by Sara Craven
They spent a brief honeymoon on Bali, then flew back to New York where Mick was supervising the completion of the latest Regina hotel.
‘Does he usually take so personal an interest?’ Kate asked Iorgos, who had soon become a friend.
‘This is particularly important to him,’ Iorgos admitted. ‘There are elements on the board who have always been opposed to any expansion outside the Mediterranean, or indeed to any kind of change,’ he added drily. ‘It is no longer a foregone conclusion that he will succeed his father as chairman of the board when Ari eventually retires. So, Michalis needs a proven success to overcome the doubters.’
‘I see.’ Kate paused. ‘Is his father one of the doubters?’
‘That is something you should ask your husband, kyria.’
‘I have.’ Kate sighed. ‘I asked him, too, when we’d be going to Greece so that I could meet his family, and he just changed the subject.’
She shook her head. ‘He never talks about family things. Why, I didn’t even know his mother had been a native New Yorker until I discovered we were living in her old home.’
‘Does it make a difference?’
‘No, but I’d like to have been told. And I wish he’d discuss this estrangement with his father, because I know it exists.’
He said gently, ‘You are a very new wife, kyria. Maybe Mick feels you have enough adjustments to make for now. Enjoy the happiness you find in each other, and leave any problems for another day.’
And with that, she had to be content.
The apartment, in an exclusive district, was a sumptuous, gracious place, all high ceilings, and rich wood panelling, and Kate had loved it on sight.
Mick gave her carte blanche to change anything she wanted but, in the end, she altered very little, replacing some carpets and curtains, and introducing a lighter colour scheme for their bedroom.
‘I’m saving my energies for the nursery,’ she told him happily.
‘Well, there is no hurry for that.’ He kissed her. ‘Unless I am not enough for you,’ he added softly.
The hotel was completed by Easter, and Kate, smiling confidently to conceal her inner trepidation, cut the ribbon which declared the New York Regina open for business.
It was barely a week later when she returned from a shopping trip to find a full-scale row in progress, with Mick pacing the drawing room, his face set and thunderous, while Iorgos tried unavailingly to calm him.
‘What’s happened?’ Kate put down her packages, alarmed.
‘We have been sent for,’ Mick flung at her.
‘Mr Theodakis has requested Michael to bring you to Kefalonia,’ Iorgos explained more temperately.
‘Is that such a bad thing?’ Kate felt her way cautiously, keeping a wary eye on her husband’s angry face. ‘After all, we were bound to pay a visit eventually—weren’t we?’
Mick snorted in exasperation, and stalked over to the window.
‘It would not be wise to refuse,’ Iorgos said quietly. ‘Consider that, Michalis.’
‘I have,’ Mick said curtly, without looking round. ‘And I know it must be done.’
For the first time in their marriage, he did not come to bed that night. Kate, disturbed, found him in the drawing room, slumped on a sofa with a decanter of whisky for company.
She had never seen him like this, she thought, as she knelt beside him. ‘Darling, what’s wrong? Talk to me, please.’
He looked at her, his eyes weary, and frighteningly distant. ‘The reality I once spoke of, pedhi mou. It has found us. Now leave me. I need to be on my own—to think.’
And she had turned and gone back to their room, alone and suddenly scared.
CHAPTER SEVEN
KATE’S first glimpse of Kefalonia had been from the company private jet.
In spite of the uneasiness of the previous week, she couldn’t repress a tingle of anticipation as she looked down on the rocky landscape beneath her.
Maybe, she thought, things will change now we’re here. Go back to the way they were.
Because, ever since his father’s summons, there’d been a strange new tension between Mick and herself which she seemed powerless to dispel, however much she tried.
Now, when he made love to her, he seemed remote, almost clinical in the ways in which he gave her pleasure. The warmth, the teasing, the laughter that had made their intimacy so precious was suddenly missing.
For the first time it was almost a relief that Mick still insisted on using protection during lovemaking, because she didn’t want their baby to be conceived in an atmosphere like this.
She’d been surprised too when Mick told her to pack summer clothes and swimwear.
