Deceptive Passion

by Sophie Weston

  CHAPTER FIVE

  DIANA was shaking when she closed the door of her room. In her wildest imaginings she had never expected that passionate outburst from Miles. She knew it was passion. It was there not just in his words but in every line of his body. She knew his body language very well. She had learned to read it during the long silences that were the graveyard of their marriage.

  But passion could be deceptive. She had learned that too.

  There was no use trying to sleep. Diana pulled on her pretty cotton night things and opened her windows wider. The night was windless. There wasn't even the faint breeze from the sea she had grown used to. The scent of jasmine lay heavy in the humid air.

  The scent triggered her memory. Was it only two nights ago that Miles had come to her out of that olive grove? He had reminded her—briefly and shockingly—of how it felt to be in his arms.

  She had thought herself safe after two years of hard-won independence. But one potent reminder of what was lost to her had destroyed all that. Diana clutched her elbows, standing statue-still in the warm air. She no longer felt safe.

  She was not still in love with him She couldn't still be in love with him. It was out of the question.

  She had been in love, all right—desperately in love. She had been frightened of how much she loved him. When Miles, against all the odds, seemed to love her, she had hardly dared to believe it.

  She sighed. Well, he had said he loved her. They probably meant different things by the words. Certainly he had soon grown bored with what little she had to offer a man of his intellect. He had spent more and more time with his research colleagues.

  The only time he'd allowed himself to be diverted, Diana remembered painfully, was when Susie rang him with one of her long, passionate phone calls. He would drop everything then. It was his unsophisticated wife who bored him, not the glamorous childhood friend.

  So first he grew bored, then impatient, as Diana grew more and more hesitant, more and more afraid of losing him—and, in the end, downright hostile.

  She shivered, remembering. There had been a terrible upsurge of anger. She hadn't seen it coming. She was so bewildered, so miserable that she hardly knew what she wanted any more. And she hadn't been reading him right for days. She had lurched from mistake to mistake, hardly daring to open her mouth, and when she had tried to talk to him about it he had rounded on her with such rage that it had appalled her.

  `I'm not your insurance policy,' he had said, looking at her as if he despised her.

  She had fled to what had once been their room. By then she'd had sole possession, and it had become her sanctuary from the rage in him she didn't understand. So when he'd come to her there later, she had been utterly unprepared. Unprepared and so vulnerable to his fierce caress.

  Diana closed her eyes, not wanting to remember. Not able to block it out.

  From somewhere she had mustered the self-respect to ask him to leave. Miles had stopped still as if he had walked into a wall. And then he had turned and was gone. Permanently, as it turned out. Without another

  word. Diana remembered feeling as if she had fallen off the world.

  `Never again,' she said out loud.

  She had not realised how hurt she still was. Seeing Miles every day was making it all too plain. She was hurt and angry. It was anger that made her retaliate against Miles's every barb, anger and a queer, perverse determination to prove to him she did not care anymore.

  Diana sighed wryly. All she had succeeded in doing was convincing herself, woundingly, that she did still care.

  `I wish to hell I didn't,' she murmured.

  She looked at the night sky. It was more overcast than the last one she had looked at. She swallowed. Why had he kissed her like that? Was it planned? The Miles she knew never used to do anything without planning it. Yet she had sensed in that astonishing, passionate moment the other night that he had lost some sort of hold over himself.

  He wouldn't like that, she thought. Could that account for his suppressed anger tonight? She shook her head. How could you tell with a cool, guarded man like Miles? How could you tell, even if you loved him?

  That stopped her.

  `I don't love him,' she said aloud.

  She went back to bed. But her dreams were troubled and she woke early.

  There was no one about. There was not even the smell of coffee in the kitchen, it was so early, though the sun was already warm. Diana decided to risk a cautious exposure to its rays. Perhaps she might be soothed into a doze, making up a little for the sleep she had lost, she thought wryly.

  She was not alone. Christos was already there, stretched out on his lounger. He looked up at her approach and, seeing her, stood up.

  `Going to risk our sun after all?' he asked.

