by Anne Hampson
He glanced down into her lovely face. 'You don't appear to be afraid, and that puzzles me because from what I've heard of your husband's temper he'll most likely beat you.'
'You'd like to think he would?' She wondered what his reaction would be were she to tell him just how her husband had taken it when she made her confession. But Martine had no intention of telling him and by so doing have him tell Sophia. No, Martine was human enough—and catty enough!—to want Sophia to confront Luke and get what was coming to her!
'This lack of fear puzzles me,' said Kelvin again and Martine actually laughed because his words were in the nature of a complaint, pettishly spoken.
'I am not afraid of my husband, Kelvin,' she said after a pause.
'Then you're a brave woman.'
She made no comment on that for, as had been the case on several previous occasions, she felt the conversation with Kelvin was inane, pointless and ruffling to them both. However, she agreed to sit at the outdoor cafeneion when he invited her to join him for a cool drink. They sat under a canopy of vines where lush green grapes were hanging. On the air came the scent of oleanders and roses, drifting from the side garden of Marco's whitewashed, flat-roofed villa. Beyond the flowers was the perivoli, the orchard where he grew citrus fruits—oranges and lemons and bright green limes.
They had just had their drinks placed before them when Martine spotted Litsa, walking slowly, a basket of groceries in her hand. She looked, and caught Martine's gaze. Martine, acting on impulse, lifted a hand swiftly to beckon the girl over. There was a slight hesitation after Litsa stopped and then she smiled and came on. But there was something strange about her—furtive—and her eyes strayed covertly towards Kelvin. Martine had the firm conviction that the girl knew who he was even though she had never met him. She introduced them and her deductions were strengthened. Yes, Litsa's lack of surprise proved beyond doubt that she had guessed who Kelvin was. As for Kelvin himself—well, thought Martine with a little shock of surprise, his gaze was one of deep admiration to say the least. She recalled his saying that in Greece a girl who has a child out of wedlock is considered bad.
'Do sit down.' Kelvin seemed to come to after his long and fixed appraisal and he rose to his feet, offering Litsa his chair. 'What can I get you to drink?'
A smile fluttered. She was shy, hesitant and unsure of herself and Martine suspected she was sorry she had come over to join them. But she answered presently, 'I would very much like to have of the cold lemonade—if you please.'
Kelvin clapped his hands in the way the Greeks did to bring the waiter over. 'Another chair and a glass of iced lemonade,' he ordered and within a couple of minutes both had arrived. Kelvin seemed more than eager to put the Greek girl at her ease; he chatted with her while Martine was left to listen, fascinated by the way the two were getting along together. They might have known one another for months, she mused when at last she rose and said she must go. This caused Litsa to look scared and rise also.
'I must go too,' she murmured but it was plain by the way she looked at Kelvin that she did not really want to go.
But she was vitally conscious of the conventions, knowing that her reputation was already besmirched and, therefore, she dared not risk being seen alone with the Englishman. Martine frowned as all this was borne in on her. She looked at Kelvin, a look that spoke volumes. And she saw that his expression spoke volumes, too!
It was only a week later that Martine said to her husband, 'I have an idea that Kelvin has found someone else.' She stopped, then watched Luke's face closely as she added, 'He seems to have become exceedingly interested in a girl from the village called… called Litsa—'
'Litsa!' he broke in sharply. 'Litsa Katsellis?'
'The one with the little boy.'
Luke's glance was sharp and narrowed, ice suddenly in his manner. Martine regretted the impulse by which she had been urged to mention Litsa and the situation fast developing between her and Kelvin.
'You're telling me that Kelvin's fallen in love with Litsa? He knows of course that she's never been married?'
Martine felt herself going cold inside, for she could scarcely believe that Luke could be so indifferent, callous almost, as he discussed the girl he had so heartlessly wronged. Her eyes registered contempt and her mouth went tight. But there was nothing unusual in her voice as she said yes, it did seem that Kelvin was falling in love with Litsa.
'You sound as if you know the girl.' Luke's scrutiny was long and interrogating.
