by Ann Cristy
They sang other songs from the book, and Zen felt such a pull between them that she forgot for a moment that she was angry with Damon and his family. She even forgot that there were other people in the room.
When she signaled to Damon that she could sing no more, he rose from the piano and turned her to face the applause.
Sophie came forward to take her hands. "And did you learn those lovely songs from your friends in Dublin?" she asked.
"Yes." Zen smiled in remembrance. "Seamus Dare and some others used to gather at least once a week, and we would sing the old songs, some in Irish. David knows a few Irish songs."
"You saw Seamus Dare once a week?" Damon asked, his voice like velvet-covered steel.
"More frequently than that." Zen laughed. "I worked with him. He would often come home with me to visit David. They were great friends."
"Were they?" Damon's angry words made Zen and Sophie regard him in surprise.
Zen opened her mouth to speak, but Sophie interrupted. "Dinner, everyone." She cleared her throat. "It's time for dinner." She hooked her arm through Zen's and pulled her away, calling to Damon over her shoulder, "My son, you will kindly escort your Aunt Dalia and your Aunt Sophronia. Zen will sit between Vincent and Terence."
"You needn't lead me away from him," Zen protested. "I know his damn temper is firing up again. I don't know why, and I don't give a damn. Your son is the most capricious, volatile, unstable..." Zen accompanied Sophie to the dining room, still listing Damon's many faults.
"He's jealous," his mother said.
"Bull chips!" Zen expostulated, then clapped her hand over her mouth in chagrin.
In all her years, she had never dreamed of using that particular expression. "You use such colorful language, Xenobia," Sophie said calmly, taking her place at the head of the table.
Zen felt her face burn with embarrassment. "Forgive me. I didn't mean—"
"Tut, tut, child, I meant no censure." Sophie caught and held Zen's gaze. "I'm glad you're with us, Xenobia. You have brought life and laughter to this house. Even my friend Pythagoras says he can't remember when Daniel ever laughed as he has laughed since David arrived. It is good." Sophie patted Zen's hand on the snowy damask tablecloth, then gestured to the maid to begin serving.
They had moussaka and a rack of lamb with rosemary and lemon, but most of the other dishes were either American or Continental. As was the custom in the Aristides home, there were several courses consisting of fish, vegetables, and fruit as well as meat.
Zen fully appreciated the food after having cooked for herself at the cabin. She complimented both Maria and Sophie.
"Soon you will be directing us, Kyria Xenobia," Maria said with the ease of a life-long retainer. She had helped to raise both Damon and Davos.
Zen coughed and reached for her water glass. She shook her head.
"Of course you will, Xenobia." Sophie patted her back and gestured to Yanos, who was acting as butler for the evening, to refill her wine and water glasses. "It is time I retired from running this house and traveled. I want to turn it over to you, just as I turned my business interests over to my son."
There were choruses of "Good idea" and "Just the thing to do" from various guests.
"I don't think you should retire," Zen protested, her eyes watering from her coughing. "Do you, Damon?"
"I think it would be good for Mother to travel," he said. "She will still have her apartment in the house and can come back any time to visit us and the boys."
"I think it is a good idea," Pythagoras agreed. He looked startled when Zen glared at him.
Tiny Aunt Sophronia, who was said to have Albanian blood, leaned forward in her chair and fixed Zen with her eyes. "It is well past time that you tended to your duties, young woman."
"Well, of all the—"
"Darling, you're going to love the dessert," Damon interrupted, rising from his chair to come around in back of hers. "In fact, I want you to be surprised, so I'm going to cover your eyes."
"Youuu, you're covering ma mouf..." Zen glowered up at him, pulling at his hands.
"Ah, here's Maria. Just in time," Damon announced.
Zen freed her mouth at last and took a deep breath to tell Damon what she thought of him and his family, but he reached for the tray Maria was carrying and pushed a honey cake into her mouth. "There! I knew you'd love it." He looked up at Maria. "She loves them."
Zen was aware that all eyes were on her as she pulled the sticky cake out of her mouth. She licked the honey from her lips, camouflaging her awkwardness behind a napkin.
