Deceptive Passion

by Sophie Weston

  He cast a thoughtful look at the cheerful pair and their fishing lines.

  `Now I'd say Susie was being a bit obvious this time. But there's no sign Miles has noticed.'

  `Miles,' said Diana with bitterness, 'notices everything.'

  Dimitri lit a cigarette. He gave her a faint smile.

  `Then we should be in for an interesting time.'

  But Susie and Miles seemed in perfect harmony. In fact, as Diana watched, they seem to become more and more of a couple. It was easy to attribute it to their shared childhood, of course, but that was too easy. Miles had shared his childhood with Chris as well and they sparred relentlessly. Most of the time it was good-humoured, but just sometimes Diana thought she heard an edge to the teasing. There was no edge at all when he teased Susie.

  And there was no teasing in his voice when he fell into step beside her on the way back from the boat.

  `Why did you let me think your job wasn't serious?' he asked.

  Diana's shoulders stiffened. 'I don't recall discussing my job with you at all.'

  `Precisely.'

  `So you leapt to conclusions and I'm to blame?' Diana stopped dead and turned towards him The dusty stones sputtered under the abrupt movement. 'Would you have believed me if I'd said I was interested in the houses, not the titled owners? When did you ever believe my unsupported word, Miles?' she said with a bitterness she couldn't hide. 'Nobody else thought I was chasing the jet set. Why did you? And I don't notice you apologising,' she added acidly.

  He stared at her with a very strange expression. `You want an apology?' he asked softly, at last. Diana turned away, feeling somehow defeated. 'I don't

  want anything,' she said wearily.

  `Now that I doubt,' said the quiet voice at her shoulder.

  She began to walk again, her shoulders slumping. `What do you want from me, Miles? I've told you I won't stand in the way of a divorce. You need never see me again. And once my business is really solid I can take over the payments on the house.'

  He made a sharp movement. 'That's not important.'

  `Isn't it?' She was wry. 'I thought it was the thought of my swanning around Europe on your hard-earned cash that was the cause of this—farce.'

  `If you thought that, you've even more to learn than Dimitri thinks,' he told her softly.

  She was confused. 'More than ... ?' Then she understood. 'You were listening. Eavesdropping. On a private conversation.' She was almost incoherent with the rage that consumed her.

  Miles was unrepentant. 'You said yourself I notice everything.'

  `How dare you? You had no right ...'

  `You're my wife,' he said flatly.

  `That doesn't give you the right to spy on me ' she

  began hotly.

  He interrupted, 'Maybe not the right. What about necessity?'

  `I don't know what you're talking about,' she cried. `I know you don't.' He was odiously calm. `Dimitri was right. A lot to learn.'

  `I hate you,' she said, knowing it was childish but unable to suppress it.

  `Possibly.' He didn't sound concerned.

  She flung round on him, stopping again. 'Look, now you know I'm a solid citizen who does a decent job of work for her bread—will you let me go?'

  `No.'

  She swept on, hardly heeding. 'You wouldn't really let my parents be thrown out of their house. They never did you any harm.'

  `I said no.'

  Her voice rose. 'You used to like them. And it won't be forever. Just another couple of years.'

  `If you leave the castle, the allowance stops,' he said implacably.

  Diana gave a little sob. 'How can you be so cruel?'

  `To insist you have what is obviously a much needed holiday?' His crooked smile didn't reach his eyes. `Where's the cruelty in that?'

  `I can't bear it,' Diana said involuntarily.

  `Yes, you can. You bore it very gracefully today. And you'll continue to do so, if you want that allowance.' His voice softened suddenly. 'Look, all I want is a week. Is that so much to ask? I won't hound you, I promise.'

  She looked away.

  `I don't seem to have much choice, do I?'

  His voice hardened. But all he said was, 'You're learning.'

  He was as good as his word. He did not seek her out.

  And when she said she didn't want to go fishing the next

  day he was the only one of the group who didn't protest.