'I have met her, yes.'
'How do you know that Kelvin's interested in her?' he demanded as if the question had just come to mind.
'I was with Kelvin in Marco's cafeneion when Litsa joined us—'
'You were with Kelvin—on view to everyone in the town!' Cold fury edged his voice as he added through his teeth, 'How dare you keep on seeing him when I've warned you so many times? I forgave you the lapse you confessed to, and I sent Sophia on her way with reddened cheeks when she came here with her tale-carrying, but at least I believed you and Kelvin had finished seeing one another!' He was wildly angry; Martine, pale but composed, waited until he had stopped speaking before reminding him that, as Kelvin was seriously interested in Litsa, he was being absurd by adopting this attitude. And then she stopped, her heart giving a little lurch, for it had just occurred to her that Luke's whole manner was that of a jealous husband…
They had been standing on the verandah of the living-room, and she stepped close to the wrought iron balustrade to lean against it for support as she tried to gather her wits, to bring order to the turmoil in her mind. For this suspicion could not possibly have any foundation, she was telling herself one moment, yet the next she was saying she must believe the evidence of her previous observation. She turned to look directly at her husband and saw that he had been slightly taken aback by the logic of her remark. And as the silent moments passed he seemed to be discarding his anger altogether. His face lost its harshness and his mouth relaxed, the lower lip taking on that fullness, that distinctly sensuous aspect which, oddly enough, only added, enormously, to his attractions. His eyes, too, had lost that icy glitter, that domineering look which had been designed to make her tremble in her shoes.
The tense silence seemed to stretch into eons of time before Luke broke it by saying, with what seemed absurdly prosaic casualness, 'You must have seen Kelvin since that day in Marco's cafeneion?'
'I have, this morning. He told me he'd seen Litsa every day since they met in the cafe.'
'How did you come to know her?' Luke's voice was edged with a curious inflection that was reflected in his eyes.
Martine bit her lip; this question had not occurred to her and naturally she did not know how to answer it. She still felt contemptuous of her husband for his near indifference about Litsa. He did not appear at all ashamed that Kelvin, a man he disliked intensely, was—or might be—contemplating taking responsibility for a child that was Luke's.
Suddenly she knew a great surge of anger, unreasonable anger since she could not for one moment put her finger on the cause of it. And in her anger she allowed restraint to go by the board, saying what she instantly regretted. 'I went to see her, to find out if what Kelvin said was true. He had told me her child was—was yours.' Martine was very pale now as, from beneath her lashes, she cast her husband an upward glance. She felt desolate, angry with herself because she would far rather Luke had been left in ignorance of her knowledge.
And yet, surely he must have known right from the first that she must one day learn the truth, seeing that Litsa and her little son lived not much more than a mile away.
'You… went to ask her if Ulysses is my child?' Luke stared in disbelief, shaking his head from side to side as if he would clear his mind of something unsavoury. 'Martine—!'
'I know how you came by that scar,' she broke in softly. 'It was in a brawl—' She stopped, fiercely catching her lower lip between her teeth. Why was she saying all these things? One look at her husband's dark countenan
ce was more than enough to warn her that he was furiously angry, with that in his expression which seemed to accuse and admonish, and to reveal his contempt for what she had done. She felt guilty without knowing why, and in consequence her own anger rose again. 'Litsa's brothers attacked you and you can't deny it!'
'I don't deny it.' So soft the tone but—oh, heavens, he looked as if he were ready to murder her! Never had she thought to see him in a rage of such intensity. 'What is puzzling me at the moment,' he went on, still in that deceptively smooth and quiet tone, 'is your attitude. Litsa must have told you that—'
'Her child was yours? Yes, of course, she did.' Martine had broken in swiftly as if by so doing she would strengthen her own defence. 'You give her money; you bought the land which she farms.'
