Man Without a Heart

by Anne Hampson

  'You'll miss it when you return to England,' he commented, a rough edge to his voice. 'Yes, I shall.'

  'I suppose Gilbert wants you to return to England as soon as you're free?' They were at the edge of the pavement, held up by the policeman in control of the traffic.

  'He'd like me to go back with him—' she stopped, not having meant to mention anything like that.

  'But you wouldn't?' Sharp his voice, imperiously masterful.

  'You're my wife, and until something happens to my mother, you'll remain with me.'

  She looked at him, under no illusions as to the immense sexual stimulus of her attraction for him. She strongly suspected that he was already thinking about what he would lose when at length she was free to leave him.

  'I shall not do anything to upset your mother,' was her softly spoken rejoinder. 'I made a pact which I intend to keep, no matter what happens.' Steadfast the tone, and in her eyes a sincerity that caught and held his attention; she saw him eventually lower his lids as if he would prevent her from reading his expression. It was a tense moment, with strange, inexplicable vibrations passing between them. Jill waited, a little breathlessly, for him to speak, sensing that something momentous was about to happen. But the policeman's whistle shattered the impression, and she sagged with disappointment even while searching her mind for a reason why she had been so expectant.

  He had taken her arm as they went with the mob pressing forth to cross the road before the whistle pierced the air again, and had apparently forgotten what he was going to say. 'Let's go to the hill of Lycabettus and look at the view,' Adam suggested when they had reached the pavement again. 'You've been up there, of course?' She nodded, recalling her wonderment the first time she viewed the city at night from the famous hill. She had just stared in stupefaction at the incredible panorama of a million city lights, all colours, glittering like stars in a dark sky. 'Yes, several times, but it is a spectacle you can see over and over again and never tire of.'

  Later, when they were there, standing by themselves in the shadow of a cypress, looking down at the fantastic sight, she felt her husband's arm come about her waist, and automatically she pressed her slender body against him, vitally alive to the pull of his magnetism, to the musky male smell of him, the warmth of his hand through the material of the blouse top of the suit, its strength as he pressed his fingers possessively into her waist.

  She felt small beside him, weak, submissive, and she lifted her face, inviting his kiss. For a long tense moment they stared into each other's eyes, and then he bent his head and took her lips beneath his own. Her arms came up around his neck; she caressed his nape, behind his ears, her fingers feather-light at first, but soon the explorations became urgent and she realised she was fighting to bring him more alive to her attractions than ever before, endeavouring to make herself indispensable to him while at the same time admitting that what she wanted from him was something far deeper than physical love.

  'You're... wonderful....' Sensuous lips slid moistly over hers, fierce in their ardour, cruel in their mastery. His strong frame crushed hers, its coiled-spring hardness a painful stimulus igniting her own passion, and she clung to him, her pliant body responsive to every intimate exploration of his lean brown fingers.

  Meekly and willingly she pulled away at the insistence of his hand seeking the buttons of her blouse; tremors swept through her with violent intensity when his avid mouth closed over her breast, the tantalising roughness of his tongue a nerve-shattering experience robbing her mind of all rational thought, of everything except the burning desire to be possessed, bent to complete submission by the primitive male mastery he always exerted over her.

  An involuntary little moan of protest left her lips and she buried her face in the curve of his throat, her small hands convulsively closing on the wiry thickness of his hair. She felt the swift unexpected spasm that shot through him, and the aftermath of his wildly beating heart. They were still alone in their small area of darkness, but otherwise there were people about, tourists who had come up by the funicular for a panoramic view of the entire Athens basin.

  'Come, my beauty,' he murmured hoarsely, and she nodded. Adam took her hand, silently they moved toward a lower slope of the hill, and then back to the city, its traffic and its noise, and then to his flat and the gentle darkness surrounding the big bed.

  Chapter Nine

  Early the following morning, Adam took his mother to the home of her friends, where she would stay the night. Jill went along, too, and was introduced to them, after which she and Adam left. He dropped her off in Ermou Street, where there were many luxury shops-boutiques selling the latest Paris fashions, furriers, jewellers and shoe shops.

