by Sara Craven
With a little sigh of capitulation, Kate slid her arms up around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
She was no longer a separate entity, she realised, but part of him. Indivisibly. Unequivocally. Bound to him in some mysterious region of the senses where logic, commonsense—even decency—counted for nothing.
Where the only truth was that he was her man, and she was his woman, and she would burn for him until the end of eternity.
She could count every day, every moment, every second that they had been apart. Recall every night when her imagination had brought him hauntingly back to her.
She could think of nothing—remember nothing—anticipate nothing but the glide of his hands on her naked skin delighting every pulse, every nerve. The lingering arousal of his mouth. The moment when her starved body would open to receive him.
She was dimly aware that the music had stopped—had been replaced by another sound.
As she raised her head uncertainly she realised with shock that she and Mick now had the floor to themselves, and the sound she could hear was applause from the other guests, clustering round to watch them in laughing, vociferous approval.
Bringing her back with a bump to sudden, stark reality.
Kate’s face flamed in horrified embarrassment, and she tried to tug free, bent on flight, but Mick was holding her too firmly.
‘Smile, agapi mou,’ he murmured, acknowledging the plaudits with mocking self-deprecation.
She said between her teeth, as she obeyed, ‘You’ll stop at nothing, will you?’
‘At very little, certainly.’ He spun her round, away from him, then pulled her close, his lips taking hers in a brief hard kiss. ‘And before tonight is over, you will be glad of it, my wife,’ he added softly. ‘This nonsense between us is over, and you are coming back to my bed where you belong.’
He released her, and she walked away from him, trying not to run. At the edge of the floor, she nearly collided with someone. She glanced up, her lips shaping an apology, and saw it was Victorine, her eyes glittering with malice and derision.
She held Kate’s arms above the elbow, and leaned forward as if to embrace her.
‘That was good, chère,’ she breathed in her ear. ‘What a pity Michalis has to run the Theodakis corporation. He would have made such a wonderful actor.’
Kate shook her off, uncaring who might see, and pushed past. She had to fight her way out of the room. Everyone wanted to speak to her, it seemed, and shake hands. But, at last, she won free, and found a quiet corner where she could recover her equilibrium a little.
She asked a passing waiter to bring her some fruit juice, and stood, sipping it, relishing its coolness against her parched throat, as Mick’s parting words ran mad circles in her brain.
It was some new game he was playing. It had to be. He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be. Because they had a deal. A bargain.
But all the same, she wouldn’t waste any time getting away. Not the airport this time, but one of the ferries. It didn’t matter which. Nothing mattered very much. Not any more.
And because of that, she could go back into the saloni this one last time, and act as the hostess. She could talk to people, and dance with anyone who asked her. And she would not—not let herself think of Mick’s arms, and the familiar strength and urgency of his body.
No, she thought. She would never think of that again. And one day, her mind would have ground the image of him into such tiny particles that she would actually be able to forget him, and start to live again.
It was dawn before the party ended, and the last stalwarts made their way to their rooms, or were driven to the nearby hotels.
She saw Mick go into the study with his father, laughing, their arms round each other’s shoulders, and drew a deep breath. She would never have a better opportunity.
She slid out of the house, and went down through the quiet pines to the beach house.
There was a chill in the air, heralding an autumn she would never see. And a chill in her heart that no sun could ever warm.
Once in her room, she drew a steadying breath. It was time to go.
She took Mick’s diamonds from her ears and throat, and replaced them in their cases, then removed her wedding dress, and hung it back in the closet.
She would take with her only what she had brought, she decided, slipping on her robe, and fastening its sash.
She found her smallest travel bag, and began to fill it with underwear and shoes. She still had money left over from the Athens trip, and her car keys.
But not her passport, she realised with sudden dismay. Mick had that. She could remember him slipping it into the inside pocket of the jacket he’d been wearing.
Oh, let it still be there, she thought with panic. Don’t let him have locked it in the desk up at the villa.
She trod barefoot down the passage, and went into his room, trying unsuccessfully to remember which coat it had been. Well, she would simply have to look in all of them, she thought sighing. Starting with the one hanging on the back of the chair.
‘Tidying up for me, agapi mou?’ His voice from the doorway behind her made her jump, and she whirled, holding his jacket against her like a shield. ‘Maria will complain.’
He came further into the room, and kicked the door shut behind him. He was in his shirt sleeves, his tie hanging loose, his coat slung over one shoulder. And he was smiling.
He said softly, ‘So you are here at last.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘You—you’re mistaken. I came to look for something.’
‘And so did I.’ He tossed his jacket and tie on to the empty chair, and began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving hers.
‘What are you doing?’ Her voice sounded high, unnatural.
‘Taking off my clothes. I usually do before I go to bed. And then, matia mou, I shall undress you.’
Kate backed away. ‘Don’t come near me,’ she said hoarsely.
‘But that wouldn’t work.’ He dropped his shirt to the floor, and unzipped his pants. ‘For what I intend, my Kate, we need to be gloriously, intimately close. As we used to be, such a short time ago. Before I made you angry and you decided you hated me.’
She said passionately, ‘But I do hate you. And I am not—not going to allow you to do this.’
