Pagan Lover (6 page)

She opened her mouth to refuse, then closed it again as she saw his expression. His mouth was tight, his eyes faintly narrowed; she had seen that expression before.

He drew out a chair and she sat down, taking in the candles in their silver holders, the flowers expertly arranged.

‘You had everything prepared,’ she could not resist saying, acid in her tone.

‘For a romantic dinner at sea?’ His eyes held a vague hint of humour. ‘Yes, I did have it all prepared. Elias— you’ve not met him yet, but you will in a moment— bought the flowers ready arranged, and the candles we already had—’

‘In stock—for, an occasion such as this. I suppose you’ve had dozens of loose women on board this boat.’

‘I’d prefer you not to refer to them as loose,’ he returned darkly. ‘Yes, I have had intimate dinners aboard with my women friends.’ He took possession of the chair opposite to her and stretched his long legs under the table. He clapped his hands and a man appeared instantly.

‘We’ll have the first course now, Elias. And tell Dimitri to pour the wine.’

‘How many men are on board this boat?’ enquired
Tara, amazed that she was so calmly accepting the situation in which she found herself. She was hungry, and actually looking forward to eating a meal—though, not in this man’s hateful company, of course.

‘Three. It’s not the usual number for the crew of a vessel of this size, but I needed to limit the men to those I knew for sure I could trust implicitly. None of them will ever say a word of what has happened on this trip. Dimitri’s the man who was driving the first taxi’

‘He is?’ Her mouth tightened and a sparkle came to her eyes. ‘If only we’d had some suspicion....’

‘How could you? You ordered cars for the wedding and they were provided. Why should you ever have suspected that one of them was driven by my servant?’

She made no answer, and in any case Dimitri was there, pouring the wine, while Elias served smoked salmon as the first course. Dimitri spoke to
Leon in Greek;
Tara’s eyes glinted and she spoke on impulse.

‘I suppose,’ she said acidly, ‘you’re talking about the clever way you helped in my abduction!’

The man turned, his dark eyes sliding from her white face to that of his employer.

‘I was merely carrying out the orders of my master,’ he said quietly, in that same excellent English he had used when driving the taxi.

‘It is all right, Dimitri—’
Leon waved him away with a swift flick of his hand. The man went out, following in the wake of Elias whose brown face had all the while been creased in a smile of amusement. Hateful bunch of Greeks! Scoundrels, all of them!

‘Don’t they care about the law?’ she flashed, glowering at the man opposite to her.

‘They obey orders.’ He spoke slowly, his black eyes never leaving her face. ‘As you will obey me when I order you not to speak like that again to any of my servants. For one thing, it’s undignified. I won’t allow my wife to lose her dignity with anyone else but me. Understand?’

Fury burned colour into her cheeks.

‘You are the last person I’d lower my dignity for! One hand was resting on the snow-white tablecloth and before she could even guess at his intention he had rapped her sharply over the knuckles with the blade of his knife. It was no gentle tap and involuntarily she cried out, tears springing to her eyes, as much from the shock of the unexpected as from the pain inflicted.

‘Take heed from that,’ warned
Leon darkly. ‘Guard your tongue if you want to avoid punishment.’ He looked at her plate, then his eyes tame back to her face. ‘Dry your eyes, and then eat your salmon,’ he ordered curtly.

She brought out a handkerchief—the dainty lacy thing which Sue had slipped into the cuff of her wedding-dress. She stared at it, scarcely able to believe what had happened to her since Sue had said, half in humour, half in gravity,

‘It’s not unusual for a bride to be so affected by emotion that a tear comes to her eye, so we shall take the precaution of providing you with this.’

A terrible lump rose in
Tara’s throat as she put the handkerchief to her eyes, but instead of using it she wept uncontrollably into it.

An exclamation of asperity came from the other side of the table.

‘What in the name of Hades is wrong with you now?’ he wanted to know. ‘Good God, girl, don’t you ever stop crying!’

‘I h-have—plenty—to—to cry—about,’ she sobbed, aware that the handkerchief was useless. Her serviette was on her knee and she took it up. But to her amazement
Leon was there, at her side, and he pulled her gently to her feet and in a moment her eyes had been dried with his handkerchief. Absurdly she found herself saying,

‘Th-thank y-you.’

He tilted her chin, bent his dark head, and kissed her on the lips.

