by Anne Hampson
'You do? What is love? Can you define it for me?' His tone was edged with amusement and contempt. Martine concluded he was not married, nor was he likely to be. A born bachelor who was obviously content with his way of life. She suspected he had had many pillow friends, and he was young enough to have many more.
'Love is caring so deeply for someone that you'd die for them.'
'Men have died for their countries. That's loyalty, not love.'
'Loyalty and love are kin.'
'Kin, perhaps, but not one and the same.' He shook his head. 'Love is a fallacy—a state of mind invented by the female of our species who, unfortunately, were provided with romantic fantasies unknown to men—'
'Oh, no! I can't agree!'
He turned to her; she saw the mocking curve of his lips and frowned inwardly. 'Have you ever known a man to be in love—as you call it?'
'Kelvin—'
'Was never in love with you.' He looked at her intently, his eyes moving over her face—tear-stained but lovely—then to her throat and the delicate slope of her shoulders, then lower to the alluring, tantalising curve of her firm, young breasts. She coloured at his examination; he was stripping her. She felt he was actually fondling her… Her colour deepened and, without warning, he took her in his arms, turned her face with a firm hand gripping her chin, and then his lips were claiming hers in a kiss so ardent and sensual that she had no strength to protest. In fact, she was soon reciprocating, thrilling to the moist probing, the mastery which compelled her to part her lips, and she quivered with a totally new and exquisite emotion as she felt the roughness of his tongue caressing her own. It was only when his hand enclosed her breast that she shied away, ashamed and blushing, pulling the edges of her thin white cardigan together.
'Why waste your tears on a man who cares nothing for you. Be my pillow friend and have all that life has to offer.'
'Your—!' She stared at his profile disbelievingly. 'What kind of man are you? Do you pick up any woman and go to bed with her?'
She had not known what to expect but certainly she hadn't envisaged the cruel grip that caused her to wince and then cry out in pain and protest.
'How dare you speak to me like that!' he said harshly. 'I do not pick up women!'
'But you picked me up,' she protested, tugging at her wrist and merely succeeding in giving herself more pain.
'I came to your aid,' he corrected, still in that harsh and angry tone. 'And you appeal to me. I suppose I am sorry for you in your distress—'
'I don't believe you,' she broke in hotly. 'You merely desire me, as so many Greek men desire women they see. Well, I'm not so cheap—get that!' She made to open the door but her wrist was still tightly held and she knew she could not get out of the car.
'I shall give you a ring tomorrow.' And he let go of her wrist then, and started the car. 'I suppose you do have a phone in your apartment?'
'Yes, there is one, but I won't have you phoning me. I'm grateful for your help—very grateful that you would trouble to turn back and bring me home, but that is the end of it as far as I am concerned. Besides, you must live some distance from here?' She ended on a questioning note, looking at his profile.
'I live in the white villa on the hill,' he told her quietly. 'The one you see so plainly from the Sanctuary—in fact, my main view is directly down on to it.'
'The Villa Cladeos?' she said in some surprise. 'But you were going the other way.'
'I was merely going for a drive. I sometimes do, especially when I have a business problem I want to think out. Night driving's conducive to clear, logical thought.'
Martine did not ask why, but remarked instead that his view must be wonderful. To be able to look down on to the sacred precincts of Olympia…
'I had the house built purposefully for the view.'
True to his word Loukas phoned her the following day. She had been up just over an hour when the ringing brought her from the kitchen where she had been making toast and coffee.
'I told you not to ring,' she began, when he interrupted her to say, 'People do not tell me what to do and what not to do, Martine. I want to see you today. An hour from now?'
Something strange and yet not unpleasant touched her heart. 'I do not want to see you, either in an hour or anytime!'
'What did Kelvin have to say about your running away?'
'I haven't seen him.'
'No?' in some surprise. 'But surely, if you're living so close, you must have seen one another?'
'He was in bed last night—'
'In bed, and knowing you were out in the car, on those lonely and dangerous roads?'
