by Sara Craven
He said quietly, ‘I am beginning to understand that. I confess that I thought a—romp could be a start for us. A new beginning. But I see now that there is no hope.’
He paused. ‘I will tell Soula to take all your clothing and belongings to your own room after all. Then you need never set foot in here again.’ He turned away. ‘Now go.’
All Kate really wanted to do was crawl into her room, and hide in some dark corner while she licked her wounds.
But that was impossible. Even though she was dying inside, she had to salvage her pride—to pretend she didn’t care. That Michael no longer had the power to hurt her.
She’d said she was going to spend some time by the pool, and that she would do, she resolved, straightening shoulders that ached with tension. Even if it killed her.
She stripped, and put on her bikini. The golden tan which she’d acquired earlier in the summer still lingered, she thought, subjecting herself to a critical scrutiny in the long wall mirror.
But, she was still losing weight. When she’d married Michael, her figure had been nicely rounded in all the right places. Now she could count the bones in her ribcage.
But, even at her best, she’d never come near Victorine’s sinuously voluptuous quality, she thought, biting into her lower lip.
And her performance in bed would never match the sultry Creole’s either.
That was a painful truth she could not avoid.
She was married to a passionate, experienced man, who had taken her for his own reasons. And, for him, the gift of her loving heart would never have been enough.
He wanted more, she thought. The kind of sophisticated playmate he’d been accustomed to in the past. Something she could never be.
Of course, he’d been endlessly patient with her in those first months, but, however willing the pupil, it was probably inevitable that he’d become bored with being the teacher. And the novelty had worn off for him long ago.
But that didn’t mean she would ever accede to his cynical suggestion that she go along with this smokescreen marriage she’d been tricked into. Turn a blind eye to his amours for the prestige of being Mrs Michael Theodakis.
She felt tears prick at her eyelids, and fought them back.
This might be the norm for marriage in the circles Michael Theodakis moved in, but it would never do for her. She cared too much, which no doubt rendered her doubly unfashionable. And no amount of money or luxury was going to change a thing.
Sighing, she trailed out into the sunshine.
It might be the day from hell, she thought, unhappily, as she adjusted the umbrella over her lounger and stretched out on the cushions, but there was still the evening, with the inevitable family dinner to endure somehow.
And Victorine…
There hadn’t been a glimpse of her so far, or a mention, but Kate knew the other woman would simply be biding her time, waiting for the most destructive moment. She shivered. The sun was still warm, but the memory of that other hot, golden day hung over her like a shadow, impossible to dispel.
She’d run down through the pines that day with wings on her feet, on fire to see Mick—to throw herself into his arms and resolve the differences that had caused them to part in anger.
She’d been stupid to make the matter of her travelling with him into an issue. She should have been persuasive rather than confrontational. But when she realised that he meant what he said, and she was not going with him to New York, she’d simply lost her temper.
‘I’m not some submissive wife,’ she’d hurled at him. ‘You can’t just dump me in any convenient backwater while you go off roaming the world.’
‘My work involves travel,’ Mick snapped back. ‘You know this. You have always known it, so why the fuss?’
‘Because we’re married, and I want to be with you—not spending my life alone in some different part of the universe. I’m your partner, Mick, not your housekeeper. Or your mother,’ she added recklessly.
And because we were happy in New York, she thought. Because we were by ourselves with no family around—or memories of the past…
His face closed. ‘We will leave my mother out of the discussion, if you please. She was content with her life.’
‘Was she?’ Kate asked bitterly. ‘I’d like to have her ruling on that. Just because she knew her place, it doesn’t follow she was happy with it.’
The dark brows drew together. ‘You go too far, my girl. And you would be alone anyway on this trip. I have already told you I would have no time to give you, or your reproaches, when you tell me that you’re bored,’ he added bitingly.
‘I presume you’d be coming home to sleep at some point?’ Kate glared at him. ‘I’d be with you then. Or is that the problem?’ she went on recklessly. ‘Are you not planning to spend all your nights in the same bed, kyrie? Is that why you don’t want me with you—because I might cramp your style?’
His face was like stone. ‘Now you are being ridiculous,’ he said harshly. ‘And insulting. I have given you my reasons. Let that be the end of it.’
She said shakily, ‘Don’t tempt me…’
Her words dropped like stones into the taut silence.
Mick sighed. ‘Katharina mou, I swear I will be back before you know it.’
‘Oh, please.’ Her voice radiated scorn. ‘Don’t hurry back on my account.’
That night, when he tried to take her in his arms, she’d turned away from him. ‘I have a headache.’
There was a silence, then he said coldly, ‘That is a lie, and we both know it. But let it be as you wish. I will not plead.’
And when she’d woken the next morning, he’d gone.
‘Kyrios Michalis told us that you were unwell, kyria,’
Soula said, her forehead wrinkled with concern. ‘And that we were to let you sleep.’
She said quietly, ‘That was—considerate of him.’
But she couldn’t fool herself. Not for a minute. For the first time, she and Mick had parted in anger and silence, and it hurt.
Nor was it any consolation to remind herself that it wasn’t just a tiff, but a matter of principle.
