Second-Best Bride

by Margaret Rome

  'As it's the only perfume I possess,' she told him stiffly, mistrusting his change of attitude, the charm that had inflicted a weakening upon her knees, 'an extravagant birthday present from my sister, I'm forced to use it sparingly and only on special occasions.'

  'And what could be more special than your wedding day?' Terzan queried softly, his mouth curling into a smile so tender it held her transfixed.

  'What. . . what do you want?' she said huskily, clinging grimly to the reminder that he was a devi­ous devil and not the placatory saint he was por­traying.

  'I've come to apologise,' he murmured in a tone that washed ripples of weakness along her spine, 'to ask you to forgive and to try to overlook re­marks prompted by frustration and pain. I try to fight the depression that occasionally descends, persistent as the fangs of a mad dog biting into my throat, and mostly I succeed. But today,' he drew a weary hand across his brow, 'the ceremony, the crowds, the noise, brought unbearable tensions that tested my strength and found it wanting. I am more sorry than I can say, Angelina Rose,' his voice dropped to a placatory whisper, 'that you were made to suffer the brunt of my frustration.'

  Never in her life had Angie been able to resist an appeal to her sympathies, or to accept without re­servation any apology that was tendered, but this time she hesitated, warned by an inner voice telling her to treat with caution the man who held her vulnerable heart in his keeping. Then, as she was silently debating, the sound of far-off singing drifted through the open window, a happy song of rejoicing accompanied by the music of violin, zither, mandolin and lute.

  'Look out of the window and tell me what you see,' he urged softly.

  As she moved forward a gasp of amazement escaped her lips. It was as if the stars themselves had tumbled from the sky and were advancing in a slow crawl up the dark incline leading from the-village up to the villa.

  'Everyone on the island seems intent upon paying us a visit,' she gasped, 'all of them carrying lighted torches.'

  'Candles,' he corrected, stepping so close his steady heartbeat sounded in her ears like thunder. 'During the long Easter service lights inside the church are gradually extinguished until, at mid­night, the church is in total darkness. Then, during a pause filled with electric excitement, the priest appears from the Holy Sanctuary bearing a lighted candle and announces to the world that Christ is risen. The church bells begin to ring out as he lights the candles of those standing nearest to him and they, in turn, pass on the flame to their neigh­bours while at the same time exchanging the tra­ditional greetings and responses.

  'Christos Anesti!

  'Alithos anesti!

  'Christ is risen! Truly he is risen!

  'The islanders are coming to wish us well, jeal­ously protecting their candles from passing breezes in order to bless our home by following the custom of tracing a cross on the lintel of the door and on the windows with candle smoke and to rekindle the small oil lamp which Crisulla will have left ready beneath the family icons. It is the beginning of a new year, Angelina, a time to forget slights, to mend quarrels, to make friends and start anew. Will you join in our customs?' Coaxing lips homed against her ear. 'Will you forgive my trans­gressions and accompany me downstairs to greet our guests?'

  The head of the procession had almost reached the entrance to the villa by the time Angie reached a decision that tonight was to be the last she would spend on the island, so she could therefore afford to be generous.

  'Very well. . .' she expelled on a shaken, reckless breath, 'for the sake of the people of Karios whom I've grown to love and respect, I will do as you ask.'

  Terzan might have doubted his powers of per­suasion, but his servants obviously had not, for as he led her into the grounds to exchange greetings with every man and woman, elder and infant, re­sident on the island her bemused eyes traced lines of coloured lights looped from the branches of trees encircling a lawn crammed with trestle tables covered with spotless white cloths upon which had been set baskets of hardboiled eggs, their shells dyed a brilliant red; piles of plates and cutlery; bottles, glasses and heaped-up platters of fresh, crusty bread.

  As she stood by Terzan's side being kissed upon each cheek by every one of the islanders whose dark, dancing eyes proclaimed their intention of making merry, her spirits became uplifted by the atmosphere of intense excitement, of well-being and warm friendship exuding from their guests. The tranquil beauty of their surroundings also helped, the garden bathed in the silvery light of a full moon beaming over the top of tall cypresses and aromatic pines, fairy lights encrusting lower branches with the colour and sparkle of gems, and behind them groves of olive trees sighing and bil­lowing down the hillside to meet the embrace of a gently heaving, star-spangled sea.

