His Forbidden Bride (14 page)

he told her softly.

She could feel herself blushing, and glanced hurriedly round the square

instead. The backgammon players were out in force already, she noticed

with amusement.

And among them Uncle Stavros, on his feet, staring at her and then at her

companion, eyes fixed, mouth parted in shock as if he'd seen a ghost.

Zoe tensed, feeling the force of his gaze like a slap across the face. And as

the Jeep moved off again she saw him take a step forward, his stick raised,

his face distorted by a thunderous frown.

'Is something wrong?' Andreas was alerted by her sudden intake of breath.

'No, not a thing.' She was making no more trouble for Stavros' family. But,

all the same, what the hel was the matter with everyone today? she asked

herself in bewilderment.

She hurried into speech, trying to regain her equilibrium, which had been

jolted by the nasty little incident. 'The church is beautiful, isn't it? I visited it yesterday.'

He grinned at her. 'Did you see the icon of the Virgin of the Cave?'

She looked back at him, demurely. 'Not after Sherry had warned me about

it.'

'I doubt that the icon by itself could do much,' Andreas returned pensively.

'Although, natural y, I have never tested its powers,' he added silkily.

'Of course not,' Zoe tried to keep a straight face, and failed abysmal y.

'That's better,' he approved as she began to shake with laughter.

'Sometimes you seem to have al the cares of the world on your shoulders,

pedhi mou
.'

'Perhaps I'm just not used to having holidays.'
Or meeting someone like you.

'Then I shal do my best to make this one special for you,' Andreas told her

quietly. He paused. 'I am glad to see you are wearing shoes you can walk in.

I thought we would go first to Mount Edira before it becomes too hot.'

Zoe thought privately that it was pretty warm already, but she said nothing.

The Jeep sped on. Livassi was far behind them now, and they were climbing

on a road little better than a cart-track, which wound its way upwards

through groves of olive trees, their silver leaves glittering in the sun. Craning

her neck, Zoe could see nets spread on the ground beneath, waiting to

catch the coming harvest.

'I can see the road-surfacing scheme has been a great success,' she

commented breathlessly, nearly jolted out of her seat by one pothole.

'Most of the traffic has four legs,' Andreas returned. 'They manage just fine.'

The track became steeper and the olives yielded to pine trees. The air was

cooler here in their shade and faintly scented with resin. Zoe sniffed

pleasurably, then took it deep into her lungs.

Andreas swung the Jeep off the track, and parked on a rare level stretch

under the trees.

'From here, we walk,' he said. He gave her a wry grin. 'If you are not too

bruised.'

She said lightly, 'I'm tougher than I look. Lead the way.'

She had half expected him to take her hand, but he did not, and in places it

was something of a scramble to fol ow his long, sure stride. But when they

reached the smal concrete viewing platform that had been constructed near

the summit, al owing an all-round view, she forgot everything else, drawing a

breath of sheer wonder.

Her voice shook a little. 'Oh, God, it's just—so beautiful.'

'Yes,' he said. 'Each time I come here, I cannot believe that I spend time

anywhere else.'

Below them was the green of the island itself, dotted with a patchwork of tiny

coloured roofs, edged by faint strips of silvery sand. And beyond was the

sea, stretching to the misty horizon in shades of turquoise and azure, broken

only by the craggy amethyst shapes of the neighbouring islands.

'There is Zakynthos.' Andreas pointed. 'And that is Kefalonia.'

'They look almost close enough to touch.' Zoe shook her head.

'I advise a more conventional approach,' he said lazily. 'We could sail there

one day, if you would like.' When she did not reply immediately, he went on

smoothly, 'And the tiny one near Kefalonia is Ithaca, the place that

Odysseus struggled to return to for so many years.'

'Hmm.' Zoe wrinkled her nose consideringly. 'According to the version I

read, he didn't struggle that hard. In fact, he was constantly allowing himself

to be diverted— general y by beautiful girls.'

