pry into your private affairs, but I need to understand. You said you weren’t rich. But how so? How can a Giorgias be so short of cash she has to hock her jewellery?’
She tried to sidle out of explaining. ‘Being a Giorgias doesn’t mean I’m rich. This bracelet was a gift. An art gallery doesn’t pay its employees massive salaries.’
‘Even so…’ He levelled his intent dark gaze at her, and pinned her to the point. ‘You flew out here to meet me, you rejected me at first, then you were keen to get married the very next day. What was suddenly so urgent?’ His intelligent dark eyes scoured her face in an uncompromising probe. ‘It’s time for the truth, my sweet.’
The implication stung, and she stiffened. ‘What do you mean, “it’s time for the truth”? I’ve never lied to you.’
‘Well…you have to admit you weren’t exactly open about your reasons.’
She could feel the walls closing in, and when she didn’t answer, he said quietly, ‘It’s to do with your uncle and aunt, isn’t it?’
She gave a shrug of admission. ‘I suppose.’
‘If you were short of funds, though, why…why couldn’t you apply to them to bail you out?’
Her flush deepened as she felt herself twisting on the spit. ‘I have told you most of it already.’ She braced for deep humiliation. ‘This is hard for me, Sebastian. Are you sure you want to…?’
His gaze was firm and unequivocal and capitulated. ‘All right. It’s true that I flew here for a holiday. At least, that was what I thought I was doing.’ She saw his eyes flick to her suddenly shaking hands. ‘I—I just couldn’t bear to tell you the worst part. I feel so—embarrassed.’ Her voice croaked in her throat, but she forced herself to expose her humiliation with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘It was Thio who booked my holiday. It was supposed to be a gift. I didn’t understand his real intention until I was on the plane.’
He frowned. ‘His real intention. You mean, that you were coming to meet your prospective bridegroom?’
She lifted her shoulders in wry bitterness. ‘I didn’t know I had one. They mentioned I’d be meeting the Nikosto family. I didn’t realise my uncle had struck a deal with you until something he said when I was getting on the plane. So I phoned him from the plane. That’s when I—found out.’
There was a stunned flicker in his eyes. ‘My God.’
She nodded. ‘You see? When I arrived here I discovered nothing had been paid for. I had some money of my own, of course, to pay for meals and taxis, that sort of thing, but the big costs, the hotel and the tours, had never been paid.’
‘And then you met me,’ he said grimly. ‘And the trap was complete. ’ He said in a constrained voice, ‘And I—wasn’t very kind to you at all.’
She shot him a low glance. ‘Perhaps not,’ she said, and saw him wince.
She spread her hands. ‘I have to admit I panicked. In a strange country, with hardly any real money, I didn’t have many choices. And it seemed clear to me…’ She met his appalled gaze, then cast down her lashes. ‘You didn’t want to marry me, anyway. Not really, but you were just prepared to grit your teeth and go through with it for the sake of your company.’
He compressed his chiselled mouth into a straight, grim line,
then nodded. ‘I admit it. Your uncle—had made me very angry.’
She nodded, clasping her hands, her heart aching with mortification and pained love for her uncle and aunt. ‘When I rang Thea to find out what had gone wrong, she said…’ her voice wobbled ‘…you needed to marry me.’
‘Oh, hell.’ He sprang across to the sofa and grasped her arms. ‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this?’
‘Oh, well.’ Her throat thickened, emotion rendering her voice gravelly. ‘Try to understand. They’re my family. I didn’t want you to think badly of them. Thio doesn’t mean to hurt, truly. They’re old, you know. And they—they do love me. They do.’ Tears washed into her eyes.
Sebastian looked sharply at her, comprehension and compassion colouring his eyes, then they veiled almost at once and he shook his head, frowning. A muscle twitched in his lean cheek.