He sighed. ‘Kate, I was your lover for six exquisite months. I know your body as well as I know my own. I can feel your response when I touch you, and while we were dancing tonight, you wanted me.’
‘No.’ She wanted the denial to be fierce, but instead it sounded as if she was pleading. ‘You can’t do this.’
‘I must,’ he said almost gently. ‘Because without you, agapi mou, I am dying inside. I need you to heal me. To make me whole again.’
He took her in his arms, the naked heat of his body permeating her thin robe.
He said softly, ‘Don’t fight me, Kate. I am so very tired of fighting.’ And then he kissed her.
His lips were a seduction in themselves, moving warmly and persuasively on hers, coaxing them apart, while his hands untied her sash, and pushed the concealing robe from her shoulders. Her eyes closed and she surrendered, allowing him the access he desired to the sweet moisture of her mouth.
Then he lifted her, and carried her to the bed, lying beside her as his long supple fingers began to rediscover her. And the scraps of silk and lace she was wearing were no barrier at all.
When he kissed her again, she responded swiftly, ardently, making her own feverish demands.
The tips of her bared breasts grazed his chest. Her hands sought him. Enclosed him.
And she felt, in her turn, the shiver of his touch on her thighs, and heard herself moan softly in need.
He whispered, ‘No, agapi mou. You take me.’
And he turned on to his back, lifting her above him. Over him.
Her possession of him was slow and sweet, her body closing round him like the petals of a flower as she filled herself with him deeply, gloriously
.
And he lay watching her, the breath catching in his throat as he caressed her, his fingertips brushing subtly across her flesh, making the pink nipples pucker and lift.
His hands stroked the length of her body from her shoulders to her flanks, and back again, tracing the vulnerable curve of her spine so that her body arched in sudden delight.
She began to move on him slowly, savouring every distinct, separate sensation, then increased the rhythm, hearing his breathing change as she did so.
She controlled him like a moon with a tidal sea, using her body like an instrument to bring him pleasure.
And then, before she was even prepared for it, all control was gone, and their locked bodies were straining frantically together seeking a consummation.
She heard him gasp her name, and answered him wordlessly as they took each other over the edge, and down into the abyss.
Afterwards, he slept in her arms, and she held him, as the slow tears edged out from under her lashes, and scalded her face.
Then quietly, inch by inch, she eased herself away from him, towards the edge of the bed. She found her robe, and put it on, then retrieved her underwear.
Moving gingerly, she opened the closet door, and began to search through his clothes for her passport.
It was nearly ten minutes before she found it. Ten precious moments of early morning turning into broad daylight, and increasing the risk of discovery.
She took one last look at Mick’s sleeping figure.
She thought, ‘Goodbye, my love’ and knew that her heart was weeping. Then she slipped quietly out of the door, and back to her room.
She collected fresh undies, and a straight cream skirt with a black short-sleeved top, then went into the bathroom to shower and dress, and collect her toiletries.
The house was still quiet, and there was no sign of Maria. Maybe everyone was sleeping late today. So far, so good, thought Kate and went quickly and cautiously across the passage and into her room.
Mick was standing by the window. He’d dressed in denim pants and a polo shirt, and his arms were folded across his chest.
She halted, her throat closing in panic. She said huskily, ‘I thought you were asleep.’
‘I missed you beside me,’ he said. ‘And it woke me.’
He looked from her to the hastily packed travel bag, his mouth curling.
He said quietly, ‘Were you planning to leave me another note, Katharina? What would this one have said, I wonder?’
‘The same as the last one.’ She flung back her head. ‘That our marriage was a mistake, and I can’t stay with you.’
‘Nor can you leave,’ he said. ‘Not now. Because a little while ago, we may have given our child life.’
She stared at him. ‘No.’ Her voice shook. ‘That’s—not possible.’
He sighed. ‘You cannot be that naïve. But the point is this. I want to make a baby with you, if not now, then in the future. And I intend our child to grow up with both parents.’
She said slowly, ‘You want a child? But why now—of all times? You’ve always refused to consider it before.’ She paused. ‘Oh, I understand. I suppose my replacement doesn’t want to be pregnant. Doesn’t want to spoil her wonderful figure. So, you’ll just use me instead.’ She gave a small, hysterical laugh. ‘My God, I should have seen that coming.’
He said impatiently, ‘You’re talking like a crazy woman. What replacement in the name of God?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘But if you want to know why I hesitated over a baby, it was because I was scared.’
‘You—scared?’ Kate stared up at him in patent unbelief. ‘Oh what, pray?’
He said roughly, ‘Of losing you, pedhi mou, as I lost my mother. If she had not given birth to Ismene and myself, she could have been alive today. But the strain of it weakened her heart.’
‘And you thought that might happen to me? That’s absurd.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I prefer my own version. That you want a child, and you know Victorine won’t give you one.’
‘Victorine?’ he repeated. ‘What does she have to do with all this.’
‘She’s your mistress.’ At last she’d made herself say the word. ‘And she’s going to be your wife, once you’ve got rid of me and taken over the company. So there’s no room for me. And if I am having a baby, I’m damned if I’ll surrender it to you to bring up—with her. The stepmother from hell.’