Andreas tutted in amused reproof. 'Also by monsters, storms, and the

malice of the old gods, Zoe
mou
. And his wife waited for him, faithful y and patiently through many long years, so he cannot have been all bad if he

could inspire such devotion.'

'Besides, not al the women he met were wel disposed towards him,' he

added. 'After all, Circe turned his men into animals.'

Zoe gave him a limpid look. 'Someone once suggested that Circe was the

first feminist.'

'
Po, po, po
,' he said softly. 'And do you share her view,
agapi mou
, and believe that all men are beasts?'

'No, of course not.' She hesitated. 'Although the pair I encountered

yesterday made me wonder.'

'They have spent too much time away from Thania,' he said, with faint

contempt. 'Working in bars and clubs where foreign girls get drunk, and strip

off their clothes, and encourage men to do the same. So, to their limited

reason, all foreign girls must be like that. But that is not an excuse,' he

added level y.

'No,' Zoe said. She paused awkwardly. 'Andreas—I didn't thank you properly

yesterday for rescuing me, and I want to apologise for that.'

'It's not a problem.' He shrugged. 'You were upset.' He pointed again. 'Do

you see that little bay? That is where legend says Odysseus rested before

the gods allowed him to return at last to his home. I thought maybe we could

swim there this afternoon. That is, of course, if you have brought your

swimming costume.'

'And if I haven't?'

He smiled at her. 'Then we shal stil swim,
matia mou
,' he said softly. 'But I shal keep my eyes closed.' He paused. 'However, I would bet good money

that it will not be necessary. That you are wearing a bikini under those

charming clothes.'

Zoe bit her quivering lip. 'You see altogether too much, Mr Stephanos.'

He shrugged again. 'Perhaps because I like to look. And to look at you, Zoe

mou
, is a pleasure.' His smile widened. 'And what of you?' he questioned

gently. 'Have you seen enough?'

If he meant himself, Zoe thought with a pang, then she would never see

enough. She could go on fil ing her eyes with him for the rest of her life. Not

a realisation to give her much pleasure or peace of mind.

Hurriedly, she swung round, shading her eyes. 'Can we see the Vil a Danaë

from here?'

'Yes, if you have the eyes of a hawk.' His hands descended on her

shoulders, turning her slightly, forcing her to control an involuntary quiver of

response. 'There is the beach, and that little spot of colour is the roof. You

see?'

Zoe peered down. 'And your own home—where is that?'

His brows lifted. 'Are you planning to pay me a visit?'

'No,' she denied quickly. 'Just—curious.'

'It is not easy to distinguish from this height,' Andreas said after a pause.

'The roof tiles are green and a little faded. But one day, soon, I wil show

you—if you wish.'

She said haltingly, 'Wel —perhaps.' Then, 'Shal we go down, now?'

If the climb up had been something of a struggle, the descent was even

more difficult. Even in her flat canvas shoes, Zoe found she was constantly

slipping on the loose earth and pine needles.

And once she lost her footing altogether and cried out as she began to slide

downhil . Andreas, walking ahead, immediately spun round and grabbed

her, holding her against him to steady her. And for a few heart-stopping

seconds she felt the strength of him, and the heat penetrating her thin layer

of clothing as if it did not exist. She was aware of his breath on her face,

drank in the warm scent of his skin with shaking voracity. As his clasp

tightened she thought, He's going to kiss me, and her whole body tingled

with longing and delight.

Then, with abrupt suddenness, she was free. Set at a brief but definite

distance. She could have wept with the disapointment of it. And with the

shock of what, she realised, was a rejection.

Her face burned, and she could not meet his gaze. 'I'm sorry,' she mumbled.

'That was clumsy of me.'

'No,
agapi mou
,' he said. 'The fault is mine. After all, I promised to take care of you.'

He took her hand firmly in his for the rest of the way, helping her over the

steepest sections of the track. But if he'd been a paid guide, his touch could

hardly have been more impersonal.

