Love in a cottage, Sandra thought wistfully, was not something Stein considered. And he seemed to be constantly forgetting that theirs was not meant to be a permanent relationship, while she grew tired of reminding him. When she did it only gave him the opportunity to declare that he could discard her whenever it suited him.
'Thyra and I will get on very well,' she assured him stiffly, declining to make any comment on her future position in England. Thyra looked a kindly woman and had given Sandra no reason to think she disapproved of her not being a real wife. The things Stein had said about a normal Greek wedding night faded uneasily from her mind. Thyra clearly didn't believe it was any of her business. Or was it, perhaps, that she was too absorbed in the problems of her own family to worry about those of another?
There was no pool here, so they bathed in the sea. Stein had found her down on the beach, early on the morning of their second day. The hot drink she had indulged in the night before hadn't seemed to work, and rather than lie awake any longer she had got up and come down here. Idly she had been standing watching the blue Aegean lap the white sands, wondering carelessly if there were any unknown hazards. The air was beautiful, mild and warm with no wind, the promise of summer everywhere. Everything within her began to respond, she felt herself slowly relax as the confusing tensions of the night fell away from her.
Not hearing Stein approach, she was startled as she swung around. He wore only the briefest of trunks, they looked as if they had been dug out for her benefit, something he had once worn when he was much younger and slimmer. They fitted closely around his now very masculine hips and she felt her eyes wandering widely over his lightly tanned body.
It was apparent he intended to swim. 'Oh, Stein,' she breathed, suddenly worried out of her guilty absorption as he paused beside her, 'you can't be thinking of going in?' 'Why not?' His mouth curled with such derisive amusement she was glad he
couldn't see her pale cheeks.
'There must be danger for — for someone like you,' she insisted bravely. 'I heard someone on Corfu talking of sharks.'
'You're much too susceptible to rumour,' he quipped. 'Of course there are hazards everywhere in the world. If we stopped
to think of them all we'd never get anywhere. I used to swim very frequently at night when the only light was the merest touch of phosphorescence. This is best seen on moonlight nights in late August and September, but often I've known every ripple outlined with darting sparkles of greenish fire. Occasionally I seemed to be lost in the middle of countless millions of green sparks, like a baptism of variegated fireworks.'
‘Don’t they burn? ’
'No, of course not,' his mouth softened, as it sometimes did when he talked of the past or was more tolerant of her young uncertainty, 'but they can give that impression. In fact the sensation can be extremely convincing, so that on bad nights one doesn't usually loiter. Naturally there's never any actual fire, that's only in the imagination. Certainly one couldn't be hurt by it and this phosphorescent sea is well worth seeing.'
'I don't suppose we'll be here at that time of the year,' she said wistfully, 'unless you haven't finished your book.' 'We may have to return to England before that,' he replied. Then, without giving her a chance to ask why, he had exclaimed, 'Aren't you coming in?'
She had gone swimming with him because it had seemed foolish not to. Apart from that she couldn't bear to think of him, perhaps in difficulties, out there alone. She was a good swimmer, thanks to expert tuition at school and, afterwards, the local baths, and she managed to stay at Stein's side, although she suspected he regulated his more powerful strokes to comply with hers.
The water was warm but buoyant and she enjoyed that first swim immensely, and was thrilled by Stein's smile of approval when they reached the shore again.
'You're good. When a girl of your age swims as you do it usually means she's interested.'
'Yes, I am,' she replied eagerly, managing to pass him his towel without looking at him too directly. The sight of his strong, lean body dripping with water seemed to do strange things to her pulse. Without thinking, she added, 'I should like to try surfing.'
'Sorry,' he froze back to his usual hardness, 'that's out for me at the moment and I couldn't allow you to go alone, not as a learner. Nor do I want you asking Panos to teach you. He's something of an expert, but over-fond of taking risks —risks I don't particularly want my wife running.'
'Oh—it's me who should be sorry for suggesting it.' She had been stricken with remorse for blundering so. It shouldn't be so difficult to remember all the things Stein could no longer do!
