Deceptive Passion

by Sophie Weston

Diana turned, incredulous. 'Susie, that's nonsense,' she protested. 'I'm just a standard washed-out English blonde. No features, no colouring. Whereas you ' She gestured eloquently at Susie's ensemble.

  Susie's smile was crooked. 'It's all detachable in my case. I wish I looked like a sea nymph.'

  Diana was startled and more than a little embarrassed. `You can't mean me. I can't even swim. It was one of the things—' She stopped, biting her lip.

  Susie's brow creased. 'One of the things that made Miles feel protective?' she said in a light, hard tone. But there was an undertone to it that, if it hadn't been ridiculous, Diana would have said sounded like pain.

  `One of the things that most annoyed him,' she corrected. 'Oh, I don't want to talk about him. Ever since I got off that damned plane, I seem to keep coming back to Miles. Let's drop the subject. And lead me to some food. I'm starving.'

  Susie laughed again, her friendliness returning as suddenly as it had evaporated. She stood up. 'Stick close,' she said.

  The castle was a jumble of buildings tacked on to the original Venetian fortress. Susie led her up steps, round turrets, down corridors until her head whirled. Diana could hardly believe it when at last they came out on to a ramparted terrace overlooking the sea. In the distance, the sun was setting behind the hills across the bay.

  There were three men already on the terrace. Diana stopped dead. An old boyfriend of Susie's, Miles had said. But she had never heard that Dimitri Philippides was anything other than an old family friend. She looked

  quickly at Susie but the Countess's expression told her nothing.

  Dimitri and Christos Galatas were sipping aperitifs. Miles was in the process of lighting a series of perfumed flambeaux. The scented smoke wafted across to them.

  He turned, quick as a cat, when they set foot on the terrace. He caught Diana's eye and grinned.

  `Against the mosquitoes,' he said as she raised her eyebrows. His voice was easy. For a moment they felt like friends again.

  She laughed, tension temporarily forgotten. 'And I was going to congratulate you on a romantic idea.'

  Miles grinned. 'Oh, I have those too.'

  Diana caught her breath. But the others had not picked up that private, challenging message.

  `Not before dinner,' said Chris. `If you're going to start quoting Homer again, wait until I've had enough brandy to appreciate it. Hi, Diana, how are you?'

  Dimitri was already bowing over Diana's hand. They had met before, both during and since her brief marriage. He had always been exquisitely tactful, however, and she liked him.

  `Last night Miles gave us Odysseus's return,' he explained now, setting a basketwork chair for her. 'It was very —er — impressive.'

  `It was very long,' corrected Count Galatas. He grinned at his friend. 'I keep hoping that his memory will go with advancing years. But it doesn't. Unlike mine,' he added with a sigh.

  `That's because I keep it exercised,' Miles said smugly. `You just sit about in those pets' parlour offices of yours, letting your secretaries do the remembering. You're going soft, Chris.'

  Since Count Galatas ran a thriving international commodity business, this seemed unlikely. Chris, anyway, was not put out by these strictures.

  `I like to be comfortable,' he said mildly. 'And that includes no narrative poetry until I'm sozzled enough to stand it.' He turned to Diana. 'I hope you had a good journey?'

  The words were civil enough but there was none of that affection with which he had spoken to Miles. There never had been. From Chris Galatas's point of view his friend's new wife had always been an unknown quantity. She had never managed to prove herself. If he had conspired to get her and Miles here together, Diana thought suddenly, it must have gone against the grain with him.

  She had wondered in the beginning whether it was some sort of influence from Chris that had persuaded Miles to leave her. Chris was currently on his third wife, an elegant woman with whom he spent the shortest possible time, and he did not have much use for women. Diana was pretty sure that Chris would have preferred Miles not to marry at all; to stay a free spirit. And if that was hopeless then he wanted him as a brother-in-law, not married to some English nobody.

  She'd dismissed the thought soon enough, of course. Who knew better than she did that Miles had never been influenced by anybody? He did what he wanted—including discarding a wife who had become an encumbrance.

