Pagan Lover (11 page)

‘By God, girl, you’re asking for it! If I don’t take a stick to you before long it will be a miracle!’ The eyes smouldered now, and
Tara saw his hands clench as if their owner would like to have her throat within their grip. She shivered and resolved to be more careful in future.

‘I hate your repeated references to your prowess as a—as a—lover,’ she muttered, amazed at her own words but aware that they were spoken in order to break the awful silence that had dropped between them.

‘Because they remind you that I never fail to make you surrender?’ He was his cool suave self again, his expression one of sardonic amusement. ‘Deep down, you wanted to be married to me—’

‘You forced me into marriage! Oh, how can you say that I
wanted
to marry you? I’m in love with someone else!’

‘No, you are not,’ he stated firmly. ‘If you were then how could you enjoy lying in another man’s arms?’

 
She bent her head, embarrassment staining her cheeks a vivid crimson.

‘It’s only—only in
that
way—’ She stopped, her head still bent, and, with a thread of laughter in his tone he finished for her,

‘—that you are attracted to me.’

She lifted her face, to see him regarding her with a faintly sardonic smile in his eyes.

‘One day,’ she whispered, ‘I shall be free of this—this attraction you speak of.’

‘You will never be free ... will you?’ he challenged, watching her through narrowed eyes. ‘I knew when I saw you in that hospital ward that fate had given you into my keeping—for ever.’ He took her hand, staring down at the ring she wore. ‘Will you ever be free?’ he asked again, and it was as if some force beyond her control compelled her to answer as he desired she should answer.

‘No,’ she quivered with a long-drawn-out sigh that was very like a sob, for it came from the very core of her heart. ‘I will never be free,
Leon.’

‘Sensible girl to admit it. Perhaps you will now settle down and accept the good life that is offered to you.’

She looked at him through a mist of tears.

‘I have no life. You’ve robbed me of all happiness, both now and in the future.’

His hands closed tightly again, but she sensed that the cause was not anger this time, but rather the outward sign of some tumultuous emotion inwardly affecting him. A nerve in his throat pulsated, fascinating her as she stared at it. Then her eyes moved, to notice the sunlight on his temple, turning the grey hairs to silver. He had told her he was thirty-one, but he looked older—perhaps the result of the dissolute life he led, she thought.

He turned to glance at her and for a moment fixed his gaze on her eyes, and the brightness he saw there. A frown knit his brow; he seemed about to speak but changed his mind, and then, his face harsh in the sunlight, he walked away, leaving her standing there, desolate and alone, and yet the curious pain which pierced her heart seemed not to be anything to do with her own plight, but rather to be for the man whose unwilling prisoner she was.

After a while she began to wander in the grounds; the gardener who had been busy weeding the border at the end of one of the lawns moved slowly, casually a garden fork in his hand. With the other hand he took a string of worry beads from his pocket and began clicking them; she heard faintly a low masculine sound, as though he were singing or humming a tune to himself. A sigh escaped her. She had told her husband she would never be free, but already she was thinking of freedom. In his presence she seemed to be hypnotised by him, submitting to his wishes like a puppet on a string, and she had often wondered if he would in the end captivate her totally by a combination of mastery and the lovemaking which always transported her to the supreme height of bliss. Undoubtedly she was getting something out of marriage to him—and he was fully aware of it. She was putty in his hands when he had her emotions heightened; she responded in every way to his demands, surrender bringing its own fulfilment.

And at those times she never even thought of David, or the tragedy of her wedding day. He was a nebulous figure who had flitted through her life and was no longer important. But in the cold light of day when she was free of the fascination and domination of her husband, she did think of David, and the home they had got together—the furniture bought with such care, the carpets and curtains, all purchased after long and happy interludes of discussion as to colour schemes and durability. It had been such fun, during those months of preparation, she recalled nostalgically. She and her fiancé had wandered hand in hand through the shops, each thinking of the great day when they would-be together in the cosy little home they were building.

And now.... Would she and David ever come together again, after she had managed to escape? There would have to be a divorce first.., and Greek men did not believe in divorce And suppose there was a child? No, she whispered vehemently. No, there must not be a child!
Leon had been so confident, though, that a child would arrive quite soon. For her, that
would be the end of hopes for escape—

‘I won’t think about it!’ she whispered fiercely to herself. ‘I must think about getting away, because the longer I stay the more likely I am to become pregnant!’

That evening at dinner she was very quiet, her mind fixed on the problem of getting away.
Leon, taking it for granted that she was abstracted for another reason altogether, frowned darkly at her and snapped,

‘It’s time you got that fellow out of your system! You’re my wife now and the sooner you resign yourself to it the better!’

The scowl on his face marred an effect which—
Tara grudgingly admitted—could have been incredibly attractive. For
Leon, immaculate in an oyster-white linen suit with a pastel-green shirt, had that particular air of distinction found only among the nobility. He gave the impression always of a cultured gentleman of rather special lineage, and as if that were not enough he possessed the added attributes of good looks and physical perfection, his tall lithe frame—like that of an athlete in perfect form—carrying not one ounce of excess weight.

He was still glowering at her and she returned quietly,

‘I shall never get David out of my system. He’s the man I chose for a husband, the one I knew I could love, and be happy with, for the rest of my life.’

‘You would not have been happy!’ Imperious the tone, and challenging.
Tara’s intention of arguing with statement died on her lips. ‘I give you so much! Why can’t you be satisfied?’

‘There should be love in marriage—that’s why I’m not satisfied!’

He drew a breath of impatience.

You English are so damned sentimental—especially women. Tell me, how long does this so-called love last?’

‘It can last for ever, but you as a Greek wouldn’t understand. Loving and caring are the most important part of marriage.’

