Aphrodite's Tears

by Hannah Fielding

  The wonderful mix of colours and aromas made Oriel realize how hungry she was. ‘What a spread,’ she exclaimed as she sat down at the table.

  ‘Here, drink this first,’ Damian ordered in a tone that brooked no arguing.

  ‘Orange juice?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve pressed it myself. You should really have a glass each morning before breakfast. Not only is it full of vitamin C but it’s the best thing to cure cramp if you’re prone to it.’

  ‘Where did you learn that?’

  ‘A Swiss doctor prescribed it to Helena a few years ago. She used to get cramp quite often.’

  ‘Thanks.’ As she sat down, Oriel noticed a dish with cold baby eggplant cut in half and filled with a tomato mixture.

  Damian followed her eyes. ‘I can see you’re intrigued.’

  ‘I’ve had many Greek dishes but I don’t think I’ve ever come across this one.’

  His eyes crinkled into a smile. ‘You wouldn’t have because it is essentially a Turkish dish, but some Greeks have adopted it. It’s called imam bayildi, which in Turkish means “the priest fainted”.’

  Oriel laughed. ‘Strange name.’

  ‘The story goes that the imam fainted with pleasure when he was served them by his wife.’

  ‘What are they stuffed with?’

  ‘Onions, garlic, skinned tomatoes, parsley, raisins and a pinch of sugar. Cooked in olive oil. Shall I serve you one to taste?’

  ‘Thank you, yes. I love the story, it’s so quaint.’

  ‘A glass of wine?’

  ‘I’d better not. I tend not to drink it at lunch, it only makes me fall asleep and then I feel groggy when I wake up.’

  ‘Greek wines are relatively low in alcohol so that shouldn’t be a problem. They’re flavourful and refreshing, never heavy. Drunkenness has always been frowned on in Greece. For millennia, in fact, so the wines here have been formulated differently.’

  ‘It looks very tempting so yes, in that case, I’ll have a glass, please.’

  Oriel was enjoying her lunch, and Damian’s company. She was feeling light-hearted and a little light-headed, although not from the wine, he was right.

  The long sunlit afternoon flew by. Damian had clearly decided to be circumspect and treat her in a respectful way. Despite the romantic setting – and the deep, attentive look in his eyes – he adopted a platonic behaviour that never wavered. Not an inappropriate glance, nor a word out of place – not so much as a fingertip did he lay on her. He seemed relaxed and carefree and Oriel discovered once more what good company he was. As the sun caressed them, they discussed their work – a safe terrain that always seemed to create a harmonious, mutual rhythm in them both, together with a feeling of natural companionship born of a common interest held by bright and enquiring minds. The world might have belonged only to them.

  Oriel felt free and fearless; the here and now was fun and pleasure should be taken in it. And although they never touched on intimate subjects, the pair kept talking all afternoon to the sound of the water splashing softly at the sides of the Alcyone as it slipped through the glistening sea.

  CHAPTER 12

  Damian picked up a set of binoculars and stared at the horizon. ‘Kleftico, our next stop. Those rocks just over the horizon. Here, have a look.’ He passed the binoculars to Oriel. ‘We should be there in less than half an hour.’

  The imposing and convoluted white bluffs and archways, which concealed small beaches and caves, were bathed in the afterglow of the dying sun, which made them look as if they had been set on fire. Kleftico loomed on the southern edge of Milos, its jagged cones darkly ominous against the flushed sky. Dazzling spokes of gold were spread out on the expanse of blue fronting the island. The sea gleamed like molten metal as if rays from some great lighthouse were beaming down on it.

  ‘It’s magnificent. I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Oriel breathed as she put down the binoculars and glanced around her at the spectacular picture.

  Damian looked at his watch. ‘We’re in good time too.’

  ‘You were right, we were lucky with the weather.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope the gods will smile on us for the remainder of the journey.’

  ‘That crimson sunset bodes well for tomorrow.’