"What's she doing now, Sandor?" Aunt Dalia bellowed. "She's a strange creature. Don't know what Damon sees in her."
"I do." Sandor smacked his lips. Damon's onyx eyes bore down on him like twin mortars on a target. Sandor laughed nervously. Damon ground his teeth.
"Damon, do take your seat," his mother said, frowning.
"Mother, I think it would be nice if we all had coffee and liqueur in the living room," he suggested.
Maria brought Zen a finger bowl while Yanos distributed them to the other guests. "Let me help you, Kyria Xenobia," Maria said.
"Ah... thank you. I can manage." Zen glanced over her shoulder at Damon. "I intend to have a mail bomb put into the In-box in your office," she said in dulcet tones.
"Darling, how sweet! Of course you can buy me a betrothal gift. I think that's very nice."
Zen rose with the others to leave the dining room. Damon kept hold of her elbow. "Release me, you savage," she demanded.
"Love, I thought you liked it when I touched you," Damon baited her. v
"Stop that!" Zen caught the narrow-eyed glances of Damon's two aunts. "Your family despises me."
He was unperturbed. "I don't give a damn what they think."
"They own stock in Olympus Limited," Zen said, holding back as they approached the living room.
"If you're worried that I can't support you and the boys, my love, forget it." Damon's thick eyebrows came together over his nose; white lines bracketed his mouth.
"Don't be an ass," she retorted. "I just don't see why you want to be tied to someone who will be stared at by the family at every get-together." She fell silent.
Damon shrugged. "If they annoy you, we'll avoid my family. Of course, I'll have to arrange to see my mother with the boys now and then."
"Damon." Zen's throat tightened. "I... I would never try to separate the boys from your mother. I'm not like that."
He halted in front of the double doors to the living room, in full view of the occupants, who were turning slowly to observe them. "I know you hold the best interests of both boys as your primary concern. I never thought otherwise of you." He kissed her full on the mouth, his tongue chasing hers lazily.
Zen felt as though someone had set fire to her inside. Her blood seemed to be burning up.
"Was Damon always so... so loose, Sophie?" Aunt Dalia asked disdainfully.
"Do you not remember how it was when we were in love, Sister?" Sophie asked, raising her chin.
"Yes... yes, but we were not wantons like that... that one."
Zen pulled free of Damon. "Now, see here Aunt Dalia." She stalked into the room and stopped directly in front of the stalwart Greek woman. "You've been criticizing Damon and me all night, and I've been very patient." She turned to glare at Damon when he laughed. "But I've had enough."
"I, also, have had enough, Sister," Sophie interrupted. "I want you to come to my son's wedding and give the couple's party, but if you don't want to, someone else can."
Silence, thick, heavy silence, filled the room. "I will give the couple's party, as I always do." Dalia sat down on the settee.
Sophie gave one curt nod and sat down next to her. "Xenobia will pour the tea," she announced.
"Good Lord," Damon whispered, backing away as if Zen's pouring tea would place him in danger.
Zen spilled some tea in the saucers. Dalia and Sophronia rolled their eyes. The other cousins drew closer and began to chat with Zen. She had
no real trouble until she handed Damon his tea. Had she not looked up at him and seen the black heat in his eyes, she might have muddled through, she told herself, but she did look at him. The cup wobbled on the saucer, and she spilled hot tea on his wrist.
"Aaaagh! Damn it, Zen. I knew I shouldn't have taken tea."
"You should have asked for coffee," Aunt Dalia agreed brusquely, her lips pursed as she presided over the silver coffeepot. "Greeks should drink coffee."
"Thank you." Damon grimaced at his aunt, then frowned down at Zen. "Stop mopping at me."
"You need some lotion." When he tried to pull his arm free, Zen thrust out her jaw. She saw Sandor place his scotch on the table and spied the ice cubes in his drink. "Pardon me, I need that." She reached into the glass and drew out an ice cube. After wrapping it in a napkin, she pressed it on Damon's skin. Part of her was appalled that she could do such a crass thing, but concern for Damon was uppermost in her thoughts.
"Damn it all, I just poured that drink," Sandor complained.
