The Goddess (8 page)

“I only know you can’t stop an eighteen-year-old from being who she wants to be. Not
in this day and age.”

“Offering her an education, and at one of the best universities in the world, isn’t
exactly proposing torture.”

“Might as well be if she’s separated from the one person she wants to be with. How
long have they been seeing each other?”

“A matter of months, but they’ve known each other for years. Otis’s father worked
for us before he had an accident that laid him up. Otis was partway through an animal
science degree in the UK when he came back.”

“What about a compromise? You could suggest Tahlia take a gap year. See more of the
world and discover more about herself.”

“Like you?”

“Like a lot of people. Only my gap time came after finishing college, not before.”

“How did your mother feel about that?”

“I’m an adult, Darius.”
As was Tahlia.
“I live my own life.”

The tweezers pinched. When they let go, she eased out her breath.

“Was your mother worried you’d run off for good?”

“She was worried I’d make the same mistake she made.”
Like Darius was worried Tahlia would make the same mistake as their uncle.

“What mistake was that?”

She hesitated. But if he wanted to know… “She got pregnant.”

The tweezers pulled back. The splinter came out, and at the same time Darius eyed
her. After two beats, he moved off the bed then studied the tweezers in his hand.
“I’ll get rid of this.”

It was an hour before he returned. He had no doubt been meditating and thinking over
the future again. When he eased carefully into his side of the bed, Helene was curled
up facing the other way. She didn’t fall asleep until dawn.

Chapter Ten

She watched him stir to wakefulness, stretching those big arms high before rolling
over. As if guided by primordial radar, he brought her near. His chest rumbled while
a hot palm wove down her back, over her behind, then up again until, eyes still closed,
he cupped her nape and his mouth, hinting at a smile, claimed hers.

This had been their ritual these past few mornings, but today was different. This
was their last day at the villa. This was the last time they would lie together in
this bed. Emotion filled Helene’s chest and throat. She hadn’t realized she’d be so
unprepared for it.

As doves cooed from the nest built outside that orchard-facing window, Darius slowly
broke their kiss. His drowsy gaze roamed her face before, brows knitting, he brushed
hair from her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in that husky after-dreams voice she loved.

“Just listening to the doves,” she said.

And wondering when that boat will come or how I’ll say good-bye to this time.

He looked at her more deeply. It wouldn’t have been difficult to read her thoughts.

“This isn’t over. You’re staying with me when we get back, remember?” He brought her
closer and growled. “I’m not ready to let you sail out of my life just yet.”

When the pad of his thumb slid over her lower lip, Helene fell forward and let his
mouth slant over hers again.

“I have a trip to take next week,” he said after his lips had left hers. “An overnight
stay in Paris. Seems a friend has gotten himself engaged. Want to come?”

An overnight stay in Paris with Darius? It sounded like a dream. “Will there be evening
gowns involved? I have a limited wardrobe.”

“Let me take care of that.”

She shivered and melted as his hand skimmed over her shoulder and halfway down her
back. “You must get amazing invitations like that all the time,” she said with her
eyes closed as she brushed her cheek over his.

“Not out of the blue like this one. It’s the reason I pushed my stay here forward.”

“Seems as if your friend fell very hard and very fast.”

“Seems so.”

Helene didn’t miss the note of hesitation in his voice. So, was the friend the impulsive
type? Did Darius disapprove of the fiancée? Perhaps he wondered at the speed of that
announcement. Had he assumed “baby on the way?” Or did that thought come from mulling
over their own uncertain situation?

Beyond the window, one set of wings flapped at the same time his cell phone rang.
His long arm swept over to retrieve the phone off the side-table. He read the text
and exhaled deeply.

“Our boat will be here in two hours,” he said.

Her throat tightened. She swept a gaze around the room.
That soon?

“I thought we’d have a little longer,” she murmured.

At least until after lunch.
It was probably best to get this over with but when she tried to shift, the powerful
arm over her waist kept her still, and his nose came close to play with hers.

“We don’t need to rush.”

When he pressed her close, and his touch began to trail over her dips and curves,
thoughts of the boat drifted from Helene’s mind. As he tasted her breasts, her ribs,
and her belly, she surrendered to the liquid heat building in her veins and to the
pulse beating at her core.