  'Have a good time,' advised Adam as she got out of the car, 'and don't spare the expense. If you want something and haven't the money, have it put aside and you can call for it tomorrow. You do have some money, though?'

  'Plenty,' she assured him, excited at the idea that he was willing to buy her anything she wanted. Surely he must have some affection for her....

  'I'll be back at the flat around half-past six and we'll dine at the Grande Bretagne. I'm sorry my business is going to take the whole of the day, but we'll see what we can do about tomorrow. I might be able to finish by noon.' With a wave of the hand he started the car and drew away from the curb. She watched the press of vehicles close about it on the road until it disappeared, and then she turned, her mind thoughtful, her memories bringing back last night and the sheer beauty of their lovemaking. So tender her husband had been, despite the violence that possessed him in the end. Try as she would, Jill could not accept that Adam had felt nothing more than physical desire for her.

  She sighed, though, because her mind almost instantly rejected the possibility of his falling in love with her. He was a keen businessman with plans for making substantial additions to his already vast financial empire, so it was most unlikely that he would complicate it all by falling in love. Besides, hadn't he said, right at the beginning, that Greek men rarely fall in love? It was true; Jill had learnt a good deal while living in Athens, and she knew that very seldom was there any depth to a Greek marriage. Yet she had once heard that when a Greek man did fall in love it was forever, that he made a fiercely jealous husband who would not hesitate to punish his loved one if she should give him cause to doubt her.

  Jill shuddered at the idea of being punished by Adam, and yet, paradoxically, she would have been thrilled, deliriously happy, if, because he loved her, he had wanted to punish her.

  It was all extremely illogical and complicated, she thought, and let her mind dwell on her relationship with Gilbert, which, if she had been able to see it as a marriage, would be totally uncomplicated.

  More than ever, though, she knew that she could never marry him, could never opt for that safe, uncomplicated life. With Adam there were interludes of excitement, while life with Gilbert would be dull, with a straight-and-narrow road ahead-no turns to bring the unexpected, no ups or downs.... Again she deliberately diverted her thoughts, deciding to go along to her villa, just to see if everything was all right. But when she phoned the bank to ask her friend Astera to have the key ready, she was told that the other girl was away for a fortnight on holiday. As the other key was at home, Jill had to give up the idea of entering the villa, but she did take a look at the outside before giving all her attention to her shopping. By the time she went back to the flat for lunch, she had three evening gowns, two blouses and matching skirts in fine linen, several sunsuits and a pair of evening shoes. The taxi put her down at the entrance to the flats, and she took the lift up to Adam's apartment.

  After lunch she went off again, this time to look at the lovely Byzantine church of Aghios Eleutherious, built of beautiful marble which had matured from gleaming white to a glowing golden ochre.

  She was fascinated by the classical fragments built into the walls-pieces taken from even older buildings than the twelfth-century church as it stood today.

  From t
here she went to another Byzantine church close by, the Tower of the Winds, the church of Panaghia Sotira, which had once been turned into a mosque by the invading Turks, and then degraded to a military bakery before being restored to the Virgin. After that Jill took a taxi back to the flat and waited for Adam to arrive.

  He was early, and they sat on the balcony overlooking the square and watched the sunset turning the mountains from pale gold to purple, a sight so fascinating that Jill felt she could never tire of the spectacle even if she were to live in Athens all her life.

  Adam had asked if she had had a good day, and she had shown him what she had bought. 'Wear the leaf-green one,' he said, when eventually they went inside to get ready. It had no straps, merely being kept up by soft elastic threaded into the pleated top.

  She looked adorable in it, the honey-tan of her skin even and smooth, her hair gleaming, her eyes aglow. She wore a necklace which had been her mother's-silver with matching eardrops.

  'I ought to be making love to you instead of taking you out,' declared Adam when she stood before him, feeling good because she was with him and because she knew he was admiring her, finding her exceptionally attractive. She had coloured at his words, and he kissed her, almost tenderly. She stared up into his dark, brooding face, a desperate yearning in her eyes. He looked into them for a long unfathomable moment, and slowly a frown formed between his eyes.

