'I want to look at you,' he growled softly. 'I want to feast my eyes on your auburn curls, your creamy white skin, your little rosebud nipples, your round, strong hips...'
As he spoke he was slipping her clothes expertly off her body, unsnapping her bra, teasing the sleeves of her blouse down over her arms, rolling her skirt sensually down over her thighs. And, as he undressed her, he pressed kisses on her freshly exposed skin. Kate felt as if a trail of fire were licking down her body and then blazing furiously out of control. She arched her back and gasped, clutching at his springy dark curls as his warm lips moved across the satiny surface of her thigh and trying to draw his head up so that she could kiss him. But he thrust her back down with a swift, commanding gesture.
'Later, agapimou,' he said softly. 'I will teach you what pleases me. But first you must have some pleasure of your own. Now lie still and let me feast on you.'
She gave herself up to enjoyment then, writhing and gasping with delight as Philip's mouth and hands found the most sensitive spots and brought her an ecstasy that was close to torment. Her own excitement was mounting unbearably and she shifted protestingly against him, uttering cries of
passion. Only when she was moaning and quivering uncontrollably beneath his touch did Philip allow her to take any active part herself.
'Are you ready, my darling?' he whispered.
Her eyes were closed and she could feel her lips set in a shuddering grimace of longing, but she nodded, reaching out blindly to touch his face and run her hands over his shoulders.
'Then stroke me,' he urged. 'Let me feel your long, slender fingers all over my body.'
Her eyelids fluttered open and she saw the flare of desire in his face. Then, with a small, purring laugh, she knelt beside him and set to work to inflict the same delicious torment on him. Hesitantly at first, and then with growing boldness, she caressed his body, her mouth lingering against the rough dark hair on his chest, while her hand trailed lower and lower in tantalising circles across his skin. She felt him tense and groan, then he caught her against him with a strength that was savage in its intensity.
'I love you, Katarina,' he cried. 'And I want to take you as my wife!'
Burying his face in the tumbled fragrance of her hair, he flung himself ruthlessly on top of her. She gave a small, whimpering cry as the links of his gold neck-chain bit into her tender flesh, but he stilled her protest with a kiss that made her gasp with longing. Fire seemed to leap and quiver through her veins as his mouth claimed hers, and she sank back into the pillows, wordlessly inviting him to possess her. When the moment came she was beyond speech, beyond anything but a deep, primitive groundswell of emotion that swept her along like a tidal wave. Dimly she was aware of the weight and strength and warmth of his body on top of hers, of the tiny murmuring cries that escaped her, of the powerful rhythmic force that drove them along together. But all sense of her own identity seemed to be lost as she clung to him in a throbbing ecstasy of passion until the final crescendo.
She felt his fingers tighten in her hair, heard him hoarsely cry out her name, then the universe exploded around her with the dark, pulsating heat of total fulfilment. Slowly she came back to earth to find her body limp and
exhausted in his hold. Putting up one hand, she pushed her damp, sticky curls away from her forehead and then put her arm tentatively around his neck. His hand came up and closed on hers, and they remained for a moment in silence, locked together in the warm aftermath of passion. Then, with a low murmur of well-being, Philip raised his head and looked down at her.
'Did I ever tell you that I loved you?' he asked tenderly.
'Mmm, but you can tell me again,' crooned Kate, snuggling up to him as he slid down on to the bed beside her.
Obligingly he took her fingertips and kissed them one by one.
'I love you, Katarina,' he said after each kiss.
She giggled and nestled into the hollow of his shoulder.
'Oh, Philip,' she sighed, 'I never imagined there could be anything as wonderful as this. Do you know that you are perfect? Absolutely perfect!'
'Yes, I've often thought so,' agreed Philip modestly. 'But it's nice to hear you say it.'
'You conceited beast!' cried Kate, springing to her knees and snatching up a pillow. 'How dare you make fun of me?'
Raising the pillow, she brought it down forcefully on his head, but as she raised her arms foi a second assault Philip caught the pillow and flung it away. Holding herpinioned by the wrists, he gazed admiringly up at her body.