I didn’t handle it well, she told herself ruefully. And the headache thing was just stupid. All I’ve done is deprive myself of some beautiful memories to help me through his absence.
She sighed.
She’d have to make sure his welcome home was just perfect, which shouldn’t be too difficult—especially if he was missing her as much as she was already longing for him.
As soon as he calls, she thought, I’ll tell him so. Put things right between us.
But the first time he telephoned, she was visiting Linda.
‘He was sorry to have missed you, pedhi mou,’ Ari told her, and Kate made a secret resolve to stay round the villa and await his next call, however long it took.
But this plan misfired too, for, a few evenings later, her father-in-law informed her that Mick had telephoned during the afternoon.
‘Why did no one ring me at the beach house?’ she protested. ‘I’ve been there all day.’
‘It was only a brief call,’ Ari said soothingly. ‘And I thought also you had gone to Argostoli.’
She caught a glimpse of Victorine’s catlike smile, and knew exactly who had sown that little piece of misinformation.
She managed a casual, smiling shrug. ‘Ah well, better luck next time.’
But she wouldn’t trust to luck, she decided grimly. Not with a joker like Victorine in the pack. She would phone their New York apartment herself. But her calls were fruitless, because, as he’d predicted, he was never there.
And in spite of herself, she could not help wondering where he was—and who he might be with…
‘You’re looking a little ragged round the edges, honey,’ Linda told her critically one day.
‘Is that all?’ Kate forced a smile. ‘According to Victorine, I’ve lost what few looks I ever possessed. Not a day goes by without some snide remark,’ she added smoulderingly
.
Linda sighed. ‘The woman is poison. Men can be so damned blind sometimes…’ She paused. ‘Anyway, Mick wouldn’t want you to mope.’
Kate sighed. ‘I’m not sure I know what Mick wants any more.’
‘Theodakis men are never predictable.’ Linda’s tone was wry. ‘It’s part of their charm.’
She was silent for a moment. ‘I’m going across to Ithaca tomorrow to collect some pots a friend of mine has made for me. Come with me.’ Her eyes twinkled suddenly. ‘After all, Ithaca’s the island where Penelope waited all those years for Odysseus to come back. Maybe it’ll put things in perspective for you.’
Kate smiled reluctantly. ‘Not if I remember correctly some of the things Odysseus got up to on his travels. But I’d love to come.’
It would be good to get right away from the villa for a few hours, she thought. Ismene had relapsed into a slough of simmering discontent which made the atmosphere disagreeable enough without the addition of Victorine’s softly-spoken jibes.
Much as she liked her father-in-law, he was no judge of women, she thought. Then paused, her heart thudding, as she remembered that Mick had been equally culpable in that particular respect.
After all, he chose her first, she thought, biting her lip.
‘Come to the beach with me?’ Ismene pleaded in an undertone at breakfast the next day. ‘I need to talk to you, sister. To ask your advice.’
‘I can’t, Ismene. I’m going to Ithaca with Linda.’ Kate said. She was faintly ashamed of her relief that she had a get-out. Besides, she reminded herself, she had already given Ismene the best possible advice many times—to be patient, and to try not to antagonise her father any more.
She turned to Ari. ‘I hope that’s all right. I’ll be back for dinner.’
He waved an expansive hand. ‘Enjoy your day, pedhi mou. I shall not be here either. An old friend of mine is staying near Skala, and we are going fishing together.’ He looked at Victorine who was crumbling a bread roll and looking exquisitely bored. ‘Are you sure you will not come with us, chrisaphi mou.’
Victorine shuddered elaborately. ‘I’m sorry, cher, but I can think of nothing worse. Except, perhaps, a trip to Ithaca,’ she added, flicking a derisive glance at Kate.
‘Then it’s fortunate we didn’t invite you,’ Kate said sweetly, as she rose to her feet.
But, in the hallway, she was waylaid by Yannis. ‘The telephone for you, kyria.’
Could it be Mick? Kate wondered, her heart lurching in sudden excitement. She glanced at her watch, trying to work out the time difference as she lifted the receiver, but it was Linda’s voice that reached her.
‘Kate, honey, we’re going to have to take a rain check on the Ithaca thing. I’m starting a migraine, so I’ll be out of things for at least two days.’
‘Oh, Linda, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?’
‘Not a thing.’ Linda gave a weak chuckle. ‘I just need to lie down in the usual darkened room, and take my medication. I’ll be in touch when I’m better.’
Kate replaced the receiver and stood irresolute for a moment. She could always stay at home, she supposed, but then she was bound to be buttonholed by Ismene with another list of complaints about her father’s tyranny, and she wasn’t sure she could cope.
I have my own problems, she thought sighing.
And it might also be difficult to avoid Victorine, and the constant pinpricks she liked to inflict on Kate’s already sensitised skin.
So she would use her day of freedom to go for a drive, she decided. To revisit some of the places Mick had shown her in happier times. And, to try and get her head together.
The holiday season was in full swing now, so she avoided the usual tourist spots, and drove up into the Mount Enos national park. She left her car near the tourist pavilion, and walked up through the dark firs to the summit. There was no mist today, and she could see the neighbouring island of Zakynthos rising majestically out of the turquoise and azure sea, and, further to the east, the mountains of the Peleponnese.