  In the corner of the terrace a barbecue was glowing. Having tended his candles, Miles went to it.

  `I'm chef this evening,' he announced to the company at large.

  Chris groaned. 'Susie ...'

  But Susie was laughing. 'Oh, let him, Chris. You know he'll only criticise mercilessly if you or I do it.'

  `Nobody cooks kebabs the way I do,' Miles agreed modestly.

  Chris sniffed. 'Raw.'

  `Rare,' corrected Miles, grinning. 'And properly marinated.'

  Dimitri turned to Diana. 'We had them last night. I hope you like garlic?' he added with feeling.

  Before she could answer, Miles sent her a flashing smile across the glowing coals.

  `She learned to,' he said softly.

  Dimitri looked startled. A well-shaped eyebrow flicked up.

  Diana felt her cheeks burn in the darkness. She hastened to give them a cool explanation.

  `Before I went to university I led a very sheltered life. I'd never even been to France. So—no garlic.' It struck just the right note of rueful amusement, she thought, pleased. And it made Miles frown quickly, which was even more pleasing.

  Christos, who spent most of his working life in Paris, looked intrigued.

  `How is that? I thought the English were in and out of France all the time.'

  `Not,' said Diana drily, 'the rural working classes.'

  Christos continued to look puzzled. 'But surely—those school trips that your educationalists are so proud of. Didn't you go to France with your school? To learn the language?'

  Diana caught Miles looking at her speculatively. When they were married he had never discussed her background with his friends. He said she was too sensitive

  about it. But he had respected her wish and not referred to it. It was something she had corrected since.

  She lifted her chin. Well, to all intents and purposes their marriage was over now. If her lowly ancestry upset them, it couldn't reflect on Miles any more.

  `School trips take place during the holidays,' she said quietly. 'Or they did at my school. In the holidays I had to work.'

  Chris said, 'Work? Oh, you English and your discipline! But surely it would have been work learning French in France?'

  Diana smiled. 'Work to earn my bread,' she explained gently. 'My father was a gardener on a big estate. My mother did housework in the big house. My father had an accident and couldn't go on working. They let us keep the cottage but it was still difficult on just my mother's wages. I shouldn't really have stayed at school after sixteen but I was clever and they both wanted me to. So—' she shrugged —we compromised. I stayed on and did my exams and took jobs in the holidays. So it was a long time before I encountered snails and garlic butter.'

  There was a queer little silence. They were all looking at her as if she had sprouted two heads. All except Miles. He knew it all already, of course. And had his own views of her relationship with her parents.

  `Tied to your mother's apron strings,' he had flung at her more than once.

  She met his eyes now in the flickering candlelight. He was inscrutable.

  Susie broke the silence. 'Well, there are no snails on the menu tonight. Only salad and the kebabs that Miles marinated in some poison of his own. Though, I grant you, that's probably eighty per cent garlic.'

  They all laughed. Miles, Diana remembered with a pang, had always been a better cook than she was. Whatever he bothered to do, he did to masterpiece standards, of course. And tonight, true to form, he produced an excellent meal.

  Dimitri filled Diana's plate and made sure her wine glass was topped up.
In fact she would have preferred water but it seemed churlish to say so amid the general cordiality.

  So Diana was feeling a little light-headed when Christos began to mutter over the brewing of Greek coffee. She had drunk it before and knew how to avoid the river silt at the bottom. But Christos was clearly adding vast amounts of sugar. So she refused it and continued to sip her resinated wine.

  Under the cover of general conversation Miles said in her ear, 'Don't you think you've had enough?'

  Diana jumped and half turned in her chair. He was kneeling just behind her chair, relighting a candle and using her as a wind-break to shield the flame from the light breeze that had sprung up with nightfall. She looked down at him haughtily.

  `You've no head for it,' he reminded her pleasantly. `As well you know. And if you carry on like this, Don Juan in the silk shirt over there is going to have lots of fun putting you to bed.'

  She glared at him. Dimitri's exquisite grey shirt very probably was made of silk. It infuriated her that Miles should notice and mock him for it.