She fought for control. ‘I know what you’re thinking, but they still cling to so many of the traditions, you see. Thio has always had so much power he thinks he can do as he likes. He just bulldozes over people, and Thea lets him get away with it.’ She dashed a tear away with the back of her hand. ‘After the scandal he thought he had to rescue my honour. He probably thought by forcing me into marriage with some eligible guy, as far away as possible, he was doing the very best thing for me.’ She realised how that must have sounded, and quickly touched his hand. ‘It’s only by the greatest good luck the guy turned out to be you. It hasn’t been such a bad thing after all, has it?’
With a thud in his chest Sebastian heard the note in her voice. Her tentative blue gaze, so warm and shyly questioning, pierced straight through his steel-plated resistance and touched some yearning part of him with a dangerous potency. God, but she was sweet. Everything a man could dream of in a woman, surely. For an instant he was intensely tempted to lower his guard, drag her into his arms and hold her vibrant lusciousness to him. But with a roaring pressure in his temples visions of Esther and all the nightmare days and nights crowded in on him, reminding him of how it could turn out.
There was no way he could risk it. Never again.
Luckily, adrenaline lent him the necessary iron to deal with the situation before it got out of control.
‘No, not at all it hasn’t,’ he replied without blinking, ‘but when did you say you were seeing that lawyer?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Good.’
Ariadne searched his cool resolute gaze and the blood drained from her heart. ‘Oh.’ Her smile was so tight it hurt. She stood up and stuttered, ‘I—I s-suppose you’ve been thinking I’ve overstayed my welcome.’
He lowered his lashes. ‘No, no, not at all, but…’ He hesitated, then chose his words with great care. ‘It’s been—fantastic having you here, but you need to have your money and your freedom of choice. Then you can decide what you want to do, and who with.’
She swallowed, half comprehending that the ground was sliding away from her. Desperation tempted her to say things her instincts were clanging alarm bells against. ‘But what if I say now that I’d like to stay with you? What if I tell you that I…I’m in love with you?’
He closed his eyes then stepped backwards, increasing the distance between them. ‘No, please…Don’t…’ He held up his hand as if to ward something off, and drew a deep breath. ‘Look, Ariadne, it’s better if we don’t try to complicate what’s been a fantastic time. We were both forced into this, and…I guess, we’ve naturally—bonded—to some extent.’
She opened her mouth to speak but he held up his lean hand again.
‘No, we need to be realistic. Sweetheart, I’m very conscious I’ve been your first—lover.’ A dark stain spread across his cheekbones. ‘People—people often think they’ve fallen in love with their first. It’s all new, and it seems…’ he made a jerky gesture ‘…special somehow. You know, you start seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses. Everything starts to look hopeful again. You can’t wait to get home and see the person every day. You think about them all the time. Worry about them, all their little…But it can’t last.’
The blood thundering in her ears made her head swim. Lighting on the one thing coming through loud and clear, she said, a treacherous tremor in her voice, ‘You—don’t want me, then?’
His dark face twisted and he turned his eyes away from her. ‘Ariadne, think of this. Soon you’ll have your money and your freedom of choice. And you’ll look back on this interlude and think how lucky you were to escape from such a selfish bastard as Sebastian Nikosto.’ He smiled, but it was more like a grimace.
Her heart ached so cruelly she could scarcely breathe but, gathering the last thin remains of her dignity about her, she croaked, ‘I guess you’d prefer it if I left tomorrow.’
‘No. Hell, no. Take as long as you need to find a job, and get settled. I’m very conscious of owing you a debt of gratitude for all you’ve done here. But, you know, this—’ he waved his hand, and looked ruefully at her ‘—us, the way we started, it’s been lovely, you’re a gorgeous girl, but whatever it is we think we have between us is built on sand. Sooner or later you’ll end up leaving anyway.’ His voice rasped. ‘Everybody does.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SEBASTIAN stared out at the rain squall sweeping across the harbour and wondered if Ariadne had reached her appointment without getting soaked. Things had been strained after their discussion, but when he’d offered to leave work to come home and drive her this morning, she’d asserted politely that she could get there under her own steam.
