CHAPTER EIGHT
IT TOOK them an hour and a half to walk back to the Baths of Aphrodite. The wonderful views, the deep, clear blue of the sea, the small inlets ringed by steep cliffs and the birds that wheeled overhead only added to Emily's sadness. A place as beautiful as this was made for lovers, and her love had just been totally rejected. She walked along with her gaze fixed on the hot, dusty ground. She knew that, if she looked up, she would see Nikolaos. And she really didn't think that she could bear to look at him right now. They finally reached Aphrodite's Baths, and the magic of the picturesque pool with the small streams of water lightly cascading down over the moss-covered limestone briefly enchanted her. Then she realised that Nikolaos had stopped and was looking at her with uncontrolled dark intensity, and she immediately stiffened again.
He spoke for the first time since they had left the Fountain of Love.
'According to legend,' he said in a harsh tone, 'men who had been spurned by Aphrodite went from here to the Spring of Oblivion, where they would take a cold shower that would make them forget her. Perhaps I should do the same.'
Emily's eyes prickled hotly. 'You're making it sound as if everything that happened was my fault.'
His black eyes glittened. 'Why not? You knew what was happening between us. You knew as far back as the night of the Limassol carnival, when I first kissed you. Yet you insisted on staying, you still wanted to work for me, you made sure that we spent a lot of time together.'
Emily stared at him in disbelief. 'Are you saying that I planned all this? That I made it happen?'
'It's not impossible,' Nikolaos said in the same harsh voice. 'Women are so very devious. They know what they want, and they go after it single-mindedly, and to hell with everything —and everyone —else.'
'Women are no more devious than men,' Emily said defensively. 'But you're not really talking about men or women in general, are you, Nikolaos? You're talking about just one woman — your mother!'
His face instantly hardened. 'I don't wish to discuss that particular subject.'
'I think that it's time you did," she said, somehow finding the courage to ignore the very clear warning signs that radiated from his hostile eyes, the set of his mouth, the tense stance of his body. 'It's your attitude to your mother that's ruining your entire life. Can't you see that?'
'I see that she walked out on her husband and her son.' Nikolaos said fiercely. 'Maybe that's something that's common practice in your country, but here on Cyprus the family comes first, nothing is more important.'
'And so her own personal happiness counted for nothing?' Emily challenged him. 'It didn't matter that she was deeply unhappy in her marriage? She was simply expected to endure it for the rest of her life?'
Nikolaos growled angrily. 'You are not Greek, you don't understand.'
'I understand that it must be very hard for any child to forgive his mother for deserting him,' Emily said in a quieter voice. 'But I also know that there has to come a time when all the hatred, the resentment, the animosity has to come to an end. If it doesn't, then it eats you up and destroys you.'
'You're an expert on such matters?' Nikolaos said caustically.
'For a long time, I hated my own father for the violence he inflicted on me, and on my mother," Emily said, her tone very low. 'But when I grew up I finally realised that such feelings were only self-destructive in the end, that you had to try and understand why someone behaved the way they did. And you also had to accept that everyone has faults and makes very bad mistakes.'
Nikolaos was silent for a moment, as if regretting that he had accused her of not knowing what it was like to have had a parent who had destroyed what should have been a happy childhood. Then his darkly tanned features became even more shadowed again, as if old, deeply unhappy memories were suddenly surfacing and surging through him.
'Do you want to know why I can't forgive my mother?' he said abruptly.
'Come with me. I'll show you.'
His hand gripped her wrist and she was forced to follow him as he strode off towards the car park. Nikolaos's own car was waiting for them —Emily realised that he must have arranged for someone to drive it here from the fishing village further along the coast, where they had left it —and he opened the door, then levered her inside.
"Where —where are we going?' she asked rather breathlessly.
'To the Troodos mountains,' he said tersely. I'm taking you to visit my father.'