  'Let's be off,' he said, the sudden change in him staggering, for his tone was brusque, his dark eyes veiled. They were conducted to the table which Adam had booked, and offered a menu. Someone called Adam's name, and he turned his head. Looking past him, Jill saw a tall, dark Greek girl coming toward their table; her eyes fixed on Jill for a few fleeting moments before she spoke to Adam, who had risen immediately and was smiling at the girl.

  'I find you here, Adam, and yet you never told us you were to be in town.' She spoke with an accent, pronounced but attractive, and Jill guessed that she had done so for politeness, knowing Jill was English. 'How long have you been in Athens?'

  'We arrived this morning. Julia, meet Jill.'

  'How do you do?' The tone was condescending, the handclasp indifferent. But the dark eyes were all-examining, moving from Jill's gleaming hair to the delicate slope of her shoulders and downward as far as they could go; then they returned to her face. Jill, feeling like a piece of glass being examined for flaws, coloured and was furious because of it. 'How long are you here for, Adam?' purred the girl, turning to him again.

  'Just a few days. I shall probably be seeing your father.' His glance flicked to his wife's face, but he seemed not to notice her embarrassment, which only went to show just how casually he regarded the whole affair of his marriage to one girl while being secretly engaged to the other, thought Jill in pain. Adam looked around. 'You're not alone?'

  She shook her head. 'I'm with Manos and Sophia; they're talking to a friend ...' She flipped an elegant hand. 'Over there.'

  She paused a moment and then said in Greek, 'I don't think you should be bringing this woman here, Adam. After all, she is nothing—'

  'I think your friends are coming,' broke in Adam. 'Which is your table?' She told him, and after murmuring an 'Excuse me' to Jill he escorted her to the table she had indicated. Jill watched them go through eyes that were brooding and dark. The girl certainly was a beauty, with flawless skin and features moulded on classical lines. She had a superb figure clothed impressively in pleated black chiffon over an underskirt of coral satin. Her hair was immaculate, coiffed in an elegant, sophisticated style with a French knot at the side. It shone, raven black, like Adam's. It seemed to Jill that he must eventually fall in love with the girl, once they were married. Yes, it could not be otherwise, she decided on seeing the girl's face again as she sat down. She was perfect ... and she had a shipping company as a dowry....

  Adam made no apology as he sat down opposite his wife again; he was either not in any way troubled by Julia's words or he felt they were best ignored. But the evening was spoiled for Jill, and she was glad when it was over and they returned to the flat. In their bedroom, she undressed while Adam was taking a shower; she did not want him to come to her, and when he returned she said she was tired.

  His brows lifted and he said tersely, 'Are you telling me to go into another room, Jill?' She shrugged carelessly. 'There are two others. Yes, I would prefer to be on my own tonight, Adam, if you don't mind?' She felt like crying and thought her nerves must be on edge because of the unexpected meeting with the girl who would soon take her place.

  'I do mind,' he answered softly, almost dictatorially. 'I said before we went out that I wanted to make love to you.' He paused to let her speak, but she said nothing. Turning from him, she picked up a hairbrush, but it lay idle in her hand as she looked at him through the mirror, resentment in her eyes because she was recalling his total indifference toward the situation when Julia had come up to their table. She said at last, speaking her thoughts aloud, 'You seemed completely unaffected by Julia's appearance, not caring that I might be embarrassed.'

  Adam's dark eyes narrowed. 'You forget your position,' he returned coldly. 'I won't have you taking on the attitude of a possessive wife.'

  Jill's eyes widened, sparks of anger in their depths. 'You can talk like this to me, when you yourself have adopted the attitude of a possessive husband?' He had the grace to avoid her accusing eyes, but when he spoke there was neither contrition nor regret in his words. 'That's different altogether. I've asserted my rights to make things easier for us both, because, as I said, we were living under a strain—'

  'You were living under a strain,' she broke in, enraged. 'Why didn't you go out and find a pillow friend? I'd have liked that a lot better!'