Zen ignored him. She lifted Damon's hand to her mouth and kissed the red spot.
He gasped and leaned over her. "Do that again, please."
"Sophie, I cannot stay in this house if they are going to continue to make love in public," Dalia said in stentorian tones.
"They are like this all the time," Sophie answered serenely.
"You must not be offensive, Xenobia." Aunt Sophronia sniffed. "Ours is a proud family."
"Goat chips, Sophronia," Pythagoras drawled, smiling at Zen and receiving a smile from her in return. "If you intend to stay in this house at any time in the future, you will have to become accustomed to seeing displays of affection. We thrive on it here." He moved closer to Sophie.
"My dear departed brother Dmitri, who was your husband, Sophie, would not approve of such looseness." Sophronia's pursed mouth looked like a prune.
To Zen's surprise, Sophie bit her lips and stepped away from Thag, looking distressed.
"Sophronia Aristides, if you think to upset Sophie, cease," said Pythagoras. "We will be married soon, and I will take it ill if anyone upsets my future wife." He gave each guest a warning look.
"I didn't know they were getting married," Zen whispered to Damon.
"It's about time he forced mother off the fence." Damon smiled down at her. "That's the only way to handle a woman—throw her over your shoulder and cart her away."
Zen raised her chin, prepared to do battle with him, but she paused when she caught him grinning at her. She took a deep breath. "If you're trying to bait me, it won't work."
"It usually does. Let's go to bed."
Zen gasped and glanced nervously around the room, but most of the family was staring at Sophie, whose face had turned brick red. "Not in your mother's house," Zen whispered.
"How many times must I tell you that this is my home, under my name, and in two weeks it will be your home as well."
"What do you mean?" Zen's head snapped back to him.
"It means I've instructed my lawyers to place this home and the apartment in London, plus a twenty percent share in my holdings, in your name on our wedding day."
"No." Zen shook her head, aghast. "I don't want anything. I can earn my own way. I won't be paid—" "Stop babbling, darling. I know all about your independence, and your lack of interest in material things, but I fully intend to protect you. If anything happened to me, my enemies would try to cut you out of everything. You would win in the end, because my will is solid, but in the meantime a long litigation would be very distressing. This way no matter what happens there will be no discomfort. You will have your own property and money, deeded to you in my lifetime."
"Don't talk this way." Zen wrung her hands, imagining all sorts of catastrophes. "I don't want to hear about you dying. I hate it. I won't listen."
Damon pulled her close to his side, ignoring his clamoring relatives who pushed close to Sophie and Thag, interrogating them. "I am not leaving you," he said, "but you're not practical, my fey darling, and I intend to see to your welfare. Even if I die before we marry, you will still have twenty percent of my holdings."
"Stop, please stop." Zen squeezed her eyes shut, trying to wipe out a suddenly vivid picture of Damon trapped under the wheels of a truck.
"Darling." Damon pushed her a little away from him and stared down at her stricken face. "Darling, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." He ran his index finger down her nose. "Where has your down-to-earth common sense gone?"
"It drowned in the Irish Sea," she mumbled, letting her arms slip around his waist for a moment before she pushed away from him and turned to watch the others. "Why are they so concerned that your mother is marrying Thag?" she asked. "I should think they would be happy for her. He doesn't want her money."
"I should think not." Damon gave a hard laugh. "He could buy and sell anyone here tonight—except me." His hand settled at her waist, where he stroked her gently.
"Then why do Sandor and Dalia look so sour?"
"Because my mother has been supporting them for years—even though they have money of their own. My dear aunt and cousin do not believe in spending their own capital if they can sponge off my mother. She allows it, though she knows I disapprove. Thag will put a stop to it, and they know that, too."
"Good. I hope she marries him tomorrow," Zen said with conviction.
Damon laughed, then raised his voice. "Mother, my future wife says she wishes you would marry Thag tomorrow."
"Damon, for God's sake!" Zen felt weak with embarrassment as every eye in the room fixed on her.
"Do you, Xenobia?" Sophie sounded like a breathless schoolgirl.