He swung the car off along a narrow road that led away from the coast, and then steadily began to climb. Emily sat very still and didn't say a word. The car wound its way through the foothills, past small vineyards with rows of vines neatly striping the hillsides, and terraces of fruit bushes. Then the mountains themselves began to close in around them, some almost bare, others covered thickly with trees. Although the temperature didn't fall as the midday sun beat down on them, the air was fresher and scented with the occasional tang of pine. The roads that they followed were sometimes good, sometimes little more than dirt tracks, but Nikolaos seemed to be able to find his way with unerring ease.
The mountains grew higher and a little wilder. Their sides became forested with pines and golden oaks, plane trees, cedars and alders. Black-winged ravens beat their way from branch to branch, and once Emily glimpsed a much larger bird soaring high over the mountainside. She turned to ask Nikolaos what it was, but the grim line of his mouth warned her that he wasn't in the mood for any kind of conversation.
A couple of miles further on, though, the road twisted into a series of spectacular hairpin bends, and they rounded one corner to be confronted by an animal hurriedly crossing the road. Nikolaos swiftly braked, and the animal froze for a few moments and stared at them.
Emily stared back, fascinated by its thick, dark coat with golden highlights where the sun caught it, and its spectacular long, curved horns.
'What is it?' she asked softly.
'A moufflon —a wild sheep,' Nikolaos replied, equally quietly. The animal quickly recovered from its fright, and disappeared into the nearby trees. 'It's found only here, on Cyprus, and it's very rare,' he wenton, starting up the car again. 'It's a very long time since I've seen one.'
They drove on, a little more slowly now, as if Nikolaos was already beginning to regret the impulse which had made him set out on this journey. The road wound onwards, past villages which seemed to cling rather precariously to the steep hillsides. The houses were unsophisticated, the streets narrow and often cobbled, and yet they had a warmth and charm uniquely their own. Laden donkeys plodded along the side-streets, taking their time in getting their burdens home. Groups of older women, many of them dressed in black, sat outside their houses in the sun and gossiped, while the men gathered around tables outside small tavernas, drinking coffee, playing backgammon, and putting the world to rights. Nikolaos finally slowed the car on the outskirts of another, larger village. White-walled houses were clustered around a big church with a couple of high, domed towers. Instead of driving into the centre of the village, though, he turned the car in the other direction, heading towards a house that was set on the very outskirts. As they drew closer, Emily could see that the house had wide, open arches running right along one side, with a balcony overhead and shuttered doors that led into the rooms behind it. A crazy-paving path fringed with sprawling clumps of brilliantly coloured flowers led to the main entrance, with tall, dark, pencil-thin cypresses throwing elegant fingers of shade. The house was set on a flat wedge of land which jutted out from the hillside, and there were dramatically beautiful views of the mountains in all directions.
Nikolaos brought the car to a halt. "This is my house,' he said briefly.
'It's stunning,' breathed Emily. 'You must love it here.'
'I've never lived here. I come only to visit my father.'
She swallowed hard as she remembered the purpose of this visit. She knew very well that some of the well kept secrets of the Konstantin family were being revealed to her, and she couldn't help won
dering why. She followed him into the house. Inside, the rooms were large and airy, the furniture was dark, solid and comfortable. Emily was staring at the walls, though. They were painted in pale, tranquil colours, but very little of them could be seen because they were covered in paintings.
Each painting was exquisitely detailed, and glowed with warmth and colour. Many were landscapes, mainly of the mountains, some were portraits, and a few were of the house itself, and the village. The artist obviously found his inspiration on his own doorstep.
Emily wanted just to stand and look at them, but Nikolaos's hand was already gripping her elbow, forcing her forward again. He led her through into the next room, where an older, dark-haired woman came forward to meet them.
'Nikolaos!' she said with a smile. 'I thought that I heard your car.'
Emily knew at once that this had to be another member of the Konstantin family. She had the familiar dark, handsome looks and confident presence.
'Aunt Evi,' Nikolaos greeted her crisply. 'I've come to see my father. How is he?'
'Very well,' said his aunt. 'And you must be Emily,' she went on. 'I've been wanting to meet you.'
How do you know who I am?' asked Emily, in surprise.