  Diana should have relaxed. Instead, she got more tense. She found herself jumping at odd noises; looking for him, even when she knew he was out in the bay; waiting. The third night she even locked her bedroom door. There was no need. She was undisturbed.

  She spent the mornings going round the apartments that needed restoration. Neither Chris nor Susie showed much interest, to her surprise. She began to wonder uneasily if Dimitri was right when he said the castle belonged to Miles.

  It seemed inconceivable that she shouldn't have known. It seemed inconceivable that Miles would have arranged to employ his estranged wife to restore the rooms. But nothing about this visit was going the way she expected. It could be that both the holiday and the commission were Miles's idea. Not that he ever said anything that hinted at it. But Diana remembered all too clearly how good he had always been at keeping his own counsel.

  The afternoons, theoretically at least, she spent dozing on the terrace outside her room, under the shade of the vines. In fact she sat and stared unseeingly at the bay, her mind turning over and over old estrangements. It was not restful. She began to look strained.

  Oddly enough, it was Chris who remarked on it first. It was at the evening meal on the fourth day of Diana's stay. They were on the battlemented terrace looking over the northern stretch of water. On this occasion they were eating spit-roasted lamb from the kitchen and Maria was waiting on them.

  `You're looking tired. Are we working you too hard?' Chris said.

  Diana shook her head. 'I enjoy it'

  Miles looked up sharply from his discussion with Susie over the wine.

  `Come to any conclusions yet?' Chris asked.

  Diana hesitated. 'It's going to cost a lot of money,' she said bluntly.

  Miles gave a soft laugh. 'In character.'

  Diana tried not to wince. She turned to him slowly. `I'm sorry?'

  He smiled at her innocently. 'She was a very expensive lady, by all accounts. The Princess, I mean.'

  She met his eyes and saw a lot more than innocence in them. She wondered if the others did too, and shivered.

  Chris said tolerantly, 'Well, she had a lot to compensate for—living here in the middle of nowhere with a chap she didn't really know. And a foreigner.'

  `An old foreigner,' Miles reminded him. There was an edge to his voice.

  Susie said indignantly, 'He wasn't old. He was forty. You're nearly forty, after all.'

  `That made him old enough to be her father,' Miles said evenly.

  Something troubled Diana. She said slowly, 'And how old was she? The Princess?'

  Susie shrugged. 'Who knows? They didn't exactly have birth certificates. She was the last daughter of the Bey, and his favourite. That was why they were so angry when she helped our ancestor escape. And then ran away with him.'

  Miles said, 'Family legend says she was twenty. She could have been three or four years either side of it.'

  And I was only just twenty-two when you married me, Diana thought, disturbed.

  Chris said easily, 'Well, she must have been a strong character. She created quite a salon, you know. It was some achievement, getting civilised people to come out into the wilds of Greece in the middle of the eighteenth century. But she did it. And collected all that expensive furniture that it's going to cost a fortune to put right.'

  He sent Miles a quick look. Diana looked at him searchingly for signs that it was going to be his bill. But Miles, as ever, was inscrutable.

  She said, watching him, 'It could. If you want to do it properly.'

  Chris made a face.
'What do you mean by properly?' She hesitated. Did they really want a lecture on restoration techniques?

  `Well, take the upholstery. I could get the furniture re-stuffed, mended. But if you want it to last another two hundred years looking as it should, you'd need to re-embroider. It's all skilled hand-work. So it's expensive.'

  Susie had been looking at Miles too, she discovered. Now she said suddenly, 'We don't want to turn the Princess's rooms into a museum, you know, Diana. I'm sure you're very skilful but this isn't for show. Just for the family's private satisfaction. There's not limitless money to spend.'

  Diana was taken aback. It was friendly enough on the surface but underneath there was more than a hint of annoyance. And had there been the faintest emphasis on the word 'family', pointing out that Diana was an outsider?

  She said gently, 'I'm not spending any money at all, Susie. Or saying that anyone else should.' Across the terrace her eyes met Miles's. 'You asked for my views. There they are.'