Two big hands scooped underneath her behind before his tongue twirled around her navel
then flicked a sensual path lower. He caressed and kissed her there until her heart
began to pound and her fingers knotted and tugged his hair. She felt his smile against
her skin as he drew that hyper-sensitive bead into his mouth and lightly sucked and
stroked her.

Her toes curled. Heat-waves ribboned through her system. When she began to quiver,
he drew away. The wiry hair on his chest grazied over thighs and breasts as he slid
up. After he manipulated her onto her other side, he pressed in against her back.

His lips dragged down from her earlobe to her shoulder before his teeth slowly danced
the other way up. Easing out a sigh, she ground her lower-half back to rub his erection
as his hand curled over her head. He urged her face toward his and kissed her deeply
while his other palm brushed her breasts, tickling the tips with each sweep.

“I love waking up with you,” he murmured against her lips. “I love how you feel, how
you smell, how you taste.”

His fingers threaded between her legs at the same time his hips pushed into her. A
moment later, he shifted to find a condom and sheath himself. Then he draped her top
leg over his thigh. Dropping kisses on her temple and on her cheek, he eased her folds
open and made doubly sure she was ready. His thigh wedged between her legs and he
entered her, filling her with one flawless thrust.

She caught her breath, eased it out, and then coiled an arm back to cowl his neck.
As he moved inside of her, she sunk against him and gave herself over to the swirl
of sensations.

His words were warm and deep against her ear. “I really don’t want to leave this place.”

Oh God, neither did she. She wanted to stay here forever with Darius. Just like this.
But they had another two weeks. Another fourteen days before…
before—

When the orgasm hit, she gasped, shook, and automatically began to fold into herself.
But Darius’s hand kept her against him. He kept them joined and locked together.

Then he climaxed, too, holding her so tight that his rough cheek pressed against hers
and the steam of his body surrounded her. In that moment, her mind was filled only
with the illusion—the wish—that this was how it would always be.

…

They were on the balcony enjoying a final cup of coffee when Darius spotted the boat
heading their way. Setting the cup aside, he found his feet.

“They’ll be here soon. I’ll pack the figurine.”

Helene hadn’t asked about the logistics of transporting the artifact to the main island.
She only knew that no one other than Darius, his uncle, Yanni Kostas, and she were
certain of her existence. One day she hoped Darius would find a way to move outside
the confines of that tradition and share the figurine with the world. Until then she’d
stay mum.

Returning from her quarters with her packed knapsack and the pages she’d found, she
saw movement in the study. Kneeling on the floor, Darius was opening a briefcase-type
container. A moment later, he lifted the figurine down into the molded case. Before
closing the lid, he gave her one last look. So did Helene.

Joining her in the main room, Darius cupped and nuzzled her cheek.

“All packed?” he asked.

“Do you think I could bring these along?” She showed him the sheets of paper. “I thought
Tahlia might like them.”

“Sure.” He nodded toward the study and that monstrous oak desk. “Should be some folders
in there. You don’t want the wind ripping those out of your hand on the sail back.
I’ll meet you at the front door in five.”

Standing at the desk, she slid open the first drawer.
Stationery
. The second drawer held documents that couldn’t have been touched in decades. The
third drawer contained a stash of personal cards secured by a perishing rubber band.
The fourth and final drawer was empty except for some unused writing blocks.

No folders, but if she slid the old pages into the middle of a writing block, her
gift to Tahlia should be protected. When she heaped them all out onto the floor, though,
the base of the drawer seemed to spring back a little.

She pushed down on the drawer’s base again. Ever so slightly, it bobbed back up. From
the main room, Darius called out.

“You almost ready?”

“Be right there,” she called.

After bobbing the base again, she tried to pry her nails in either side to lever the
base out. No luck. Biting her lip, she made a fist and, hoping the base would dislodge,
lightly gaveled her hand against the timber. She did it a second time, a third.

“Helene,” Darius called out, “we need to leave.”

Dragging a hand over her hair, she leaned back on her heels. Whether she’d been onto
something or not, she was out of time. But halfway up, an idea struck.

With her legs spread either side of those drawers, she gripped the strip of slim panel
nearest the floor and tugged.

