The Realms of Gold

by Elizabeth Hunter

  ‘And your Greek isn’t good enough to put my name into the possessive case?’ he mocked her. ‘You understood Yannis well enough when he spoke Greek to you!’

  ‘Oh yes,’ she admitted, ‘I can understand, it’s when I come to say something myself that I get all muddled up.’

  ‘It makes no difference,’ he said coldly. ‘You still went with him.’ He put a possessive hand on the nape of her neck, giving her a little shake. ‘I do not wish to hear any more about this Keith. You will not speak of him again, Emily.’ His fingers caressed her skin. ‘I had better leave you to change for dinner. Can you manage on your own?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said coolly.

  ‘Then I had better leave you to take your shower.’ He favoured her with a mocking smile. ‘We have every comfort on board, you will discover—everything you could possibly wish for, except the means of escaping from me!’

  Emily didn’t have to see herself in the long looking-glass on the back of the door to know that she was looking her very best. The folds of the long skirt accentuated the slimness of her hips, with the gold braiding giving just that touch of glamour that put the dress into that special class calculated to make it' a firm favourite in any woman’s wardrobe. She loved herself in it, only she hadn’t wanted to wear it that night. The last thing she wanted was to accentuate her own femininity. If she could, she would have stayed in her jeans and shirt, a unisex outfit that might have made Demis forget his intentions towards herself. It hadn’t worked very well so far, but in that soft, clinging dress, he could hardly forget she was a woman and his for the taking.

  As she entered the saloon for the first time, she could well have been described as beautiful. Demis rose to his feet, a smile just touching the strong lines of his face.

  ‘What will you have to drink? Ouzo? Or haven’t you acquired a taste for our national drink yet?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’d prefer a soft drink, or wine. I don’t go a bundle on spirits.’

  He looked amused. ‘No head for it?’

  ‘No taste for it,’ she answered. ‘Literally. I don’t like the taste of any of the usual drinks. It’s very economical not to, and so I’ve never tried to learn to like them. I don’t even like gin.’

  He poured her a glass of white wine and brought it over to her. ‘Your economies didn’t extend to your dress,’ he commented briefly. ‘I like it.’

  ‘Do you? I bought it last year. I went into the shop and fell in love with it. I couldn’t not have it, though it was more than I’d ever paid for a dress before. I felt guilty about it for weeks.’

  ‘Because it ate into your savings for your restaurant?’

  She nodded. ‘I hadn’t anything else,’ she explained. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

  To her relief, apart from a single, piercing look, he allowed the subject to drop.

  ‘What an incurious person you are,’ he said instead. ‘I thought you’d have a hundred and one questions to ask about Hydra, but you haven’t mentioned it once. Aren’t you interested in our destination?’

  Emily stirred uncomfortably, taking a sip of wine. ‘Will I like it?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I think you will. There is very little to do there, but we shall have each other—’

  ‘I’m surprised you could spare the time from your work,’ she cut him off, not at all anxious to consider what it would be like to be alone with him for more than a few minutes at a time.

  ‘Was that meant as a nasty crack?’ he smiled at her. ‘I am a very successful businessman because long ago I discovered the secret of delegating things to other people. It took time, but now I have a very good team working for me and there is no reason why I can’t take a few days’ holiday whenever I please. There is only one thing that I can’t delegate to anyone else, and that is my wife. When you know me better you will realise that I will spend days together getting a deal to go in my favour—when the deal is important to me.’

  ‘I see,’ she said. ‘And as I’m part of the deal you made with my father, you’re prepared to spend some time with me?’

  ‘Would you rather I left you to someone else?’

  She took another sip of wine. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘I suppose not.’ She stopped and began again. ‘Barbara did lend me her car.’

  The amusement died out of his face. ‘Why must you insist on discussing an incident we would both do better to forget?’

  ‘Because you won’t believe me!’

  ‘Very well, I shall say I believe you. Are you satisfied now?’