'Forget it,' he'd said curtly. 'You can't help being a stupid little fool. Just keep it in your head that I won't allow surfing.'
Stung by his disparagement, she retorted sharply, 'The list of things you won't allow grows daily, and to an amazing length, considering ours is not a real marriage.' 'Whose fault is that?' He scrubbed his towel harshly over broad shoulders. 'Yours and your despicable cousin's, if you're looking for names.'
'You can't forget, can you!'
Suddenly they were quarrelling fiercely, her voice unsteady but determined, his insultingly vindictive. 'I'm wiser not to.'
Sandra clutched her own towel to her skimpy bikini protectively. 'I don't think you'd have been happy with Alexandra, and I believe you know it. These last few days ------ '
Suddenly, to her despair, he grabbed her, his hands clamping
her bare shoulders like a kind of punishment. 'Yes? I'd be interested to know what conclusions you've come to about these last few days. Don't stop there.'
'None!' She'd tried to wriggle free, but when she didn't succeed, she stopped struggling. This, she had learnt, only incited him. He hadn't directly answered her question, but she might as well answer his. 'You don't act like a man in the throes of unrequited love!'
'Dear me,' he jibed, 'you sound like a lost line out of Shakespeare. Maybe you think I'm more bent on avenging a new one?'
Bitterly she agreed, 'It's more than likely you're subconsciously seeking revenge on me, but you shouldn't lay the whole blame on my shoulders. Your own actions, as much as anything else, must be keeping you from your true love.' His
voice became icy. 'What a glib little tongue you have! So you believe that in marrying you I've inadvertently sacrificed the hope of marrying anyone else, But haven't you just said ours is not a real marriage? You forget I arranged it for convenience, not love, and that it's soon to be dissolved.'
'You don't consider anyone but yourself, do you?' She recalled Sophy's angry face at their wedding with regret. 'I'm sure Sophy doesn't appreciate your devious tactics.' 'No one appears to, so why should I worry about any one of you?' he ground out. His face darkened as he slid firm hands down her damp arms, ignoring her reference to Sophy. 'Maybe I shouldn't try to be so stringent with myself. Why shouldn't I indulge myself for a change? Your opinion of me, it seems, couldn't be worse.'
He had kissed her then, much to her angry surprise, in a manner she found humiliating but exciting. It was like being exposed to a positive avalanche of indescribable feelings, yet all over so quickly there was no time to explore any one of them. On regaining her senses she had found herself standing inches away from him, only his harsh voice taunting her.
'You're like strong wine, girl. You could go to my head if I had too much of you, and that could only lead to complications.'
Now, remembering, Sandra turned restlessly in her bed. It had happened four days ago, but try as she might she couldn't forget it, just as she seemed unable to put from her mind anything that had taken place between them since. Stein's ambiguous remarks were the worst to put up with but, if it was any consolation, work-wise she seemed to satisfy him.
Unhappily she turned over yet again, grabbing impatiently at a sliding sheet, wondering just where this strange marriage might take her. Stein was only beginning the third chapter of his book, they could be here a long time, for all he said otherwise. Somehow she wasn't sure she cou
ld stand it.
She must have dropped off and, like most sudden awakenings, was not sure what had aroused her. There was nothing disturbing, the silence and darkness not being eerie, so she couldn't think what could have been responsible. Perhaps her imagination? It was then she heard the muffled groans coming through the wall from Stein's room, of his voice raised in deep agony before subsiding again, and the sound of a heavy object crashing to the floor. Her immediate impression was that he was being attacked, her one thought to dash to his assistance. How could he help himself if he couldn't see! In a second she was out of bed and, without waiting to find her wrap, fled out of her room into his.
As the door gave under her urgent fingers she could hear him muttering harshly but, to her startled amazement, there was no one in the room but himself. The moonlight, coming in through the uncurtained window, would have shown an intruder clearly. It was obvious Stein was having some kind of nightmare, from the way in which he tossed about. It was equally obvious, from the way his bedclothes lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, that it had been going on for some time.
