Penniless and Purchased (12 page)

Resolution filled him. He glanced at his watch. By the end of the evening his purpose would have been achieved. Immunity from a woman he must never, never allow himself to desire again.

S
OPHIE
was tearing up weeds. Ruthlessly, urgently. As if pulling weeds out of her own heart. Weeds that had the face of Nikos Kazandros! Emotion scythed through her. Dear God, how close, how perilously, disastrously close she had come to letting him kiss her—

Kiss her! Just like that—there and then!

She had so nearly let it happen! Nearly let herself yield to him! The strength it had taken to pull away, back to safety, to sanity, had been almost beyond her! But she’d done it, and thank God for it!

Gradually, as she worked, her heart-rate slowed and she started to calm, to regain some shred of composure. It was all right. She was safe. He hadn’t come after her. He was leaving her alone. And when she heard, a short time later, the throaty roar of Nikos’s car, she felt safer yet. Safer still if she didn’t let herself dwell on what had nearly happened. Safer if she kept herself doggedly working, until the shadows lengthened across the whole garden, and her back was aching, and she knew she needed to stop.

Stiffly, she got to her feet. There was sun now only in the treetops, high above. The walled garden itself was completely
in the shade. She gave a little shiver. It was cool to the point of chill. And as she looked around the shadows seemed to bring a pall of melancholy sifting over her—a sense of slow, abandoned desolation.

She was alone. Completely alone. Nikos was long gone. And, for a reason she did not want to think about, she felt suddenly bereft.

For a moment she just stood there, staring bleakly. Then, as she knew she must—for what else could she do?—she squared her shoulders and went indoors.

She would fill the evening ahead as she had filled all those up till now. She would wash, make herself some supper, and watch something on TV—whatever was on, she didn’t care much—then go to bed. And she would
not
think herself lonely, the evening ahead empty…

No—she must not allow herself to feel like this! She’d been content enough alone here up till now! Relishing the peace, the silence, the beauty of nature all around. So why, now, should she think she felt alone…restless?

So empty.

So desolate.

She felt tears prick behind her eyelids, but she blinked them away. She would not cry,
must
not cry, for something that was was impossible. It had been impossible four years ago and it still was—always would be. There was nothing in her life now but the endless grind of doing what she had to do, whatever it took.

With an indrawn breath she would not admit was heavy, she got on with washing the dirt off her hands, wincing slightly at the scratches.

He held my hands, soothed them with his—

No—the shutter sliced down again. Roughly, she dried
her hands, flexing her shoulders to loosen them up. But just as she was replacing the hand towel she stilled, every nerve suddenly alert.

It was a car, coming along the drive. And the low, throaty note was all too familiar. Her thoughts churned wildly, but before she could even think coherently the car had drawn to a loud halt by the back door. She heard the engine cut, a door slam. Then Nikos was at the kitchen door, walking right in.

Sophie froze, silenced completely. Inside, she felt her pulse kick into hectic life.

‘I’ve come to take you out to dinner,’ Nikos announced.

For a timeless moment Sophie could only stare up at him.

‘Dinner?’

‘Yes. I’ve made a reservation at the inn I’m staying at. It’s a few miles off, but not too far.’ He spoke as if taking her to dinner were the most natural thing in the world.

She couldn’t speak. Could only stare and swallow helplessly. Then she found words.

‘I can’t go to dinner with you.’ It was baldly said, but inside her head her mind was flailing helplessly, incapable of thought, of rational comprehension. Overwhelming her was emotion.

It was Nikos! Nikos back again—standing right here, right in front of her. Telling her he was taking her to dinner.

A dark eyebrow tilted upwards at her words. ‘You have another engagement?’ he posed.

She felt herself flush. ‘Of course not. But that doesn’t mean I can just—’

‘Why not?’ he interrupted. ‘After all, you’ve been living on short rations for a few days—you must be keen for some more sophisticated fare by now!’

‘I’m perfectly OK here,’ she riposted.

‘Well, now you can have a decent dinner anyway, can’t you?’ He glanced at her attire. ‘You’ll need to change, though.’