The panel popped off and she fell onto her back. Springing onto hands and knees, she
checked the cavity. Inside lay a dozen pages of the same vintage as the others.

Before Darius could call again, Helene gathered the additional pages, slid them between
the pages of the writing block and, feeling elated, headed out.

Chapter Eleven

A splendid sixty-foot sailboat docked at the pier in an adjacent bay. The crew looked
like the epitome of masters of the sea. Each man acknowledged Darius with a deep bow
then a bright smile. But when they clapped eyes on Helene and her grubby, pint-sized
knapsack, their expressions darkened.

As she moved forward, the writing block pressed to her chest, Helene’s skin began
to crawl.

Had the crew been briefed to expect another passenger? If so, they’d most likely know
she’d been hired to care for domestic needs. But Darius didn’t treat her like a maid.
While he didn’t show any overt signs of affection, he made certain she stood beside
him and personally helped her aboard. Holding his oversized briefcase in one hand,
he escorted her to one side of the boat.

Feeling numerous pairs of eyes upon her, she tried her best to appear unaffected as
the vessel slid out onto a sun-jeweled sea. While she drank in her final glimpse of
paradise and slid the block into the front compartment of her knapsack, beside her
Darius pointed out a pod of dolphins.

“It’s a good omen,” he told her.

She murmured, “If you say so.”

Ahead of the bow, a dolphin leapt so high and far it seemed to fly. His dark hair
ruffling in the wind, Darius gave her a thoughtful look. “Nervous?”

“A little.”
A lot.

“Just think. You’re starting on another adventure.” He tugged her close. “My sister
will adore you.”

Too soon, the smudge on the horizon became an island and then the blue and slate roofs
patterning the rocky hillsides came into focus. As the dolphins guided them into the
bay, the impression of a crowd congregated on the dock also took shape. Her face cool
from the salty breeze and back warmed by the sun, Helene clutched the rail as they
cruised into port while a collective cheer wafted over the teal-ribboned sea to meet
them.

Along the narrow cobblestone streets, people of all ages were on the move, eager to
welcome their sovereign home from his important time away. And as the boat docked
and Darius waved to the gathering crowd, more cheers filled the air, and hats flew.
When the gangplank lowered, Darius turned to her.

“Wait here. I’ll have someone fetch you.”

Rather than give her a kiss, he squeezed her arm and, before she could respond, he
was off and heading down that gangplank. As he stopped on the dock before the crowd,
a uniformed guard advanced to cover his back with their rifles at rest by their sides.
A middle-aged man—bald with wire-framed glasses and a tailored white suit—appeared.
With a discreet move, he relieved Darius of the case and its precious cargo.
Yanni Kostas
, Helene decided—Darius’s right-hand man.

Darius spoke in Yanni’s ear and the older man flicked a covert glance her way. The
two men exchanged more words. Finally Darius nodded, the man moved off, and an elderly
woman came forward to hold her monarch’s hand. Next, a girl, perhaps eight and dressed
in her Sunday best, offered a bouquet of wild flowers. Others came forward, too, but
while excitement undulated over the crowd, no one overstepped their mark. There was
no hint of a crush.

Helene noticed a woman in the crowd—a tourist or possibly a backpacker like herself.
The woman’s focus was fixed upon Darius as she angled this way and that snapping endless
shots. For an instant, Helene imagined
she
was that woman, just part of the crowd enjoying the moment rather than the person
waiting well back from that deck rail and feeling way out of her depth.

From her vantage point, Helene watched a magnificent ceremonial carriage weave down
from Sangros Hill. As the clop of hooves grew louder, the crowd parted, and the carriage
reined in close to Darius. With another wave to the crowd, he ascended the open carriage
step and made himself comfortable behind the uniformed driver. When Darius was well
on his way back up the hill and to the palace, the crowd dispersed.

Helene, however, stood frozen. Darius had asked her to wait. He’d said someone would
fetch her.
Who? When?
Perhaps he’d meant Alexio, although she hadn’t spotted her friend or his family in
the crowd. Now, with everyone returning to their business, she felt strangely out
of place—
invisible
—as if she were standing on the other, darker side of a giant gilded mirror.