  They sailed the last part in silence. Damian’s tall, lean figure stood a little apart from Oriel’s, arms folded against the powerful wall of his chest, legs slightly apart. He was staring out to sea and seemed deep in thought. Oriel looked up at the dark, impassive profile, her glance lingering for a furtive second on the scarred cheek. It was easy enough to tell herself that she was no more than another of Damian’s conquests and that he enjoyed a life where love, trust and fidelity held little meaning. Yet, if this were so, what was this electric heart-swelling pervasion of feeling that she was convinced they both shared?

  As though he knew that Oriel was looking at him, Damian turned towards her, his eyes bright and shining like glass. His stare was so brilliant that she was forced to look quickly away. Her fingers gripped the rail and she fixed her attention on the rushing water, knowing that what she felt was showing nakedly in her eyes.

  As darkness fell, they arrived at Kleftico. Damian turned the craft into the wind, holding the yacht steady as they headed for the sheltered bay. Then the motor kicked into life and he switched on the autopilot. The next moment, he was quickly rolling the headsail and mainsail; then, with both sails down, he flicked off the autopilot, pushed the throttle forward and the boat picked up speed as he steered it into the bay.

  Minutes later, they were safely at anchor, close to a sheltered beach. The boat swung gently, quiet at last. The waning moon had risen in all her splendour. Although in her last quarter, she was large and near enough to shine bright in the midst of the golddust of stars patterning the sapphire sky. All around the boat, the sea shimmered under her iridescent beams like a woman’s gown, set with a sweep of diamonds, caressing the pearly shore.

  There are times, even in the most uneventful of lives, when one experiences an intense feeling of unreality, whether from delirious joy or crushing sorrow. It comes swiftly like a dream. Such was the sensation that gripped Oriel when she laid eyes on that magical scenery conjured by the moon, where the peaks and cliffs of Milos rose and fell, bathed in patches of light and deepening shadow.

  Damian came to stand beside her. She lifted her head to look at him. His eyes seemed suddenly darker now, penetrating, searching hers as though seeking an answer. Damian wanted her – all the more, she knew, because he sensed she wanted him too. Their mutal desire was quickening into still greater proportions and her resistance was swiftly dwindling away. Oh, the fight was so hard!

  ‘A drink?’ he asked abruptly, breaking the moment.

  ‘Yes, yes, please,’ Oriel answered quietly, reaching for her pale-yellow sarong and tying it around her waist.

  ‘A glass of wine or something stronger?’

  ‘Wine would be great, thank you.’

  ‘We’ll have it up here and I’ll make us something to eat.’

  ‘Not for me. It was a big lunch, I couldn’t eat anything else.’

  ‘Very well, I’ll just bring up a few mezedes.’ As Oriel was about to offer her help, he raised a hand. ‘Everything is ready in the fridge. Besides, I want you to rest that foot. You shouldn’t be going up and down the stairs unnecessarily.’

  ‘The pain’s almost gone.’

  Damian gave his quiet and devastating smile. ‘That’s good, but you might feel that it throbs tonight.’

  ‘I’ll be fine tomorrow, don’t worry.’

  He gave her that look which had so disturbed her earlier. The silence hummed between them and then Damian disappeared down the stairs, leaving Oriel to relax and soak up the atmosphere.

  Oh, she was soaking it up all right: she was quite heady with it. Indeed, with all this moonlit beauty, it was a night for romance. She moved to the mast and leaned against it. From this vantage point she could take in the whole mesmerizing view. St
ill, she couldn’t help the thoughts that invaded her mind like a fearful refrain when faced with the pent-up desire she read in Damian’s eyes.

  He will never love you. His heart is too wounded and, even if warmth and trust find their way back into it, the arms of Yolanda, his childhood love, would be the first he’d seek. Oh why did she have to think of all that now? Why couldn’t she just enjoy the moment?

  Only when Damian placed a loaded tray on the table was Oriel aware that he had come back up on deck. He was regarding her fixedly, as if he knew every thought that had strayed into her mind. It was almost dreamlike when she heard his voice, quiet yet shattering the silence.

  ‘Well?’

