Second-Best Bride

by Margaret Rome

  Her sloe-dark eyes slewed to quiz the faces of Angie and Cilla, wondering which of them was the new mistress of Karios. Then, obviously having decided her choice, she half smiled at Cilla, but quickly masked her discomfiture when Terzan, raised a hand from his side to reveal Angie's hand clasped within his.

  Thank you, Helen. I've brought my wife, Angelina, to place her in your very capable hands. She shows little interest in haute couture, nevertheless I'd like you to supply her with a complete new wardrobe that will complement the youthful simplicity which, I'm sure you will agree, is her most beguiling asset. Also, her sister Priscilla must not be left out,' he smiled and nodded in her direction, 'but as she is a lady with a mind of her own, you'll have no difficulty with her, she will arrive at her own decisions.'

  But Helen seemed to have lost interest in Cilla, and was concentrating all her attention upon Angie, calculating her size, assessing her grace of movement, approving her delicate skin tones.

  'Hm ... a perfect English size eight, I would say.' She cocked an enquiring head.

  'Quite perfect,' Terzan agreed, to Angie's shocked embarrassment. 'I should like to see her— to imagine her,' he corrected, 'wearing a pair of the tight-legged trousers all the girls seemed to be wearing just before I was blinded. On some they looked disastrous, but pure poetry in motion on an exquisite pair of thighs.'

  Even Cilla gasped at the outrageous aplomb with which he claimed as much familiarity with his wife's shape as any sighted husband. Then to Angie's intense mortification he went on to bedevil her still further. 'Also I consider those voluminous tents that pass for evening dresses suitable only for middle-aged ladies whose hips have spread, there­fore, when you are dressing my wife please bear in mind, Helen,' he flashed an impudent grin, 'that I am no dog-in-the-manger, that even though I am deprived of the pleasure myself I have no objection to other men being treated to the sight of a wasped-in waist and a delectable deep cleavage.'

  With cheeks afire, Angie squeezed his fingers, mutely begging him to stop his tormenting before he should be tempted to reveal that she had a mole that could be hidden by even the briefest of bikini tops, or that there was a certain spot along her spine that she could not bear to have tickled. She knew he had read her mind when he laughed aloud, and her shyness increased when Helen and other hovering members of her staff joined in until the whole room seemed to be rollicking with mer­riment, milling with curious, smiling good-humoured faces. With the exception of one—Cilla's expression was set with fury, an ivory mask studded with a pair of glittering, ice-blue gems.

  Most men, Angie felt certain, would have been glad to have been relieved of the boredom of de­ciding which clothes were most suited to their wives but when Helen suggested that Terzan might retire to the privacy of her office to drink coffee, smoke a cigar, or listen in comfort to a pro­gramme of piped music, he declined firmly and insisted upon accompanying them to the first floor showroom where models were waiting to parade the best of the House of Helios collection. I

  Although he had complimented Helen on her excellent taste, once the parade began he took complete control, listening intently to Helen's detailed description of each garment, feeling the texture of the different clothes, then choosing with unerring instinct the outfits most flattering to his wife's delicate slim-boned figure. His questions were endless.

  'Blue, did you say? What shade of blue exactly...?'

  'Yes, we'll take that one, a deep mauve tint will add a haunting depth to her grey eyes.'

  'White lace is very appropriate for a novice bride, don't you agree, Helen?' Terzan quipped.

  ‘I like the rustling sound of the pale grey taffeta, but I fear my wife might find a strapless bodice too much of a threat to her modesty!'

  Long before an hour had passed Angie felt forced to protest. 'Please, Terzan, there's no need for such extravagance, it will take years to wear out the items you've already bought!'

  'Such dresses are not meant to be worn out, darling,' Cilla drawled, envious, yet elated by the number of outfits Terzan had earmarked for herself. 'The wives of multi-millionaires discard their wardrobes immediately the fashion scene changes, then the whole exciting replacement programme begins all over again.'

  'But that's disgraceful!' Angie gasped, appalled by such shocking waste and only vaguely comforted by the thought that her position as Terzan's wife was as fickle and unstable as the fashion scene, and that she would probably never be called upon to sit through a second similar parade.

