His Forbidden Bride (13 page)

But he promised I'd be safe, she argued with herself, defensively.

No, came the uncompromising reply. He said he'd take nothing that you

didn't wish to give. That's entirely different.

And, as a guarantee, it was total y meaningless. Because he knew that she

wanted him, she realised, shocked. And he was confident that, with a little

time and patience, she'd be his. And of her own free wil , too.

Zoe sat up slowly, pushing her hair back from her face. That's why he didn't

make any move on me tonight, she told herself, bleakly. He knew I'd be

expecting him to escort me to my door—to try to kiss me goodnight at the

very least.

Yet he didn't. In fact, he hardly touched me.

Except once, she reminded herself, and she could stil feel the marks of his

fingers against her jaw as if she'd been branded there.

But during the dancing they'd always been divided by that sil y handkerchief.

No real physical contact at al .

This was clearly a game, she thought, for which he'd invented his own rules

a long time ago. And this worried her.

It was disturbing, too, to realise how little she still knew about him. True, it

hadn't been an evening for the exchange of confidences, but he seemed to

be becoming more of an enigma with every hour that passed.

But if he's a gardener, she thought, I'm Helen of Troy.

She could hear the faint sound of the music floating up to her. No doubt he'd

rejoined his Greek girl, and coaxed her back to smiles by now. Maybe she'd

even persuade him to spend tomorrow with her instead.

After al , they both live here, she told herself, whereas I—wel , I could just be

passing through.

She undressed and put on her wrap, then cleaned off the small amount of

make-up she was wearing, and brushed her hair. It was thick and silky, she

thought, shaking it back from her face, but it didn't make her a beauty.

Nothing could, although she supposed she was on the attractive side of

ordinary.

Just remember that, she told herself caustical y, and take the sweet talk with

a large pinch of salt.

If Andreas kept her hair clasp, she'd have to find another, she thought as

she put down the brush. But there'd been a shop sel ing crafts and jewel ery

in copper and pewter as wel as silver on the way up to the square. She

could look there.

If Andreas didn't come tomorrow…

She was tired, she wanted to sleep, but she couldn't switch off the constant

images passing and re-passing through her mind. The room felt stifling, too,

and the sheets seemed to graze her like sandpaper.

Eventually, she got up, put on her wrap again, and went out onto the

balcony. She sat lifting her face to the faint breeze from the harbour,

listening to the lap of the sea, and the creaking of the timber caiques at

anchor. There were no other sounds. The hotel lights were extinguished,

and the dancers had dispersed. Andreas too would be—somewhere. Not

alone, perhaps.

It shocked her to discover how much that possibility hurt. And how hard she

had to fight to block the image of Andreas, his naked skin dark against the

sheets of some woman's bed, his body arched above her in the act of love.

She even found herself wondering what kind of a lover he would be.

Demanding or patient? Fierce or gentle? Or, maybe, all of them, she

thought, and was horrified to recognise her own mounting excitement.

This was what he'd sensed, of course, from that first moment of their

meeting. This was why he could take his time with her, not touching or

kissing, because it would simply intensify the yearning. Make her want him

more with every passing moment.

Until, inevitably, she could bear no more, and turned to him, offering herself.

Zoe shivered. It can't matter, she told herself desperately.
He
can't matter. I mustn't al ow this to happen.

Yet already it seemed to be beyond her control, and she knew it.

Knew, too, that wherever Andreas had spent the night, he would be waiting

for her outside the hotel in the morning, as he'd promised.

In just a few hours from now, she thought, staring blindly at the starlit sea.

And I'l go with him this time—this one last time. Then, never again.

Because it's too dangerous, and I can't afford to take that kind of risk.

And found, suddenly, the lonely, bitter taste of tears in her throat.

It took for ever next morning to decide what to wear. Zoe found herself trying

and discarding almost every piece of clothing she'd brought with her.

Eventually, she picked what she would have worn had she been spending

the day on her own—as, of course, she stil might be, she swiftly reminded

herself—putting on her blue bikini topped by a pair of white cut-off trousers,

and a pretty overshirt in shades of blue and gold.

Her hair she wore deliberately pul ed back from her face, and confined at the

nape of her neck with a rubber band.

A glance at her watch told her it was nine-thirty, and she still had time for

breakfast. Maybe food would calm the nervous churnings in her stomach,

although she doubted it. But at least it would give her an occupation. Stop

her prowling up and down her room, endlessly packing and repacking her

canvas bag.

Sherry was quick and efficient with the rol s and coffee, but Zoe couldn't

help noticing that she seemed to lack her usual ebul ience.

'Hangover?' she teased as she poured herself some orange juice.

