Response

by Penny Jordan

  How he must have laughed at her in secret, delighting in her unwitting self-betrayal, knowing all the time that had she not forgotten the past she would never have let him come within a mile of her. Had it added piquancy, excitement, relish perhaps to his response to her knowing the truth? No doubt he had been amused by the adoration she had showered on him, the delight she had shown in finding herself so responsive to him, the awe he kindled inside her when he made love to her. Dear God, how was she going to stand it? How could she endure living alongside him with the knowledge of her own humiliation?

  She would have to find a way. But she intended to make it clear to Alexis that she would never again share his bed. Never. She gritted her teeth. Never, never, never would he hear her say she wanted him, never again would she turn to him, her voice soft with longing, her body warm and pliant. So complete had been her self-betrayal, her unwitting self humiliation, her loss of pride and self-respect that self-loathing lived inside her like a sickness, and the only cure for it would be the knowledge that where Alexis was concerned she was completely invincible. She would rather die than turn to him in need and hunger, rather face the very worst form of physical torture than have to face her own reflection in the mirror if she ever proved him right when he claimed that she would want him.

  For days they lived as strangers, coolly polite when they met, with Sienna taking care that it was infrequently. The villa had several guest rooms and she had moved into one of them, braving Maria’s disapproving and concerned clucks, ignoring the tightness of Alexis’ mouth when he discovered what she had done. No doubt he still believed that her need of the physical fulfilment they had shared would bring her back to his bed, humbled and grateful for whatever he might give her, but he was wrong.

  She spent her days exploring the island on foot, keeping sedulously away from the bay where she had swum that first morning and where later Alexis had tricked her into betraying herself.

  She borrowed the Land Rover and drove into the village huddled by the harbour, delighting the inhabitants with her slow Greek, examining the muddled array of goods in the one general store the village boasted. While she explored, Alexis worked. Whenever she walked past his study she could hear the hum of computer equipment, but she never ventured inside. A son, Alexis had told her, that was what he wanted from her, but she already knew that there would be no child. It was something she wouldn’t be able to keep from Alexis for ever, and what would happen when he eventually learned the truth? Her stomach nerves tightened in apprehension. If he insisted that she conceive his son, he would get no assistance from her! It wouldn’t be a woman he held in his arms but a piece of wood. She had no illusions left. He was hard and determined enough to take her anyway, and she was not naïve enough to believe that he would deny himself for her sake, after all he had already quite deliberately allowed her to give to him and to give generously and lovingly all that she had to give, all the time knowing that he could never match or share her feelings, and that ultimately she would suffer because of him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘I HAVE to go to Athens. The helicopter will be here in half an hour, would you like to come with me?’

  ‘You mean you’re actually willing to allow me off my leash? How trusting of you!’ Sienna mocked, putting down her cup of coffee and studying Alexis’ face with coolly mocking eyes. It had been like this for the past few days, ever since she had realised that she wasn’t carrying his child, and Alexis, surprisingly, had let her continue to draw blood, and claw him with her acid comments, her perpetual enforcement of the fact that she loathed him.

  ‘What could you do? You have no money, no passport, and for some reason of your own, pride perhaps, I know you will not appeal to your brother.’

  He was astute, Sienna had to acknowledge that. She had written to Rob simply telling him that they were married. She had mentioned their meeting at the Savoy as though it had been the first, and hoped he wouldn’t compare notes with Gill. A whirlwind affair, she had called it, trying to make her letter sound happy and lighthearted as though it really had come from a new bride still very much in love with her husband. No, she would never tell Alexis why she couldn’t tell Rob the truth. It would only give him another hold over her, and one she guessed he would not hesitate to use. Although he had said nothing when she taunted him she had seen deep in his eyes the smouldering anger he was keeping banked down, and sensed that it was dangerous.

  ‘Do you wish to come with me, Sienna, or not?’

  ‘Not,’ she said with a cool smile. ‘After all, if I come with you it means I shall have to spend time in your company, if I don’t, I shall be free of you for as long as you stay away. I’m really surprised you needed to ask.’

  ‘You can’t keep this up indefinitely, Sienna.’ His voice was hard with warning. ‘You are not a child, for all that you seem to be delighting in behaving like one at the moment. We are married. Nothing can alter that fact.’

  ‘We are married because you chose to marry me,’ Sienna pointed out, her mouth curling disdainfully, ‘I wasn’t given any choice in the matter.’

  ‘No, but it isn’t our marriage that is responsible for this… this childish display of resentment, is it, Sienna? It is because I made love to you and you enjoyed it.’

  Her face went white, and she pushed back her chair, springing up from the table, tensing as Alexis reached out to grasp her wrists and imprison her against the hard wooden edge as he stood up. Trapped between the table and the hardness of Alexis’ thighs, she went perfectly still, breathing tormentedly, acutely conscious of the rough brush of his denim-clad thigh against the tanned bareness of her legs in the brief shorts and tee-shirt she had donned for her after-breakfast walk. He was deliberately imposing himself on her senses, compelling her body’s attention to his proximity, telling her without words that he had the power to dominate her, and the knowledge seemed to release some powerful drug inside her which heated her blood and roused her temper.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ she demanded huskily, refusing to be quelled by his proximity. ‘Force me to accept your body because you know I will no longer do so willingly?’