  Diana smiled, indicating her sun-cream. 'Blocked from all its rays, yes.'

  Chris set a lounger for her. 'You are so admirably cautious. And well organised,' he remarked.

  He returned to his reclining luxury. Diana sank down on to the lounger and closed her eyes. It was possible to doze, after all. Though the images of Miles kept coming back.

  Eventually she said softly, 'Chris? Can I ask you something?'

  `You can try,' he said drowsily.

  `You know Miles better than anyone.'

  He turned his head towards her. 'I wouldn't say that,' he murmured, his tone dry.

  She shook her head, answering the implicit comment. `I don't know him at all anymore. If I ever did,' she added in a painful undertone. 'I wondered—he seems—oh, I don't know. Angry somehow. Is there anything wrong?'

  `And you say you don't know him?' Chris shook his head. 'I know what you mean. I've seen it too.' He hesitated. Then, seeming to choose his words with care, he said, 'He tells me he's been overworking.'

  Diana listened to the carefully neutral tone.

  `Don't you believe him?' she asked.

  Chris shrugged. 'Oh, I believe him. He's always overworked, as long as he's lived. It's in his temperament. And it was clear that book of his was going to be the beginning of the work cycle, not the end. He's been flogging round the world lecturing. They both have. I

  believe the other guy's in hospital. Nervous exhaustion, Miles said.'

  `Oh, no.' Steve Gilman was an easygoing Devonian whose slow speech hid a lightning mind. Diana would have said he was the most stable man in the world. 'Do you think Miles blames himself?'

  Chris shook his head, his mouth tightening. 'I don't know. He hasn't talked about it. Won't tell me anything unless I drag it out of him.'

  Diana looked down at her hands. 'Maybe he's told Susie.'

  `No,' said Chris unequivocally. `No, he's not talking. He simply turned up in Greece saying he wanted to work in the fields. And that's all he's said. Except the facts about Gilman. And that only when I pushed him. And,' he added with a glimmer of a smile, `I'd fed him the best part of a bottle of Armagnac.'

  Diana was blank. 'But—what's happening to the lecture tour? Is it over? And what about his research? His work is his life.'

  `Not anymore,' Chris said grimly.

  He swung his legs round and sat up suddenly. He faced her, his arms resting on his knees. He took his sunglasses off and Diana saw that his face was set in worried lines.

  `He's done what he said he was going to do, I gather. Ever since he's been here, he's played in the fields. Susie came down to be with him as soon as she heard. My office in Athens is full of telexes from people wanting to get in touch with him. He won't even read them. He hasn't opened a book or sat at a desk since he's been here.'

  Diana was horrified. 'But—I've never known him like that.'

  `Nor have I,' Chris said heavily. 'I'm told that he has some date to speak in Moscow. Major stuff—unity of the east and west scientific establishments—Unsponsored. He won't talk about that either. They're frantic to get in touch with him It's in seven weeks' time. Miles won't even say for certain whether he's going or not. I'd bet the whole of the Galatas line that he hasn't
started his paper for it, though.'

  `Something's happened,' Diana said with conviction. `He'd never let people down like that.'

  Chris rubbed a hand over his eyes. He looked worried. 'I know. I agree with you. But I can't help thinking...' He trailed off.

  `What?'

  `There's a streak in our family,' he said slowly. 'We have a taste for danger. Living on the edge. Usually we channel it—making scientific discoveries, punting on commercial risks, like me. But if things go wrong—if we're angry, or indignant about some injustice—it can turn into real recklessness.' He gave her a quick-look. `Miles told you about my uncle Conrad?'

  Diana bit her lip. 'That he was Miles's father? I know. Miles didn't tell me, though.'

  Chris looked astonished. But all he said was, 'By all accounts he was the worst of the lot. Got a lot of people killed when he lost his temper. My grandfather always said Miles was very like him.'

  Diana said, 'Miles isn't reckless.'

  `What else do you call his attitude to the Russian lecture? He could be throwing away his whole professional reputation. And he doesn't seem to care a fig.'