'You know, that does the most wonderful thing to your breasts,' he said appreciatively. 'I think I'll get you to kneel like that more often.'
A slow warmth crept into Kate's cheeks.
'Stop it, Philip,' she protested, wriggling a little and hanging her head.
He laughed. A rich, reverberating laugh full of vitality and joy.
'I think you'd better get used to me looking at your body,' he teased. 'I intend to do a lot of it in future. And not just looking either.'
Gently he guided her arms back down to her sides, but as he did so he leant forward and brushed her nipples with his lips. A tremor went through Kate's body and she heard Philip give a faint groan. Rising to his feet, he picked up his dressing-gown, which was lying over a chair.
'The things you do to me!' he lamented. 'By my reckoning, it's approximately two minutes since I finished making love to you and already you're filling me with unmentionable thoughts. Perhaps a decent interval for refreshments would be a good idea. Do you want some tea?'
'Yes, please,' agreed Kate, nestling back into the pillows and pulling the covers self-consciously up to her shoulders.
When,Philip arrived back five minutes later with a tea-tray, she was lying blissfully with her eyes closed and her glorious auburn hair blazing like a halo against the pillows. Philip chuckled.
'You look radiant,' he murmured. 'As if you had just arrived in paradise.'
'I feel as if I had!' she retorted, stretching herself sensually. 'But I suppose I'll have to come down to earth some time. Where are my clothes?' She sat up and looked around her rather helplessly.
'You could have your tea in bed,' suggested Philip.
Kate shook her head.
'No, there are biscuits,' she objected. 'I hate crumbs in the bed. I'll get up and get dressed.'
Wordlessly Philip held up her blouse in one hand and three loose buttons in the other. 'Are you sure?' he asked in a deadpan voice.
Kate choked on a protesting laugh. 'Philip, you—you caveman!' she cried.
'I'll buy you another one,' he promised. 'In the meantime I can offer you a spare dressing-gown.'
The dressing-gown which he took out of the huge carved wardrobe was made out of a decidedly masculine plaid, and so large that Kate almost swam in it. Sighing, she folded back the sleeves.
'How do I look?' she demanded, doing a grotesque pirouette.
'Awful,' said Philip frankly. 'I'm sorry I don't have anything more feminine to offer you.'
'I'm glad you don't,' retorted Kate with spirit. 'I wouldn't really like to think of you having a wardrobe full of lace negliges waiting for the queue of women you entice into your bed.'
Philip ruffled her hair and dropped a swift kiss on it.
'There will only ever be you, Katarina,' he promised. 'Now come and pour the tea.'
Once she had a cup of fragrant lemon-scented tea and a raspberry-cream biscuit in front of her, Kate looked at Philip with a troubled smile.
'Philip,' she said bluntly, 'what do you think Irene meant when she threatened to ruin us? Could she really do that?'
Philip shook his head in exasperation and smiled back at her, his gaze resting warmly on her tumbled curls and flushed cheeks. Reaching across, he took her hand and planted a kiss on the inside of her wrist.
'I don't think she meant anything at all by it,' he replied firmly, 'except that she hates to be thwarted. Once she calms down she'll realise that breaking the engagement was the best thi
ng for both of us. We would never have been happy together. So don't worry your head about it for another minute. You and I have much pleasanter matters to discuss.'
'Such as?' prompted Kate, smiling shyly.
'How about our marriage plans for a start?' suggested Philip. 'Or a nice, sun-soaked cruise on the Eleftherial Or the fifteen children we're going to have when we get back from the cruise?'
Kate choked with laughter.
'I do love you, Philip!' she exclaimed. 'But fifteen!'
'Well, two or three,' he amended. 'Once your career's established. But first the wedding. When do you want to get married?'
'As soon as possible!' retorted Kate promptly, helping herself to another biscuit.
'My sentiments exactly,' agreed Philip with satisfaction. 'I'll see Father Stargos about it. There's only two things, though, Katarina—would you mind if we had a very quiet wedding? Just a simple ceremony in the village with your parents and a few of my closest friends?'
