'House party?' she queried. 'Dinner party surely?'
'No, Saffron, most of us are staying on the yacht, the rest here, for the next two days. Surely Alex told you?'
'Yes—yes, of course.' But he hadn't! Though she refused to let James see her embarrassment, was it pity she saw in his pale eyes?
'Don't worry, I'm a push-over for a beautiful lady. If you need any help, give me a call.'
"That's highly unlikely,' she said with a slightly forced smile. 'But thanks for the offer.'
'James, Maria needs a drink; see to it.' Alex's curt command put an end to what for Saffron was a disturbing conversation. 'OK, Saffron?' he queried, reaching her side and putting a possessive arm around her waist.
She shot him an angry glance. 'Yes, of course. Why? Were you worried that I would be incapable of looking after your friends for two days? Frightened I might disgrace you?' she snapped, James's words lingering in her mind.
Alex muttered a curse under his breath and in full view of everyone turned her in his arms, his hard mouth hovering inches from hers. 'Foolish girl, you're far too sensitive, and for what it's worth I don't think you could disgrace yourself if you tried. You're too much a lady—my very lovely lady.'
Their breath met and mingled, and his lips, firm and tender, moved against hers. Saffron vaguely heard the cheers of encouragement, and not so proper comments, but, locked in his arms, she forgot her anger and her doubt; she knew no shame, no embarrassment, only a deep, abiding love for the man who held her so close to his heart.
CHAPTER NINE
Two days later Anna and Saffron stood in the garden and watched the yacht carrying the guests depart for Athens.
'That was without a doubt the best house party ever, Saffy, dear,' Anna remarked complacently. 'You're a natural when it comes to putting people at their ease. Maybe it has something to do with your training. But I want you to know I couldn't have wished for a better daughter-in-law. You make Alex the perfect wife and it was obvious to everyone he loves you dearly.'
'That was your son's fault.' Saffron raised one finely arched eyebrow at Anna. 'He saw me talking to James and decided to take action.'
Anna laughed. 'Yes, a good dose of jealousy was just what my arrogant son needed to appreciate you fully. I've watched him and he has never been more than an arm's length away all weekend.'
A secret smile curved Saffron's lips. And at night he had been a whole lot closer, she thought dreamily. It was going to work; her marriage was going to be a great success, and she was slowly beginning to believe that there was such a thing as happy ever after.
Life took on a new zest. Anna was a marvellous companion, and a great raconteuse, and as October and most of November slipped by Saffron had never been so happy. The discovery that Alex had never intended to keep her a prisoner on the island only added to her respect for him. The first week of her mother-in-law's visit
Saffron had been stunned when Anna had said one morning, 'Come on, let's go to Athens.'
When Saffron had said there was no transport, Anna had laughed out loud. Apparently, the male bar Saffron had not dared enter was also the local ferry. She could have walked in any time and asked the proprietor, and his son would have taken her to the mainland in his speedboat for one thousand drachma—next to nothing!
'Well, what do you think?' Saffron walked the length of the bedroom and back, an exaggerated sway to her slim Mps. 'Your mother loved it.'
She had been shopping in Athens with Anna; the older woman was leaving for England the next day and had insisted on one last shopping trip, then had quite shamelessly encouraged Saffron to use her husband's credit card like a woman with ten hands, saying that Saffy needed a winter wardrobe.
With dinner over, and in the privacy of their own bedroom, she was putting on a fashion show for Alex. Fresh from the shower, he lay sprawled on the bed, a towel covering the essentials, his dark eyes following her around the room.
She glanced back over her shoulder at him. 'So. . .?' she prompted, slowly turning and running her hands lightly over her hips, smoothing the already figure-hugging fabric of the electric-blue jumpsuit even tighter to her body. She watched Alex's eyes darken as he followed the trail of her hands, and then lazily he allowed his glance to meander up her body, stopping at the proud thrust of her breasts, the nipples clearly outlined by the clinging wool jersey, the deep cleavage where she had left the zip only partly fastened. She was tempting Mm and loving it. . .
'So, my sweet, sexy wife,' he drawled finally, raising his gaze to hers, 'Two questions. Do you expect me to take you skiing? And as a man I'm no expert on these all-in-one things, but isn't it an effort to go to the lavatory?'
'Oh, Alex, how prosaic,' she groaned. 'Here I am trying to seduce you and you come out with a question like that.'
'I hate to disillusion you, Saffron, but most men prefer to be seduced by women in floaty bits of silk and lace underwear, not a wool suit reminiscent of a battle dress that will take some time to remove.'
'We could put it to the test,' she murmured throatily, approaching the bed and lowering the zip still further. Alex looked so good lying there, tanned and relaxed, and it had been almost twenty-four hours since the last time they had made love.
'Is this a none too subtle way of getting out of telling me how much money you've spent today?' Alex queried cynically, his dark eyes mocking her. 'Because if it is it is quite unnecessary. As I've told you before, I have money enough to last a hundred lifetimes; you don't have to pay for each item you buy with sex.'