  Miles lifted one eyebrow and his mouth quirked. He looked carelessly amused. There was something in his eyes, though, that was neither amused nor careless.

  Diana rapidly averted her eyes. She looked round at the others steadily. She did not say what she was thinking because it was clear from their expressions that they, like Miles, recognised it: I'm not in your employment and

  if you speak to me like that again I won't help any further.

  Susie frowned. But at once she was laughing again. `Of course. It's frightfully kind of you to spend your holiday going over our mouldy old rooms.'

  Diana chose to accept it as a tacit apology.

  `It's as well to realise from the first what a big undertaking restoration often is. It can get completely out of hand,' she said.

  `Because it's done by enthusiasts, I suppose,' Susie murmured. 'People with lots of knowledge and degrees and no common sense.'

  So it hadn't been an apology.

  Before she could answer, Miles intervened. 'Don't you like enthusiasts, Susie?' he said lazily.

  She gave a husky laugh and put a hand on his arm. `I like practical people, darling. You should know that,' she said into his eyes.

  Her hand with its scattering of jewelled rings looked very small against the white sleeve of his shirt. It also looked as if she was very used to touching him It gave Diana a queer little stab. She looked away, not wanting to think about why it hurt.

  Chris turned to her. 'Well, you sound eminently practical to me.'

  `Oh, she does,' Miles agreed. 'You'd better get her to take you round the apartments tomorrow and explain the options.'

  Was his tone unduly meaningful? Had Chris just received his orders? Or was she being paranoid? Diana said at random, 'It's not all in my field. I might mislead you.'

  `Ball-park figures,' Chris said and grinned at her expression. 'Don't look so worried. I'm a rich man.'

  `Oh, she knows that,' said Miles, his voice hard. 'Don't you, darling? Or you wouldn't be here.'

  There was a nasty little silence. This time Diana knew exactly why she was hurt. It made her angry. What right had he to call her a gold-digger? And what reason?

  She said coldly, `I'm here because I was invited. For a holiday. I don't have to tout for business, Miles. I'm an expert. If the family—' and she emphasised it just as Susie had ' —want to make the room look pretty, without restoration, then they don't need me. I'm too expensive.'

  `Surprise me,' mocked Miles.

  But Chris intervened, defusing the anger that sparked between them, barely below the surface.

  `We'll talk it through tomorrow. I'm not giving myself indigestion fighting over our heritage at this hour,' he said firmly.

  Miles spent the whole meal being impeccably polite. Diana, wincing from barbs that she felt she alone understood, could only be thankful when it ended. She excused herself while Susie and Dimitri were brewing coffee. Miles was watching them critically.

  `You said it yourself, Chris. I'm tired. I've got a lot of sleep to catch up on,' she murmured. 'I'll slip away now, if you don't mind. I—er—don't want to break up the party.'

  The look he gave her held a good deal of comprehension, she thought. But all he said was, 'Sleep well.'

  She lost herself returning to her room. She wasn't particularly worried. Since she'd arrived in the castle, she thought wryly, she never seemed to get where she was going at the first attempt. But she always found her way in the end. She was tranquil about it.

  Her tranquility disappeared abruptly when she saw Miles standing in the corridor outside her room.

  `What are you doing?' she began.

  He turned to look at her. He seemed very tall in the shadowed corridor. His shirt was blindingly white against the deep tan of his throat. His hair was longer than she was used to. It brushed the deep collar, like one of those eighteenth-century dandies whose portraits had surrounded her all morning. Except that he was warm and breathing and there wasn't inches of brocade and velvet between those powerful shoulders and the world, she thought involuntarily. She drew a shaky breath.

  He scanned her face. 'You're going to do it, aren't you?' he said slowly.

  `I don't know what you mean,' she said.

  `Chris. You're going to do his silly little ancestress's boudoir.'

  `Your silly little ancestress too,' Diana flashed before she thought.

  He put his hands on her shoulders. She went still. He turned her slowly so that her face was turned to the light. The deep-set eyes were unreadable.

