Pagan Lover

by Anne Hampson

  He entered the room and Tara found herself swinging around, hoping that Pelayia was still there. But the maid had gone, for as yet there was nothing to unpack, the suitcases which Leon had bought for her and filled not yet having been brought upstairs.

  Leon stood in the doorway, the light from behind him throwing his features, into shade so that he appeared more satanic than ever. She frowningly examined the taut lines of his face, the tensed muscles of his neck, the hollows in his cheeks and the low forehead of the Greek, lined and darkly evil. A formidable enemy! And yet from some hidden recess strength came to her. She would fight him with everything in her! Why should she succumb meekly as she had been doing?

  ‘Come here,’ he commanded, pointing to a place near his feet.

  ‘I’m looking at the view,’ she snapped, taking a sideways step that brought her closer to the window across which the curtains had not been drawn.

  ‘In the dark?’ with a satirical lift of his brows. ‘Don’t be absurd—’

  ‘I can see,’ she interrupted. ‘I’m not blind.’

  ‘Well, you’ll not see much in the dark—the lights on the cliffs, of course, and the sea.’

  ‘What do you want?’ she demanded, taking another step towards the window.

  ‘I’ve told you to come here! If you had any sense at all, Tara, you’d have learned by now that I am not the man to brook defiance. Obey me—at once!’

  She swallowed convulsively, aware of his intentions. He wanted to kiss her, to caress her body, to use his vast experience and finesse to triumph over her resistance. He had done it every night since their marriage, laughing with satisfaction at his victory, had taunted with the declaration that she desired him as much as he desired her. And that was why he was so confident that she would very soon abandon her attempt to find a way of escape. Even if a child were not on the way he meant to hold her prisoner, not by force but by the weakness of her resistance to his charms as a lover. And she had to admit that she was frightened—of herself as much as him. He was looking at her warningly and she said playing for time,

  ‘Where are my clothes? I want to wash and change.’

  ‘Your clothes are coming.’ He pointed to the spot at his feet. ‘Come to me—now!’

  Her heart began to throb in wild disorder. She shook her head and yet found herself advancing towards him.

  ‘I—you———’

  ‘Thank your lucky stars that you decided to obey me,’ he said harshly. ‘I was about to give you something to remember!’

  ‘You’d use violence on me?’

  ‘I intend to bring you to heel, and to keep you there!’

  He reached out, gripping her wrist and jerking her trembling body to him. She felt the slight pain of the sharp contact with his body, but it was nothing to the sheer ruthlessness of his mouth as it captured hers, sensuously exploring, subduing her efforts to keep her mouth closed against the insistence of his lips. She tried to struggle, but with a laugh he vanquished her puny attempt by imprisoning both her hands in one of his, then forcing them behind her back.

  ‘What are you going to do now?’ he taunted, obviously enjoying her helplessness and the white-hot fury that resulted from it. She just managed to say, ‘I wish I could kill you,’ before his hard mouth crushed out the rest. ‘Wildcat that you are,’ he mocked, ‘you’re not going to take very much taming.’ His hand released hers and stole to her breast, to caress it with the sort of rough persuasion which he knew would fire her emotions. And it did, setting every nerve in her body rioting. How easily this hateful foreigner could arouse her all-consuming desire for the pleasure and the pain of his body! It infuriated her that he was so fully aware of his power over her, his ability to bring about her surrender. Despairingly she felt herself going limp in his arms, then arching her body as she began to strain it to his. This was defeat! It brought tears of anger to her eyes even as she continued to strain against him, vitally aware that she herself was tempting now, and that, within seconds, she would be swept unresistingly into the vortex of his passion.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TARA stood by the fountain, staring out over the olive-clad slopes to the aquamarine sea of Greece and the sharply-defined line of the horizon beyond. She was fully conscious of the two gardeners working on the borders, and when a few minutes later her husband appeared from the house she turned on him, viciously declaring she would escape in spite of the fact that she was watched whenever she strayed from the house.