Zen's gaze moved from one guest to the other and finally settled on Thag, who looked unnaturally pale. But despite his obvious unease, he stood protectively close to Sophie, and Zen was struck anew by what a kind and caring man he was. He would make Sophie a faithful husband, a loyal defender, and a charming companion.
"Yes," Zen said, "I would like it very much if you married Thag—soon, so the boys will have a grandfather."
Sophie's eyes widened. "I hadn't thought of that. Yes, the boys do love you, Thag. We will get the license tomorrow."
Pythagoras let out a deep breath and kissed Sophie's cheek. "Tomorrow we will be the first in line at the license bureau."
"Ridiculous!" exclaimed Dalia, trying to take hold of her sister's arm. "Let me talk to you."
"No," Zen said loudly, surprising herself. "You've talked too much already. They'll be married as soon as possible, and the boys will attend the ceremony."
Dalia assessed Zen with deep contempt. "Your sister Eleni was never so bold."
A mutinous look came over Sophie's face. "Many times you caused Davos and Eleni unhappiness, Dalia," she said. "They loved each other so much, yet you hurt my daughter-in-law by saying unkind, spiteful things." Sophie glanced at Zen. "You have been unkind to Xenobia as well."
Zen's instinct to protect her loved ones—whether alive or just remembered—rose to the fore, and she stepped toward Dalia with deadly menace in her step. "If I had known you hurt Eleni—" Suddenly two iron-hard arms came around her chest, knocking the breath out of her.
Damon's warm breath grazed her cheek before his firm lips nuzzled her neck. "Watch out for my tiger, Aunt Dalia," he warned, chuckling. "She bites."
Dalia sniffed disdainfully and stomped away.
Gradually, in desultory fashion, members of the family began to take their leave. Unlike Dalia and Sandor, some smiled and wished the newly engaged couple sincerely well in their new life together.
When Sandor took Zen's hand and lifted it to his mouth, Damon was there to free Zen's hand and glower at his cousin.
"A simple handshake will do, Sandor," he said.
"You were always possessive of your toys."
His words inflamed Zen. "I'm no one's toy, Sandor." She, too, gave him a dark, warning look.
"Good night, Aunt Dalia." Damon smiled at his stern-faced aunt.
"I
hope you know what you're getting into, Damon." Without another word she swept past Zen into the huge foyer and out of the house.
"Your family—" Zen began angrily, immediately mollified when Damon's arm circled her waist. His laughter tickled the hair on her neck.
Zen broke away from his embrace and turned to say good night to Sophie and Thag, who were sitting on the settee. They were staring into each other's eyes, awed expressions on their faces. Zen smiled fondly. It was lovely to see two people so much in love.
Feeling somewhat sentimental, and in no mood to confront Damon, Zen hoped to slip upstairs while he was giving Yanos instructions about how to store the remaining bottles of unopened champagne.
She had climbed the stairs and reached the sanctuary of her room when the door opened and closed behind her. She turned to see Damon, a determined look on his face. "Now, Damon, I already said that I would not sleep with you while—"
"Love." He held up both hands, palms out. "I haven't come to coerce you. I just thought you would like your ring. After all, it was your engagement party."
"Oh, I forgot."
"Did you?" He smiled lazily, but his eyes burned with a light she had seen all too often.
"What I mean is, I don't need—"
"No, don't say anything. Not about this." In an instant he was at her side, enfolding her in his arms. "I want to give you the world." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a box, and flicked open the lid.
An exquisite marquise diamond lay on apricot-colored velvet. Zen gasped. It was beautiful. But far too precious for her.
She gulped. "I'd be afraid to wear it."
"If you don't, I'll give it away," Damon said, pushing it onto her finger, then lifting her hand to his mouth.
Zen reeled. "Don't talk like that."
"Then don't say you won't wear it." He stared moodily down at her. "Do you like it?"
"Very much. Especially the gold filigree setting. It looks like an heirloom."
"It should. It belonged to my grandmother Aristides."
"It did?" Zen's hand jerked out of his. "But it must be so valuable. Are you sure it's safe to wear it?"
"I asked the jeweler that when he sized it for you. He checked all the points."