Saffron stopped; she felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. Her green eyes sought Alex's; he had pulled himself up and was sitting propped up on the bed, the pillow at his back, and his expression was one of cool disdain. Was that what he truly thought?
All the colour drained from her face and she stared at him, unable to believe that he had said that, and some tiny devil inside her whispered, Is he right? Did I set out to seduce him tonight because of all the money I've spent? No! her heart cried in denial. It was not like that. She loved Alex with every fibre of her being.
She stepped forward, and stopped again. But all these weeks when she had thought they were making love Alex had never mentioned love. Did fee see it as just sex?
'The thought never entered my head,' she managed to say lightly, but it was beyond her capabilities to carry on with the seduction she had planned. 'So you don't like the blue. I must remember that,' she murmured, pulling the zip right up to the neck before turning away from his lounging figure, adding, 'I'll show you the rest some other time. I need a shower.' And she escaped into the bathroom.
Two hours later she was lying in the big bed, the sound of Alex's even breathing the only noise in the quiet room, but sleep was elusive. In her euphoria at realising that Alex was not the swine she had thought, she had rashly declared her love, and somehow assumed he felt the same, but his words this evening had burst her bright balloon of happiness.
She turned over restlessly and slid her arm around his waist to hug him. They had made love, and it had been as good as always—she was worrying unnecessarily, she tried to tell herself, but sleep when it finally came was shallow and broken.
In the morning Anna departed with Alex for Athens and Saffron was once again virtually alone and very aware of the isolation of her island home. She told herself she would soon settle down, but when Alex called a couple of hours later and told her he would not be home that night—a vital meeting—doubts about herself and him plagued her mind.
Was she really cut out for the life of a lady of leisure, waiting on a paradise island until her husband needed her, her dream of her own beauty salon just that—a dream? Strangely restless, she strolled along the beach.
The summer had gone and a cold wind blew in off the sea. In a few more weeks it would be Christmas.
Then it came to her. Why stay on the island? Alex commuted to Athens, so why couldn't she? Perhaps she could open a salon, or work in a city hospital as a clinical beau
tician; there were dozens of opportunities if she really sought them.
Fired up with enthusiasm and eager to discuss the idea with Alex, she returned to the house, packed an overnight bag and called the local bar to book the ferry for the mainland. She would surprise Alex, cook him dinner in his small pied-à-terre in Athens, and maybe tomorrow look for suitable premises. Always supposing Alex was agreeable. . . And always supposing he loved her. . . the voice of reality rang in her mind. But she refused to listen; she didn't dare because she was almost certain she had already fulfilled one part of their bargain: she needed to buy a pregnancy-test kit. But she could be a mother and a businesswoman!
Saffron walked into the glass and steel structure that was Alex's corporate headquarters, and went straight to the directors' lift. She walked out at the top floor and into the reception area. She had visited the office a couple of times with Alex and the secretary recognised her.
'Mrs Statis. This is a surprise. I'm not sure your husband is here.'
'It's not that important; I only wanted to collect the spare key for his apartment—I know he leaves one here.'
The young girl opened the top door of her desk and handed over the key. 'Well, you are his wife so it must be all right,' she said with a smile.
At that moment a door opened at the rear of the office and James strolled out. He stopped, his blond head going back as he saw Saffron. Did he hesitate before dashing across to take her hand, or was it her imagination?
'Saffron, lovely to see you, but what brings you here? I don't think Alex is expecting you.'
'No, I want to surprise him; I've had a great idea and I can't wait to tell him.'
'Well, he isn't here.'
'No, that's a shame; still, he did say he was busy and was going to be working late, but when he gets in touch can you tell him I'll be waiting at the apartment?'
'Apartment! Do you think that's a good idea?' James questioned, his blue eyes oddly intent on her smiling face. 'Why not allow me to take you for an early dinner and arrange for the helicopter to fly you home? I'm sure Alex really will be very late.'
Saffron's eager optimism was trickling away. Perhaps she had been a bit rash, but still it could do no harm to wait for Alex, even if it was midnight when he got back. 'No, James, really; it's nice of you to offer, but I'll be perfectly all right on my own until Ales arrives.'
'But I'm not sure I can get in touch with him. It is a very important meeting,' James responded with a strange urgency, and was it sympathy she saw in his blue eyes? Surely not. . .
'Look, James, don't worry,' she said over-brightly. 'I'm going to hit the shops for an hour or two. I'll be fine.'
'Here, take my card; if you need. . .' He stumbled over the words, most unlike his usual suave, very English self. 'If you change your mind call me at home.'
'Yes, OK.' She took the card from his outstretched hand and beat a hasty retreat. Somehow James's attitude worried her, and why, as Alex's PA, wasn't he with him, if it was such a vital meeting?
* * *
The apartment was small, with a kitchen, living-room, bathroom, bedroom and balcony. Saffron had visited it with Ate when she had been in Athens, but only for a few minutes while he dropped off his briefcase. He had told her that Athens, although home of the Acropolis and some of the most marvellous ancient ruins in the world, was also the second most poputed city in the world. The traffic was horrendous and the smell of carbon monoxide hung in the air twenty-four hours a day. No one made it their permanent home if they could avoid it. She'd forgotten that in her rush to make plans, but it wasn't important, she told herself firmly.