'I didn't have time to get one,' Sherry said, putting down smal pots of cherry

jam and honey.

'It was a terrific night,' Zoe agreed. 'But how do you stand the pace?'

'Each Sunday, I ask myself the same thing,' Sherry said wryly. She forced a

shadow of her normal grin. 'Ignore me. I'm suffering from a touch of the

ex-pats this morning.'

'Then you don't recommend life on Thania?'

'On the contrary, it's wonderful—with the right person.' Sherry said with bite.

'Ouch.' Zoe gave her a surprised look. 'What's Stavros done to upset you?'

'A slight difference of opinion, that's al .' Sherry paused. 'So what have you

got planned for today?'

'I'm doing the island tour,' Zoe said. She hesitated. 'Actual y, with

Andreas—the man I was dancing with last night.'

'I noticed.' There was an odd note in Sherry's voice. 'How did you two

happen to meet?'

'I told you—he's the gardener at the Vil a Danaë.' Zoe spread honey on a rol

and took a bite. 'But judging by the way everyone jumps when he's around, I

think he runs a protection racket on the side.'

Sherry's laugh rang hol ow. 'Did he tel you his other name?'

'Stephanos,' Zoe said, stirring her coffee. 'Andreas Stephanos. But you must

know him, surely?'

'I've seen him around, but he doesn't often come to our dance nights. I think

his boss keeps him too busy.' Sherry hesitated. 'And you're seeing him

today?'

'Yes.' Zoe nodded. She gave Sherry a frowning look. 'Don't you approve?'

'It's real y none of my business.' There was constraint in Sherry's voice.

'Just—look after yourself, that's al .'

Zoe smiled at her. 'I intend to,' she said. 'You real y don't have to worry.'

'It's just that I'm not sure if you know what you're getting into,' Sherry began,

only to be halted by Stavros suddenly appearing beside her.

'Darling.' His smile did not reach his eyes. 'Some guests are asking about a

packed lunch. Wil you deal with it?'

Sherry bit her lip. 'Yes—I'l be right there.'

Zoe watched them go, surprised. Their usual cheerful, jokey relationship

was clearly suffering from a bump in the road this morning. And when she

walked through the reception area a little later, she could hear the sound of

a low-voiced but furious argument coming from the office.

Zoe grimaced inwardly. She'd got to like them both, and, whatever the

problem, she hoped it would blow over soon.

Then she saw that the Jeep was parked right in front of the hotel, and

Andreas was lounging at the wheel, lean and casual in denim shorts and a

short-sleeved blue cotton shirt, his eyes masked by sunglasses, and all

other considerations were swept from her mind.

He raised a hand in greeting as she halted uncertainly at the top of the

steps, and leapt out to take her shoulder bag and open the passenger door

for her.

'
Kalimera
,' he greeted her. 'Did you sleep wel ?'

'Not real y.' Pointless trying to pretend the shadows under her eyes didn't

exist. 'It was so hot. There seemed to be no air.'
And there was the thought

of you, burning in my brain, refusing to let go
.

He frowned swiftly. 'I wil tel Stavros to have a fan taken to your room.'

'Oh,' Zoe said as the Jeep started off. 'Is Stavros under your thumb, too?

That could explain something.'

He shot her a sideways look as the Jeep swung up the hil towards the

square. 'What might it explain?'

Zoe looked cool y back at him. 'I don't think Sherry, his wife, approves of me

spending too much time with you, and I'm awful y afraid they've been having

a row about it.'

'I am sorry to hear it.' His tone was dry. 'But marital quarrels are part of life, and no doubt they wil enjoy the eventual reconciliation.' He paused. 'Did

Stavros' wife indicate a reason for her disapproval?'

'Not as such. She probably thinks you've acted as island guide for too many

other women tourists.'

'Then she is wrong.' There was a faint snap in his tone. 'You are the first,

Zoe
mou
.'

'Wel , please don't be cross about it.' Zoe suddenly realised she'd said too

much and could have bitten off her tongue. Andreas, she thought, alarmed,

would be formidable if angered. 'I think she was just—anxious about me,'

she added in an effort to smooth things over.

His smile was wintry. 'A concern I share with her,
pedhi mou
. So she need

have no fears. You are safe in my care.'

The Jeep turned into the square, and slowed to al ow a smal boy leading a

puppy on a long piece of string to cross in front of it.

Andreas turned to look at her, his face softening. He said, 'You believe that,

don't you,
agapi mou
?'

'Yes.' Zoe swal owed. 'Yes, I—I do.' And it was true, she thought, although

she could not explain her own certainty. On the other hand, perhaps she

was just being appal ingly naive, and would live to regret it.

He took her hand and carried it swiftly to his lips. 'Then our day begins here,'