  ‘No!’ It was a cry from the heart. ‘Because you don’t! You’d rather believe Barbara!’

  ‘And my own eyes,’ he reminded her. His hand stroked her back in a soothing motion as if he were trying to calm a wild animal. It had an insidious effect on Emily’s will-power. She stood up because she couldn’t think straight when he was so close. She hoped she didn’t look as nervous and uncertain as she felt.

  ‘You didn’t see what you thought you saw,’ she told him.

  ‘Emily, I’m trying to forget what I saw. From now on I intend to have a loving, submissive wife, one way or another. If I can’t have your co-operation, I shall do without it, but I am determined to put our relationship on a proper footing before we go back to Nauplia. Is that clear enough for you?’

  She bowed her head, not knowing how to answer him. Then, to her inordinate relief, Yannis came into the saloon and announced that dinner was ready and should he serve it at once?

  Demis put himself out to be charming over the shared meal. Ignoring her dismayed face, he told her about his villa on Hydra.

  ‘I bought it many years ago, when my parents were alive I felt the need to have somewhere on my own, where I could be by myself or with a few chosen friends.’ He cast a speculative look at the angry tilt to her mouth and spread his hands in a gesture that was very Greek. ‘It was somewhere to escape from the female sex, yineka mou, not a love nest to escape the prying eyes of my family,’ he added dryly.

  ‘But you’re taking me there!’

  ‘Of course,’ he returned with gentle menace. ‘You’re a part of myself—my woman, flesh of my flesh. Did you think I would leave you behind?’

  Emily chose not to answer, and, after a moment’s silence, he changed the subject back to the delights of Hydra.

  ‘It’s about fourteen miles long and only three miles wide in places; all of it mountainous, the highest being Mount Eros which is about two thousand feet.’ He saw her eyelids flicker at the mention of Eros and his eyebrows rose in a mocking look which upset her careful composure. ‘Appropriately named for us,’ he murmured.

  ‘Except that we’re not lovers,’ she objected, not looking at him.

  ‘Not yet,’ he said.

  Her stateroom seemed doubly welcome after the ordeal of dinner. Emily sank down on to the stool in front of the built-in dressing-table and stared at herself in the glass as if she were a stranger. What annoyed her more than anything was that even alone in her room she could not be free of him. She was as conscious as ever of his strong, golden-tanned fingers and the expressive way he used his hands to make a point. She knew exactly, too, how his hair grew round his ears and at the back of his neck. She knew how it felt beneath her own fingers. She was tormented by his physical presence; the air of command he had when he kissed her; the ease with which he could compel the response which a part of her longed to deny him.

  She closed her eyes against the vision of him that filled her mind’s eye, and when she opened them again he was standing there just behind her shoulder, looking every inch the master that Yannis had called him. O kyrios! But he wasn’t her master—

  ‘I thought you’d be in bed,’ he said with an ease she could only envy. He sat down behind her, looking her over in the glass with bland, masculine appreciation. He glanced down at his watch. ‘I’ll come back in ten minutes.’ He stood up again and put out a hand, his fingers catching in her hair and dragging back her head to meet his kiss. ‘Don’t look so
frightened, little Emily, I’m only going to love you.’

  ‘But, Demis—’

  ‘Why should you be more scared of me than any other man?’ He kissed her lips with a contemptuous freedom that made her cry out, more in fright than in pain. He released her, frowning. ‘Why do I frighten you?’ he asked in more gentle tones.

  Her breasts, beneath the soft wool of her dress, betrayed her agitation.

  ‘I’ve never—’ She took an impulsive step towards him, clutching at his shirt where it divided over his bronzed chest. ‘Demis, please be kind to me!’

  His arms held her close. ‘Never?’

  At another time she would have heard the astonishment in his voice, but she heard nothing but the thunder in her blood and felt nothing but the rising tide of need for him within her that would no longer be denied. Her dress fell to the floor round her feet and he lifted her bodily into his arms, depositing her on the down-turned bedclothes on the bed.