'Litsa told you her child was mine?' For the moment his anger had dissolved as he stared at her in total disbelief. 'She actually told you—' He stopped, and Martine felt the hairs rise on her forearms as an icy finger traced a line along her spine. Something was wrong… She had known there was but had not been able to put her finger on any clue to the mystery. From that moment when Kelvin, unable to meet her gaze, had told her about Litsa, she had felt that all was not open and above board, that all three— Kelvin, Sophia and Odette—shared a secret that affected her personally. She looked at her husband, saw the anger clearly portrayed in his face again and a quiver of apprehension shot through her. 'You believed what you were told? You actually branded me a rake who would ruin an innocent girl?'
'But—but—' Martine spread her hands in a helpless gesture. 'Isn't it—it true—?' She stepped aside swiftly on noting his expression, her heart pounding so that she actually suffered a physical ache. She saw Luke's eyes glint with fury at her action, knew he was in a towering rage even before he reached her with a silent spring. Taking her unawares and ignoring her high-pitched cry of protest, he gripped her roughly by the shoulders and shook her until her breath seemed to stop and her eyes filled with tears. Only when he saw her distress did he stop. But he could not let go of her because he knew she would fall.
'I hate you!' she whispered fiercely, clenching her small fists as if she would strike him. 'You're a beast! Why should you be angry when you know it's true…?' But she let her voice trail away to silence, catching her breath, trying to release the constriction in her throat, to ease the pain in her chest which had come with the shaking.
'You know now it isn't true, don't you?' he gritted, letting her go when he saw her reach out to grab the rail. 'But you believed it was true until this moment, didn't you? You, my wife, to go and make an inquiry like that! And then, to believe the lies that had been told to you! Believe the worst of your husband! What an opinion you must have of me!' His dark eyes raked her quivering body contemptuously from head to foot. 'Well, I am now under no illusions! I know exactly in what light you regard me—!'
'Luke,' broke in Martine desperately, 'if it isn't true, then why did Litsa say it was?'
'How the devil do I know?' His voice was like a whiplash, his expression still one of the deepest contempt. 'It seems to me there was some sort of conspiracy—' He stopped and his eyes widened. 'Yes, there was a conspiracy! You remember when we saw Odette and Kelvin together? We both had the same idea—' He stopped speaking and caught his underlip in a sneer. 'What does it matter? You and I, Martine, are through! I refuse to have anything to do with a woman who could distrust and despise me in the way you have. We shall remain married but it will be a sham.' And on that he turned and left her standing there, by the rail, the one impression in her mind that of bitterness, terrible and soul-searing… bitterness on her husband's part…
Martine stood there a long while, her mind in chaos. She had known there was a mystery, but never had it entered her head that both Kelvin and Litsa would tell a lie… and yet both had indicated a reluctance to meet her gaze, to look her straight in the eye. For what reason had they lied? And what of Luke's bitterness?
Why should he be bitter? Angry, yes, and perhaps resentful… but bitterness was a different thing altogether. Martine's brow creased in thought as she recalled several instances when she had found her husband's behaviour unusual, to say the least. There was that occasion when, after she had made her confession and told him to expect a call from Sophia, he had appeared to be on the verge of saying something important to her. They had been in his study and there had been a tense and expectant moment when she had waited, for he had been so kind and understanding towards her, and instead of encountering anger she had received tenderness. Yes, that particular moment had been tense, but Luke had moved away to the other side of the desk, and as the action was a plain dismissal there had been nothing for Mar-tine to do but obey the silent command and leave his room. Then there had been that moment, that optimistic moment, just a few minutes ago, when she had almost believed him to be jealous.
And now… bitterness… and hurt. Yes, Luke had been hurt by her distrust; she had seen it in his eyes.
Uncertainty enveloped her; one moment she was certain that her husband loved her, while the next she was telling herself not to be absurd.
If he loved her he would never have gone off like he had. On the contrary, he'd have explained… or would he? With his pride? She shook her head and told herself emphatically that he would not. She was at fault and he would make her admit it—not only that, but go to him humbly and ask his forgiveness.
It did not take her long to make up her mind, for even though she was not sure that he loved her, she still felt she ought to go to him and say she was sorry for misjudging him. Martine stopped suddenly. If Luke was not the child's father, who was? And why had Litsa's brothers attacked him?
