'As long as it takes,' Alex murmured enigmatically, then strode towards the small dark woman rushing to meet him from the rear of the house.
As long as what takes? Saffron thought, trudging along behind him, the heat of the midday sun hitting her ike a blowtorch. She was not in the least surprised that Alex no longer felt it necessary to lead her around by the arm; the arrogant oaf knew very well there was nowhere she could run to.
She stopped and watched him greet the elderly lady with a bear hug, and then shake hands with a surprisingly wizened old man whose currant-black eyes looked past Alex to where Saffron stood. His face split in an ear-to-ear grin then he said something in Greek that made Alex fling his head back and burst out laughing.
For a second Saffron was stunned by the sight of Alex, tall and casually dressed in cream trousers and a soft blue shirt, his darkly attractive face lit with laughter, the sun glinting off his night-black hair. He looked so handsome and carefree, and she felt her heart squeeze with longing for what might have been.
Introductions were over in a trice. The housekeeper and her husband, Despina and Georges were all smiles as they led the way into the welcoming coolness of the house.
'What did Georges say to make you laugh?' she asked as Alex ushered her into the main living-room with a hand on her back.
'Male joke; I doubt you would appreciate it.' And to her amazement he leaned towards her and kissed her slightly parted lips with a thoroughness that made her go weak at the knees. 'Come on, I'll show you around my home.'
'And my prison,' she shot back, more angry with herself because of her helpless reaction to his kiss than with him.
'It will be a prison of your own making, if you insist on being childish,' he said drily.
The house was lovely; Saffron could not pretend otherwise. The living-room and dining-room, family- room, study and kitchen all opened on to the garden and the sea but were connected by a long, wide, curving hall at the end of which an elegant marble staircase led to the upper floor.
'The hall was designed to be used as a reception area when I hold parties, or there are a lot of guests. It allows the rest of the family-rooms to be a more manageable size—'Alex informed her. 'More cosy.'
'You're hardly the cosy type,' Saffron snapped back.
He reached out and took hold of her chin, lifting it so that she had no option but to look at him. 'You will find out just what type I can be, if I have to put up with any more of your backchat, and I can promise you you will not like it.'
Her gaze was trapped by his, and she fought back the angry retort that hovered on her lips. His only visible sign of anger was the darkening glitter in his deep brown eyes, but she sensed the tension, the leashed strength, in iris large body, and fear made her swallow her words.
"That's better, Saffron. You're learning,' he mocked, aware of her battle for control. Pulling her into his arms, he continued, 'Neither of us has got exactly what we expected from this union, but there's no reason why we can't behave like civilised adults.'
His knowing smile held no humour, and sent shivers of apprehension down her spine. 'No.' She drew a deep breath; held in his embrace she was much too vulnerable. The musky male scent of him, the warmth of his body undermined her self-control.
His eyes narrowed faintly as they travelled over her flushed, mutinous face. 'You are my wife and I am master in my own home. You will do as I say, and show respect to the staff, and that way we will get along just fine. Agreed?'
His grip tightened around ber waist, his head bent and deliberately his breath feathered her cheek. 'Agreed?' he repeated hardly.
'Yes, yes,' she answered quickly, seconds before he kissed ha thoroughly, declaring her his possession.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Subdued, Saffron followed Alex upstairs and into the master bedroom. She gazed around, her eyes widening in awe at the splendour before her. A huge bed on a raised dais dominated the room, the coverlet a work of art in white handmade lace, the headboard a swan with wings unfurled and incorporating side-tables, lights and what looked like a computer console. The floor was finely polished marble in a stunning white streaked with pink.
A door was standing half-open to one side and she had a brief glimpse of an equally extravagant bathroom. On the other side was another door which she imagined must lead to a dressing-room as there were no wardrobes in the bedroom, only an exquisite dressing-table, a casual arrangement of two long satin-covered sofas and an oval crystal and gold low table—minimal furniture but effective.
She turned and walked towards the large expanse of glass at the far end of the room and the balcony beckoning beyond. She slid open the door and stepped out; the heat hit her once again but she barely noticed as her green eyes filled with wonder at the view before her.
The gardens stretched out, gently sloping for about two hundred yards, and then fell away in a riot of colour, terrace upon terrace, to end on a beach of silver sand, washed by an azure sea. To the left she could just see the end of the jetty and the roofs of a few houses; to the right was simply more sand and sea, and then a sharp black cliff-face.
'It looks absolutely beautiful, and so quiet, so peaceful,' she murmured, almost to herself.
Alex had come up behind her and his arms slid around ta waist, drawing her back against him, one hand holding her firm while his other slid up to cover her breast through the soft silk of the blouse she had teamed with matching cream silk trousers for travelling.
A quivering awareness darted through her as he nudged aside her long hair, his mouth sucking gently on the soft curve of her neck and then tracing up to her small ear,
'Beautiful! So are you, my sweet Saffron; pity the peace and quiet does not also apply to you.' He chuckled as his fingers found the waistband of her trousers and deftly unfastened the button, slipping down the zip, splaying out over her flat stomach. 'Come to bed,' he prompted throatily, his tongue licking gently around her ear as his other hand gently palmed her breast. 'Siesta, hmm?'