‘Sit down and compose yourself,’ he said gently.

‘Elias will be back in a few minutes.’

Tara stared at him as he sat down, unable to determine whether his features really had lost most of their hardness or whether the mist in her eyes made it appear so. But certainly it had been a kindly, intention that had prompted him to come over and dry her eyes. What a contradictory character he had! Never in a thousand years would she have expected the gentleness she had just received at his hands.

For a while she ate in silence, and then, looking up, she asked a trifle anxiously,

‘Where is my wedding-dress?’

‘Does it matter?’ he queried in a casual tone of voice.

‘I—I don’t th-think it does. But I’d like to have kept it.’

‘What for? You will not be wearing it when you marry me.’ The inflexibility in his voice erased all the gentleness that had gone before. She wondered if it had been a momentary lapse because, looking at him now, with his features stern and forbidding, it seemed impossible that kindness could be one of his traits.

“I don’t know what for,’ she admitted, glad that the sobs in her throat were subsiding, and she could speak without stammering. ‘I can’t think properly. I would like to keep my wedding-dress, though.’

‘A morbid sentimentality. It’s down among the fishes,’ he added heartlessly. ‘A pretty thing in its way, but not you at all. What made you choose a style like that?’

‘Because I happened to like it!’ she shot at him, feeling that if she tried to suppress her rising anger she would burst into tears again, because of what he had done with her beautiful wedding-dress. ‘A girl usually’ has the right to choose the style of her own wedding-dress!’

‘You liked it?’ He shook his head and frowned. ‘You will have to be educated,’ he told her decisively.’ ‘Your taste is incredibly unimaginative. You could look like a queen, given the correct styles and colours. Your hair will have to be cut,’ he decided as his eyes lit on it. ‘I’m not partial to hair quite as long as that. Did your fiancé like to bury his face in it, or something? For myself, it’s all right, but I‘d much rather bury my face in a warmer, more seductive place.’ His black eyes went to her breasts and a satirical light entered them as he saw the swift and painful rise of colour to her face.

‘You’re nothing but a beast—’

‘Careful,
Tara,’ came the’ softly spoken interruption. ‘It was only your knuckles that were rapped just now, but it will be somewhere very different next time.’

Her colour deepened. If only she dared get up and leave the table! But caution kept her where she was.

She said after a long pause,

‘The way you talk about clothes it would seem that you always dress your women to suit
your
tastes? Am I to be another puppet?’

The words appeared to amuse him and she was puzzled as to the reason.

‘My taste is considered perfect,’ he rejoined casually. ‘As for my models being puppets—well, I suppose that in a way they are. It is I who pull the strings and they who dance for me.’

Tara could only stare at him for several seconds, staggered by the man’s insufferable pomposity.

‘You’ll, never’ get me to dance for you,’ she retorted at last. ‘I’ve no idea what sort of women you’ve had, but they certainly lacked spirit!’ She was becoming more composed now, a circumstance for which she was glad, since at least she was not showing him a weak side of her character which was not true to form anyway. Her career as a nurse in a very large hospital had, if only to a small extent, given her a certain toughness she would never have come by otherwise.

‘They did lack spirit,’
Leon agreed, ‘which you do not, in spite of the copious tears you’ve been shedding. I believe we shall get along most successfully once you resign yourself to the fact that you’ve gained rather than lost by my action in abducting you.’ His hard Greek eyes fixed hers as he held out a silver basket containing crispy bread rolls ‘Freshly baked in the galley by Carlos,’ he told her. ‘That man can turn his hand to anything.’

‘Including taking illegal part in his master’s nefarious schemes,’
Tara just could not help retorting.

‘You, my girl, will get another rap over the knuckles if you don’t guard that venomous tongue of yours. How many more times do you need to be warned?’ His knife was in his hand, his eyes on
her
hand as it lay on the cloth. Hastily she moved it, an automatic reaction, and she gritted her teeth as she heard him laugh. She picked up her glass and took a drink.

‘How long does it take to get to this island you live on?’

‘Some fair time,’ was his non-committal reply, and then he paused in thought. ‘I’ve a friend on the
island
of
Corfu
who’ll marry us—a priest of the Greek Orthodox Church. I saved his life once and quite unnecessarily he lives in a State of perpetual gratitude. He has often said that he feels obligated to me and that if ever he can repay me he will go to any lengths to do so.’