  'Liar,' he threw at her contemptuously. 'It's just like a woman to put on a pretence like that.' He paused to let her speak, but she began brushing her hair, her cheeks colouring at the words he had uttered. 'The indignant-maiden attitude doesn't suit you at all,' he continued presently, 'not in view of your extremely passionate nature.'

  Her colour heightened, and so did her temper. Swinging round, she threw the brush at him, but he dodged it without effort and caught her wrist before she could lower her hand again.

  'Curb your temper, my fiery beauty, or I'll curb it for you!' He jerked her with such violence that she was momentarily robbed of breath, his arms hawsers of steel as he put them around her. His dark face was above hers for what seemed an eternity before he took possession of her lips. With fury the spur, she began to struggle, but the results were negligible, for all she managed was to twist her face away, freeing her mouth from the bruising pressure of his lips.

  But he gripped her face in lean brown fingers, imprisoning it even as her body was imprisoned. The intense metallic eyes were dark with anger, the mouth compressed into a thin, cruel line.

  Why was he so furiously angry? wondered Jill, suddenly conscious of the fact that the strength of his anger was totally out of proportion, and it struck her-although for no reason that she could explain-that Adam was as angry with himself as he was with her.

  'Let go of me!' she cried, as she tried in vain to twist from the punishing grip of his fingers on her chin. 'You're ... you're hurting me. . . .' Tears were filling her eyes, for she was suddenly enmeshed in a coil of sheer misery that seemed to be tightening all the time. She loved him so much-wanted to be pliant and meek and giving, yet here she was, forced by pride to fight him, to pretend that she did not want the passionate lovemaking that always transported her to the very heights of heaven. 'Why don't you go away when you know I don't want you?'

  'You'll want me in a moment or two,' was his arrogant rejoinder as he bent to take her lips again, the moistness of his mouth a heady lubrication, his insistence a mastery she could not resist, and she parted her lips obediently, allowing his tongue to enter and explore, while his warm and dominant hands constrained her body to the same obedience as he pressed it to the teak hardness of his sintered frame, forcing her to arch against hi
m, to be fully aware of his need.

  Mastery and arrogance characterised his every move as his fingers explored, as his mouth crushed hers; he seemed not to care for her feelings, or that he was hurting her, using her for the outlet of a passion that had been partly born of anger. She wept, and the bitter tears were wet against his face; her lips implored when at last they were released from the pain that he had inflicted on them, but he was immune to any appeal she tried to make. She felt his ardour reflected in the rapid beating of his heart, the primitive way he was crushing her tender breast within his hand. She shuddered, but it was partly with the pleasure-pain of his hard body against hers, of the unbridled dominance he was exerting over her. 'And now do you still say you don't want me?' There was a distinct note of sardonic amusement in his voice, a mocking expression in his eyes, as, holding her at arm's length, he looked down into her white, tearstained face. 'Well, answer me,' he commanded, tilting her chin when she lowered her lashes.

  'Why must you torture me, Adam?' So quiet her voice and gently pleading. 'I've done nothing to deserve this treatment, and you must admit it if you're honest.' She had the satisfaction of seeing him frown and catch his lower lip between his teeth.

  'What did I do to anger you so much?' she added, after a long pause in which she waited for him to speak. 'For one thing, you threw that brush at me....' His finely timbred voice trailed off into silence, and Jill knew without any doubt at all that he was ashamed of his treatment of her, and ashamed too of offering so slender an excuse for it.

  'You provoked me,' she reminded him. 'I threw it on impulse.' Adam made no comment; his eyes were running over her figure, seeing the alluring curves and shadowed places through the diaphanous material of her nightgown. Bending, he lifted her without the slightest effort, one hand deliberately low and possessive, the other beneath her shoulders. She relaxed into a kind of sensual torpor, scarcely conscious of the smouldering embers that were soon to set her whole mind and body on fire with the longing for fulfillment. She let her head fall onto his shoulder as, with rhythmic strides, he carried her to the bed. In a few moments he was beside her, conquering the halfhearted resistance she was putting up, proving as always that he was her master, that his will was law.