‘The physical compatibility? Is that not important?’

‘In a way ... yes—’

‘In a way?’ His straight black brows lifted a fraction. ‘Can you honestly tell me that physical compatibility’s not the most important thing in our marriage?’

‘It’s the only thing in our marriage.’

‘What about the material aspect? Most women would be more than happy with what you have—or can have when I’m sure you’ll not try to run from me. I can give you every luxury—we have a rather special home here, you must admit? We have a yacht, and when eventually you come with me to
Athens you’ll live in a luxury flat and have your own car.’

‘All those, but not love.’

‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘how many of your friends—who presumably married for love—are as idyllically happy as you appear to believe possible?’

She looked at him but said nothing. She was remembering Sue one day rattling off all the couples they knew whose marriages were broken, or about to be. It was frightening, Sue had said, and
Tara remembered saying that she and David were lucky because they both knew that their love would last for ever.

‘Well,’ challenged
Leon, breaking into her thoughts, ‘what answer have you for me?’

She gave an audible sigh and shook her head.

‘Love can last,’ she said doggedly.

‘But you can’t think of any of your friends who are happily married?’ A sort of smooth satire edged hic accented voice and his eyes held amusement. ‘Here in
Greece we have the answer, no matter what you say to the contrary. We marry for physical satisfaction and the production of children. Marriages in the villages are still arranged by parents, who know better than their children what is good for them—’

‘Stop! It’s—horrible to think of arranged marriages!’

Forget love,’ he advised, ignoring the interruption, and be satisfied with what you have. When you stop having these vixenish turns you and I will be very happy indeed’

‘I’ve just remembered that you expressed the wish that I would fall in love with you.’

‘I said life would be more pleasant if you did, but by “love” I didn’t mean some grand passion—the sort some writers are carried away with. To me there is no such grand passion—unless it’s a physical one,’ he added with a hint of amusement. ‘But this deep love one hears about—’ He shrugged it off impatiently. ‘It’s nothing but nonsense.’

‘You’re going to miss a lot in life,’ she stated. But then she added, ‘However, I daresay you’ll satisfy yourself with more sensual pleasures.’

‘You’re a little bitch,
Tara,’ he said softly. ‘I wonder how long I shall be able to accept your poisonous barbs without retaliation.’

Tara said nothing and for a while they ate in silence. But although her husband did not speak there was no mistaking the interest he was taking in her appearance. She had acquired a lovely golden-sienna tan from lying out in the sun, and her hair had become bleached at the same time, especially at the front where it crowned her high intelligent forehead. Her eyes were wide and sad, and now and then her mouth would tremble convulsively, the result of her thoughts. She looked very young and defenceless to the man sitting opposite, and whose eyes were fixed upon her with the most odd expression in their depths. She saw the hint of a frown touch his forehead momentarily. He seemed to become lost in thought and the frown reappeared.

‘I’ll give a small dinner-party next week,’ he decided suddenly. ‘It’s time I began showing my beautiful wife off.’

‘I could enlist their help!’ She stared at him in surprise. ‘Are you willing to take the risk?’

‘My dear child, can you imagine my friends listening to your saying you were kidnapped and forced into marriage, and believing it? They’d think you were a little mad.’

Her teeth clenched together. He was right, of course, as he always was! How she hated him! He seemed so confident that she could not escape ... but one day she would show him!

Several days before the dinner party
Leon bought a dress for
Tara which he put on the bed. She asked where he had got it, suspecting for one revolted moment that it was one left behind by one of his women friends. Her face obviously revealed her suspicions, because
Leon said laughingly,

‘I wouldn’t do a thing like that to my wife,
Tara. To one of the others, yes, but never to you.’

‘You respect me?’ she challenged with a curious glance.

There was a pause, as if he were not sure about voicing the answer that was on his lips. However, he did voice it, but spoke quickly and offhandedly.

‘More than I’ve ever respected a woman before.’ He gestured to the dress and added before she had time to speak, ‘It’s the same size as the others. I bought it in the village here.’

‘The village?’ she echoed, puckering her forehead. ‘Is there a dress shop in the village?’

‘There’s a dressmaker—Margarita. She made it to my design.’ He looked at her, smiling at her expression of surprise. ‘I shall allow you to go down to the village when I have your promise that you won’t run away.’

‘I shall never make a promise like that—’ She stopped, and stared at him, wide-eyed. ‘You would trust me—if I did give you the promise?’ Her heart was pounding against her ribs. To make the promise would result in freedom ... and the chance of getting off this island.... Ferry boats were plying to and from
Piraeus all the time; she could see them from the terrace.

The shrewd dark eyes narrowed as
Leon read her mind.

‘If you, made me that promise,
Tara, you would keep it

She frowned in puzzlement.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I trust you,’ he answered simply.

‘You trust me—to that extent?’ She shook her head disbelievingly. ‘You wouldn’t be such a fool.’

‘You would not let me down,’ he said confidently. ‘I’d be more than willing to give you your freedom if you made me the promise I’ve asked for.’

She said nothing, her mind in turmoil. He would trust her! It seemed impossible that he would do so. Surely he could see that there would be nothing dishonourable in her giving him the promise and then breaking it. She had every right to break it—and she would!

Or would she...?

‘Well?’ prompted her husband softly.

She looked at him and shook her head.

‘No,’ she decided reluctantly, ‘I can’t give you the promise.’

‘Later, perhaps,’ he said casually, and reverted to the subject of the dressmaker. ‘Margarita has a small establishment at the end of the harbour. She’s a wizard with the needle. I’m seriously considering bringing her into the firm.’ There was a strange pause then, before
Leon added, ‘You will meet Elene at the dinner party; she’s the most beautiful and talented of all our models.’