Her attention drifted to the crew, who disembarked at the same time as the man in
the tailored white suit made his way up the gangplank with Darius’s case in hand.
He stopped to speak briefly with the crew before crossing over to where she stood.
With a thin-lipped smile, he introduced himself.

“I’m Prince Vasily’s Chief Aide, Yanni Kostas. He asked that I escort you to the palace.
We’ll leave shortly. Tradition decrees the prince’s carriage must be climbing the
hill before anyone follows.” Shifting the spectacles higher upon his long nose, he
glanced around. “Do you have luggage?”

Breathing a little easier knowing that Vasily hadn’t forgotten her—
well, of course he hadn’t
—she gestured to the knapsack nestled between her feet. With those protected pages
resting in the front compartment, more than ever she didn’t want to misplace it.

“I’m good,” she said. “Thanks.”

He gave that non-committal smile again. “A carriage is waiting.”

Following the man down the gangplank, Helene evaluated her guide. Obviously he was
an intelligent person of high standing. And while Yanni Kostas was reserved, he wasn’t
exactly cold. Darius trusted him and, right now, she felt as if she needed a friend.

While chestnut horses hitched to a closed carriage were brought over, she noticed
some locals eyeing them. Then Mr. Kostas opened the carriage door, and they settled
inside with her knapsack beside her and the case beside him. As they pulled out of
the city and the horses started their climb up the hill, she broke the silence.

“When I left the States,” she said, “I never dreamed my vacation would end like this.”

He nodded cordially. “Something to write home about.”

“My friends won’t believe it.”

Brown eyes behind their round glasses smiled. “You’ll need to send photos.”

As the carriage bumped along, quiet descended again. Helene gazed out the window,
taking in the retreating view of the city before she asked the question burning on
her lips.

“So you know about the arrangement between Darius and me?”

His head cocked. “Arrangement?”

“I wasn’t sure about protocol in a situation like this—an outsider rocking up and
moving in. But Darius seemed to think…”

Her words faded, and her throat closed up. Mr. Kostas’s tanned forehead had drawn
into a concertina of deep wrinkles and, behind those lenses, his brown eyes flashed
and then narrowed.

“What do you mean
arrangement
?”

She could barely get her mouth to work.
He didn’t know?
“Darius invited me to stay at the palace for a couple of weeks.”

Kostas’s tense expression melted. He even chuckled, a quiet low sound as he peered
out the window again.

“In that case,” he said, “protocol is covered.”

She wasn’t so sure. “For a minute, I thought you were going to throw a bag over my
head and toss me in the bay.”

“I misunderstood. I thought you were suggesting something else entirely.”

“Suggesting what?”

“A much longer stay.”

“How long?”

“It’s of no consequence.”

She persisted. “Then there’s no harm in saying.”

Giving in, he tipped forward as if he feared being overheard. “I thought you’d implied
something more permanent.”

She only stared.
He meant marriage?
She coughed out a laugh. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Of course not. I know him better than that.” He looked out the window again. “Much
better.”

As the carriage passed through grand garnished gates, Helene’s palm covered her belly.
She’d been nervous about coming back to officially stay with Darius. Now she wondered
if she simply ought to make an excuse and get out before things got any more complicated.

…

What had possessed him?

Darius had gone over that question in his mind the entire carriage ride from the dock.
As the horses pulled up in the palace forecourt, he admonished himself again.

He was expected to greet the crowd and travel up Sangros Hill alone. But until the
last moment he’d harbored the notion of escorting Helene at least as far as the end
of the gangplank. He had warred with himself over the issue the entire boat trip back,
but in the end, he had to concede that such an unprecedented, unexpected move would
stir a public pot or two.

At the last minute, he’d chosen the path of least resistance, although he cringed
at the idea of seeing Helene’s face when she finally showed up here with Yanni. She’d
been nervous during the trip back. Had been uncertain when he’d left her standing
on the deck. Now she’d be confused. And hurt.

He’d bent the rules by having her stay with him in the villa. He’d yielded and released
the figurine from the protection of a safe. With the possibility—no matter how slight—of
her having conceived, he’d decided to bring her back until all uncertainty could be
cleared. On that matter he had no choice. He couldn’t risk the mother of his child
disappearing, only to show up again in five or ten years’ time.