  ‘Force you?’ His eyebrows drew together, his thumbs stroking the inner flesh of her wrists, ‘Oh no, Sienna, I won’t be caught in that trap. You want me to force you,’ he told her bluntly, ‘You want me to prove you right and give you a real reason for all this supposed “hatred”. If you want to play games go right ahead, I’m not going to stop you, but I’m not going to join you either.’ He bent his head, and captured her startled mouth, silencing her words, kissing her with a slow sweetness, taking his time over his exploration of her mouth, before he finally released her.

  ‘Something to think about while I’m gone,’ he told her softly, as he stepped back. ‘Something to take to bed with you and think about when you feel lonely.’

  ‘My bed isn’t lonely, Alexis,’ she assured him crisply, ‘even if yours is.’

  ‘Was,’ he murmured trenchantly, and she knew without another word having to be said that one of the reasons he was going to Athens was because he had a woman there, a woman who would no doubt be only too glad to share his sensual expertise, and she shuddered deeply, closing her eyes for a second, hating him with every pulsating nerve of her body. When she opened her eyes she was alone and he had gone. She went upstairs to her room, playing idly with her make-up and making a pretence of sorting through her wardrobe, emerging only when she had heard the helicopter land and then take off again.

  Strangely, Alexis’ departure left her feeling restless, her intended walk suddenly unappealing. She found Maria in the kitchen and told her she was going out, guessing that Maria disapproved of her remaining behind while Alexis was in Athens.

  Perhaps she should have gone with him. She could have at least done some sightseeing. She bit her lip in vexation, halting suddenly as she realised that Alexis might never have intended to take her with him and that his invitation might have been tendered in the sure knowledge
that she would refuse it. In her heart of hearts she knew things could not continue as they were. Behaving the way she was doing was something that did not come easily to her, and only her determination to make Alexis see the impossibility of their marriage continuing kept her going, her initial bitterness had started to fade and the logic she had learned from her father reasserted itself. Perhaps Alexis had felt that by marrying her he was doing the right thing, and she could well understand why he had chosen not to encourage her to regain her memory. Perhaps even he was right when he claimed, as he had done in a fit of anger one evening, that if she had regained her memory twelve months after the accident she would not have behaved, as he termed it, ‘like a petulant child’.

  With twelve months of living as his wife behind her would her sense of betrayal, of having been deceived have been tempered by the fact that they had established a life together? Surely no matter when she had remembered there would always be this terrible hurt and anger inside her. Not because he had married her but… but because of the way he had made love to her, an inner voice whispered, because he had taught her such pleasure and joy and she had responded to him in eager innocence, and he had let her. Never once had he tried to stem the words of love she murmured against his skin, never once had he checked her when she expressed by touch and speech how she felt about him, and yet he had known, must have known, that she would have died rather than utter one word, offer one caress that might have betrayed her, after the way he had treated her at the cottage.

  Whenever she thought about her response to him, her adoration of his body, she writhed in a torment of self-loathing, wishing it was possible to blot the memories out of her mind—just as she had blotted Alexis out of her mind? Because that was what she had done. Had they quarrelled? she had asked Alexis uncertainly. Why should she have forgotten him, her husband, her lover? and he… he had not said one single word which might have pointed her in the right direction but instead had let her wander among a potential minefield of emotions callously letting her take the path he must have known would lead to self-destruction. And yet, she remembered that he had looked angry whenever she said that she couldn’t remember him, and she had thought it because his pride was hurt, because he loved her and she couldn’t remember that loving.

  He had been gone three days when she finally admitted to herself that she missed him. She missed their abrasive conversations, the glimpses of his dark head as he studied the papers he seemed to bring with him to every meal now, the acerbic exchanges between them which had taken the place of the physical communication they had shared when he first brought her to the island. She missed him and she loved him.

  She shuddered as the truth she had fought so long to conceal refused to remain submerged, surfacing past all the barriers she had used to hold it down, forcing itself upon her mind, making her accept its reality. She loved Alexis. How could she have ever imagined that love was something she could take back simply because she found that the recipient did not treasure it as she had hoped? So where did that leave her? It left her married to a man she loved, but who did not love her, a man, moreover, who would not hesitate to trade on her feelings for him should it suit him to do so. As she saw it she had two alternatives—stay and run the risk of Alexis eventually discovering the truth and using it against her, or leave. But Alexis would not allow her to leave. She gnawed at her bottom lip, worrying at the problem. She could not be happy married to Alexis, forced to live off the crumbs of affection he threw to her when he thought the need arose, bearing his children, being his wife, but not having his love. It would cripple her emotionally and surely foster in him only contempt for her. That meant she must leave. But if she tried, Alexis would bring her back. Unless of course he asked her to leave, wanted her to go. The pain that thought brought her was nothing worse than that she had experienced when she discovered he didn’t love her, she told herself stoically, it could be endured, she would endure it and she would find a way to make Alexis send her away. She had to.