'Whatever you want,' murmured Kate.
Philip gave a sigh of relief.
'Goodl' he said. 'And there's the other thing: could I ask you not to mention our engagement to any outsiders? You can write to your family, of course, but I'd rather keep it quiet apart from that.'
'You're not having second thoughts, are you?' asked Kate in a troubled voice.
'No, of course not!' exclaimed Philip impatiently. 'But you know how I hate reporters, Katarina. Ever since I really got into the big league with my hotels they've been swarming around underfoot wherever I go. And my break-up with Irene is going to be just the sort of juicy gossip they thrive on. You can't imagine how obnoxious they can be, and I don't want you subjected to all
that pressure. And I particularly don't want our wedding turned into a media circus. So I think secrecy's our best option. Agreed?'
'I suppose you're right,' admitted Kate. 'But I would have liked to tell my friends at the dig. Oh, well, never mind. Tell me more about this cruise you're planning.'
Philip's eyes kindled.
'Well, I haven't had a holiday for over five years,' he said. 'And the
Eleftheria's just sitting idle at anchor. Now that the hotel opening is over I think you and I should just make a break for it. Dorothea and the others can run the hotel with their eyes closed, so why don't we just sail off into the Mediterranean and treat ourselves to a good time? Snorkelling, sunbathing, fishing, cruising around the islands—how does that sound?'
'It sounds wonderful,' agreed Kate longingly. 'But do you really think you should leave right now, Philip? I mean, you did say that your backer Hristos Hionides had suffered a heart attack and there could be trouble over the mortgage if he died. Shouldn't you stay here to deal with it all?'
Philip winced.
'I know,' he admitted, flinging up his hands. 'But really it's very unlikely that Hristos will die or that his executors will make any trouble for me if he does.
And, if I wait for that problem to be resolved, something else is sure to crop up. There will always be something demanding my attention, Katarina. If I don't seize the chance for happiness while it's here it may slip out of my grasp completely. For years I've done nothing but work and worry. Now that I've got you I want to live a little too. Is that such a bad thing?'Kate looked at him steadily. Outside the window the light was beginning to fade, and the table-lamp threw his features into sharp relief. She saw with concern that there were shadows under his eyes and lines of strain etched around the corners of his mouth.
'No,' she said softly. 'Philip, you look exhausted. Why don't you go back to bed and rest? I'm sure you didn't sleep at all last night.'
'I didn't really,' he admitted. 'All right, Katarina. I'll go to sleep now on one condition.'
'Oh?' she said questioningly.
'That you come with me,' he insisted, ruffling her hair. 'We'll have some dinner sent over later from the hotel, and tomorrow we'll hit the high seas!'
Kate struggled out of a fog of sleep a few hours later to the sound of the insistent shrilling of a bell.
'Mmm. What is it?' she grumbled protestingly.
Philip dropped a swift, light kiss on her hair.
'Just our dinner,' he reassured her. 'That's the back doorbell. I'll go down and fetch it.'
He was back within five minutes with a tray of delicious food. Pitta bread, smoking hot and with a faint aroma of charcoal, a selection of vegetable and seafood dips, shish kebabs with fried potatoes and a salad of olives, tomatoes and cucumber, and small rich cakes called cariocas that tasted like velvety chocolate fudge. And, of course, a bottle of dark red Mavrodafni wine to wash it all down. They ate slowly, sensuously, feeding each other titbits and sharing a wine glass. Afterwards Philip took out his bouzouki and played a series of haunting love-songs. And when at last he set aside the instrument, they moved into each other's arms, driven by instincts older than words. Kate's last conscious feeling before she slipped away into sleep was a silent sense of wonder. I've never been so happy in my life as I am at this moment...
She woke hours later to the same insistent shrilling of a bell that had disturbed her the night before. Yawning, she sat up and pushed the hair out of her eyes.
'Philip?' she said.