'She's met up with Aunt Anna,' Nikolaos answered for her, with a touch of resignation. 'You'll soon find out that it's impossible to keep any secrets in this family.'
Emily could feel her face getting hotter as she wondered exactly what these two aunts of Nikolaos's had said to each other. Nikolaos was already speaking again, though, drawing his aunt's attention away from her. 'Is my father in his usual place?'
'Of course,' said Aunt Evi. He'll be pleased to see you.'
'Will he?' said Nikolaos, his tone suddenly edged with a thread of bitterness.
'And how will I know?'
'Oh, Nikolaos,' said his aunt with sudden compassion, and she reached out her hand to him, but Nikolaos had already moved away, as if he couldn't bear to be the object of anyone's pity.
'Come,' he said to Emily, a trifle roughly. Then he walked out of the room, and Emily hurried after him.
He led her to a large terrace at the back of the house, which had magnificent views of the surrounding mountains, and the village.
An easel was set up at the end of the terrace, and in front of it, painting intently, stood a tall man with broad shoulders and grey-flecked hair.
'Hello, Father," said Nikolaos in a low voice, as if he didn't want to startle him.
Yannis Konstantin turned round, gave them an uncertain smile, and then went straight back to his painting. He had a strong face, but it bore very little resemblance to his son's. It was Eleni, his mother, whom Nikolaos took after, Eleni with the black, expressive eyes, dark, glossy hair and sensual mouth.
'This is Emily,' Nikolaos went on in the same level tone. 'I believe Aunt Evi told you about her. 1 wanted you to meet her.'
This time, Yannis Konstantin didn't even acknowledge that he had heard them. Instead, he went on painting, steadily and intently. Nikolaos touched Emily's arm, and signalled that they should go back into the house. Once they were inside and out of earshot, she turned to him in bewilderment. 'Doesn't he recognise you?"
'I don't know,' Nikolaos said, his face suddenly very drawn. 'He's been like this since my mother left. He never speaks, doesn't respond to anyone, not even Aunt Evi who looks after him. He simply eats, sleeps and paints. Aunt Evi says that he's happy and contented. I hope that she's right, but there's no way I can know for certain.'
Emily's heart contracted as she saw the deep pain in his eyes. 'His paintings are very beautiful,' she said softly. 'Only someone with a soul that's at peace could produce work like that.'
'He's also a very successful painter.' Nikolaos said, a sudden note of pride in his voice. 'I've arranged several exhbitions of his work, and people are beginning to collect his pictures. Of course, he doesn't know about that
—nothing that happens outside this house seems to concern him any more,'
he went on, the brittle edge back in his tone again. 'But if he ever comes back to us again, decides to live in the real world, at least he'll know that he's achieved something.'
'I like that," Emily said, nodding gently. 'I like it that you care enough to make him a successful man, and let other people see how brilliant he is.'
'Of course I care,' Nikolaos said roughly. 'He's my father.' Then he turned away rather abruptly, but not before Emily had seen the sudden brightness in his eyes.
They stayed at the house for another hour after that.Nikolaos spent some more time with his father, while Emily talked with Aunt Evi, learning more about the lonely and yet apparently not unhappy years that Yannis Konstantin had spent at this house, producing his exquisite paintings. He had lost his wife and turned his face away from the world, but seemed to have found some consolation in his own brilliant talent.
When she and Nikolaos finally left, they drove back down the winding mountain roads in silence. They reached the coast just as the sun was dipping down towards the horizon and the sky, the sea, the land was bathed in a golden light that gradually warmed to dazzling shades of red and orange before fading into a softer, more tranquil glow as night quickly approached. Emily realised that the road Nikolaos had taken had brought them out at Coral Bay. In the gathering twilight, she could see the distinctive shape of his villa, the pale walls catching and reflecting the last faint rays of colour from the sinking sun. Then he turned into the entrance and brought the car to a halt.
'Come inside,' he said, rather roughly.
Emily thought that he must want to speak to Aunt Anna before continuing on to Paphos. Perhaps there was some message he needed to pass on from his other aunt, Evi.