Horrified, Sandra watched frozen as, clad only in silk pyjama trousers, he lay on his face pushing with pounding hands at the mattress. Suddenly she could bear it no longer. As if released from paralysis she rushed across to his bed, grasping him by his shoulders, trying, in spite of her half hysterical concern for him, to do so carefully. Hadn't she read somewhere to treat people gently, if possible, in such circumstances?
'Stein darling,' she cried frantically, 'you must stop it! It's Sandra!'
He turned abruptly, knocking her hand away with a force that almost sent her spinning. 'Damn you!' he shouted hoarsely, 'can't you get me out of here?'
'Stein!' Again she tried desperately as it dawned on her that he might imagine himself still in his burning car. 'You're all right, you aren't trapped anywhere. It's only a bad dream!'
At first she thought he didn't hear her. Then his hands came out, catching her as quickly as he had knocked her away. 'Your fault,' he accused thickly, 'you little bitch!
I'd like to------- '
'Stein!' Despairingly she repeated his name the third time, in her need to get through to him not caring how he hurt her.
'You've got it all wrong, but it doesn't matter, if only you'd wake up!'
Once more she thought she had failed, then his face slowly relaxed and the tension drained from his big body as he regarded her with incredulous stupefaction, It was as if, without sight, he could clearly see the white terror on her face. 'Sandra! What on earth are you doing here?'
She sensed he moderated his language with difficulty, but she didn't miss the disapproving grimness. 'You were having a nightmare, Stein—at least that's what I think it was. I heard you from next door.'
'Where you should have had the sense to stay.' His gratitude wasn't overwhelming.
'How could I?' She didn't try to hide the resentment he so often aroused. 'You were shouting your head off! I wouldn't like to think, had it been me you would simply have turned over and gone to sleep again.'
One of his hands left her to rub over his still perspiring brow. The gesture seemed to make him doubly vulnerable and her heart shook with pity.
'Oh, Stein,' she added impulsively, 'what sort of wife would I be if I'd simply ignored you?'
Swiftly, as his composure returned so did his usual cynicism. 'I didn't think you'd endeavoured to be any kind of proper kind of wife so far. Does this mean you've changed your mind? That you're thinking of becoming a little more amenable?'
'You're changing the subject,' she whispered hoarsely. 'We were talking of you, your nightmare. Do you have it often?'
'Not so often now,' he admitted briefly. 'I still occasionally dream I'm trapped in that damned car, but there's really nothing to worry about. I suppose,' his mouth quirked wryly, 'I should have warned you, though.'
'You could have done. It might have helped —you, I mean, if you'd been able to bring yourself to talk about it.' Sighing, and before quite realising what she was doing, she leant forward, gently brushing a strand of thick dark hair off his forehead. She could feel he was still hot and her previous resentment faded.
'Can I get you a drink, Stein?' 'No,' his voice curiously thickened,
'I haven't that kind of thirst.'
Something about him, as he watched her grimly, unsmiling, should have warned her, but her concern for him was such that she hadn't given her own position much thought. 'Stein,' she muttered, still living his nightmare for him, tears brimming her green eyes, 'I got so worried for you. When I heard you. . .' Her voice caught on a sob and she couldn't go on, as his agony seemed to transfer to her very bones.
'Come here, girl.' His words were brief but his growl was warm as his bare arms pulled her to him and a hand stroked down her slender back holding her completely against him. 'It's all right,' his deep voice murmured in her ear, 'I don't want you worried, but I do appreciate that you came.'
Sandra meant to push him away with a small joke, but she felt too choked to utter a word. Instead she found herself clinging to him, drinking in the male scent of his skin, held by the tension which mounted unbearably between them. As his hand soothed away her tears she lifted her head to look at him, seeing his face, drawn darkly against the dim light of the moon. Still half dazed by what had happened, she felt weak, her one inclination to hold on to him yet subtly aware that it wasn't only his sympathy she wanted. Loving him, she was aware of a rush of primitive emotion, while knowing she mustn't give way to it. If he belonged to anyone it was Sophy. She was the one he had been attracted to after Alexandra. Sandra Weir didn't exist except as someone to be made use of!