But the bed was empty. The bell kept ringing insistently and Kate squinted at the clock on the bedside table. Seven thirty-four.
'I suppose that's our breakfast,' she said with resignation.
Hauling on Philip's oversized dressing-gown and slipping her feet into his thongs, she made her way towards the source of the sound. As she came down the marble staircase she heard the noise of running water in the downstairs bathroom. Well, that solved one mystery. Philip was obviously taking a shower. Wrapping her gown more tightly around her, she found her way hesitantly through to the kitchen and steeled herself to deal with one of the kitchen staff from the hotel. This could be embarrassing, she thought as she opened the door.
It was far more embarrassing than she could ever have imagined in her worst nightmare. For the man standing outside the kitchen door was not a hotel waiter, but a photographer. And the moment Kate opened the door he leapt inside, with his flashbulb exploding furiously. Kate recoiled with a cry of shock, and held on to the kitchen counter to steady herself.
'Is it true that you're Philip Andronikos's new mistress?' demanded the photographer. 'Did he throw over Irene Marmara for you? Were you a call-girl in Marseilles before you came to Ayios Dimitrios? Just turn your head, sweetie. I want a shot of that profile.'
Kate recovered herself slightly.
'How dare you?' she cried. 'Get out of here at once! Will you please leave?'
Flinging herself at him, she managed to send him careering back almost to the doorstep. But with practised ease he stuck his foot in the door and kept shooting.
'Ooh, that's great, baby! You look terrific in a rage like that! Now this time I want a full frontal. Not the rolling-pin, honey, you'll smash my lens. Did you really start out in pornographic movies?'
With an inarticulate cry of rage and dismay Kate gave up trying to get rid of the photographer and ran to the internal door of the kitchen.
'Philip! Philip!' she shrieked, clutching at the door- jamb.
A moment later Philip came racing down the hall, hastily wrapping a towel around his waist. His shoulders were beaded with moisture and his hair was dripping, but he took in the scene at a single glance. His face darkened and, thrusting Kate aside, he stepped forward and lifted the photographer right off his feet with a punch that sent him reeling on the floor. Then, lifting him up by the twisted lapels of his jacket, he flung him backwards out of the kitchen door. A moment later he ripped the film out of the camera, then threw the equipment contemptuously after its owner. Kate caught a brief glimpse of the photographer lying stupefied in the gravel, fingering his jaw, then Philip slammed the outer door.
'Damn!' he said. 'The vultures have already moved in. Well, we're going to have to get out of here, Katarina. I'm afraid he'll just be the
first of many.'
Striding across to the telephone, he punched in a couple of numbers and spoke rapidly in Greek. When he put down the receiver he frowned thoughtfully.
'Right,' he said briskly, 'I've spoken to hotel security and asked them to escort our intruder off the premises, but, from the sound of things, there are more of them lurking around. And it's not easy to police eight-hundred acres, so you and I are getting out of here. Giorgos will collect us from my private jetty in the speedboat. Can you be dressed and ready in ten minutes?'
'Y-yes,' stammered Kate. 'But I've only got the clothes I came in last night.
Everything else is over at my villa. Except for my camera.'
'Don't worry about it,' said Philip curtly. 'We'll sort it out once we're aboard the Eleftheria.'
Somehow Kate managed to shower and dress in the allotted ten minutes, and she was waiting in the hall with her camera and handbag when Philip came downstairs. He was dressed in navy trousers, a white and navy striped
nautical shirt and rope-soled shoes, and he looked as casual and unperturbed as if this were nothing more than a normal outing. But Kate felt as if her insides were tied in knots of tension and fear. As they walked down the gravel path towards the jetty she kept darting quick, anxious glances around her as if an ambush of photographers might leap out of hiding at any moment. And, even when they were in the speedboat, flying across the blue water amid a shower of spray, she could not quite get rid of her apprehension. Only when they were aboard the yacht and she felt its powerful engines throb into life did some of her anxiety ebb away. With an understanding smile Philip led her into the saloon and motioned her into an armchair.
Wife For A Night Page 12