‘But it’s only April.’ She stared at him. ‘How long will we be staying on Kefalonia?’
‘I am Greek, Katharina.’ His voice was cold. ‘The Villa Dionysius is my home.’
She said quietly, ‘I’m sorry. I thought your home was with me. But I’ll pack for an indefinite stay if that’s what you want.’
His smile was brief and wintry. ‘Thank you.’
She’d read as much as she could about the island and its history, prior to setting out, and knew that, because of the devastation caused by the earthquake which had struck in 1953, most of its buildings were comparatively modern.
But the Theodakis family home, the Villa Dionysius, had somehow survived. And soon she would be there.
Again she was aware of an odd prickle of nervousness, but told herself she was being ridiculous. Mick and his father might have been at odds in the past, but now a reconciliation was clearly indicated, and maybe her marriage was going to be the means of bringing that about. Which had to be a good thing—didn’t it?
When they reached the villa, her spirits rose. It was a large rambling single-storied house, white-walled, with a faded terracotta roof. Flowering vines and climbing shrubs hung in festoons over the door and windows, and the garden was already bright with colour.
The whole place, she thought, had an air of timelessness about it, as if it had grown out of the headland on which it stood amid its encircling pine trees.
As she got out of the car, Kate could smell the resin, and hear the rasp of cicadas in the sunlit, windy air. Through the trees, she could see the turquoise sea far below, dancing with foam-capped waves.
She thought, ‘I was crazy to worry. This is paradise.’
As she turned to look at the villa, the big door swung open, and a woman stood, dramatically framed in the doorway. She was tall and slim, with black hair that hung like a shining curtain down her back. Her skin was magnolia pale, and her almond-shaped eyes were tilted slightly at the corners. Her smiling mouth was painted a deep, sexy crimson, and in her figure-hugging white dress, she looked like some exotic, tropical flower.
Kate’s throat tightened in instant, shocked recognition. She was aware of Mick standing rigidly beside her, his face like stone.
For a moment the newcomer stayed where she was, as if allowing them to fully appreciate the picture she made.
‘Welcome home, cher.’ Her voice was low-pitched and throaty. ‘You shouldn’t have stayed away so long.’
She walked to where Mick was standing, twining her arms round his neck, and kissing him on the lips.
‘Mmm,’ she murmured as she stood back. ‘You taste so good—but then you always did.’
She looked at Kate. ‘And this is your new wife.’ Her eyes flickered over the suit in dark-green silk with a matching camisole that Kate had worn for the journey, and her smile widened. ‘Won’t you introduce me?’
‘I already know who you are,’ Kate said steadily. ‘You’re—Victorine.’
Not gone to ground, as Sandy had said, she thought, her heart pounding sickly, but here on Kefalonia, living in Mick’s home…
But how? Why?
‘I’m flattered.’ Victorine laughed. ‘On the other hand, you, chère, came as a complete surprise to—all of us.’ She looked at Mick, pouting in reproof. ‘Your father wasn’t v
ery pleased with you.’
Mick said harshly, ‘When was he ever?’ He paused. ‘Where is he?’
Victorine shrugged. ‘Waiting in the saloni. It’s quite a family gathering. But you must promise me not to quarrel with him again. Though I’m sure you’ll be on your best behaviour—now that you are married.’
Kate said, coolly and clearly, ‘It was a long flight. I think I’d like to take a shower and change before any more introductions.’
‘But of course.’ Victorine turned to Mick. ‘You have your usual suite in the West wing, cher.’ She paused. ‘Is there any particular room you would like Katherine to have?’
Mick said coldly, ‘My wife sleeps with me.’
The slanting brows lifted. ‘How sweet—and domestic.’ She smiled at Katherine. ‘You have managed to tame him, chère. I congratulate you.’ She lowered her voice confidentially. ‘Michael used to hate to share his bed for the whole night with anyone.’
Kate smiled back at her. ‘Well,’ she said lightly. ‘That proves I’m not just—anyone.’