Saffron closed her eyes and bit down hard on her lip, trying to fight down the rising tide of desire that his touch evoked.
'You know you want to; why deny yourself?' Alex turned her in his arms, 'And me.' She felt his need against her belly, and hated the conflicting emotions that assailed her.
He was right, as usual, and with a low moan, half need and half despair, she curved her slender arms around his neck, urging his head down to her waiting lips.
That afternoon set the pattern for the weeks to come, though if Saffron had guessed what was to follow she would have fought harder to resist. . .
* * *
Saffron walked out of the sea, brushing her hair from her eyes, and ran across the teach to the shade of a feœge overhanging rock where she had left her towel. It was September now and the temperature was still in the hundreds, unseasonably hot; the only sensible place to be was in an air-conditioned room, but she could stand the silence of the villa no longer and, donning a brief black bikini, had ventured out in the afternoon sun.
Collapsing on the towel, her breathing heavy—she had swum longer and further than she should have—she rolled over on to her stomach and laid her head on her arms. She glanced along the deserted beach to the small huddle of houses and jetty and wondered for the millionth time how she was going to get away, or if she even wanted to. . .
From the first day on the island, when, in the middle of the afternoon, she had found herself on the large raised bed with Alex, who had conducted a relentless assault on her senses with a devilish expertise that had her crying out in ecstatic fulfilment, and then sunk in the depths of despair at her own degrading surrender, she had alternated between heaven and hell.
Over the weeks that had followed, she had begun to realise that the satiation which she had thought would follow quickly, and then she would be immune to him, was not about to happen. Instead, every night in the big bed she fell deeper and deeper under Alex's speli. He led her through the paths of the perfumed garden of eroticism w
ith a hungry delight that encouraged her own surprisingly sensual nature to respond in kind. Together they found new and wondrous ways of pleasing each other until quite often the light of dawn threaded the sky before they fell into exhausted sleep.
It should have brought them closer together, but the reverse was true. In the first couple of weeks Alex had taken her shopping and to dinner in Athens a few times. She now had a wardrobe a film star would be proud of, and a diamond bracelet, and earrings to match her stunning engagement ring. Alex was lavish with money, and would not allow her to refuse whatever he offered, simply reminding her that she had married him for money, which in a way she had.
It was her own stupid fault that she had recognised that she loved him on her wedding-day and even more foolishly told him her ulterior motive for marrying him. Now she dared not tell him the truth. Instead she fought with him almost constantly. Thank God the house was isolated, otherwise everyone for miles around could hear their verbal sparring matches. As it was, Despina let her disapproval be known, even though she barely spoke English.
They had had one good day out, Saffron mused. The day he had taken her to explore the sights of Athens— the Acropolis, the Parthenon, and the ruins of the ancient theatre of Dionysus, which she had marvelled at. Then, later in the evening, when the sky was black, they had sat in the open-air theatre high above the Acropolis and watched in awe the sound and light show which illuminated the mighty Acropolis while the history of the city was told on tape by actors such as Richard Burton.
But over the past few weeks they had grown further and further apart. Saffron had not been off the island for six weeks. Alex, on the other hand, was rarely around. Every morning at eight the helicopter whisked him into his office in Athens, returning later and later at night as the weeks passed by. Last weekend he had not returned to the island at all; leaving a brief message with Despina, he had not spoken to Saffron, and had returned last night with no explanation.
Saffron had thought she was lonely before. An orphan, always on the outside looking in. But at least she had had her work her plans and ambition to comfort her. Now she was beginning to realise what true loneliness was.
She rubbed her hand idly across the moisture hazing her lovely eyes, The fact that Despina and Georgos spoke very little English did not help; she had tried walking to the jetty, but one bar, strictly for men, and a couple of houses did not make for a lively social life. A few smiles and a courteous Greek greeting and that was it. In desperation she had tried to offer Despina a make-up session and massage but had been greeted with a giggle and a no. Saffron honestly did not know how much more of this enforced idleness and brief, superficial conversations, or blazing rows with Alex, she could stand without going crazy.
Alex had arrived home after dinner last night and said curtly, 'I had a call from Mama today. She will be arriving on Friday, as will Aunt Katherina and Maria; arrange it with Despina, will you?'
Saffron, relaxing on the sofa, her legs curled under her, had looked up at Alex's entrance, and realised she had missed him. 'How?' she'd sneered mockingly. 'Sign language?' He strolled in at eleven at night without so much as an explanation and immediately began issuing orders. He was a pig. . .
'Cut out the sarcasm, Saffron; I'm not in the mood. I've had a hard few days.'
She had not seen him for three days, and he did looked tired; his tanned face had a greyish tinge, emphasising his rugged features. 'Have you had dinner? I could make you something.'
'I'm tired, not hungry.'