  The third evening of his absence she left her dinner after only a few mouthfuls. Maria clucked impatiently when she saw her plate, frowning over it and shaking her head. ‘Is not good that you do not eat. The kyrios would not approve.’

  ‘I’m just not very hungry, Maria,’ Sienna told her, proffering a conciliatory smile. ‘Time you make a baby, then you are hungry,’ Maria told her forthrightly. ‘The kyrios needs sons. All men need sons.’

  Yes, Alexis wanted children, and perhaps that might be his Achilles heel. Sienna got up from the table and walked out into the garden. The scent from the flower beds reached out to embrace her, and tears stung her eyes as she remembered the first time she had walked in these gardens with Alexis. How eagerly she had gone with him, how eagerly she had turned to him, her bones turned fluid by his voice, his touch. She had angered him by refusing to sleep with him, her resistance infuriating him all the more because he knew how much she wanted him.

  ‘You will want me,’ he had said to her, and she did, and it shamed her to her soul that she should. His lovemaking seemed to have the same effect on her as a potent drug. She wanted his touch, craved and hungered for it, and if he hadn’t been away, she didn’t know if she would have been equal to the struggle of preventing herself from abasing herself in front of him and pleading for it, as he had told her she would. But no, she would not permit herself that final humiliation. The same pride which had helped her to endure the truth on that first occasion came to her rescue now, and she made a mental vow that no matter what happened she would never again go to Alexis voluntarily, no matter how much she might want to.

  She walked further than she intended, so wrapped up in her thoughts that it was a shock to discover she had wandered down to the small bay below the house. A cool breeze blew in off the Aegean—a warning of a meltimi wind to come? Sienna shivered as she gazed out over Homer’s ‘wine-dark’ seas, thinking how aptly he had named them, wondering what Alexis was doing, whom he was with. She was only wearing a thin tee-shirt and skirt and the breeze was cold enough to raise goose pimples on her skin. Nevertheless, she paused for a moment staring out to sea, reluctant to return to the loneliness of the villa, the emptiness all around her without Alexis.

  Eventually she moved slowly back towards the path, wrapping her arms round her cold body, and shivering slightly as she increased her walking pace. It was still only early, perhaps she would listen to some music, or read a book, both had been favourite pastimes, but now they palled, now everything that wasn’t Alexis palled, she admitted to herself.

  She had nearly reached the patio when the shadow detached itself from the vines of the bougainvillaea where they climbed along the wall, and moved towards her, dark and faintly menacing, her breath catching in her throat until the moon slid from behind a cloud and revealed to her the features of her husband. He was dressed casually in jeans and a fine cotton shirt, the sleeves rolled up and the throat unbuttoned so that she could see the dark fine hair growing there.

  ‘Alexis.’ Her hand crept to her own throat, instinctively covering the hurried thud of her pulse. Suddenly it was very difficult to breathe, the ebb and flow of the blood through her veins a physical reality that echoed her uneven heartbeat. ‘You startled me—I didn’t know you were back. I never heard the helicopter.’

  ‘I didn’t use it, I brought the yacht. It’s anchored in the harbour.’

  She made to step past him, intensely aware of his proximity, of the scent and shape of his body, both somehow heightened by the enfolding darkness. The room behind him was illuminated with a single lamp, throwing out soft shadows, creating an aura of intimacy that threatened to choke her.

  ‘I think I’ll go in. I stayed out longer than I intended, and it’s gone quite cool.’

  ‘Hardly a warm welcome,’ Alexis jeered softly. ‘Why are you so tense? What are you frightened of, Sienna?’

  ‘Nothing, I’m just cold and tired.’

  ‘Tired?’ His voice mocked her. ‘It’s only nine o’clock. W
hy did you stay down in the cove so long if you were cold?’ he asked abruptly. Had he known she was in the cove? She frowned, suddenly feeling ill at ease.

  ‘Why not? The sea has a very hypnotic effect.’ She tried to move past him and found that he was blocking her way and that in order to move she would have to brush against him. Her body tensed involuntarily at the thought of any contact with him. How could she preserve her supposed indifference if she had to touch him? She knew it would tax her self-control too far. She hesitated and moved away, just too late. Alexis reached out, his fingers brushing her arm.

  ‘You are cold.’ His voice was rough. ‘Here, put this on.’ He reached behind him to one of the white patio chairs and gave her a thick woollen jumper. ‘It won’t bite,’ he told her sardonically when she shrank back, cursing suddenly as she stepped off the edge of the patio and stumbled backward. His hands reached for her as hers came to fend him off, gripping her round the waist, spinning her round until her face was in the light from the lamplit room and his was in the shadow. ‘Am I so terrifying that you would rather break your ankle than permit me to touch you?’ he demanded harshly, ‘or is it me you are frightened of, Sienna?’

  ‘I’m not frightened.’ How unsteady her voice sounded, how different from the calm, controlled image she wanted to project! She tried to move within his imprisoning grasp, to put a safer distance between herself, and the warm male-scented enticement of his body, but her small hands were useless against the hard muscles of his arms, the flesh and sinew hard beneath her fingertips.