She walked sedately beside Mick through the wide passages, but under her calm exterior she was seething with a mixture of emotions. Anger was paramount, with bewilderment a close second.
At the end of one corridor were wide double doors, heavily carved. Mick opened them silently, and ushered her through. Kate found herself in an airy spacious sitting room, furnished in dramatic earth colours, with low sofas clustering round a table in heavy glass cut in the shape of a hexagon.
Beyond it was the bedroom, its vast bed draped in a coverlet the colour of green olives, which matched the long curtains at the windows.
Mick strode across the room, and opened another door. He said, ‘The bathroom is here. You will find everything you need.’
‘Including honesty?’ Her voice shook. ‘And some straight talking?’
Mick took off his jacket and tossed it across a chair.
He said shortly, ‘Katharina—we are both jetlagged and out of temper, and I am shortly to have a difficult interview with my father. Oblige me by postponing this discussion.’
She said, ‘No, I think I deserve an explanation now.’ She began to wriggle out of her suit.
His mouth tightened. ‘What do you wish to know?’
She stared at him. ‘You and Victorine—you were lovers. You—you don’t deny that.’
‘No,’ he said coldly. ‘I do not. And isn’t it a little late to start making my past an issue?’
‘Yet now I find her—here—in your home.’ She spread her hands. ‘Why?’
‘She is my father’s mistress.’ His tone was harsh. ‘Does that satisfy your curiosity?’
Kate shook her head. ‘You mean you passed her on—when you had finished with her?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I do not mean that. Victorine makes her own choices. And so does my father.’
‘Did you—love her?’
His brows lifted mockingly. ‘You have seen her, agapi mou,’ he drawled. ‘It must be clear what I felt for her.’
‘And—now?’
‘Now, I am with you, pedhi mou.’
She stared at him. Her voice was almost a whisper. ‘Why did you marry me?’
He said, ‘For a whole number of reasons.’ He looked her over, standing in front of him, wearing only a few scraps of silk and lace, and his mouth twisted. ‘And this is only one of them.’
Two strides brought him to her. Before she could resist, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
She was beating at his chest with her fists. ‘Put me down,’ she ordered breathlessly. ‘Do you hear.’
‘Willingly.’ Mick tossed her on to the mattress, following her down with total purpose, deftly unfastening his clothing.
‘No.’ Kate struggled, trying ineffectively to push him away. ‘Don’t you dare. I won’t…’
‘No, my Kate?’ The dark eyes challenged her, laughter dancing outrageously in their depths. ‘And how are you going to stop me?’
He bent to her, pushing the lacy cup away from her breast with his lips, and allowing his tongue to tease her uncovered nipple, while his hand slid under the silken rim of her briefs.
She said his name on a little sob, and her arms went round her neck, her body opening in heated, moist surrender as he entered her.
When the storm was over, Kate lay beneath him, drained and boneless.
‘What happened?’ Her voice was a shadow.
‘My new cure for jet lag, agapi mou.’ He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I may patent it.’
‘You’ll make another fortune,’ she said weakly. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever move again.’
‘Unfortunately, you must. We have a shower to take, and my father to meet.’ He sat up, raking the sweat-dampened hair back from his forehead. ‘He will not appreciate waiting much longer,’ he added with a touch of grimness.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Of course.’ She watched him disappear into the bathroom and gave a happy sigh, stretching languidly.
Then paused. Because, in reality, she thought frowning, she was no wiser about Victorine—or Mick’s relationship with her, past or present.
Her concerns had been smothered by the most passionate lovemaking she’d experienced for days, but they hadn’t been answered.
And I need answers, she thought, and shivered.
Aristotle Theodakis was standing by the window of the saloni as they came in, a dark figure against the sunlit vista of the sea outside. He turned to regard them frowningly, his whole stance radiating power and a certain aggression.
He was not as tall as his son, Kate saw, but more ruggedly built. His thick hair was silver, and his eyes were brilliant and piercing beneath their heavy brows.
He was undoubtedly a handsome, charismatic man, Kate thought, as she walked across the room towards him, her hand clasped firmly in Mick’s. But she was still amazed that Victorine could have abandoned the son for the father.