  ‘Darling, it was meant from the very beginning of the world that you should be mine. Let me love you,’ he murmured in Greek. But he didn’t wait for an answer. He snapped out the light and slid into the bed beside her, his lips on hers.

  ‘Your promise—’ she murmured.

  ‘Which promise?’ he retorted. ‘I promised I would worship your body with mine. There was no other promise which anyone in his right mind would have made to you—nor could you possibly have expected me to keep it.’

  ‘I was only going to say it didn’t matter,’ she sighed. ‘I thought it did—’ His lips cut her off and she was glad—glad of his strength and glad of her own weakness. This was indeed what she had been born for, to be the woman of Demis Kaladonis!

  ‘I love you,’ she said.

  She awoke to a sense of well-being and drowsy contentment. Demis was no longer beside her and the engines of the yacht were still so that she could hear the soft sound of the water running against the hull. She turned over lazily and saw Demis standing by the porthole looking out. A warm feeling of love, mixed up with a delighted gratitude for his remembered tenderness, welled up within her.

  ‘Demis.’ She said his name tentatively, with love.

  He turned at once and smiled at her. ‘Hullo, Aphrodite. My Aphrodite!’ He walked back to the bed and her arms. ‘You’ll never get your annulment now, sweetheart. Do you mind very much?’

  Her lips trembled into a smile of welcome. ‘Just at the moment, I don’t seem to mind at all,’ she admitted. ‘And you must know now that I told you the truth!’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It matters little. I should have made love to you anyway, karthia mou, if you had wanted a hundred other men before myself. You are my wife!’

  She was genuinely bewildered. ‘But I’ve never wanted any other man. I thought you knew that—that there’s never been anyone else but you.’

  ‘True.’ He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, and the pulse at the base of her neck. ‘I know I am the first and only man who has had your body, but am I the first to possess your heart?’

  And what about his heart? she wondered. She knew she wasn’t the first with him, there had been far too many others for that, but had she any place in his heart at all?

  CHAPTER TEN

  The small harbour of Hydra had a distinctly Venetian look to it. It was there in the decorations around the roofs of the buildings and even more obvious in the design of the Monastery of the Dormition that dominated the waterfront.

  Emily stood on. the deck of the yacht and watched the busy scene on shore. A caravan of donkeys stood patiently to one side, waiting for the boat from Athens to disgorge its passengers into the souvenir shops and cafes.

  ‘Are you coming ashore too?’ she asked Yannis, who had come up on deck too. She almost hoped he would, for she was more than a little embarrassed to be alone with her husband until she had grown used to their new relationship.

  ‘Me, kyria? No, kyria. The yacht must return to Nauplia. But you will enjoy being here, ne? Many of our best artists have come to live here and sell their paintings in the shops. O kyrios knows many of them and likes to visit with them in their homes.’

  ‘It’s pretty,’ Emily said slowly, ‘and the colours of the houses are Greek, but the buildings look Venetian to me.’

  ‘Of course.’ Yannis shrugged expressive shoulders. ‘The Venetians were everywhere. Many of the people here have Venetian blood in their veins, and not only Venetian but Armenian and, maybe, a little Turkish. Hydra is famous for producing admirals and prime ministers. They are a tough people—but likeable. You like the Greeks, I am thinking, so you will like the people of Hydra.’

  She hoped it would be true, but she was obsessed with nerves at being alone with Demis for several days together. She felt as though he had turned her inside out and exposed her raw nerves to the mercy of the elements. If she had been vulnerable before—and she had been where he was concerned—his lightest touch stirred her to the depths now. In other circumstances this would have brought her a profound happiness, she knew, but how could it when all the feeling was on her side and none at all on his?

  ‘I’m going ashore,’ she announced suddenly. ‘Tell the kyrios where I’ve gone, will you?’