  Outvoted by her husband's determination to boast the world's best-dressed wife and by Cilla's equal determination to prolong a situation that promised unique personal gain, she sank back de­feated, wondering what possible use she would find, back home in her father's parish, for a gold lame tunic with matching trousers, a multi­coloured lamé brocade that plunged alarmingly low at the back, a bewildering number of ball gowns fashioned from embroidered tulle, satin rib­bons, organdie roses and clustered seed pearls, and silk day dresses and casual cottons with fluttering skirts in dragonfly colours and confetti prints.

  By the time Terzan had forced her to endure a gamut of embarrassed emotions by insisting upon having an entire collection of seductive lingerie minutely described, the time of her arranged meet­ing with Nikos had long passed. Hoping the patient Greek might still be waiting, and con­vinced that there was nothing left in the entire building that had not already been put on show, she seized upon the warmth of the atmosphere as an excuse to escape.

  'Terzan, I must go outside for a breath of air, it's so terribly stuffy in here.'

  Much to her chagrin, Helen overheard her remark and was immediately affronted.

  ‘I'm sorry,' she apologised stiffly, ‘I had not realised that you were suffering discomfort. Usually the girls who model our collection are quick to complain if humidity threatens to make changing difficult; I'll order the air-conditioning to be adjusted.'

  'Oh, I didn't mean . . .!' Angie stammered in distress as Helen turned on her heel and dis­appeared behind a curtain of heavy red velvet.

  'Just as well, little liar,' Terzan's mocking murmur teased the tip of one burning ear, 'that we are about to progress towards choosing furs, otherwise, caught between the chill of Helen's justifiable displeasure and a maximum draught from a highly efficient air-conditioning system, you could be in danger of frostbite.'

  ‘I don't like furs,' she quivered truthfully.

  'Even so, you must not be selfish,' he chided, ‘hen betrayed shrewd insight into Cilla's character by continuing dryly, 'Your sister would never forgive you if you should try to deprive her of any crumbs that might drop from your table.'

  Nevertheless, she felt impelled to continue her fight, ‘I know that you find Cilla amusing and that you much prefer her company to mine, so why—' She broke off abruptly when his head snapped erect.

  In a tone that had developed an edge sharper than a knife, he commanded, 'You are to remain by my side always, is that understood? Your voice enables me to see, I rely upon your concise directions, therefore your presence is essential if I am not to be left floundering, led like a blinkered mule through the streets of the city!'

  Perhaps it was her unquestioning obedience that allowed his attitude to soften as they toured a show­room lined with racks of furs. With a pang of dis­quiet, Angie noted a silver fox pelt draped along the width of a couch, giving an impression that the animal was alive and restfully sleeping. She shuddered and turned away, only to be confronted by further proof of man's cruelty to creatures of the wild, and woman's grasping determination to be pampered, envied and admired, at whatever the cost.

  With a cry of delight Cilla slid her arms into sleeves of a full-length lynx coat and hugged the collar close beneath her chin as she posed and pouted at her reflection in a gilded mirror. Filled with a covetous envy that caused her to babble, she appealed to Angie:

  ‘Isn't this simply out of this world . . .!'

  'The animals that were slaughtered to provide the pelts most certain
ly are,' Angie responded with a tartness that caused Terzan's eyebrows to rise.

  ‘I do believe you meant it when you said you disliked furs?' He sounded as surprised as a hunter who had stumbled upon a strange, unrecorded species.

  'Dislike is too mild a word to describe the way I feel about the wholesale destruction of beautiful wild beasts for no better reason than to allow rich, over-pampered women to add to their collection of status symbols,' she croaked, repelled by the atmo­sphere of cruelty engendered by racks hung heavy with the pitiful remains of once magnificent beasts.

  Finding it difficult to equate such a spate of heated indignation with her serene, usually inarticulate sister, Cilla snapped:

  'How ridiculous!' Then, fearing Angie's attitude might deprive her of the fur she was hugging around her body like a woman possessed, completely in the clutches of lynx claws, she reminded her harshly, 'A great number of animals, especially mink, are bred specifically to be—'

  'Murdered . . .?' Angie flashed, sickened by the implication that, because they were available in abundance, the fate of the small creatures was of little consequence.