Again her mind was in a whirl of doubt and indecision.
'There's only one solution,' she said aloud. 'I shall make Luke tell me more—explain. After all, I have a right to know what is going on!' ,
But even as she entered the sitting-room where he was standing by the window, Hermes entered and said,, respectfully, 'You sent for me, Mr. Loukas?'
A flickering glance of indifference came Martine's way before Luke said, 'Go and fetch Litsa Katsellis up here to me.'
The servant's eyes opened wide; they slid from Luke's stern set face to that of Martine. 'Yes, Mr. Loukas.'
'And I want her here at once!'
'Yes—er—shall I take the car?'
'Certainly you shall take the car!'
Martine watched the man depart, closing the door after him. She came forward slowly, but before she could speak Luke said harshly, 'What do you want, Martine?'
She took another step forward, her hands tightly closed at her sides. 'I intended to ask you to explain something to me.'
'Then come back when Litsa arrives.' He flicked an arrogant hand towards the door. 'Meanwhile, I'd like to be alone.'
She went, tears gathering in her eyes at the cold arrogance to which he was subjecting her. The door closed quietly; she went to her bedroom and stood watching the drive, waiting for the car that would bring Litsa up to the villa. So many questions! If Luke was not the father of Ulysses, why had he bought land for the child's mother? And why was he making her an allowance? It was all too much for Martine's bewildered brain and she just sat by the window, waiting.
The car arrived; she watched Hermes open the door to allow the Greek girl to alight and then she rose from the chair and went down to enter the sitting-room just behind Litsa. The girl cast her a frightened glance and went red.
How stern the expression on Luke's face was as he asked, without inviting Litsa to sit down, 'What do you mean by telling my wife that Ulysses is mine?'
'I—I—oh, Mr. Loukas! It was wrong of me! I never forget I hurt Madam Loukas! I tell Kelvin and he say no when I want to come and—and make of the confession.' She lowered her head and started to cry. 'I think God will never forgive me—'
'I asked you a question, Litsa, and you haven't answered it.'
She shook her head, lips quivering. 'Kelvin— he said I must n
ot speak—not tell you—'
'Shall we leave Kelvin out of this?' His voice was so sharp, it made even Martine jump. 'Answer my question, at once!'
'It was Madam Odette and Kelvin—they tell me to say, if your wife ask me, that you are the father of my little Ulysses. They give me— Madam Odette she give me much monies—one thousand drachmae. At first I feel wicked and say I not do this thing, but then she say all the things I can do for my boy with the money, and for my grandmother.'
'Don't I give you enough?' His face was hard as granite. It was easy to guess that his thoughts were mainly on Odette and her diabolical treachery, for Martine now realised why it had been done. They had expected that she, Martine, would instantly leave her husband and ask for a divorce once she learned that her husband's illegitimate child lived so near to her own home. The way would have been clear for both Odette and Kelvin… But things had not worked out the way they had planned. It was a case of 'the best laid plans of mice and men…'
'Yes, Mr. Loukas, you give me much monies and I feel wicked—' The tears came again, in a flood of remorse this time, and Martine, unable to bear the girl's distress, moved towards her, dried her eyes and held her close to her breast.
'Don't cry, Litsa,' she murmured soothingly, stroking the girl's hair. 'It's over and done with now, so there's no need for tears…' Her voice tapered off to silence as she saw her husband's expression. It had softened slightly and his eyes were moving from her face to the delicate white hollow of her throat, then lower, to where Litsa's dark head lay upon Martine's breast.
'Perhaps,' he said with quiet deliberation, 'you will tell my wife who the father of your child was.'
'It was—was your brother—' She lifted her head to seek Martine's eyes. 'I am very sorry to have hurt you, Madam Loukas. It was so wicked and I do not know what made me take the money for something so wrong.'
'Your brother?' Martine stared at Luke, recalling vividly how reluctant she had been to believe that he could act so vilely towards an innocent girl like Litsa. So much was now explained, for although much had become clear in the last few minutes, she had still been puzzled as to why Luke should have given Litsa money.