  'Yassou!' The traditional toast ripped from dozens of throats as the islanders raised their glasses to the kirios and his shy young bride. A smile tugged at the corner of Terzan's mouth as, looking more relaxed than she had ever seen him, he dared her:

  'We must return their toast, will you join me in drinking their health with a small glass of ouzo?’

  Knowing it would be churlish to refuse, she accepted a glass containing a minute measure of the colourless spirit that resembled swirling white cloud when she tipped into it a generous amount of water.

  He seemed aware of her grimace when she took her first experimental sip, for he laughed, a light, carefree sound that sent her startled eyes flying to his face.

  'One needs to acquire a taste for our national drink,' white teeth flashed against a teak-dark tan, 'but in time you will find you'll require less and less water as the aniseed flavour becomes more acceptable and its potent effect even more so.'

  ‘I doubt it.' In spite of her release from tension her tone remained stiffly unforgiving. 'Experience has taught me to be wary of the seemingly innocu­ous which, given the least drop of encouragement, becomes transformed into the direct opposite to what it first appears. In short, I have learnt the lesson that many have learnt before me—to mis­trust any Greek bearing gifts!'

  'Even in this instance?' Terzan's voice was rough as he slid his hand along the length of her arm groping for her fingers. The fun-loving islanders were making their way towards the tables, prepar­ing to enjoy the feast Crisulla and her helpers had prepared for them; in a few seconds their presence would be missed, but at that moment, shrouded by the shadow of surrounding trees, they could have not been more alone on a deserted atoll.

  Angie tried to pull away when she felt the cold caress of gold sliding along her finger, but she could not outmatch his determination and had to submit to the humiliation of seeing a further costly shackle nestling against her wedding ring. She could not have borne it had he forced her to wear Priscilla's diamond, or even a replica, but fortunately the ring he had chosen for her was set with a beautiful pearl, flawlessly pure, contoured perfectly as a frozen tear.

  'Do you like it?' he asked sharply, his anxiety to gauge her reaction frustrated by a lengthy silence, it was most remiss of me to overlook the fact that you had no engagement ring.'

  She told herself that she would not give in to the ache of tears stinging behind her eyes, that she would not allow him to guess how hurt she was by the gift probably chosen at random, with the help of Nikos, from the host of jewellers' catalogues lit­tering his study, catalogues bearing the instantly recognisable names of firms who, merely upon the receipt of a telegram, would not hesitate to fulfil any order requested by a valued customer.

  ‘It's a very nice, but totally unnecessary gesture,' she told him, sounding prim and matter-of-fact.

  ‘Is that all you can find to say about a perfect example of gems reputed to have been brought into being by the Queen of the Night who was so unhappy at the sight of a beautiful princess and her lover being kept apart by the gods of evil that she shed many, many tears? As her teardrops fell from the black heavens they were covered by the glow from the full moon and dropped into the sea to become pearls. Did she shed her tears in vain, Angelina Rose?' T
erzan lifted her hand to his lips and much to her distress placed a light kiss on each rosy fingertip, ‘I bought the ring many years ago because I was attracted by its lustre, a lustre that appears to combine the coolness of moonlight and the gentle warmth of the sun when it rises or sets. I have kept it locked away, waiting until I found a girl with qualities to match the most fem­inine of precious jewels, one whose skin has a soft translucence, who has none of the hard brilliance one associates with diamonds, one who is com­pletely natural and has no need of the cutting and polishing so essential to modern-day settings. A girl, in fact, whose nature proclaims her fitting to be chosen as a symbol of purity, modesty, and love.'

  The softly sincere compliment sent a rush of warmth through her frozen veins. As if sensing from her total immobility the softening, the shy uncertainty plaguing the girl standing a mere fin­gertip away, he removed his dark impersonal lenses and slipped them inside his pocket before reaching out to trap her in a loose yet tender em­brace.