Inside the villa, though, it seemed silent and empty. No lights were on, and Nikolaos switched on just one small lamp in the main room, which left the corners still full of dark shadows.
'Has —has your aunt already gone to bed?' Emily asked, suddenly feeling rather nervous.
Nikolaos looked at her. 'Aunt Anna isn't here,' he said in a soft tone. 'She's gone to Limassol for a few days. Her excuse was that she needed to do some shopping, but I think that she's actually gone because she wants to make some enquiries about you. She wants to meet the people at the hotel whom you worked with and made friends with.'
'Why?' Emily said in surprise.
'Aunt Anna is incurably curious. She likes to know everything about everyone. And since meeting you — and no doubt jumping to the wrong conclusion —she wants to know more about you. How better than asking people who know you?'
She chewed her lip warily. 'What do you mean, she's jumped to the wrong conclusion? And what does she want to find out about me?'
'Whether you would make a suitable wife. For me,' he added in an oddly self-mocking voice.
'For you?' Emily's eyes shot wide open with shock. Then she recovered slightly. 'But you don't want a wife,' she reminded him slightly bitterly. 'At least, not one who will make you feel, make you want, make you come alive. You want a relationship where you're always in control, where you're never going to have to give anything of yourself. You want a wife you won't love, so that you won't ever be in danger of being hurt.'
'Yes, that's what I want,' Nikolaos said tightly. 'And I can't have that with you, can I, Emily? You came here as a pale-faced, uptight little English girl, but the island of love has changed you; look at you —' his dark gaze slid over her with sudden hunger ' — you're tanned, healthy, full of life, full of love. And you're longing to give that love to someone. But I don't want it, Emily. I don't want it.'
But he looked as if he desperately wanted something from her, as the hunger in his eyes deepened and he took a couple of steps towards her. Emily immediately began to back away. 'No, don't do this,' she almost pleaded. 'You're right, I want so much, too much, I know that, but if I can't have everything then it would be better to have nothing at all. Please, Nikolaos, just let me go —'
His eyes flared with a new light. 'Do
you know what it does to me when you say my name? Probably not, or you'd say it more often.'
'Nikolaos —' she said, without thinking, then bit her lip hard as she saw him come a little nearer to losing his self-control.
Outside, the velvet darkness of the night had fallen over the bay, and only the faintest light shimmered on the sea as the thin sliver of a new moon slid into the sky. Inside the room, dusky shadows surrounded them as they stood just outside the pale pool of light thrown out by the small lamp. It was enough for Emily to see Nikolaos's face, though; see all the conflicting emotions chasing across his taut features.
He shook his head very slowly, almost despairingly. 'I've never been in this situation before,' he muttered. 'I've always been able to walk away from a relationship, cut myself off from it before I got too involved.'
'You can still walk away," Emily said in a low, shaky voice. 'It isn't too late.'
'Oh, but it is,' Nikolaos said softly. 'Tonight, I can't walk away from anything.'
He moved towards her again, and Emily knew that if she let him touch her, then she would be hurtling headlong into the kind of trouble that could wreck her life completely. She also knew why Nikolaos was in this oddly uncontrolled and vulnerable mood. The visit to his father had left his nerves and emotions raw and twisted; he desperately needed solace of some kind, and tonight he could only get it here, with her.
And yes, he certainly wanted that solace, wanted her; those dark, passionate eyes burned in the dim light in the same way that his fingers would burn against her skin, if she let him touch her.
He was so close now, she could feel his breath against her face, warm and fresh, she could smell the tang of his skin. Emily felt helpless against the force of his need. And an answering ache was stirring inside of her, echoes of the desire he had woken in her earlier, when he had kissed her at the Fountain of Love.
The Fountain of Love, she repeated to herself slightly dizzily. What a fool she had been to go there with this man! She had already been under his spell, and now she felt as if she had been touched by the finger of Aphrodite herself; all the pent-up love that had been bottled up inside of her for so long was springing free, and she couldn't do anything to stop it; Nikolaos wasn't the only one who was beginning to spin wildly out of control
The Touch of Aphrodite Page 13