But to flout an unknown woman under people’s noses in these circumstances? That he
couldn’t do.

Still…

He should have warned her.

A footman opened the carriage door and Darius swung down, the soles of his shoes hitting
the ground with a slap. As the driver jumped down, too, Vasily’s mind locked upon
yet another matter that needed a delicate hand. The dark-haired twenty-one-year-old,
always vigilant where his horses were concerned, crouched down to inspect a lead horse’s
hoof.

Darius wasn’t surprised Otis had been the one to collect him from the dock. The boy
was neither a coward nor a slouch. He was never disrespectful. As Darius had told
Helene, he’d always liked Otis. He was a hard worker who was polite and knowledgeable.

None of that meant one of his staff should take advantage of a minor.

Okay, Tahlia was eighteen, but she was still naive as only a teenage girl with a head
full of romantic notions could be. Helene had said he couldn’t keep his sister from
being who she wanted to be. Perhaps, but neither could he stand by and watch Tahlia
set aside this crucial stage of her education to chase a boy around a stall.

If she went away to England for even a couple of months, the embers smoldering between
the pair would surely cool. His father would have agreed. Tahlia didn’t need the distraction
and, given the follies of young love, that’s all Otis was destined to be.

Otis had set down the hoof and begun to feel around the horse’s knee when a sandy-colored
canine bullet shot out from the western gardens. Darius relaxed. This was always the
best part of coming home. He’d had Ajax since he was a pup. He had been a gift from
his father. A dog truly was a man’s best friend, and his Cretan Hound was as true
as they came.

This lightning dash would end when Ajax came to a skidding halt at his master’s feet.
Only when Darius snapped his fingers would Ajax leap up and enjoy a good ruffle of
his coat and ears. At the sight of Otis, however, the dog made an unexpected detour.

Otis had finished checking the knee and was finding his feet when Ajax shot straight
up and onto the groom’s chest, almost knocking him over. Otis only laughed—an easy,
youthful sound. He scratched the dog’s ears, as Darius had done so many times, while
Ajax’s curl of a tail wagged so hard it threatened to Frisbee off.

Too late, Otis flicked a guarded look over a shoulder. The men’s eyes locked, and
the younger man urged the dog down. As Ajax continued on to Darius, Otis’s mouth opened
as if to explain, although Darius realized that when he wasn’t around Ajax kept Tahlia
company, and probably Otis, too. Instead, Otis drew himself up tall, bowed, then swung
up onto the bench behind the horses. With a click of his tongue and snap of the reins,
he drove the ceremonial carriage away.

His jaw tight, Darius looked down. Ajax sat, obedient at his feet. Sensing other eyes
upon him, Darius glanced toward the terrace. A number of staff watching the scene
waited for him to greet them, too.

He was interrupted when a second carriage rolled through the gates and down the long,
paved drive. With Ajax beside him, Darius drew himself up tall and waited. As soon
as the carriage stopped, he opened the door himself. Yanni alighted first and, with
a nod, departed immediately with the case. Next came Helene, silky hair shaken out
from beneath her cap.

Her expression was unreadable, but the press of her lips indicated something other
than calm. Darius took her hands.

“You’ve met my Chief Aide.”

“We had a chat,” she said. “Actually, we spoke about you.”

Darius inhaled deeply. “You’re upset,” he said.

“A little.” Her hands slipped out from his. “A lot.”

“It’s tradition that I greet the crowd and ride in an open carriage on my own up the
hill.” The back of his hand brushed hers. “I should have told you.”

“That would’ve helped.”

He eyed the staff. Out of earshot, everyone still waited patiently.

“I had to do what was expected,” he said. “I apologize.”

Her mouth tugged to one side, as if she were forcing herself to give it some thought.

“I’ll get over it, I suppose.” After a moment, she shrugged and shifted her feet.
“Guess I’m over it now.”

Smiling, he went to slide the knapsack off her shoulder, but she insisted on carrying
it. He escorted her to the broad stone steps that led to the terrace. Midway up, he
stopped to address the house staff.

“Everyone, meet Helene. She’ll be staying with us for a couple of weeks.”