‘I haven’t anything suitable for going out,’ she answered. In her mind, painfully, sprang the memory of the extensive wardrobe she had once enjoyed. Every item had long gone.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘There’s no dress code at the restaurant.’

It wasn’t the answer she wanted. ‘Nikos, this is…’ she began.

Mad
, she wanted to say.
Insane. Pointless.
But the words didn’t come. Helplessly, she fell silent.

‘Go and change,’ he prompted. ‘Don’t be too long—I only had a sandwich for lunch, remember!’

There was light humour in his voice, and she wondered at it. She was still trying to make sense of what was happening. Why on earth was he here to take her to dinner? It was incomprehensible.

It was unbearable.

Her mouth twisted briefly. But then the last four years had taught her that the unbearable still had to be borne…

This was just one more thing that she had to endure. And that was what she would have to do this evening. Get through it. Endure it. Endure the torment of having dinner with Nikos…

Numbly, she found herself turning round and heading upstairs to the little bedroom over the sitting room.

Below, Nikos felt his breath draw in.

Was he really doing the right thing? He silenced his doubts. He’d been through them all since driving away earlier. This
was
the right thing to do. Somehow he had to make himself immune to Sophie, so that she was no longer haunting him from the past. So that he could see her again and feel nothing about her. Nothing at all.

He could hear her upstairs, the creaking floorboards revealing
her activity. She didn’t keep him long, and he could hear the tread of her footsteps coming downstairs as he was locking the garden door. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she had said she had nothing suitable with her—the blouse and skirt she had changed into, though neat and clean, were clearly daywear. Her hair had been simply clipped back into a low ponytail, and she had not bothered with make-up. Well, he told himself bluntly, it was all to the good if she weren’t dressed up. The last thing he wanted was her exacerbating her natural beauty in any way whatsoever.

The gypsy skirt she was wearing the first time I set eyes on her, swirling around her long, long legs…The peach dress she wore to dinner that evening, accentuating every pliant line of her body…The ivory evening gown she wore to that gala
,
the first night I took her out…

Through his head she walked like a procession, each vision a wound. Roughly, he banished them. They were the past, and the past was over. Now, only the immunisation programme was ahead of him. Nothing else.

He led the way out to the car, and opened the passenger seat. For a moment she seemed to balk, then climbed in, settling the seat belt across her, her face inexpressive.

But behind the blank expression she was fighting down emotion. Crushing down the memories that tried to come crowding into her head.
Don’t think…don’t remember.
It was all she could do, all she could tell herself.
And don’t, above all, look at the man sitting beside you, his powerful frame so close you could almost brush your sleeve against his.

As Nikos gunned the engine she felt the G-force thrust her back in her seat. He drove as he had always driven, with ultra-masculine assurance, and the powerful car creamed down the driveway and out on to the public highway, revving
strongly as he roared through the quiet countryside. To distract her flailing emotions she looked about her, at rolling fields and woodland, anywhere but at the man driving her. Where they were she still had no idea, and didn’t care anyway.

After about ten minutes he pulled off the main road and drew up in front of a prosperous-looking inn, with mullioned windows, overhanging eaves, and flower boxes along the sills. It looked pretty and old and immaculately kept. Judging by the kind of up-market cars parked, it was clearly the kind of place that attracted a well-heeled clientele.

They went inside, Nikos ducking his head as they stepped into the old-world interior. As always, as Sophie remembered, he received instant attention, and within a few minutes they were installed at a spacious table set inside a glassed-in extension to the rear of the building, overlooking a close-mown lawn that stretched down to a little river. Cool air wafted in from wide-open French windows.

Sophie sat, feeling mixed emotions trying to jostle their way past the glaze she had forcibly imposed on herself since the moment she had climbed into Nikos’s car. Why Nikos was doing this she had no idea. Her only priority was to get through this ordeal intact.

But it was going to be torture to endure his company, to have to go through the hideous mockery of dining with him as if they were actually a couple…

As once they had been…

No—stop that! Stop it now—right now. She said the words to herself fiercely, inside her head.