  `You've caught up with that one, have you?' he murmured. 'I wondered when you would. Yes, it's true. Bastard that I am, I share the genes of the Princess whom George Galatas brought home from Turkey. The enemy in the house.'

  There was deep bitterness there. Diana was startled. So startled that she forbore to challenge him on the ownership of the castle and whether he was the one who would be paying for her expert services, for all his clever byplay with Chris.

  `What do you mean?' she said instead.

  `It isn't quite the romantic story Susie wants to believe, you know. She was a brat and spoilt rotten. Hence the French furniture and the Italian paintings.'

  Diana said with an odd breathlessness, 'It's a beautiful set of rooms. I'll be glad to do what I can.'

  Miles surveyed her. `Do you feel empathy with her? The Princess? Do you go in that room and sense her poor little exiled spirit calling you?'

  His scorn was like a burn. She flinched inwardly. She would not let him see how it affected her, though.

  `No,' she said with composure. 'I go into that room and sense a strong odour of rotting horsehair, just like anyone else.'

  He gave a brief, unamused laugh. 'She came to a bad end, you know, the Princess. She drove him too far once too often.'

  `I know nothing about her,' Diana said defensively.

  `Oh, you should look her up. There's plenty of stuff in the library here. Some of it's even in English. She has had her biographers. Attracted by the romance, of course. When they find out the truth, they tend to lose heart.'

  `The truth?' said Diana, suddenly wary.

  `That she was a calculating, poisonous bitch. She may have been only twenty but she took poor old George Galatas like a professional.' His voice was bitter.

  Diana thought, He doesn't sound as if he's talking about people who have been dead for two hundred years and more.

  `He was a quiet soul. Something of a scholar. He wrote rather a good book on the Great Bear. Heaven knows what he was doing on that expedition to Turkey. He was no soldier. He was ransomed, you know. It wasn't a dashing escape. She smuggled herself on board, into his stateroom. It damned nearly caused another war.'

  Diana said quietly, 'She must have been very much in love with him.'

  His laugh was soft and chillingly cold.

  `Oh, I don't think so. She didn't have much of a future at home and she didn't fancy life on her own in Europe. She was used to the best, too. George was the ideal solution. So she seduced him and m
ade him marry her. And then made his life hell.'

  Diana thought, He's talking about himself. About us. She said harshly, 'You've never been seduced in your life.'

  `No,' he agreed softly.

  Their eyes met. It was almost brutal. Diana gasped. He slanted her a mocking look.

  `She came to a bad end, you know. She was killed by brigands. Or that's the story. Her body was found by the roadside anyway. It could have been the lover she thought would take her away with him. Or it could have been George himself.'

  Oddly shaken, Diana said, 'That's—horrible.' He said, `No more than she deserved, some say.'

  She looked at the cold, handsome face. `Do you believe that?' It was a strangled whisper.

  Miles gave a slow smile. 'I believe that very young women can sometimes be careless—shall we say?—about how their activities affect others.'

  Diana winced.

  `And, whether he did it or not, I think poor old George had suffered enough by the time she died. He was something of a mathematician; he did good work after she went.'

  Diana felt as if her heart would stop. She flung up her head defiantly and met the predator's gaze as bravely as she could.

  `As you have?' she suggested.

  Just for a moment the ice in his eyes moved. It didn't melt but it cracked and shifted to show a volcano of

  feeling that had her retreating involuntarily before she realised it.

  Miles gave a soft laugh. It wasn't a pleasant sound. `Oh, we're fellows, all right, George and I.'

  Diana stared at him, mesmerised. The eyes were like a hawk's, clever and pitiless. He moved. She closed her eyes, then felt his fingers, like fire, against her cold cheek.

  `I see you agree with me,' Miles murmured.

  He drew her against his body, so that she could feel the height and strength and fierce energy there. And then, quite slowly, he let her go. Bewildered, and more than a little afraid, she opened her eyes. His smile was crooked.

  `Interesting,' he said.

  His hands dropped. Then, abruptly, he made her a quaint little mock-bow and strode past her without another word.