  `Don't be disgusting.'

  Miles looked pleased with himself. 'Don't want him to, Di?'

  `That's not what I meant,' she began, recognising deep waters too late.

  But he stopped her with that knowing, lop-sided smile of his.

  `It's what you said. I don't think you fancy Don Juan half as much as you think you do.'

  `I—' Diana bit her lip.

  He had her boxed into a corner. If she told the truth, and said that she and Dimitri were not interested in each other, Miles would take it as a personal victory. But if she dissembled he was equally capable of calling Dimitri over from his conversation with Christos and telling him to take Diana to bed because she was tired.

  She said fiercely, 'I hate you, Miles.'

  He put his head on one side. The candle-flame threw the strong bones of his face into dramatic relief. For a moment he looked like a satyr—calculating and mischievous and quite heartless. His eyes were laughing but there was a distinct challenge in their depths.

  `Now there you probably do know how you feel,' he allowed.

  Her hands clenched round the stem of the Galatas family crystal. It was better than hitting the smile off his face and causing a scene.

  `Not without cause,' she hissed under her breath.

  The candle-flames were making little devils dance in his eyes. In the darkness they were as black as molasses, except for those little points of flame.

  `That's a matter of opinion,' he countered. 'Some people would say I was a model ex-husband.'

  Diana gasped. His smile grew.

  `Generous,' he went on. 'Unobtrusive. Tolerant.' `Tolerant? You?'

  `Not a word of reproach about the way you've been running around the last two years,' Miles said, his voice hardening. 'You've made a good job of turning yourself into a rich man's house guest, haven't you, my pet? Since

  it was my money that paid for it, I might have been entitled to complain a bit, don't you think? Even put a stop to it, if I chose. But I've been mildness itself, you have to agree.'

  Diana stared at him, uncomprehending. He might have been speaking a foreign language for all the sense he was making. She didn't understand him. But she knew that, in spite of the cool air, there was real heat licking through his indifferent tones.

  She said in a low voice, 'You know why I took the allowance.'

  `Your wheelchair-bound father,' Miles said without inflexion.

  Diana said desperately, 'We'd started buying that house for them. I couldn't let it go when they'd got everything just where Daddy could use it ...'

  `Did it ever occur to you to get a job?' Miles asked, his voice deceptively mild. 'You were bright enough, as I recall. You might even have been able to contribute a bit yourself.'

  Diana turned further round in the basket chair, staring at him. A job? She hadn't had a holiday in two years! `What are you talking about, Miles?' she asked.

  `Or did you think your pathetic struggle to get to university was enough?' His words bit. 'I admire that, of course. I always have admired it. But I don't think I care for the way you seem to have decided that you've had your share of adversity and now the world owes you a living.'

  The light, amused voice had an edge like Toledo steel. Diana put her glass down on the terrace very carefully. `I don't understand,' she said.

  `No?'

  She turned her head to meet his eyes fiercely. 'No. I've done nothing... Why attack me like this? Suddenly?'

  Their eyes locked with a force like a blow. Diana knew he felt it too; she could see it in the way his mouth twisted. But he was not admitting it.

  `Now there's a lot of questions,' he mocked. He stood up. His shadow was long and menacing in the candlelight. 'It's not sudden,' he said with precision. 'It's not an attack. And I'm tired of you doing nothing. I've had enough. I give you fair warning. I'm not going to support you until you find some society playboy to take over your bills. I'm going to take you in hand. It's about time somebody did.'

  Diana stood up too. Marriage to Miles had taught her a lot about disguising hurt. She said in a cool, dismissive voice, 'You will do nothing of the kind. I shall leave tomorrow.'

  `You won't,' he corrected gently.

  The others were moving away from the battlements, Christos pointing at the stars. A lecture on the heavens was clearly in progress. Miles gave her a slow smile. Diana began to wonder if she was going mad.

  `You will stay,' he told her. 'And you will listen to me.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  DIMITRI walked her back down the stairs and passages to her room. He was obviously a frequent visitor. He had quickly grasped, though, that she wasn't, notwithstanding her embarrassing relationship to Miles, who regarded it as a second home.