By the time they got back to the Jeep, Zoe's heart was thumping like a

trip-hammer, but it had nothing to do with the gradient. Because she knew

that her feelings and desires back there on the mountain must have been

shamingly transparent. He could not have missed the blatant signals she'd

been giving out as her body had been pressed to his. So, why had he

chosen to ignore them?

He knew I wanted him, she thought, humiliated. He must have known. I did

everything but put my arms round his neck and draw him down to me.

I shal never ask anything of you
, agapi mou,
that you do not wish to give
.

His own words, stil teasing at her mind—even stinging a little.

But she had wanted to give, she thought wretchedly. She'd needed his arms

to hold her, and his mouth to find hers, and he had turned away—kindly,

courteously, but definitely.

Because, presumably, he was regretting his pursuit of her. He was tired of

the game he'd been playing, and decided to end it.

And now, somehow, she had to deal with her own regrets.

'Are you al right,
pedhi mou
?' He had shut the passenger door of the Jeep, and was regarding her with a faint frown.

Make it mundane, she thought. Bring the situation back to basics, as if a few

moments ago had never happened.

'I'm a little thirsty,' she admitted, sounding half amused, half apologetic.

'Because things were a bit fraught at the hotel, I forgot to bring any water.'

'I have some in a cool-bag,' he said. He paused. 'But I also have a better

idea, if you can wait for a minute or two.'

'Whatever you say.' She achieved a smile. Kept it cool and friendly. 'You're

in charge, after al .'

She'd expected to be driven to a vil age with a
kafeneion
, but at the foot of the track he turned the Jeep onto a path between the olive trees until they

came to a smal , single-storey house, painted white, and almost fiercely neat

in spite of the chickens pecking in the dust outside the only door.

A smal woman emerged from the house, dressed in black, her hair covered

by a scarf, her broad smile revealing gaps in her teeth. As Andreas climbed

out of the Jeep to greet her she burst into a flood of shrill Greek, reaching up

to pat him on the shoulder.

Then she snatched up a pitcher like a flower vase from a rickety table

outside the door, and trotted off round the house with it.

'Come down,
agapi mou
, and meet Androula,' Andreas invited, walking

round to the passenger side. 'She is an old friend, and she has gone to fetch

us some water from her own spring, which comes straight from the

mountain—the nearest we have to nectar.'

Zoe got out of the Jeep. 'Are you sure about this?' She glanced around her.

'Certain we're not imposing on her?'

'She loves company,' he said. 'And she will be delighted that I have brought

you to her.'

'Does she live alone here?' Zoe asked doubtfully. 'It's very isolated.'

'No, she lives with Spiros, her husband, but he wil be off attending to his

melon patch.'

Androula was back, almost at once, her pitcher brimming. Nodding and

smiling, she offered it to Zoe first.

The water was crystal clear, and so cold that it made her gasp. Zoe drank

deeply, thirstily relishing its chil against the burn of her throat.

'Good?' Andreas asked as she lowered the pitcher at last.

'Better than that.'

To her surprise, he took the pitcher from her, and drank in turn while

Androula smiled widely, nodding her approval.

Zoe wasn't sure how she felt about it. In a way, sharing the container was

almost as intimate as a kiss. But perhaps Androula was simply short of

glasses, she told herself. And, anyway, it was no big deal. She could not

allow it to be.

Androula put a small brown hand on her arm, gesturing towards the house

with the other.

'She wishes you to go in, and sample her honey cakes,' Andreas explained.

'A mark of great favour,' he added.

She said lightly, 'Then how can I resist?'

Inside, the house seemed to consist of one spotlessly clean room. Curtained

alcoves built into the thick walls contained beds, and there was also a

fireplace, a stove for cooking, a table and some hard-looking chairs. On the

top of a chest of drawers was an icon of the Virgin and Child, with a votive

light burning beside it.

One wal lit up the rest of the rather gloomy interior, covered as it was from