'Then go to bed.'
A grim smile tugged the corners of his hard mouth. 'Is that an invitation?' he demanded with a short, mocking laugh. 'My, we are getting bold.' And he bent over her to kiss her long and hard.
'No—no, it wasn't,' she spluttered, jumping to her feet.
'Sit down. I need a drink.' Alex walked to the array of bottles displayed on a long sideboard and poured a hefty shot of whisky into a crystal glass. He looked back over his shoulder, his dark eyes meeting hers. 'Join me in a nightcap?'
Saffron sank back down on the sofa. 'Yes, please— a small brandy and soda.'
Alex fixed the drink and handed it to her, the brush of his fingers against her own sending a too familiar tingle through her flesh. 'Thank you,' she said stiltedly, and took a swift swallow of her drink. Alex sat down beside her on the sofa, stretching the muscled length of his legs elegantly out in front of him, his head dropping back against the soft cushions, and drained his glass in one long swallow.
'I needed that. And now we need to talk.' His dark head turned slightly to the side so that he could study Saffron's delicate profile.
'What about?' she queried, shooting him a bitter glance. 'We said it all on our wedding night, I would have thought.'
'Not about us; that's not important,' he dismissed lazily, almost insolently. 'About the weekend. I do not want my mother or aunt or any other guests that may arrive upset in any way.' His hand reached out along the back of the sofa and tangled in Saffron's hair, turning her head towards him. 'In other words, Saffron, my sweet, I expect—no, demand that you keep control of that fiery temper of yours, and try to think before you open that delectable mouth in front of anyone else.'
His hand at her neck was sending shivers down her spine, and she stiffened involuntarily. 'I do not have a bad temper,' she flared.
He laughed and took her glass and put it down, then drew her into his arms. 'Whatever. Any uncontrolled outburst and this is how I will deal with it.'
His mouth covered hers, and he began an assault on her senses that left her meekly agreeing to his demands as he carried her up to bed.
Saffron squirmed restlessly on the towel and turned over on to her back. Even thinking about it now still had the power to make her blood run hotter in her veins. Last night Alex had made love to her with a slow, aching tenderness that had left her sensually replete but with a pain in her heart that had brought tears to her eyes. They had curled up to sleep in each other's arms like two halves of a whole, and oddly enough this morning Alex had delayed his departure for Athens until nine-thirty, long enough to bring her a cup of tea in bed and share breakfast with her.
Saffron did not understand the man at all. The villain she thought him to be did not equate with the Alex of this morning. He was a complete enigma to her, and she had a growing, disturbing conviction that she would never be free of the sexual hunger, her unrestrained longing for him.
It made no sense. For twenty-five years she had managed to retain a cool outward control over her temper and her body, but in no time at all Alex had turned her into a wild, sexy woman with a lightning-quick temper. It was almost unbelievable. Except that she loved him, a little voice inside her whispered, reminding her of what she was trying so hard to forget. She loved him. . .
The sound of a helicopter broke the silence, and she jumped to her feet, swiftly gathering up her things. She picked up her watch and slipped it on her wrist. Only four! She looked up and watched as the machine disappeared behind the house. Could it possibly be Aloe back so early. . .? What was he playing at?
She walked across the sand to where the gate opened on to the first terrace and began the long climb back up to the house.
Alex met her on the lawn. 'I thought I'd join you for a swim; the heat in Athens is unbearable.'
He was stripped down to black swimming-trunks, a towel swung carelessly over one broad shoulder, his hard- muscled body gleaming golden in the sunlight, his eyes hidden from her by dark sunglasses.
'I've had a swim,' she said; she could not read his expression and it made her nervous.
'So indulge me, hmm?' And, catching her hand in his, he swept her around. 'I fed the need of some R and R, and preferably with you.' And once more Saffron descended to the beach with a heart that for some inexplicable reason suddenly felt much lighter.
They swam and frolicked in the clear blue water, and to Saffron's secret delight Alex made no effort to swim off for miles on his own as he usually did; instead t
hey played a ridiculous game of tag and dunk, their mingled laughter and shouts of triumph at each tag echoing in the clear air, until they were both breathless and in Saffron's case almost half drowned.
Later, over a superb dinner served outside on the terrace, the house and garden aglow with hidden lights among the shrubs and trees, Saffron sighed as she drained her coffee-cup.
'Why the sigh, Saffron?' Alex queried softly.
'I was just thinking how perfect this setting is—the house, the lights, the weather—but. . .'
'But the company is not. . . Is that what you're trying to say?' he demanded harshly, the flash of anger in his dark eyes searing her to the bone.
'No, I was going to say, but I miss my work, that's all.' She did not want to spoil what had been a lovely day. She saw him visibly relax, and his dark eyes suddenly glinted with devilment.
"That's no problem.' Rising to his feet, he caught her hand and dragged Saffron to hers. 'Never let it be said that I deprive my wife of her work.' And, leading her into the house, he added, 'You can massage me any time.'
A Devious Desire Page 13