She glanced around her, trying to assimilate something of her surroundings. The saloni was a vast room, but furnished with comfort rather than overt luxury. The colours were cool, and clear, and the walls and surfaces uncluttered. One of the few embellishments was a large portrait of a dark-haired woman with a serene face positioned above the huge, empty fireplace, which Kate assumed was the late Regina Theodakis.
She was aware of other people in the room too—a tall fair-haired woman standing quietly beside the fireplace, and, at her side, a much younger girl, with dark hair and eyes, her vibrantly pretty face spoiled by a sullen expression.
Mick halted a couple of yards from his father and inclined his head, coolly and unsmilingly. ‘Papa.’
Aristotle Theodakis did not even glance at Kate. He said in his own language, ‘I have spent months trying to prevent my daughter from making a fool of herself over some penniless nobody. Now, my son does the same thing. I had other plans for you, Michalis.’
Before Mick could reply, Kate said in her clear, careful Greek, ‘Perhaps your children are old enough to decide their own fates, kyrie.’
His head turned abruptly towards her, and she waited to be blasted out of existence. Instead, he said slowly, ‘Po, po po. So, you speak our tongue?’
‘Not very well. But Michael has been teaching me.’
‘Hmm.’ He looked her over, slowly, as if something puzzled him, taking in the simple cream dress she’d changed into. ‘Perhaps he is not as stupid as I thought.’
He stepped forward, opening his arms imperatively and, after a brief hesitation, Mick returned his embrace.
‘Sit down.’ He waved Kate towards one of the wide, deeply cushioned sofas which flanked a low table. ‘Ismene will pour you some iced tea. And for the sake of your wife and Linda, we will speak English, Michalis.’
He indicated the fair woman. ‘Katharina—this is my late wife’s cousin, Linda Howell. She used to be my daughter’s companion.’
‘And she still could be,’ Ismene said petulantly, pouring the tea into tal
l glasses. ‘Why can’t I go and live in her house at Sami?’
‘Because she would be too soft with you,’ her father growled. ‘You would be running off to meet Petros Alessou all the time, and she would do nothing to stop you.’
‘It’s hard to object to Ismene meeting with a young man she’s known since childhood.’ Linda’s voice was quiet, with a slight American drawl. She gave Kate a rueful look as she came to sit beside her. ‘I’m afraid you’ve walked into an ongoing problem.’
‘There is no problem,’ Ari Theodakis scowled. ‘Ismene does not see the Alessou boy, and that is final.’ He snorted. ‘A newly qualified doctor, with only his ideals in the bank. A fine match for my daughter. And the problems it has caused with his father.’ He threw up his hands. ‘I haven’t had a decent game of backgammon in weeks.’
He looked at Kate. ‘Do you play?’
‘No,’ lied Kate who had seen the speed and ferocity that the Greeks brought to the game, and didn’t fancy her chances.
‘Then Michalis can teach you that too—in the evenings while you are waiting for my grandson to be born.’
There was a sudden devastating silence. Kate gasped. ‘Mr Theodakis—there isn’t—I’m not…’ She paused, aware her cheeks were burning, and turned to Mick whose expression was like stone.
‘Of course not,’ Linda said soothingly. ‘Ari—you’re impossible,’ she added sternly. ‘Why, the children are still on honeymoon.’
His shrug was unrepentant. ‘Then why the hasty marriage?’
‘Because there was no reason to wait.’ Mick’s tone was silky, but there was danger in it too. ‘And I thought, Papa, that you wished me to be married—settled in life. You—and your supporters on the Theodakis board.’
‘I did. I do.’ Ari Theodakis frowned. ‘But a man needs children to give him real stability.’
‘Yes,’ Mick said quietly. ‘But in our own good time—not yours.’
‘Well, it’s just not fair,’ Ismene burst out. ‘I’m not allowed to see Petros, yet Michalis has married someone without money, and Papa did not interfere.’
Mick’s face relaxed slightly. ‘Only because I did not give him the opportunity, little sister.’