Martine ignored that. 'He must have gone out early this morning. He said yesterday that he was going to Athens to see the curator of the museum there, so perhaps he chose today to do it. I don't really know.'
'Well, I expect you're fully convinced that you and he have no future together. I shall be around in an hour—or perhaps a little earlier.' And without giving her any further chance to protest he replaced the receiver. Martine's mouth tightened. He was certainly persistent!
She thought at first that the best way to deter him would be to look drab and uninteresting when he arrived. But, driven by some hand other than her own, she dressed carefully, donning a white cotton dress trimmed with a flowered border round the hem, and with a similar feature forming a belt below a tight-fitting bodice and above a daintily flared skirt which, though hiding her curves, in fact, accentuated her slenderness. She brushed her hair till it shone, noticing as she stared at herself in the mirror that the tints of tawny brown, so soft and attractive, had not disappeared altogether when her hair was bleached by the hot Grecian sun. Dainty sandals revealed pink-tipped toes below perfectly-shaped ankles and slender legs browned by the outdoor life Martine had led since coming to Greece.
Loukas arrived within five minutes of her being ready and the first words he uttered after she had invited him in were, 'So you did want me to come despite the protests.' His eyes were lazy as they travelled over her—lazy and mocking. And she felt uncomfortable in the extreme even while she freely admitted to the pull of his attraction which sent feathery ripples along her spine.
Without answering she led the way into a cool sitting-room where the zephyr of a breeze ballooned the embroidered net drapes and at the same time carried in the heady scent of flowers. Martine had a bowl of red roses on the table and another of magenta bougainvillaea on the windowsill. She invited her visitor to sit down but he went to the window instead and stood looking out, his eyes trained on the big imposing villa that belonged to Sophia's father. Watching him, Martine felt that had she been able to see his expression it would have been harsh, to say the least. He turned, as if aware of her gaze, and she saw again that lazy, mocking look as his dark eyes slid over her. The scar seemed more pronounced than she expected it to be; she fell to wondering how he had come by it. But she did not ask, naturally. She merely said, adopting an air of cool affability, 'Why are you here, Mr. Leoros?'
'I wanted to see you. I have a proposition to put to you.'
'Yes?' with a tingling of nerves as she waited for him to repeat his invitation of last night.
'Will you marry me?'
She gaped, the room spinning around her so that she was forced towards a chair, grasping the back for support.
'Wh-what did you say?'
'Need I repeat it?' The delayed smile, the deliberation of the one short sentence, the smooth and casual manner in which he lifted a hand to hide a yawn… all these sent Martine into a flurry of sensations that precluded any possibility of clear thought. She sank into the chair, staring up at him as if he had taken leave of his senses. Yet she knew without any doubt at all that he was serious!
'I don't understand you,' she said and the tone was one of complaint, which had the affect of broadening his smile.
'My question was plain enough—nothing cryptic about it.'
'Certainly it's cryptic! You haven't even mentioned a reason for asking it
!'
'You're confused,' he said in a softer voice, 'which is only natural. However, my reasons need not trouble you.' He paused, watching her shake her head in bewilderment. After a small pause during which she did not speak, he continued, 'As for you—well, marriage to me would solve all your problems; it would also afford you the satisfaction of knowing you had—er—got your own back on your fiancé—No, do not interrupt!' he went on authoritatively when she opened her mouth. 'No matter what you were about to say, revenge is sweet!'
Another pause, and as she looked at his expression Martine found herself shivering. Revenge is sweet… Suddenly she felt she knew why he wanted to marry her. It was for revenge on someone else. But who? A woman who had let him down? He had said quite categorically, though, that he did not believe in love. Therefore, he could not have been hurt because he had never been in love. Or had he…?
Two people who had been let down… It seemed almost natural that they might get together. She frowned, unable to understand her feelings and her thoughts. She had no intention of marrying anyone! If it couldn't be Kelvin then it would be no other man, for she loved him with all her heart.