Just shake the napkin on to your lap, smile at the waiter, look through the menu, make a choice—any choice; it doesn’t matter—then put the menu aside, pick up your glass of water, look out of the window, look at the river, the lawn, the flowers,
the countryside. Look at anything, anything at all, but don’t look at Nikos…don’t look at Nikos
—

Her eyes went to him. Hopelessly, helplessly. How could she do anything else except look at him? Look at the perfect sculpture of his face; its every contour known to her, every glance, every expression, an image on her very heart—once, so long, long ago.

But no longer. And never again. That was what she had to remember. All she could permit herself to think.

With a silent intake of breath she shifted her eyes away as he studied the menu, reached instead, idly, for the little card that sat within the centrepiece of the table, flanked by pepper and salt and a tastefully arranged spray of flowers. She glanced at the card, with its printed sketch of the front of the inn and the address. They were somewhere in Hampshire, so it seemed, close to a village Sophie had never heard of. It didn’t seem particularly important to her where she was, so she replaced the card. Then, resolutely, she turned her head to look out over the view again.

‘Sophie?’

Her head snapped round. Nikos was looking at her, one eyebrow quirked questioningly. A waiter had materialised beside the table and was clearly ready to take their order. She swallowed, and murmured her requests, then Nikos gave his.

He was choosing lamb for his entrée, and memory stabbed at her. It had always been his favourite, and she could vividly remember him telling her about all the traditional Greek methods of cooking lamb, baking it so slowly that the meat fell from the bones because it was so tender.

‘You must come to Greece—then you will see,’
he had said. And she had felt her heart give a little lift, as though it were already on its way to heaven. Why would he take her to
Greece except to meet his parents, introduce her as the girl he loved, wanted to marry? Oh, please,
please
let it be so! She had loved him so much, so much—

Her mind sheered away. She had never gone to Greece with him.

And she no longer loved him.

He had killed her love for him—stabbed her to the heart. And she had handed him the dagger with which to do it. And her life had shattered to pieces.

A heaviness crushed down on her. An old, familiar bitterness.

He was handing back the leather-bound menus, turning his attention to the wine list, relaying his decision to the hovering
maître d
’. Then his attention turned to Sophie. She lifted her chin. She would not look away. She would bear this and stick it out. Why he was going through this farce she could not begin to guess, but she would not crumble. His expression seemed veiled, as though he were hiding some emotion behind the dark surface of his eyes. Despite her intention to stay unperturbed, she found herself reaching jerkily for her water glass.

‘Sophie—’

She stayed her hand. Swallowed. ‘Yes?’

He seemed uncertain for a moment, then he spoke. ‘Sophie, the reason I’m having dinner with you is this. I want to draw a line under the past. I don’t want it intruding again. You clearly don’t, either. So I want to have an evening with you that proves to us both that, in the unlikely event of our paths ever crossing again, they can do so without the drama that has happened this time.’

He took a breath, then went on, his voice crisp and decisive. ‘I trust, with your debt settled, your financial problems are now averted. You got yourself into a dangerous mess, but you’re out of it now, and I’m sure you’ll have the good sense
not to consider that dire option a sensible course ever to consider again. Now, I’ve lectured you quite enough—’ he permitted himself a lightening of his brisk tone ‘—so let us change the subject and not refer to it again.’

She was looking at him strangely as he spoke, a closed look on her face. He wondered at it fleetingly, and then the wine waiter was there, proffering the bottle he’d selected. Once the tasting and the pouring were complete, he lifted his filled glass and took a contemplative mouthful. Replacing the glass, he remarked, his tone conversational, ‘So, you decided music wasn’t for you after all?’

‘No.’ There was no emotion in her voice and she did not elaborate.

She wasn’t going to be forthcoming, clearly, and Nikos let it be. Her defection from a subject she had once been devoted to surprised him, but perhaps her vaunted devotion to her music had been as shallow as other aspects of her character.

He pulled his thoughts away from that dark path. He was not going there. Tonight was about the future, not the past. And the future was about making Sophie Granton nothing more than a passing acquaintance to whom he had total immunity.