The air was like spring water from a crystal glass. It was very still. No voices—just the faint sigh of the breeze in the clustering trees, and the distant drone of an aircraft making its descent.
She looked, up, shading her eyes, to track its progress, and suddenly Mick was there with her, his image so strong that she could have put out a hand and touched him.
The clustering islands blurred, and the iridescent glitter of the sea broke into tiny fragments as the tears came.
She whispered brokenly, ‘Michalis mou.’
She knew in that moment that whatever their differences, however great the apparent difficulties, she would do anything to make her marriage work.
Mick would never fit some Identikit New Man pattern of the ideal husband. In spite of his cosmopolitan background, he was too fiercely Greek for that. But, if he beckoned, she would walk through fire for him, and that was all that really mattered.
There would have to be adjustments, and these would need to be mutual, because she was no doormat, but she felt more at peace, and more hopeful than she had done for weeks.
She drove down with care to the main road, and turned north. She had a leisurely stroll along the beautiful Myrtos beach, then drove on to Assos for a seafood lunch.
When she got back to the villa, she decided as she drank her coffee, she would get on the phone to New York, and stay on it until she’d spoken to Mick, and told him she loved him. She’d call the apartment, the office—even his favourite restaurant if she had to, but she’d find him.
Or, she would take the first flight she could get to America and tell him in person.
I’ll get Yannis to call the airline, she thought in sudden excitement. He can make me a reservation. And I’ll do it now.
There was a telephone in the taverna, but, before she could tell Yannis what she was planning, he had burst into excited speech. ‘Kyria Katharina, it is so good that you have rung. Because Kyrios Michalis is here. He returned two hours ago. He asked for you, and I told him you had gone to Ithaca.’
‘That didn’t happen, Yannis. I’m at Assos instead, and I’m coming straight back. But please don’t tell him. I want to surprise him.’
‘You are coming back from Assos, and you wish to make it a surprise, kyria,’ he repeated, and she knew he was smiling. ‘I understand. I will say nothing.’
As she drove back, she remembered the aircraft she’d heard on the mountain—the certainty that Mick was with her.
I must have sensed that was his plane, she thought wonderingly.
She’d been in such a hurry to see Mick, she’d left the keys in the car, hurtling recklessly down the track to the beach house.
She was breathless, laughing as she’d opened the bedroom door. And seen, in one frozen, devastating moment, the end of her marriage, and the ruin of her happiness. The death of faith and trust. The total destruction of every cherished hope and dream she’d ever had.
Or ever would have.
Because until she could stop loving Mick, cut him out of her heart and mind forever, she would be unable to move on.
And she knew now, with a terrible certainty, that, in spite of what he’d done, it wasn’t over yet.
Because nothing had changed, she thought despairingly. This was the truth she had to face.
That, God help her, she was doomed to love him for all eternity.
CHAPTER TEN
KATE wrapped her arms round her body, stifling the involuntary moan of pain forcing its way to her lips as she remembered Victorine’s mocking smile, and the way she’d allowed the encircling towel to slip down from her bare breasts.
How she’d glanced at the bed, where Mick lay face down, his naked body totally relaxed in sexual exhaustion, as if to silently emphasise the totality of the betrayal.
Of course, I was supposed to be on Ithaca, Kate thought. And Ari was out on his friend’s boat. They must have thought they were safe—that it was the perfect opportunity.
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But how many times before that? How many snatched hours had there been?
There was Athens, of course. Victorine had practically flaunted that red flag in front of her.
So many signs. So many signals that she’d been too naïve—too trusting—too damned stupid to pick up.
She bit into her lip. The earthquake of realisation might be over, but the aftershock still lingered. The agony of accepting that her marriage had only ever been a cynical charade to conceal Mick’s secret passion for his father’s woman—the flamboyant, sensual beauty he had never ceased to want.
There was no one she thought bitterly, whom he would not betray in his pursuit of Victorine.
But he would not consider that he’d short-changed his convenient wife in any way. After all, she’d had his name, his money, and sex on demand—she would no longer call it love-making—so what more could she possibly want?
I wanted love, she thought achingly. The one thing he never offered.
Had it never occurred to either of them that she might carry her pain and shock to Aristotle Theodakis? That this reckless, forbidden passion might have robbed Mick of his other major ambition—to rule the Theodakis empire?
Or had he counted on Kate’s innate sense of decency to keep him safe? The knowledge that she would not willingly involve anyone else in her suffering—especially the father-in-law who had treated her with such unfailing kindness?
But then Mick liked to take chances—in his business as well as his personal life. For him, that would have been just one more justified risk.
Like bringing her back here…
Her throat was dry and aching. She got up from the lounger, and trailed wearily into the house. She needed a cool drink.
In the kitchen refrigerator she found a tall jug of fresh lemonade, and she filled a tumbler, and added ice cubes.
She’d just taken a long, grateful swallow, when she heard footsteps approaching quickly along the tiled hallway and Victorine appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a brief white skirt, and a low-cut silk top in her favourite deep pink.