He’d felt gutted when he saw her morning face. Since last night he’d had a jagged feeling in his chest, as if he’d kicked something fragile, or done something very stupid.
In fact, she’d slept in the other room. He still felt raw when he thought of the savage night he’d endured, but, in truth, in some ways he’d been relieved. At least he hadn’t taken advantage of her last night as well.
A concept was lurking on the edges of his mind, something so simple, so bright and elegant. If only he could grasp it firmly.
The afternoon in the office seemed interminable, and on a sudden what-the-hell impulse he grabbed his car keys and headed for the door.
On the way home he tried to think of some things he could say to reduce her hurt. The trouble was, he was a blundering fool where women were concerned. Take Esther…
In a strange coincidence, he’d nearly reached the turn-off to Waverley. For some reason, on an absolutely unprecedented impulse he took it, and drove slowly along the street until he found the entrance where he knew Esther’s ashes had been slotted into a wall, along with those of thousands of other souls. He got out of the car and stood a while, perhaps an hour, wondering if he was facing some crazy sort of widower’s crisis, then walked along the avenues, hunched against the rain, until he came to the one he’d visited that one time before.
There was a little brass plaque set in the wall with Esther’s name on it. He stared at it for an age, trying to sense if Esther was present, remembering what Ariadne had said about her parents. He wiped the raindrops off the plaque with his sleeve, then took out his handkerchief and gave it a firmer polish.
The truth was, Esther wasn’t there. Not that he could sense. She wasn’t anywhere any more, except perhaps up there in the ether, smiling with the other clouds. He saw it then, the simple dazzling truth.
Ariadne was here and now, warm and alive and smelling of flowers. Seized with a buoyant burst of energy and purpose he sprinted to the car, his feet squelching in his wet shoes.
‘You’re a very rich woman,’ the attorney said, his rainwater eyes and thinning grey hair in perfect harmony with his grey suit, pearl silk tie and dim, grey humour. ‘Didn’t your uncle ever inform you of your father’s stake in Giorgias Shipping?’
Ariadne shook her head.
‘Your dad inherited his small stake from his grandmother, while your uncle inherited his larger one from his father. Lucky for you, Giorgias Shipping has gone from strength to strength.’ He smil
ed a watery smile. ‘There’s nothing stopping you from doing whatever you wish with your life, Mrs Nikosto. You can buy the Harbour Bridge if you like. Travel anywhere in the world.’
Anywhere except Naxos.
‘Thank you.’ Ariadne pasted on a smile, just as though she weren’t a creature composed almost solely of pain. She gathered her handbag, then rose and shook hands with the lawyer. As she made the descent in the lift, then walked free and rich into the Sydney rain, she realised she didn’t want to go to Naxos anyway. There was no one for her there now.
Or anywhere.
Still, she had choices. Billions of them, it seemed, all of them empty. What did a woman do when her husband couldn’t accept her love? She probably should find a taxi to take her home in time to cook his dinner. Instead, she turned listlessly in the direction of a travel agent she’d noticed in the Pitt Street Mall.
Sebastian closed the door behind him and tossed his keys on the hall table. He paused, listening. The house seemed curiously quiet. He strolled through the house and into the kitchen. Everything was neat and orderly, clean and pristine, but there was no aromatic pot simmering on the range. He opened the oven door.
Nothing.
No crisp salad waiting on the bench top. No cooking. No wife. Could she be sleeping?
With a sudden dread he bounded up the stairs two at a time, calling, ‘Ariadne.’
In every direction emptiness met his gaze. No trace of her in his bedroom, or in the other room she’d taken to sleeping in since the fateful discussion. Her wardrobe was bare. No bottles on the vanity. No combs or brushes on her dressing table. His house, his life, back to a threadbare shell.
A single silky scarf hung from her doorknob, drifting softly on the breeze. Something about its soft fragility devastated him. He snatched it up and held it to his face to inhale the last trace of her perfume. With a tearing pain in his chest he tried to come to terms with the possibility the worst had happened. She’d left him.