'I cannot possibly marry you,' she stated at length. 'The idea's preposterous.'
'I don't agree.' He moved towards her and before she realised his intention she was on her feet, brought against his lithe body and, although she struggled, her efforts to free herself were not only puny, but laughable. He held her easily with one arm about her, hawser strong, while his other hand tilted her chin in the most proprietorial manner and the verbal protest she was about to make never even left her lips.
Breathless when at last he drew his mouth from hers, she could only stare and cling to him, for she felt weak from the ardent hunger of his kisses, from the possessive way he had held her, compelling her to meld her soft young body with the virile hardness of his own, making her aware of the new emotion he could arouse within her… the desire she had never known before. Her breathing continued to be erratic, while he quickly became calm, his mocking eyes matching the curve of those sensuous lips. She should have been feeling angry, resentful… but instead she wanted him to coerce her again, to demand that she reciprocate his lovemaking.
'You're delightful,' murmured Loukas, his mouth cool and moist against her cheek. 'We shall do famously together—'
'No—!'
'Yes,' he broke in suavely. 'You're a very sexy young lady, although you haven't realised it until now—Yes, I believe you have realised it but, of course, with the usual female perversity, you'll not admit it.' He laughed then, softly, and Martine wanted to hit him. 'As I was saying, you're a very sexy young lady and you need a man who can satisfy that—'
'Stop it!' Sheer fury looked out of her eyes. 'You're insulting me!'
'The truth can never be an insult, my dear, and I only speak the truth. Think about it…' He bent his head and once again she experienced kisses which she could not resist. And as the passionate moments stretched she became drawn into a vortex of primitive love-making that drew a total response from her… and a near surrender. She had wound her arms about his neck, had arched her body in a search for the knowledge of his desire and need for her. His ardour had generated heat within her body; her pulses had throbbed with the desperate longing he had awakened. Shame and self-disgust fought against the urge for complete surrender and she was honest enough to admit that, if Loukas had continued, surrender would have been her lot. 'Well…' Loukas held her from him, a pulse pounding in his temple. 'Have you thought about it?'
'I can't marry you!' she cried fiercely. 'I won't marry you!'
Loukas bent and this time his kiss was gentle, without passion or temptation. He released her almost immediately. 'Dine with me this evening,' he said. 'I shall call for you around half past seven.' He was at the door, one hand on the knob. 'Wear a long dress. I want to see what you look like in one.'
'Who do you think you are giving orders to?' she demanded, still fighting to regain full control, still unable to breathe evenly.
'Do as I say and don't ask absurd questions.' He opened the door. 'You desire me just as much as I desire you,' he told her. 'Admit it and make your decision.'
'At first you wanted me for your pillow friend,' she could not help reminding him.
'But you refused, and I realised you would continue to refuse. That is one reason for my asking you to marry me. There is another reason—'
'You want to be revenged on someone?'
He seemed faintly startled but soon recovered. His voice was carelessly suave as he said, nodding his head slightly, 'Yes, I want to be revenged on someone. So that makes two of us with that desire.'
'Please don't call here this evening. I shall not dine with you—not tonight or any other night.'
'I shall call at half past seven.' He opened the door and said over his shoulder, 'You should derive considerable enjoyment from telling Kelvin that you have a date. Oh, by the way—don't worry about your car. I've rung the garage and arranged for it to be brought in.'
Chapter Two
It was late in the afternoon when Martine came across Sophia and Kelvin, strolling together in the grounds of Sophia's house. Martine had been restless all day, unable to think clearly, unable to erase the face of Loukas Leoros from her mind. She felt afraid, filled as she was with the alarming awareness of the power he was able to exert so easily over her, a power which attacked the mainspring of her defences, leaving her vulnerable and helpless. Yes, he could easily have taken her this morning. Never would she have thought she could be so near surrender and emerge unscathed. What was it about him? She had no need to ask herself that. He was something very special, a man superlative among men, strong and vital. A man to be both respected and feared. A man one would trifle with at one's peril. No use denying that she was drawn to him, that his magnetism was so strong she had to obey its command. Kelvin seemed to be weak in comparison, a spine-less creature with numerous flaws in his character.