With her shopping lying on the floor, a cup of coffee in front of her, Saffron settled on the sofa and, curling her feet up beneath her, felt quite at home. She heard a key turn in the lock and turned her head towards the door, a broad smile lighting her lovely face. Alex was back, and not that late after all. But when the door opened to smile vanished and her eyes widened in shock as Sylvia walked in as if she owned the place.
'Well, a visitor. What are you doing here?' the dark- headed woman asked casually, dumping a briefcase on the table in front of Saffron.
'I could ask you the same question,' Saffron shot back. She had not seen the other woman since the wedding, and she had deliberately refused to think about Sylvia's relationship with Alex, convincing herself that it was all in the past—another ostrich act, some simple explanation for Sylvia's being here, having a key. . . Perhaps she was delivering something for Alex. Yes, that must be it.
'I live here,'
Saffron stared, struck dumb. Sylvia lived here. . .in Alex's apartment. It wasn't possible. Slowly she uncurled herself and stood up; she was not going to let this woman intimidate her. She was Alex's wife.
'I don't believe you.'
The other woman, her dark eyes glittering malevolently, said, 'Follow me, if you dare,' and headed towards the bedroom door.
On trembling legs Saffron followed her, and watched as she slid back a mirrored wardrobe door to reveal a row of feminine clothes, and then quite deliberately slid back the next door, revealing more clothes, but this time Saffron could not fail to recognise a couple of masculine suits, shoes and shirts. Alex's!
'You're a fool, Saffron; you didn't really think Alex was the type to settle for one woman, did you? He only married you to please his mother. I did warn you on the yacht—you should have listened.'
'Yes—yes, I should. . .' Saffron whispered, and, turning on her heel, she walked back to the living-room. Her gaze grazed over the shopping she had left on the floor; the name of a pharmacy on one package brought a bitter twist to her lips. Now was not the time to discover if she was pregnant.
Picking up the parcels and her jacket, she walked out into the cold, dark night. Some time later a screech of brakes shocked her back to reality and prevented her being mown down by a huge truck.
She jumped back on the pavanent and stared about her. She had no idea where she was or how far she had walked. The rain was beating down* a stem brewing, and her skirt and blouse were soaked. She put her hand in her jacket pocket, her fingers curling around the card James had given her earlier. Now his offer of assistance, the sympathy she had seen in his eyes made sense. As Alex's PA James must have known about Sylvia all along; probably all Alex's business acquaintances did— the people at the house party! Tears blurred her vision; her shame and humiliation were complete.
The little wife, his mother's choice, tucked away on the island, living in cloud-cuckoo land, imagining herself loved. What a naive fool she had been, and she had only herself to blame.
But no more, she vowed silently, brushing the tears from her eyes. Straightening her shoulders, she glanced once again at the card in her hand. Why not? she thought. At least James could help her get back to England.
'Saffron!' James exclaimed, taking in at a glance the distraught state of the woman at his door. 'Come in. You're drenched; what happened?'
Saffron forced a brief attempt at a smile, but her lips quivered, her eyes filling with tears, and she gave up trying. 'Nothing much, James,' she said sadly. 'Nothing that can't be cured with a ticket to England on the first available flight. That's why I'm here; could you fix it for me, please?' And, walking past him, she collapsed on the first seat she reached in his comfortable living- room.
James, bless him, did not ask questions; he simply poured her a large brandy, watched while she drank it, and then directed her to the bathroom, handing her his bathrobe and instructing her to get out of her wet clothes; they could talk later. Saffron was glad of his restraint; she had the horrible conviction that if she once began talking about her marriage she would fall apart completely and irreversibly.
She had to concentrate single-mindedly on getting back to England. Standing naked under the warm spray of the shower, she chanted under her breath, 'Might, hotel, work,' over and over again. She had been alone most of her life, except for Eve! The tears threatened again, but she clenched her teeth and refused to give in
to them. Eve's last message, urging her not to let any man get to her, but to pursue her dream of starting her own business, whirled around in her mind.
She had been side-tracked from her ambition, but not any more. On the island of Mykonos she had fallen in love, flustered and flattered when Alex had likened her to a Rossini overture, but now his softly murmured comment at the time, which she had conveniently ignored, came back to haunt her. He had said that he hoped the title did not accurately reflect her as well: The Thieving Magpie.
He had never seen her as anything other than a greedy woman in cahoots with his mother to trap him into marriage. He had gone along with the plan because it suited him to do so. He lusted after her body. Nothing more. In fairness to him, she was forced to admit that he had never pretended it was anything else. She had fooled herself. In love for the first time in her life, and with the matter of Alex's involvement with the health club resolved, she had naively assumed that because she loved Alex he must love her. Talk about rose-coloured spectacles. . .
A Devious Desire Page 15