Making a great effort, she tried to free herself. 'I must go now,' she said bleakly, 'if you're sure you'll be all right.'
'No.'
He wouldn't let her go and she could feel the heavy beat of his heart through the thin silk of her nightgown as he pulled her quickly down to his side on the bed. Because he wore only pyjama trousers his chest was bare and he seemed peculiarly pagan in the moonlight. His eyes, as they looked down on her, contained a curious mixture of anger and tenderness, a dark smouldering she couldn't find strength to resist. With a little moan she buried her face against him again, the heat in her breast spreading to every sensitive part of her body. She couldn't stop herself from touching him, couldn't prevent her arms going around him, feeling beneath her hands the tensed muscles of his back. Clinging to him convulsively, she pressed softly consoling little kisses on his face, on his skin, as if supplicating such silent devotion to renew what was most precious to him — his sight.
Under the feverish pressure of her lips his calm broke, the gentleness in him changing to a sudden urgency as he drew her closer, his fingers threading through her hair as he pulled her head back to the pillow. With a half bitten off exclamation he began moving his lips over hers as he started making love to her. He leant over her, his weight pressing her down, his hands pushing ruthlessly through the fragile silk of her brief attire to find her breasts. There was a hunger in him that wouldn't be denied and he seemed bent on arousing her to the same pitch of desire.
With a soft, inarticulate moan of longing every sensible precaution disappeared from Sandra's mind. They were married, would it be so very dreadful to give in to him, to belong to him completely? Could the outside world matter, need anything else be allowed to? Weren't their immediate feelings, her own and Stein's, all that mattered? Their eagerness to share such passionate delight?
She lay in his arms, whispering his name as his hands and mouth travelled sensuously over her, melting her flesh to her very bones. Never had she known anything remotely like it, never been aware of so much wanton desire. Surely it couldn't be so wrong to feel like this, especially if responding to such feelings brought some light into Stein's dark life?
He held her ever more closely and, as his passion mounted, his mouth came back to cover hers, kissing her with almost unbearable yearning until she trembled uncon
trollably from the small flames which ran through her and her arms clung around his neck, her fingers buried fiercely in the crisp dark waves of his hair.
Seconds later she felt stunned when he pushed her from him. After being so carried away it wasn't so easy to come back to earth. 'Stein, is something wrong?' It was all she could do to ask as her voice shook.
'No,' he pulled himself up, thrusting his broad shoulders against the back of the bed, disengaging himself firmly from her clinging arms, 'but there might have been if I hadn't remembered your treachery. If you remained here with me all night, our marriage could never be dissolved.' Horrified, she stared up at him from where she still lay against his pillows. Sensuous fire still ran through her body but her desire for him had come initially from her heart. Now, as she realised his was only a physical involvement, passion began to die within her, leaving only devastating shame.
'An annulment is important to you?' she whispered.
'For you, too,' he corrected, his face impassive again. 'You wouldn't have thanked me in the morning.'
Her voice was unsteady, much as she tried to control it. 'Don't you mean it the other way round? You can't really wait to be rid of me.'
'I'm certainly not going to put any obstacles in the way,' he agreed harshly. 'If you think I'm going to jeopardise the chance of a sane, woman-free life because I couldn't resist a little bitch who knows how to use her body, then you're mistaken.'
It was as if he had raised a knife and slain her on the spot. Her humiliation deepened, washing over her in great waves. 'I didn't deliberately act like — like that,' she stammered.
'Didn't you?' Just as she was about to flee, his hands were out shaking her, not caring how they hurt. 'Your cousin was cold, but she had contriving wits. With you it's both your body and mind. Don't tell me you've never lain with a man before —you know exactly how to go about it. With every tantalising inch of you, you know how to make a man desire you, so that his common sense soon disappears. Well, thank heavens mine returned in time!' 'You couldn't have been so carried away, then,' she cried, wanting to hurt him as he did her. 'I believe you're just trying to find an excuse for making love to me. You certainly never got
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