  `Susie thinks she runs the castle,' he told her.

  They were strolling along a corridor. Their footsteps echoed queerly off the stone walls. Ridiculously, she knew, Diana was as tense as if they were being followed.

  `Nominally it belongs to Miles but ...'

  This brought her attention smartly back to her companion.

  `Miles?'

  Dimitri gave her a surprised look. Although he had been angelically tactful, he was well aware that she and Miles had been married and were no longer.

  `Didn't you know? He was practically brought up here.'

  Diana shook her head. 'I knew that. His parents travelled all the time and Count Galatas was his godfather. I didn't know he had any claim ...'

  Dimitri made a rude noise. 'Godfather, my eye.' Diana halted, staring at him 'What do you mean?' Dimitri looked faintly annoyed with himself. Then he

  shrugged.

  `Well, if I don't tell you someone else will. I'm surprised they haven't already. Especially as you're here.' He paused and then said as if he were weighing his words, `The old Count had two sons, you know. The good

  brother who stayed at home and made money. Well, some of the time. Chris and Susie's father. And the bad brother who ran away to sea.'

  Diana was bewildered.

  `And was never heard of again?' she prompted, when he stopped.

  `Oh, he was heard of all right. From all over the world. Sydney, Rio. New York. Valparaiso. You name it, Conrad went there. Or so my mother says,' he added conscientiously. 'He was—er—a free spirit.'

  Diana began to see where this was leading. She drew a careful breath.

  `And Miles was the result—according to your mother? Where?'

  Dimitri cast her a look of mingled respect and deprecation. 'South America somewhere. He was a real nomad, Conrad. An explorer. Anne Tabard was a diplomat's wife or something. In some God-forsaken, mosquito-infested frontier town on the edge of the rainforest. Her husband was a lot older, I believe.'

  Diana had met Lady Tabard. She examined her recollection of her ferociously sophisticated mother-in-law and found she didn't believe it.

  `She must have been very bored,' Dimitri mused. Clearly he found it difficult
to reconcile the two images as well. 'And Conrad was lethal with the ladies. A real heartbreaker, according to my mama.' He slanted a look down at her. 'She says he was exactly like your Miles.'

  Diana did not rise to any one of the number of lures in that last, casual remark. Instead she said coolly, 'Is this all conjecture, or is there any proof? Does anyone know what happened?'

  Dimitri shrugged. 'Conrad stayed with the Tabards on his way up the Amazon looking for some lost tribe.

  There are letters, I believe. One imagines they had an affair before he went up-river.'

  Diana shivered. 'Why didn't she go with him?' she said, half to herself. A sudden thought struck her. 'Or did she?'

  Dimitri was astonished. 'From what I hear she wanted to get out of the place, not deeper into it. And Conrad wouldn't have been a good bet. He was always disappearing up glaciers and across oceans single-handed.'

  Diana shook her head. For the first time she felt the stirring of some sympathy for her icy mother-in-law.

  `Was there a scandal?'

  Dimitri laughed. 'From the English? My dear, you have to be joking. Her husband was completely civilised. Conrad was nowhere to be found, of course. So old Galatas did the decent thing. Nothing acknowledged, needless to say, but there was always discreet support. The Tabards weren't well off. And eventually, all three got a share of the inheritance. Miles was particularly fond of the castle. So he got it. Chris got the fleet and the commodities business. Susie got shares and the jewellery.'

  Diana felt strangely chilled. Half of her did not believe the story. She didn't want to believe it. Miles hadn't told her and surely he would have—at least in the days when they were close? Yet for some reason half of her found it all too convincing.

  `What happened to him?' she asked at last. `To—' she found she couldn't call him Miles's father —to Conrad?'

  Dimitri made a face. 'Who knows? He could be ruling some lost tribe somewhere. Or he could be dead. I don't think the family ever hear from him, anyway.'

  Did Miles? Diana faced the thought painfully. He had never hinted at it. But then how much else of his private