‘I can’t believe his gratitude would go to the lengths you speak of.’

‘He’ll marry us and ask no questions.’

‘Another criminal, then?—living under the cloak of the church.’ With every moment that passed she was gaining a little more composure. It was as if some in-built power was functioning to help her through her ordeal, guarding her against the total collapse which at first she had believed was inevitable owing to the ghastly upheaval in her life brought about by this ruthless Greek pagan sitting opposite to her.

‘He’s a most devout Christian,’ rejoined
Leon in answer to her comment.

‘But not troubled by the fate of his soul, apparently.’

Leon gave a gust of laughter.

‘She has a sense of humour, too! Yes, my dear
Tara, you and I will get along fine. You’ll be more diverting than all the rest put together.’ He was still amused; she had a strong suspicion that he was playing with her. She looked into his eyes, noticing, that his thin cruel mouth was relaxed now into a sensual curve above a. ruthless, out-thrust chin of great strength. There were hollows beneath his high cheekbones which added to the distinction of his features as a whole and it suddenly crossed her mind that Sue might have been right, after all, when she described him as handsome. Certainly he possessed the kind of face that would attract certain women ... those who craved to be mastered, thought
Tara. For there was not one tiny sign of weakness to be found anywhere—even the deep lines across his dark forehead gave the impression of formidable invincibility.

She had compared him with David before and she found herself doing it again. There was such a vast difference in the two men and she did not know why she was comparing them. David was so kind and gentle and not particularly self-assertive; he almost always let her have her own way, which was very obliging of him and very comfortable for her. His kisses were gentle, respectful, his embrace tenderly relaxed, so that he should not hurt her at all. But this Greek—this heathen with the saturnine features and arrogant self-confidence of the god Zeus himself! This detestable creature did hurt her—he meant to hurt, purely to let her see who was master. His kisses were meant to be cruel, his hands ruthless, and even his voice was imperiously dictatorial, as if by it he would bend her to his iron-hard will.

‘What are your thoughts at this moment,
Tara?’ His voice cut into her reverie and she looked at him. His glass was between his long lean fingers and he was regarding her with a faintly sardonic smile. ‘I have an idea you were thinking about me.’

‘How clever of you,’ she returned with sarcasm. ‘Yes, I was thinking how detestable you are!’

And yet you promised to marry me,’ was the suave reminder.

She went red to the roots of her hair.

‘I never for one moment considered marrying you,’ she denied.

‘Liar. That night when you promised you were resigned to telling your fiancé, even at that late stage, that it was all a mistake and you could not marry him.’

‘I was—was under the influence of—of———’ She broke off painfully and, picking up her glass, she emptied it in one continuous swallow.

‘Under the influence of love—’

‘Rubbish!’

‘I did not mean you to take the word quite literally. You were under the influence of desire, of my lovemaking. All you wanted at that moment was to get into bed with
me.
’

‘Oh—! You’re the most insufferable creature— and I hate you!’

‘For voicing the truth?’ He put the glass to his lips and took a small drink, then placed it on the coaster, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘You’re a coward, Tara, you’re afraid to own that you can be as amorous, and as eager for the fulfilment of sex, as I can.’

‘Shut up—be quiet—!’ She put her hands to her ears, glowering at him. ‘I don’t want to listen—I won’t listen!’ And with that she flung herself off the chair and ran for the door. But he barred her way, seizing her round the waist and swinging her off her feet, then down and against the virile hardness of his body. ‘Oh … let me go—’ His lips crushed with brutal dominance the rest of what she was going to say. His arms brought her close, crushing her tender breasts against the coiled-spring hardness of his chest. She gasped, fighting for breath, gulping air when at last he drew his sensuous, demanding mouth from hers. She felt her ribs would collapse from the fiendish cruelty of his hold. He was determined to prove his complete mastery over her, to demonstrate the superiority of his strength. His hands spanned her waist as eventually he held her at arms’ length, his eyes burning, a betrayal of the smouldering desire within him. He wanted her—desperately! Fear rose in great waves of mental agony as she lived in imagination what must surely come to her. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry out for mercy, not to plead and whimper, revealing her weakness, while her strength lay dormant, reduced to inertness by this man’s powerful, magnetic personality.