Pagan Lover

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the Author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the Author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

The text’ of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

First published 1980

Australian copyright 1980

Philippine copyright 1980

This edition 1980

© Anne Hampson 1980

ISBN 0 263 73267 3

Set in Linotype Baskerville

Made and printed in
Great Britain by

Richard Clay (The Chaucer Press), Ltd., Bungay,
Suffolk

CHAPTER ONE

THERE was a look of serene contentment on Tara Bennet’s face as she listened to the voice coming over the line. Her fiancé never failed to telephone her at this time every day, just to remind her, he teased, that, she was his and his alone, and woe betide her if she allowed any of her male patients to flirt with her.

‘What are the present bunch like?’ David wanted to know.

‘We have two new patients; they came in last night very late. Had an accident with a car. I didn’t see them until this morning, of course, when I came on duty. One’s a Greek, and is he arrogant! I haven’t spoken to him yet—in fact, he and I haven’t even exchanged glances. But Sue’s furious at the way he treats her. Anyone would think he was a god, she says.’
Tara laughed as she spoke, thinking of Sue’s furious expression when she came away from the private ward in which the Greek was accommodated.

‘What’s he like?’

‘Handsome, so Sue says. About thirty-two, she thinks, but he refused to give his age.’
Tara laughed again before going on to tell her fiancé what the Greek said to Sue when she asked him his age. He had looked at her arrogantly and snapped,

‘What the devil has that to do with you? Get on with your job and stop asking irrelevant questions!’

‘There’s obviously nothing seriously wrong with him,’ observed David.

‘No, but the doctor on duty insisted on his having an X-ray because it was rather a nasty accident, with this Greek being hit by a car travelling on the wrong side of the road, and the Greek being thrown out on to the hard standing. He’s very bruised and has a deep cut on his head.’

David changed the subject abruptly.

‘I forgot to tell you, my love, that we’re invited to supper at Mary’s on Friday. John’s home on leave at last.’

‘Lovely! He’ll be at the wedding, then?’

‘I should think so. He’s been overseas for two years so I expect his leave will be a fairly long one.’ David paused a moment. ‘Only nine days before we’re together.
Tara, I can hardly wait.’

She was so happy that words failed her for the moment. It was an interlude of silence during which both she and he became deep in thoughts of the future which, as far as
Tara could see, was roses and red wine all the way. She was glad that David’s brother would be at the wedding, as she herself had no relatives at all, and so the close relatives were all on David’s side. And as he had very few—just his parents, his brother and a couple of aged aunts—it was a happy circumstance that John would be able to attend the wedding.

‘I shall have to o now,’
Tara was saying presently. ‘Sue’s going off duty and I’m taking her place.’

‘Watch that Greek, then,’ he warned teasingly. ‘They’ve got a reputation for being womanisers.’

‘Well, this one isn’t! Sue’s here now, making faces and thumbing in the direction of the private ward where the Greek is.’

‘It takes a lot to get Sue riled, doesn’t it?’

‘Usually, yes. She’s the most placid person—ideally fitted to be a nurse.’

‘Like you, my love. ‘Bye for now; see you tonight.’

The receiver clicked;
Tara looked at Sue and grimaced.

‘He’s an arrogant pig!’ declared Sue, and for a moment Tara could only stare at her, for Sue never ever said things like that about patients, no matter how much they tried her patience.

‘And I’ve got to take over from you,’ said
Tara at last. ‘I’m certainly not looking, forward to it!’

‘He wants to go out, but Doctor Jameson left strict orders that he’s to be kept under observation for a while.’

‘We can’t keep him in if he wants to leave. Doctor Jameson knows this as well as we do.’

‘It seems that Doctor Jameson’s not satisfied that some internal injury might not have resulted from the accident.’

Tara nodded but said nothing, and a few minutes later she was entering the private ward, carrying a tray on which was a cup of coffee and some biscuits. She had actually hesitated outside the door, annoyed to find that her heartbeats had increased rather uncomfortably.

The Greek was standing by the window, staring out, and for a fleeting moment
Tara looked at him from the back view. So tall! And with broad shoulders and a slim waist; no surplus weight carried on an athletic body like that, was
Tara’s instant conclusion. He turned, slowly, and for another fleeting moment she saw him in profile. Classical lines that reminded her of some Greek statues she had seen in the museum, statues sculptured in stone. She noted the dominant chin, the flexed line of the jaw, the aquiline nose....