  Motivated by the best of intentions, Helen has­tened to interrupt by approaching Angie with a short jacket draped over her arm, then proceeded to display complete ignorance of the depths of her client's sensitivity by inviting her to inspect the jacket fashioned from pale fawn skins, soft and supple as velvet.

  'As you have an aversion to furs, perhaps this jacket will be more to your liking—it has been made up specially for a customer, but if you wish we could get one tailored exactly to your measure­ments?' Without waiting for a reply, she stepped closer and held out the jacket, inviting Angie to run her fingers over the limp pelt. 'As you can see, It is made of finest kid—only healthy, unmarked youngsters are culled from the herds of deer that were imported here years ago to discourage snakes, but which have multiplied so rapidly that they are now threatening to overrun our island.'

  Guided by Angie's gasp of outrage, Terzan reached out to grasp her trembling fingers, but in­stead of offering the comfort she was expecting he confounded her by mocking sarcastically:

  'Before my wife is moved to sacrifice her own tender skin in a bid to save the deer population, we had better call it a day, Helen.' He pulled Angie aside to murmur in her ear alone. 'Well, Goody Two-Shoes,' his thin lips widened when she recoiled from the knowledge that he had discussed her with Cilla, 'your feeble excuses and high-minded protests might have carried more convic­tion had I not overheard your whispered assigna­tion with Nikos.' With startling suddenness his whisper turned into a hiss. 'Must you make it obvious that you prefer anyone's company to mine—even that of a servant?'

  Contemptuously he flung her hand aside and spun on his heel to order, 'Take whichever coat you wish, Priscilla! You deserve to be rewarded for your honest refusal to pretend that a woman's happiness is not dependent upon the thrill of looking in shop windows and of buying all that a man can be persuaded to pay for. You at least are not too proud to allow yourself to be pampered and cherished, nor too stubborn to admit that woman is a silver dish designed to display only golden apples!'

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  With the wickedly expensive lynx coat slung over her arm, Cilla looked jubilant when they entered the foyer of the luxury hotel where a table had been booked for lunch.

  Tm sorry about this,' Terzan frowned, tightening his grip upon Angie's arm. 'Nikos must have assumed that because I have often used the facilities of this hotel for business conferences it would be a suitable place for a private lunch. I should have warned him that we would prefer to eat in less pretentious surroundings. There are some excellent tavernas nearby if you feel you would like to try some other place?'

  'Darling,' Cilla trilled, enthralled by the expanse of marble floor, walls of smoked glass, a scattering of over-stuffed leather couches and armchairs, huge futuristically designed chandeliers, and a cold chromium glitter that seemed to be everywhere, 'there is no other place!'

  Angie sensed that he was waiting for her to indicate a preference, but she kept silent, overawed by a miniature jungle of tropical plants with stems thick as a man's wrist shooting to the full height of the ceiling, and leaves that she could have wrapped around her body with yards to spare.

  'Well, Angelina . . .?' As usual he sounded im­patient. 'Are you happy to lunch here or not?'

  ‘I don't mind,' she stammered, then, remember­ing his preference for places that were familiar, she hastened to add, 'As a table has already been re­served it would be impolite not to make use of it.'

  The dining-room was crowded with elegantly-dressed people whose subdued murmurings rose above the clink of serving dishes and the tinkle of cutlery, then fell into a hush immediately Terzan was recognised. Angie felt his fingers biting into her arm and knew he was aware that he had become the subject of all eyes. Her heart panicked for the proud Greek with the courage to take on the world blindfolded, and became even more agit­ated when a smiling maître d'hotel quickly ap­proached wearing a self-congratulatory smile.

  'Welcome, sir,' he bowed. 'We are pleased to be honoured once again by your custom. I am pleased to be able to tell you that although we were given short notice of your visit, I have been able to reserve your usual table.'

  Suddenly Angie knew she could not bear to see Terzan being put through the ordeal of negotiating a maze of tables and of progressing through a meal seated prominently in the view of every curi­ous diner.