Mick said slowly, ‘Why, in the name of God, should I marry Victorine? Yes, we were involved—once. You knew that. But it is long over. And will never be resumed.’
She said, ‘That isn’t true. Because you were here with her—on the day you came back from the States. When you thought I was in Ithaca. I found you together, both of you naked. In—that other room. In that bed—where we…’ She couldn’t finish the sentence.
He stared at her. ‘You—found us having sex?’
‘No,’ Kate said. ‘It was just the aftermath, but it had the same kind of punch. You were asleep on the bed, and she’d been having a shower. Neither of you were wearing any clothes.’ Her voice shook. ‘She—suggested I should—knock in future.’
He was very still. ‘So, possessing this indisputable evidence, maybe you would prefer it if I left, and took Victorine with me.’
‘I don’t think she’d go.’
‘No?’ His smile chilled her. ‘Well, let us see.’
He took Kate by the wrist, and marched her to the door. She struggled a little.
‘Let me go. Where are you taking me?’
‘We’re going up to the villa,’ he said. ‘To ask her.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘MICK, you can’t do this.’ Kate stumbled in his wake as he strode up the track towards the villa. ‘You’ll ruin everything for yourself. Lose everything you’ve worked for.’
‘You speak as if that matters,’ he threw over his shoulder at her. ‘There are worse losses.’
‘But think what it will do to your father,’ she panted. ‘Even if he did take her away from you, he doesn’t deserve that kind of humiliation.’
‘Now there we differ. A man who does that deserves everything he gets.’ He walked into the villa’s hallway, pulling Kate behind him, and paused. ‘I presume they will still be in their suite at this time.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But please stop and think before you go in there.’
‘What is there to think about?’ Mick swung round, his eyes blazing. ‘According to you, my passion for Victorine has corrupted my mind—my sense of honour. Therefore, I no longer have to consider the consequences of my actions.’
Kate said shakily, ‘In that case, I’d rather stay here.’
‘But you cannot,’ he said. ‘Because this is the moment when all your reasons for leaving me will be totally confirmed. When your condemnation of me for a liar and an adulterer will be completely justified.
‘So, you should be there, agapi mou. It is not something you can afford to miss. Come.’
Kate went with him because she had no choice. She was trembling as he knocked imperatively at his father’s door, and heard him call, ‘Enter.’
They found Ari lying on the sofa, in dressing gown and pyjamas, reading a newspaper, with a pot of coffee beside him.
He put down his book and studied them frowning slightly. ‘Is this not a little early for social calls? All our guests are still asleep.’
‘I am aware of that,’ Mick said brusquely. ‘But I have a matter to deal with which will not wait. I need to speak to Victorine urgently.’
Ari’s frown deepened. ‘She is also sleeping. Perhaps I can give her a message for you—at some more reasonable time?’
‘No,’ Mick said. ‘I need to talk to her. We have been having a passionate affair behind your back, you understand, and I have decided to ask her to go away with me.’
Kate folded her arms across her body, feeling suddenly sick. She waited for the explosion, but it didn’t come.
Instead, Ari said composedly, ‘I see now why thi
s cannot wait. I will fetch her.’
He rose and went into the bedroom and, a few minutes later, Victorine emerged. She was wearing a black lace nightgown with a matching peignoir clutched round her.
Her hair was a mess and Kate noticed with pleasure that her eyes were puffy.
‘What is this, cher?’ She seated herself on the sofa, disposing her draperies with conscious elegance. She was smiling, but her eyes were wary. ‘Ari says you want me.’
‘More than life itself, it seems,’ Mick said. ‘So much so, that I have wrecked my marriage for you. And now I am here to put an end to all this hidden passion and deceit, and admit our love openly.’
Victorine stiffened. She said. ‘What are you talking about? Have you gone mad?’
‘I have simply decided that nothing matters more than our love.’ Mick shrugged. ‘Naturally, I shall have to resign from the Theodakis Corporation, when the press learn the truth. But that will simply give me more time to devote to you, my dear Victorine, and your career. It is fortunate that you have an alternative source of income. I have become used to certain standards.’
He smiled blandly at her. ‘So, if you will pack your things, we can be leaving.’
She said hoarsely, ‘Tu es fou. You are crazy—or drunk. What nonsense is this?’
‘No nonsense, my sweet. Have you forgotten that Kate found us enjoying an illicit afternoon of love together? I think—I really think you should have mentioned to me that she saw us. It explains so much.’
Victorine looked at Kate, her face ugly. ‘She is lying,’ she said. ‘She is trying to make trouble for me.’ She turned to Ari, who was standing beside her, his face expressionless. ‘Cher, you do not believe this ridiculous story?’
‘You were in our bedroom,’ Kate said steadily. ‘Mick was asleep, and you were combing your hair. You had a towel on, and nothing else. And you told me to knock in future.’
‘No.’ Victorine’s voice rose. ‘None of this is true. You are making it up—to blacken me in Ari’s eyes. But it will not work.’
‘Are you telling me you have forgotten it all?’ Mick asked reproachfully. ‘The passion we shared? The promises we made to each other?’