  'You are my wife,' he sounded shaken, 'yet all I know of you is your voice. Will you allow me the intimacy of getting to know you better in the only way left to me—by touch?'

  His caressing hand against her cheek stroked a wave of weakness through her body. 'Do you real­ise,' he reverted to teasing in a tone smooth as pelt, sweet as Greek honey, 'that I have no idea what height you are; whether you are rounded or slim; whether your hair is fair or dark, your skin pale as cream or rosy as a peach?' As his breath feathered lightly over lids swept down to hide raging panic from piercing amber eyes Angie was ashamed of feeling relief that he was blind, that those brilliant eyes could not unearth the secrets of a heart winging high with hope yet weighted with a burden of doubt.

  When, taking her permission for granted, he placed his palms flat against her head and pro­ceeded to travel slowly downwards, tracing the curve of cheekbones, the slope of slim shoulders, then along the length of arms hanging limp and useless by her sides, her senses rioted, then froze to the stillness of a trapped, frightened bird.. Did he know, she wondered wildly, this once philandering Greek whose playmates had been chosen from the ranks of the most sophisticated and experienced women of the world, of the sensuous, moral-melt­ing impact his hands were inflicting as they stroked the length of her thigh? Was he conscious of the havoc caused when they lingered, as his mind became momentarily sidetracked?

  'You are more slender than Priscilla, yet your height is identical. Are you also similar in looks?'

  For the first time ever, it hurt unbearably to have to admit. 'As a faded sepia photograph is similar to the original,' she said flatly.

  The bravely-breathed admission jerked a re­sponse that was startling. Suddenly his arms tight­ened, pinning her so close she panicked from the ripple of muscles behind a wall of rock-hard chest. 'Why do you denigrate yourself so?' Terzan de­manded in a half-vexed, half-tender growl that sent the colour of confusion soaring into her cheeks, ‘I refuse to believe that a girl whose hair has the feel of frayed silk, whose skin possesses the velvet texture and heady scent of a creamy rose petal, whose body trembles as it moulds itself against mine, hinting of a nature passionate as the meltemi, the tempestuous wind that cools the heat of our hot, dry summers, could be anything less than perfect. Parakalo,’ he groaned suddenly, 'take pity on my craving—let me taste your sweet­ness ...!'

  He swooped upon her mouth with the precision of a bee in search of nectar and kissed her until she felt drained, storm-tossed in a sea of turbulent passion. The miracle for which she had secretly prayed had actually come to pass—the mood-ridden, fiery-tempered, intolerant, enigmatic Greek had actually fallen in love with her! - Her state of bemused happiness lasted through­out the hours that they danced to the music of fiddle and flute, listened to songs of love made intolerably poignant by the skill of an accompany­ing bouzouki player who plucked pleasure and pain from the hearts of his listeners, turning lukewarm regard into friendship and inflaming passion into the senses of those teetering on the brink of love.

  Tiredness was forgotten as they all sat down together to break their fast. Amid an atmosphere of riotous fun the red eggs were distributed and a competition raged at the tables as neighbour cracked eggs with neighbour until a winner emerged, his tough red shell still intact. Then after a bowl of delicious soup, the tender young lambs which for hours had been revolved over a pit of glowing charcoal, were carved and distributed on piled-up platters until all had eaten their fill of succulent meat.

  Angie heard Terzan's laughter ring out in re­sponse to a neighbour's quip. Her head spun round in the direction of the unusual sound, her lips parted on a gasp of surprised awe, and was pinned in the sight of amber eyes, keen as a hunter's, that seemed to blaze a path of fire across her happy face.

  'You look tired, elika,' he mocked, shocking her by pretending he could see.

  She blushed, wondering if he really thought her as sweet as Greek honey, then suffered a hot rush of scarlet when he confided intimately, 'Our guests will understand completely if we leave them now.'

  Without giving her a chance to voice an objec­tion he rose to his feet and made his intention plain.

  'Kalispera, my friends!' he called out to 'the widely grinning crowd, 'or, as it is early morning, I'd better make that: heretil. My young bride is tired, I hope you will excuse us if we retire now.'

  'Endaksi! Endaksi!'