  ‘Don’t be such a vixen,’ he drawled, a frown touching his brow. ‘I can see I shall have to school you in the end.’

  ‘Threats again?’ She shrugged her shoulders in a gesture of indifference. ‘I’m used to them by now. I’ve been married to you for three weeks, remember.’

  His dark eyes scrutinised her flushed face. Then they narrowed, glintingly.

  ‘You’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met,’ he told her at length.

  ‘Because I haven’t fallen victim to your—er— charms?’ He said nothing and she added tauntingly, ‘What a blow to your ego it must be to find a woman who hasn’t fallen in love with you. How many hearts have you broken in your life?’ she asked finally.

  ‘You have fallen victim to my—’ He stopped and the dark frown became more pronounced. ‘From the first, desire has been there. You must have admitted to yourself many times that, physically, I can give you far more than that David you talk about.’ He watched her closely and anger throbbed at the knowledge that he knew she would not be able truthfully to argue with his statement,

  ‘But I haven’t fallen in love with you,’ she said defensively.

  ‘Not yet, but there is plenty of time.’

  ‘Is it important to you that I fall in love with you?’

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Not really. Life would be more pleasant if you did, for then you wouldn’t be such a termagant.’

  She gritted her teeth.

  ‘I was never like this till I met you!’

  ‘Obviously not, because no one would ever have fallen in love with you.’ A pause and then, ‘This David’s had a narrow escape, if he only knew it.’

  Tara drew a breath, and managed to control the fury within her. She had several times made the resolve to be calm—icily calm—hoping that such an attitude would successfully attack his calm. But she kept losing control and showing him her temper. He had shaken her on two occasions, and on several more had threatened her with a beating. But he had never lost control to that extent; she felt that he was always conscious of preserving his dignity, and he did preserve it for most of the time. She glanced at the two gardeners, a brooding expression on her face. Would there ever be an opportunity of escape? She thought of her husband’s need to attend to his various businesses and wondered when he would be going to Athens. He would not take her with him, he had said, and of course the reason was his inability to keep her a prisoner there, as he could so easily do on this small island where she was watched every minute of every day.

  He glanced at her, his eyes following the direction of her gaze.

  ‘How transparent you are,’ he mocked. ‘Don’t you ever stop thinking of getting away from me?’

  ‘No, never,’ she flashed back at him. ‘I could almost wish those two would drop dead!

  ‘If you did leave me,’ commented her husband mildly, ‘just look what you would miss.’ He was taunting her as usual, reminding her of her weakness.

  ‘You pompous ass!’ It was out before she realised it, and she knew for sure that it was only the presence of the gardeners that saved her from punishment. As it was, Leon’s black eyes glittered with fury and his mouth went tight.

  ‘By God, girl, you’re asking for it! If I don’t take a stick to you before long it will be a miracle!’ The eyes smouldered now, and Tara saw his hands clench as if their owner would like to have her throat within their grip. She shivered and resolved to be more careful in future.

  ‘I hate your repeated references to your
prowess as a—as a—lover,’ she muttered, amazed at her own words but aware that they were spoken in order to break the awful silence that had dropped between them.

  ‘Because they remind you that I never fail to make you surrender?’ He was his cool suave self again, his expression one of sardonic amusement. ‘Deep down, you wanted to be married to me—’

  ‘You forced me into marriage! Oh, how can you say that I wanted to marry you? I’m in love with someone else!’

  ‘No, you are not,’ he stated firmly. ‘If you were then how could you enjoy lying in another man’s arms?’

  She bent her head, embarrassment staining her cheeks a vivid crimson.

  ‘It’s only—only in that way—’ She stopped, her head still bent, and, with a thread of laughter in his tone he finished for her,

  ‘—that you are attracted to me.’

  She lifted her face, to see him regarding her with a faintly sardonic smile in his eyes.