  'There'll be a reason,' Diana said with conviction. 'Miles doesn't do things without a reason. And his career is the most important thing in his life.'

  Chris was watching her narrowly. 'I think—just at the moment—something else must be more important.' She stared. 'Like what?'

  He shrugged. 'How should I know? I've told you, he's not talking to me. I wondered whether he'd discussed it with you.'

  Diana flushed in comprehension. She looked away. `He wouldn't. We're only just polite. You've seen it.'

  She looked at him in appeal. He looked back steadily, nibbling one arm of his sunglasses. He said nothing.

  `We—we aren't friends anymore,' she offered desperately.

  `It's new to me that you ever were.' Chris's tone was dry.

  That hurt. 'You're right, of course,' Diana said in a small voice.

  He snorted, his exasperation evident.

  `Diana, friends don't tear each other to bits. The man was in love with you. Crazy-deep in love. That also,' he said with precision to her disbelieving expression, 'is a Galatas family characteristic.'

  There was a step on the spiral stair that led to the ramparts.

  `What is?' said Miles behind them.

  Diana was appalled. She felt her face flame. Even though she didn't for a moment believe that Miles had loved her like that—if at all—she could still hear the words echoing in the air. If Miles had heard them he would think she did believe and... His inevitable mockery was too terrible to contemplate.

  Chris gave her a look of comprehension and turned to Miles.

  `Persuading lovely ladies to take their clothes off,' he said with absolute calm and a complete disregard for the

  truth. 'I've been telling Diana she should borrow one of

  Susie's bikinis and try to lay the foundations of a tan.'

  `She burns,' Miles said coolly. 'Anyway, Susie's clothes wouldn't fit.' There was an indefinable distaste in his voice.

  He doesn't want me sharing anything of hers, Diana thought suddenly. She lay back on her lounger, her blush subsiding. She had seen many things in Miles's face when he looked at her, but she had never detected distaste before. It made her feel strange.

  Miles looked down at them. 'What about a drink?' he said pleasantly. 'I've just been helping Maria with a new barrel of retsina. It wants tasting.'

  No sign there of the wilful recluse Chris had described, Diana thought.

  Chris shuddered. 'Retsina is for picnics,' he said firmly. 'We can do better than that, Miles. I'll investigate the cellar. What do you feel like, Diana?'

  `I don't want any wine.' Even to herself, her voice sounded unnaturally high and breathless. She saw Miles give her a searching look. 'Mineral water would be nice.'

  `Back in a trice,' Chris said. And was gone.

  Miles took his lounger. He stretched out at once. Diana watched him.

  He was browner than she would have imagined possible with that red hair of his. Close to, she could see tiny freckles across his nose and cheekbones. There was a dusting of them along the backs of the muscular arms as well. She remembered his body so well. Even now she was tempted to lean across and carry one warm palm to her cheek.

  Hurriedly she put her arms behind her head.

  Miles said idly, 'Were you getting the authorised version on our very own princess?'

  Diana said, 'No.' It came out rather short because she was still shaken by that humiliating impulse.

  Miles raised his eyebrows. 'Matters nearer home, perhaps?'

  `Perhaps.'

  He sighed. 'I do wish every conversation didn't turn into a fencing match,' he said drily. 'What were you talking about?'

  `Ourselves,' Diana said evasively.

  He looked at her sharply. He would recognise the evasion, she knew. He was too intelligent.

  `Di—I wish—' He stopped, then said abruptly, `Come swimming with me this afternoon.'

  It was an order, not an invitation. She was oddly shaken by it. They had never swum together before. They had never really holidayed together, she realised. Miles had always been too taken up with his work. And she had never had the confidence to insist.

  `I'm not a strong swimmer,' she said.

  Miles knew that already. He brushed it aside. 'Then we'll sit in the boat and look at fish.'

  Diana said suspiciously, 'No killing things?'

  He laughed. 'We kill to eat, you know. You're no vegetarian.'

  `I don't go on holiday to kill things,' she said stubbornly.

  He grinned. 'All right. No fishing. No big game shooting. That suit you?'