  The word of approval rang in their ears as, with Terzan's hand resting lightly on her shoulder, Angie led the way towards the villa, her mouth dry, cheeks aflame, her senses confused yet eager, her shyness swamped by the light-fingered caresses, soothing murmurs, snatched kisses, and golden Greek wine with which, during the past dreamlike hours, she had been bombarded.

  A spasm of trembling shook her when, by wordless consent, they walked past her door and pro­gressed towards the bridal suite. The sperveri shim­mered delicate as a spider's web in the moonlight as she stood with head downbent in the middle of the room, feeling once more guiltily grateful for the blindness that prevented him from recognising her gauche, awkward shyness.

  'Don't be afraid of me, agape mou? he spun her round to face eyes shining amber as a cat's in the darkness. 'I will be gentle, I promise you.'

  His touch turned the ice in her veins into a tor­rent of scalding emotion. 'Oh, Terzan!' she sobbed, collapsing trusting as a child into his waiting arms, 'now that I know you love me, my only fear is the fear of losing you! Nikos says you have the touch of Midas—I'm a beggar in love, please teach me to turn dross into gold ...!'

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A breeze drifting through the slightly open window teased the hem of the sperveri, setting the veil of silk shimmering around Angie, so that she felt enveloped in a swarm of beating butterflies'-wings.

  Her heart responded with a flutter to a reminder of the night before—an indentation in the pillow next to hers, a few creases in the pristine, lace-trimmed cover that had been crushed for a pain­fully short time beneath her husband's head. A silent moan escaped her as she stirred, her numbed body reacting with the leap of one jagged nerve to the realisation that once more she had been used, abused, then ruthlessly discarded.

  The complexity of Terzan Helios' nature was completely beyond her. Although she was aware that he was possessed of a scheming, calculating mind, that his distrust of her sex had been in­grained in him since childhood, that his accident had scarred not only his eyes but also his soul, rendering him even more ruthless than before, it still did not seem possible that he could have stooped to such deceit in order to achieve his aim!

  She wanted to drag herself out of bed and into a refreshing bath, but her body felt charred, as stripped and lifeless as the small sacrificial lambs she had seen roasting on the spit the night before. Yet mere hours ago she had been brought more vibrantly alive than she had ever been in her life before. Experience no doubt accounted for Terzan's uncanny ability to soothe away her fears, so that she had melted into his arms to give with­out reservation all that it was in her to
give. He had acted out the role of tender bridegroom with such conviction that she had been fooled com­pletely, especially when, after the height of phy­sical ecstasy had been reached, he had cradled her in his arms to groan against a mouth soft as crushed rose petal:

  'Generous, trusting Angelina, you make me feel ashamed of all the worst in me, make me doubt my belief that there is no creature so savage as woman. At this moment,' his fingers had stroked a shaken caress against the curve of her cheek, ‘I am convinced that God made the rose out of what was left when he created woman ...'

  A sob clawed at her throat as she tossed and fretted beneath the billowing curtain, tortured by the memory of lies that had dripped sweet as honey from his lips before, minutes later, the fla­vour of paradise had turned sour, and he had withdrawn from her loving embrace.

  'Herete, Angel bride!' he had mocked across his shoulder as he had stalked, certain as a night prowler, towards the connecting door. 'Dream of Karios, the home I feel sure you will not be leav­ing—now!’

  Greeks seldom eat breakfast, so Angie was sur­prised when, after she had endured a desultory bath and dragged on some clothes, Lira appeared with a tray containing a pot of coffee, a jar of honey, and some slices of crusty bread.

  'The kirios has ordered that you are to eat up every scrap!' Lira eyed her with immense respect. 'Then you are to join him in his study where he will be waiting.'

  Angie blushed, conscious of being treated with the deference due to some rare Egyptian cat.

  'Thank you, Lira, I shall be glad of the coffee, . but you can take the rest away.'

  'Oh, but . . .' the maid began to argue.

  ‘I'm not hungry,' Angie insisted firmly, 'so kindly do as I say.'

  She had not meant to sound authoritative, pain rather than pride had added an edge to a voice which, to Lira, must have held a ring she asso­ciated with new found dignity.