  ‘One day,’ she whispered, ‘I shall be free of this—this attraction you speak of.’

  ‘You will never be free ... will you?’ he challenged, watching her through narrowed eyes. ‘I knew when I saw you in that hospital ward that fate had given you into my keeping—for ever.’ He took her hand, staring down at the ring she wore. ‘Will you ever be free?’ he asked again, and it was as if some force beyond her control compelled her to answer as he desired she should answer.

  ‘No,’ she quivered with a long-drawn-out sigh that was very like a sob, for it came from the very core of her heart. ‘I will never be free, Leon.’

  ‘Sensible girl to admit it. Perhaps you will now settle down and accept the good life that is offered to you.’

  She looked at him through a mist of tears.

  ‘I have no life. You’ve robbed me of all happiness, both now and in the future.’

  His hands closed tightly again, but she sensed that the cause was not anger this time, but rather the outward sign of some tumultuous emotion inwardly affecting him. A nerve in his throat pulsated, fascinating her as she stared at it. Then her eyes moved, to notice the sunlight on his temple, turning the grey hairs to silver. He had told her he was thirty-one, but he looked older—perhaps the result of the dissolute life he led, she thought.

  He turned to glance at her and for a moment fixed his gaze on her eyes, and the brightness he saw there. A frown knit his brow; he seemed about to speak but changed his mind, and then, his face harsh in the sunlight, he walked away, leaving her standing there, desolate and alone, and yet the curious pain which pierced her heart seemed not to be anything to do with her own plight, but rather to be for the man whose unwilling prisoner she was.

  After a while she began to wander in the grounds; the gardener who had been busy weeding the border at the end of one of the lawns moved slowly, casually a garden fork in his hand. With the other hand he took a string of worry beads from his pocket and began clicking them; she heard faintly a low masculine sound, as though he were singing or humming a tune to himself. A sigh escaped her. She had told her husband she would never be free, but already she was thinking of freedom. In his presence she seemed to be hypnotised by him, submitting to his wishes like a puppet on a string, and she had often wondered if he would in the end captivate her totally by a combination of mastery and the lovemaking which always transported her to the supreme height of bliss. Undoubtedly she was getting something out of marriage to him—and he was fully aware of it. She was putty in his hands when he had her emotions heightened; she responded in every way to his demands, surrender bringing its own fulfilment.

  And at those times she never even thought of David, or the tragedy of her wedding day. He was a nebulous figure who had flitted through her life and was no longer important. But in the cold light of day when she was free of the fascination and domination of her husband, she did think of David, and the home they had got together—the furniture bought with such care, the carpets and curtains, all purchased after long and happy interludes of discussion as to colour schemes and durability. It had been such fun, during those months of preparation, she recalled nostalgically. She and her fiancé had wandered hand in hand through the shops, each thinking of the great day when they would-be together in the cosy little home they were building.

  And now.... Would she and David ever come together again, after she had managed to escape? There would have to be a divorce first.., and Greek men did not believe in divorce And suppose there was a child? No, she whispered vehemently. No, there must not be a child! Leon had been so confident, though, that a child would arrive quite soon. For her, that

  would be the end of hopes for escape—

  ‘I won’t think about it!’ she whispered fiercely to herself. ‘I must think about getting away, because the longer I stay the more likely I am to become pregnant!’

  That evening at dinner she was very quiet, her mind fixed on the problem of getting away. Leon, taking it for granted that she was abstracted for another reason altogether, frowned darkly at her and snapped,

  ‘It’s time you got that fellow out of your system! You’re my wife now and the sooner you resign yourself to it the better!’

  The scowl on his face marred an effect which—Tara grudgingly admitted—could have been incredibly attractive. For Leon, immaculate in an oyster-white linen suit with a pastel-green shirt, had that particular air of distinction found only among the nobility. He gave the impression always of a cultured gentleman of rather special lineage, and as if that were not enough he possessed the added attributes of good looks and physical perfection, his tall lithe frame—like that of an athlete in perfect form—carrying not one ounce of excess weight.