  There was a world of meaning in that one word, a meaning she couldn’t – wouldn’t – face. Tension sprang along Oriel’s nerve ends, holding her mute and still. She sighed, then turned fully to face Damian in the moonlight, the light breeze playing with her hair. ‘The view is intoxicating,’ she murmured.

  ‘It is your beauty, Calypso, that’s intoxicating.’

  Oriel’s senses swam in frightened circles, her leaden limbs forcing her to remain where she didn’t want to be … but there was nowhere else to run to except the deserted, dead-calm sea and those giant, precipitous rocks mutely rising from its bosom.

  In two strides Damian had joined her at the mast, taking her hand in both of his. Even that slight touch was shocking in its intensity.

  His grey eyes scrutinized hers, a stark hurt lingering in their depths. ‘What’s happened, Calypso?’

  The resonance of his voice hit an answering chord somewhere within her and her head tilted back so that his jagged scar came starkly into view.

  ‘Didn’t we start to love each other?’ He stared down into her eyes, his own feverish, seeking an answer.

  Oriel drew a ragged breath. Love … yes, if only the intimacy that had passed between them had been prompted by love! For her, maybe … but not for him. How could it be when Yolanda held prime place in his heart?

  The flat palms of his hands slid down her arms to her waist, to the curving rise of her hips and he pressed her against the hardness in his thighs, a movement more eloquently provocative than any words would have been.

  ‘Oh Theó, Calypso, don’t you know what you do to me? Don’t you still want me?’

  Damn! Oriel didn’t need to answer him, every part of her was responding to the potency of his body: her breasts peaking, fire licking her thighs, her mouth drier than a desert.

  She heard Damian half sigh, half growl in his throat as he gathered her fully against him. His lips met hers forcefully and she recognized the hunger in him because she shared it – an appetite no kiss alone could satisfy. Oriel clung to him, silently begging to be taken, knowing that later she would probably die of shame remembering it.

  Damian’s kiss was hard yet soft, aggressive but amazingly sensual. Wedging his thigh between Oriel’s legs, he pushed against the sensitive triangle covering her femininity, his tongue in her mouth playing a tantalizing game of advance and retreat, enacting the motion his manhood was begging to make inside her.

  Cupping her face in his hand, he kissed his way slowly along her jaw to the hollow in her throat, pushing the straps of her bathing suit off her shoulders. His dark head slid towards the tender swell of her thrusting breasts, slowly, oh-so-erotically circling the pink areolae with his tongue, suckling and moistening the taut peaks before nipping at them lightly, making her moan softly.

  Trembling, Oriel’s arms slid round Damian’s shoulders, her frame moulding itself to his straining hardness, the core of her remembering the magic of his touch and aching to feel it again. The need for him driving her crazy, she arched towards him and lifted a leg, wrapping it around his waist, the better to feel his arousal, the swollen nub between her thighs throbbing painfully, begging to be relieved.

  ‘This is what you want, eh?’ he whispered huskily against her ear as his hand slid down, his fingers moving possessively to the junction of her thighs and sliding under the thin material of her bathing suit. Damian’s groan was the extension of Oriel’s as he parted the soft damp lips and found the slick, pulsing bean. ‘Theh mou agapi, you’re so wet, so warm, so soft … I can see how much you want me, eh? Tell me what you need.’ He was whispering hoarsely against her lips as he brushed the centre of her desire.

  ‘More, yes …’ she managed. Sensations, like an ever-expanding circle, were spreading out from that midpoint within her where the blood pounded hotly, rapturous pleasure accompanying every stroke of Damian’s deft fingers, and she couldn’t stop herself from moaning his name passionately, her nails digging into his broad shoulders fiercely as she clung to him.

  ‘You like this, eh? You want me to go on? Shall I be cruel, matia mou, and stop, like this?’ he asked, suspending his caress and making her cry out, begging him to continue. ‘I don’t only want to touch you. I’m hungry for you … I want to take you in my mouth, lick you, taste you, push myself into you …’

  In turn, Oriel’s hand slid down Damian’s body and pressed against the hard heat of his arousal. Her senses pulsed with the need to touch him closely, intimately, without the barrier of his shorts, remembering how exciting it was to touch his bare flesh.