  Yannis gave her a reproving look. ‘You are not waiting for him?’

  ‘No.’ The single syllable sounded curt and strained and she tried to soften it with a smile, but her lips refused to curve in the appropriate way and she knew she looked every bit as uncertain as she felt. ‘He won’t mind,’ she added.

  The donkeys looked half asleep as she passed them. With heads lowered and eyes half shut, they could have been stuffed had it not been for, the occasional muscle set a-quiver by a particularly persistent fly. Despite the sunshine, it was not very warm and Emily was glad of the sweater she had put on over her shirt. She would have worn a skirt, if she had had one with her, as a courtesy to the local population, who she felt were probably less accustomed to seeing females in trousers than their more sophisticated mainland brothers and sisters. This conclusion was born out by a large notice at the Monastery in both English and Greek, forbidding women to enter the church if they were wearing either trousers or shorts. To make absolutely sure the order was obeyed, the church was firmly locked anyway, but the view of the harbour through the arched entrance was so beautiful that it more than made up for any disappointment she might have felt.

  Some uneven, frequently whitewashed steps led up to a balcony off which were a number of rooms, either cells for the monies, or perhaps rooms set apart for visitors in accordance with the hospitable traditions of such places in the east. Emily climbed the steps slowly with dragging feet, wondering why she was filled with an impending sense of doom. What was there for her to be afraid of?

  When she turned and looked down into the courtyard below, she saw that someone had come in behind her. An instantly recognisable woman was standing in the entrance to the Monastery, leaning against the doorpost. Hermione Kaloyeropoulou was looking more lovely than ever and even more dangerous.

  ‘Hullo there.’ Emily hoped she sounded more welcoming than she felt.

  ‘Ah!’ Hermione turned slowly, her eyes two slits in her face and her smile as cold as ice. ‘The blushing bride, I do declare! And no happier than the last time that we met!’

  ‘I don’t think you know me well enough to tell,’ Emily retorted.

  ‘You think not?’ Hermione’s throaty laugh echoed round the courtyard. ‘Don’t be naive, my dear. I have travelled the path you’re on too often in the past not to know my way along it blindfold. Demis is as unoriginal as any other man.’

  Emily slowly descended the steps. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  Hermione looked amused. ‘This is not the first time I’ve been to Hydra,’ she drawled.

  ‘I imagine not,’ Emily agreed. ‘It isn’t very far from Athens, after all. What brings you here this time?’

  ‘Shall we say I was concerned for your welfare?’

  Emily shook her head. �
�I don’t believe you could ever bring yourself to be concerned about me.’

  ‘Or you about me?’

  Emily managed a smile. ‘I’m reasonably confident of your powers to look after yourself.’

  ‘I cannot say the same for you!’ Hermione spat out. ‘You court danger with that forked tongue of yours!’

  ‘A Thorne by name and a thorn by nature!’ Emily exclaimed with deliberate flippancy.

  ‘Did you expect to find Demis as forgiving as the other men you’ve known?’ Hermione said. ‘He will never forgive you for destroying his pride. You should have been more careful before you threw your lover in his face.’

  ‘Keith?’ Emily was shaken. ‘How do you know about Keith?’

  ‘Does it matter? Barbara told me all about it, if you must know. She was deeply shocked that Demis’ newly married wife should be so perfidious. Especially after the way he had treated me!’

  ‘Did he treat you badly?’ Emily felt the words dragged out of her.

  ‘He will never allow you to dismiss your own past like that,’ Hermione smiled. ‘Why should you allow him to get away with it? A few Keiths don’t compare with what Demis and I had together, my dear. What we may well have again once he has learned to live with his unvirtuous wife.’

  ‘What exactly did Barbara tell you?’

  ‘Enough.’ Hermione came closer and her scent wafted on the air under Emily’s nose. Emily recognised it immediately. How could she not? Wasn’t she too wearing it despite her doubts of the evening before?