  'Er . . . if you don't mind, I think I would prefer to sit in one of your charming side booths, they look so cosy and intimate,' she blushed a fiery red as she stumbled an awkward apology, ‘I . . . I'm not used to dining in such huge establishments, I'd like to sit where I can see everything without being overlooked.'

  'Angie, for heaven's sake!' Cilla drew in an exasperated breath.

  'See to it, Andreas,' Terzan ordered smoothly, communicating by the increased pressure of his fingers upon her arm that he had guessed the motive behind her request and was relieved and grateful for her understanding.

  Blissfully oblivious to the new current of warmth flowing between her two companions, Cilla prattled happily all during the meal, casting triumphant glances at her sister, whose subdued replies and downcast lashes hid trembling awareness of a husband whose light-fingered touch was electrifying. Terzan, too, seemed preoccupied, which was probably why Cilla did not hesitate to fall in with his wishes when, as they approached the end of the meal, he suggested apologetically:

  'As I am so seldom in Rhodes these days, I feel I must take advantage of this visit to attend to some urgent business. Would you mind very much, Priscilla, if we left you to your own devices for the next couple of hours?’

  'We . . .?' she queried suspiciously.

  Ever so slightly his nostrils flared, but his tone remained smooth as he responded to her inquisition. 'I shall need Angelina with me to take notes.‘

  'Oh, in that case,' she shrugged, 'carry on by all means.' Suddenly her expression brightened. 'Come to think of it, I'm certain I saw a beauty salon as we passed through the hotel foyer. As I'm long overdue a professional hairdo, I might as well utilise the time by making an appointment.'

  As if anxious to make amends for his absence, Terzan insisted upon arranging the appointment there and then, and gratified Cilla still further by insisting that whatever expenses she incurred were added to his account.

  'You're so generous, Terzan darling,' she glowed as they prepared to take leave of her, 'but at least,' her derogatory glance flickered over Angie, 'you do gain from me the satisfaction of knowing that your kindness is fully appreciated.'

  With what seemed to Angie almost indecent haste, he ushered her out of the hotel and into a waiting taxi, then surprised her still further by in­structing the driver:

  'To the Old Town, parakalo.’

  'You have business in the Old Town?' she fal­tered, as they were sped away from office blocks built squarely in the centre of what was obviously the island'
s hub of business activity.

  'Very important business,' he assured her solemnly, 'a pressing obligation to ensure that you do not return to Karios disappointed at having been deprived of a chance to tour the sights you are pining to see.'

  'You mean you lied to Cilla?' she gasped, shocked by such a lack of conscience.

  'Certainly I did,' he confessed promptly, 'with as little compunction as you lied to me, firstly about feeling faint and then about having an aversion to wearing animal skins.' -

  ‘I did not lie to you, Terzan,' she defended with a quiet dignity that caused him a frown. 'Since early childhood I've been taught that it's wrong to lie, and I would never do so unless forced by exceptional circumstances.'

  'Such as . . .?'

  'When to tell the truth would inflict even more serious damage,' she countered evenly.

  'Then you are a gullible little fool just asking to be hurt,' he told her roughly, yet with an odd in­flection in his voice that made her suspect that probably for the first time in his life the unscrupul­ous Greek was nonplussed.

  In spite of an atmosphere of constraint, Angie's spirits rose when the taxi drew up in the shadow of massive grey ramparts beyond which rose the bat­tlements of an ancient castle ringed by a belt of sombre green trees.

  'The town's fortifications were built early in the fourteenth century to repel attacks from pirates and Egyptian Moslems,' he told her as they strolled through the gateway into the courtyard of a house built of solid stone with an immense coat of arms carved over a porched entrance. 'Let me test my powers of recall!' He hesitated, to run his hands along the rim of an antiquated wellhead, and frowned as he concentrated hard upon reviv­ing memories of a scene his sighted eyes had taken too much for granted. 'To our left there should be a pyramid of cannonballs which, judging from the shouts issuing from that direction, are still being utilised as goalposts by the schoolboy population?'

  'Correct,' Angie encouraged with a gurgle of laughter.