  He was still glowering at her and she returned quietly,

  ‘I shall never get David out of my system. He’s the man I chose for a husband, the one I knew I could love, and be happy with, for the rest of my life.’

  ‘You would not have been happy!’ Imperious the tone, and challenging. Tara’s intention of arguing with statement died on her lips. ‘I give you so much! Why can’t you be satisfied?’

  ‘There should be love in marriage—that’s why I’m not satisfied!’

  He drew a breath of impatience.

  You English are so damned sentimental—especially women. Tell me, how long does this so-called love last?’

  ‘It can last for ever, but you as a Greek wouldn’t understand. Loving and caring are the most important part of marriage.’

  ‘The physical compatibility? Is that not important?’

  ‘In a way ... yes—’

  ‘In a way?’ His straight black brows lifted a fraction. ‘Can you honestly tell me that physical compatibility’s not the most important thing in our marriage?’

  ‘It’s the only thing in our marriage.’

  ‘What about the material aspect? Most women would be more than happy with what you have—or can have when I’m sure you’ll not try to run from me. I can give you every luxury—we have a rather special home here, you must admit? We have a yacht, and when eventually you come with me to Athens you’ll live in a luxury flat and have your own car.’

  ‘All those, but not love.’

  ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘how many of your friends—who presumably married for love—are as idyllically happy as you appear to believe possible?’

  She looked at him but said nothing. She was remembering Sue one day rattling off all the couples they knew whose marriages were broken, or about to be. It was frightening, Sue had said, and Tara remembered saying that she and David were lucky because they both knew that their love would last for ever.

  ‘Well,’ challenged Leon, breaking into her thoughts, ‘what answer have you for me?’

  She gave an audible sigh and shook her head.

  ‘Love can last,’ she said doggedly.

  ‘But you can’t think of any of your friends who are happily married?’ A sort of smooth satire edged hic accented voice and his eyes held amusement. ‘Here in Greece we have the answer, no matter wha
t you say to the contrary. We marry for physical satisfaction and the production of children. Marriages in the villages are still arranged by parents, who know better than their children what is good for them—’

  ‘Stop! It’s—horrible to think of arranged marriages!’

  Forget love,’ he advised, ignoring the interruption, and be satisfied with what you have. When you stop having these vixenish turns you and I will be very happy indeed’

  ‘I’ve just remembered that you expressed the wish that I would fall in love with you.’

  ‘I said life would be more pleasant if you did, but by “love” I didn’t mean some grand passion—the sort some writers are carried away with. To me there is no such grand passion—unless it’s a physical one,’ he added with a hint of amusement. ‘But this deep love one hears about—’ He shrugged it off impatiently. ‘It’s nothing but nonsense.’

  ‘You’re going to miss a lot in life,’ she stated. But then she added, ‘However, I daresay you’ll satisfy yourself with more sensual pleasures.’

  ‘You’re a little bitch, Tara,’ he said softly. ‘I wonder how long I shall be able to accept your poisonous barbs without retaliation.’

  Tara said nothing and for a while they ate in silence. But although her husband did not speak there was no mistaking the interest he was taking in her appearance. She had acquired a lovely golden-sienna tan from lying out in the sun, and her hair had become bleached at the same time, especially at the front where it crowned her high intelligent forehead. Her eyes were wide and sad, and now and then her mouth would tremble convulsively, the result of her thoughts. She looked very young and defenceless to the man sitting opposite, and whose eyes were fixed upon her with the most odd expression in their depths. She saw the hint of a frown touch his forehead momentarily. He seemed to become lost in thought and the frown reappeared.

  ‘I’ll give a small dinner-party next week,’ he decided suddenly. ‘It’s time I began showing my beautiful wife off.’