He was facing her ... and something jerked at her nerves. Those eyes, black, surely, and as hard as pitchblende! They fixed hers, then widened slowly, piercing in their intense scrutiny. The man seemed mesmerised for a space, as if he were observing something that was quite beyond belief.

‘Your—your coffee,’ stammered
Tara, but she made no move to place the tray on the table. Her legs felt weak, her mind confused. There was something akin to
 
an electric current running round and round the room, passing between her and the man standing there, his lean unsmiling face turned to hers. She vaguely noticed the very dark skin, the prominent cheekbones, the typical low forehead of the Greeks, the strong black hair, thick and crisp and swept back as if he had ruthlessly attempted to straighten out the natural wave. She was thinking of Sue’s statement that the man was handsome and shook her head, rejecting the idea. There was too much arrogance in his features, and inflexible qualities which mingled with an unmistakable harshness and air of superiority.

Tara decided that she had never before seen such an arresting face... nor a more formidable one. No, he was not handsome—at least, not to her way of thinking. David now ... he was not so tall, granted, but his features were soft and kind and his eyes were frank and open. His mouth was full, denoting compassion—not like this man’s mouth which was thin, cruel—and yet at the same time there was about it a sensual quality that caused an involuntary shiver to trickle along Tara’s spine. She would not care to find herself alone with him!

He continued to stare at her in silence, absorbing things of which
Tara was not wholly unaware—the rare beauty of her features with their delicate contours, the retroussé nose, the lovely rosy lips, slightly parted as if inviting a tinder, reverent kiss. He vivid blue eyes were startled, because of the sensation within her which she could not have understood even if she had been clear-minded enough to try. Her long dark lashes fluttered down as she attempted to hide her expression from him; the soft seep of colour that came to her cheeks could not possibly be hidden.
Tara bit her lip, wondering why she had no power to speak, why she was unable to move towards the table and deposit the tray.

The Greek spoke at last, but the relief of the silence being broken gave way instantly to an inexplicable wave of apprehension as she heard the odd inflection which edged his voice, a finely-timbred voice which carried the merest hint of a foreign accent.

‘Good morning. You’re the day nurse, presumably....’ He stared yet again. ‘What’s your name?’

She swallowed, wildly perplexed thoughts racing around in her mind. Why was she so disturbed by the man’s voice? He had said little, and yet there seemed to be some meaning behind the prosaic simplicity of the words. She found herself murmuring her name, aware of even more colour rising in her cheeks. He spoke again, repeating her name in a soft and rather gentle tone of voice.

‘
Tara:...’ The black eyes seemed to see her discomfiture but the man merely said, ‘You can put the tray down, nurse—no, not there. Here, on this smaller table.’

She stiffened, for the table he had indicated was close to where he was standing... too close!

‘I always put it here,’ she began, and managed to propel herself towards the larger table. And it was with some surprise that she found herself being allowed to place the tray there, as the whole attitude of the man was one of dominance, of a sort of pagan mastery that convinced her she would have been forced to obey him had he repeated his request for the tray to be put where he had wanted it to be put.

It was as she was straightening up that she heard his voice, low and yet commanding... and almost sinister.

‘Come here.’

She stared, aware of a clamminess in the palms of her hands. She shook her head, staggered at her own lack of resistance. Where was the brisk manner she adopted towards the patients? What had happened to that firm voice she kept especially for the hospital?

‘I have to—to go—’ Her voice was cut as she saw him gesture with his hand, saw the narrowing of those almost fearsome eyes.

‘Come here,
Tara.’ So soft the voice, but vibrating in a way that made her glance around and even take a step towards the door. Sue had not warned her of this! I said,
come here
.’
The voice was still very quiet, and
Tara did not know what made her move across the floor, obeying his command as if she had been nothing more than an automaton. But suddenly she stopped, forcing herself to resist the strange magnetism with which he seemed to be drawing her to him.

‘I said I must go, Mr Petrides. I believe the doctor will be seeing you within the next hour or so.’ From what Sue had told her Tara fully expected some protest and found herself waiting for the man to reassert his intention of leaving the hospital. To her surprise he was nodding, obviously fully resigned to waiting for the doctor. ‘I shall be back for the tray in about half an hour.’

‘I believe,’ said the Greek as she turned to leave the ward, ‘that I told you to come here.’