  Her breathing was coming in short rasps. ‘I want to feel you, Damian … I want you inside me.’ Her soft mewing sounds were becoming urgent.

  ‘Let’s go down to—’

  His words were abruptly interrupted by the deep blast of a ship’s siren and the wash of the passing tourist launch rocked the Alcyone with such force it jolted Damian and Oriel out of their passionate embrace. She let out a cry as she lost her balance for a moment, her leg slipping on the slick surface of the boat. But Damian was quick: in one fluid movement he grasped her arm, pulling her back. Encircling her waist, he held her firmly against him, while gripping the mast with his other hand until the rocking of the boat had stopped.

  It took a few minutes for the Alcyone to settle back to its gentle sway. Oriel felt as if her breath were suspended somewhere in her throat. Damian’s face was still dark with desire but his eyes skimmed over her with concern. ‘You were almost over the side there. Come, agápi mou,’ he said, taking her into the cockpit. ‘While you’re with me, you have nothing to worry about. You’ll always be safe, eh?’

  But Oriel was now becoming clear-headed again, jolted from the feverish passion that had consumed her only a moment ago. Keep her safe? Surely this man presented the most clear and present danger in her life just now.

  ‘Sit down, agapi. Let me pour you a glass of wine … unless you’d prefer me to carry you downstairs.’

  ‘I’d love a glass of wine, thank you. I think it’d be too hot in the cabin,’ she told him quickly. The last thing she wanted was for Damian to carry her. Although the immediate urgency of her desire had ebbed, it didn’t mean that her body was satiated. Far from it, she recognized, as her eyes fell on the strong arms that had kept her from falling and the elegant fingers that had caressed her so intimately and were now uncorking a bottle of rosé.

  ‘It’s been a day heavy with excitement, eh?’ Damian’s lips quirked at the edges and his eyes held glints of moonlight that added to their brilliance in his lean dark face.

  ‘Yes, I hope this isn’t typical of what’s awaiting me for the rest of our trip. You must think I’m really high maintenance.’

  ‘High maintenance?’

  ‘Yes, an English expression: it means that I’m demanding of a lot of care and attention. I promise you I’m not usually like this. You seem to bring out the worst in me,’ she added with an awkward smile.

  Damian laughed deep in his throat. ‘That’s what I’m here for, to lavish care and attention on you.’ He poured her a glass of wine. ‘Here, drink this, you’ll feel better.’ He smiled that sort of innocent smile he sometimes gave her, and which made him look much younger.

  ‘Thank you.’ She turned to look at the view of Kleftico behind her. She had so enjoyed her afternoon with him
, she had almost forgotten that he wasn’t hers to want. Still, even now, without looking at him she could feel the hot, self-conscious colour sweeping over her flesh, despite her best efforts to suppress it.

  A small silence followed while Oriel sipped her wine pensively, trying to cling to reality, repelling the emotional trap her senses were setting for her. They had behaved like teenagers just now – she must talk to him like the adult she was. Explain that she didn’t want an affair, she was happy to be his friend but there would be no more indulging in casual sex.

  ‘What’s wrong, agápi?’

  Oriel struggled to think of something to say – some throwaway remark she might make – but her brain refused to provide one.

  Damian moved to the place beside her and offered her a plate of mezedes. ‘Have some of these.’

  Oriel turned to face him. She could feel his warm breath on her face and smell the mingled fragrances of aftershave, cigarettes, salt and male skin so particular to him. This was torture! Maybe if she gave in to these wild instincts of hers, she would eventually get him out of her system.

  ‘I’m not very hungry,’ she said lamely.

  ‘You can’t drink without eating, you’ll make yourself ill.’

  ‘Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do,’ she flared, knowing how unreasonable it must sound as soon as she had uttered the words. ‘I’m sorry, Damian, I’m tired. I’d better go to bed. I’m afraid I won’t be very good company tonight,’ she whispered. Seeing how confused he looked, she only just stopped herself from caressing his face.