And here he was, walking with the girl who had taken Martine's place in his affections, the girl responsible for his asking Martine to return his ring.
'Hello, Martine!' Sophia's greeting was cheery and cordial. Martine's teeth clenched together but she managed to say, coolly and with a smile, albeit a forced one, 'Hello, Sophia. Enjoying your walk?'
'Of course.' She snuggled close to Kelvin, who began to look faintly uncomfortable. 'Did Kelvin tell you I was going to Athens with him? We're going tomorrow, for two days.'
'And does your father approve?'
'Papa isn't at home.'
'So he won't know about your trip to Athens?' Martine's glance was for Kelvin. He coloured and made no comment. 'I do not think your father would approve, Sophia,' continued Martine. 'In Greece a young girl does not go off for two days with a man unless he's her husband or some other relative.'
'I don't need you to tell me that,' returned the Greek girl saucily. 'I'm modern! I have been to school in Athens and all of us there have decided we shall not be victims of ancient and out-dated customs. If Papa doesn't approve then I shall leave home!' The girl's dark impressive eyes lifted provocatively to the man at her side, holding his gaze as she added, 'We shall be married, won't we, Kelvin?'
'Not yet awhile,' he said, appearing rather more uncomfortable now.
'I'd like to talk to you, Kelvin. It's about us—and my job,' Martine interrupted.
'I hope you won't leave me until I can find someone else,' he said anxiously. Somehow, his whole manner seemed contemptuous.
'You're asking the impossible.' She thought of last night, and her misery and fear on that lonely road. Kelvin had not bothered to come after her. She might have had an accident for all he cared. The quarrel had been swift, its culmination the return of the ring. And then she had said she was going to Athens, and would then travel back to England. She had taken one suitcase, aware that it was mainly for effect because she felt sure Kelvin would come after her and everything would be all right. There would be a wonde
rful making up. Well, it was not Kelvin who had rescued her, but another man, a man whom she could not put from her mind no matter how hard she tried.
'I cannot manage without a secretary,' he protested.
'Last night I was going away. You'd have had to manage without a secretary.'
'I knew you'd not go far. You've more common-sense than to run off leaving most of your belongings behind. I waited up for awhile but then went to bed knowing you'd be here this morning.'
'My car isn't here.' She looked squarely at him. 'How do you suppose I managed to get back without my car?'
He shot her a glance of surprise. 'I didn't know your car wasn't here, Martine.'
She remembered that she had mentioned her intention to put the car in the garage instead of leaving it out as she had always done. 'Well, it isn't here. It broke down on the road.'
'It did?' The concern came through, but not very strongly. 'I'd have come out had I known.'
Her mouth curved scornfully. 'You couldn't know anything unless you did come to look for me, could you?'
He went red and she found herself comparing him with Loukas. 'I would certainly have been worried if I had known—'
'Shall we change the subject, Kelvin?' broke in Martine gently. 'It's becoming absurd, don't you think?'
His colour deepened. Sophia, aware of his discomfiture, pulled at the arm she held and urged him to continue their stroll. 'It'll be getting dark,' she added, looking with annoyance at Martine. 'If you want to talk to Kelvin then do it later. I'm sure there isn't anything urgent, and we were so much enjoying our walk.'
'You won't leave me?' said Kelvin as he was being pulled away.
'I have already left you—'
'But—'
'You see, I am getting married very soon and my husband won't want me to continue working for a man to whom I was once engaged.'
'You're getting married!' from Sophia incredulously. As for Kelvin, he just stared at her in total disbelief.
'Yes, Sophia, getting married.' What had she said? How was she to extricate herself from this position she had stupidly managed to get herself into? Martine cursed herself for her impetuosity, her craving for retaliation.