  It was so absolutely Miles that in spite of her uneasiness Diana could not prevent herself laughing.

  Miles turned his head on the pillow of his lounger. It was very near her own. Too near. She saw his eyes: warm brown and teasing. It was so like the brief, vanished happy time that Diana could have cried.

  Her face must have changed because Miles said urgently, 'Don't look like that, love. I'm not a monster. I only want—'

  But Diana hardly cared what he wanted when he was looking into her eyes and smiling like that. It was too much of a threat. One healed heart and two, years' independence were on the line.

  She tore her eyes away and said hurriedly, 'All right. I'll swim.'

  He reached for her hand. 'You'll enjoy it.'

  She tried to withdraw from his grasp. But he had always been stronger than he looked, and weeks of open-air work had given him a grip like iron. He looked down at their clasped fingers, a small smile playing about his mouth.

  She found herself saying on impulse, 'Miles, do you own this place?'

  His eyebrows rose. 'Why?' he asked softly. He didn't loose her fingers. 'Does it matter?'

  `Yes,' she said, trying fruitlessly to remove her hand. `Why?' he asked again, his eyes intent.

  `Because I feel as if there's some sort of conspiracy with me as the only one who doesn't know what's going on,' Diana said frankly. 'And I don't like it.'

  Abruptly he released her.

  `I see.'

  He was silent for a moment. The steep lids dropped, veiling his expression. Then he shrugged, a brief, devastating movement of tanned shoulders. Diana averted her eyes, swallowing.

  `Do you?' she persisted.

  `Own the castle? Oh, yes,' Miles said indifferently. Indignation swamped her other feelings. 'Why?' she demanded.

  His smile was crooked. 'Because my grandfather left it to me.'

  Diana could have hit him. 'I don't mean that and you know it. Why this elaborate charade? Why make Chris offer me the job here as if it were his house?'

  He looked at her curiously. 'Would you have come if you'd known it was mine?'

  `Of course not.'

  Miles shrugged again. 'There's your answer.'

  Diana said through gritted teeth, 'You're impossible. How dare you manipulate me like t
hat?'

  Miles said slowly, 'I needed to know—'

  `Know what?' she demanded.

  The crooked smile was rueful. 'How important the glamour had become, I suppose.'

  Diana stared at him, disconcerted. 'What?'

  `The glamour of your crumbling palaces. The threeswimming-pool men,' he elaborated. He gave a short laugh. 'My mama married a man she thought was glamorous. When she found he was only an ordinary man after all, she imported some foreign glamour. Specifically, the man who became my father.'

  He sounded completely indifferent, Diana thought, shocked. And yet ... And yet ...

  He was not looking at her. His eyes were shadowed, in spite of the immaculately cool voice.

  `It must have been the best time of her life. Flying down to Rio to watch him play blackjack, then dancing through the night to Carioca crooners. Then back in his own plane to the marital breakfast table. Real high life.'

  Diana said swiftly, 'They don't play a lot of blackjack in my crumbling palaces.'

  Miles laughed, but differently, as if he really was amused. 'I should have thought of that.' He reached for her hand again, and Diana let him take it without re-

  sistance. 'But people told me you were flitting from rich man to rich man. And I'd seen it before. So I had to be sure.'

  `People? Who?'

  But he didn't hear her. 'You can't blame me for being—concerned. Rich men and castles. I know more about that sort of life than you can begin to imagine. And, believe me, it's not for you.'

  Diana stared at him, half puzzled, half affronted. Was he warning her off her friendship with the Galatas family?

  `Not for working girls?' she asked sweetly.

  `Not for a girl who likes order and stability,' he said quietly.

  `As I had when I was married to you?' she gibed.

  He winced, letting go of her hand. Diana snatched it back and stood up. How dared he patronise her? From somewhere a volcano of rage seemed to be pushing at the top of her head. She stopped fighting it.

  `From what I hear you haven't been exactly a model of order and stability these last weeks—have you, Miles? Dishonoured commitments and unwritten papers,' she said savagely. 'Don't you dare preach to me, you—you playboy. Don't you dare.'