The Veranchetti Marriage

by Lynne Graham

  “I didn’t want to get off cheap.”

  “Of course you didn’t! If I’d ripped off every penny I could get, you’d have loved it. It would have proved that I was grasping.” Breathing tempestuously, she settled back, wearing a baleful expression. She had hardly slept last night. She had been furious. On half a dozen occasions she had been tempted to wade into his room and bawl him out like a fishwife. Sorry wasn’t always good enough.

  “What do you want me to do? Get down on my knees?” he replied caustically.

  “I’d kick you if you did, so I shouldn’t bother,” she responded tartly, catching the disorientating twitch of his mouth. Her own anger dissipated rapidly. They were squabbling like a pair of children.

  He drove his fingers through his black hair and studied her. “Let’s go for a walk,” he suggested ruefully.

  Beyond the house, he dropped an arm round her tense shoulders. “I lost my temper,” he sighed. “And perhaps I lost it because what you said upset me.”

  He turned her round and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. His careless action had the most outsize effect upon her. It was the first gesture of affection he had shown in an entire week. Up until now he had only ever held her as a prelude to making love, and last night she had angrily decided that that would happen no more. Now she was swerving again. Could a physical relationship bring them close? The lack of one would certainly drive them apart. But she suffered from the insecure fear that she was simply adding to his low opinion of her. Would he have respected her more, would he have been more inclined to listen to her if she had found the willpower to deny them both that outlet?

  “I wasn’t a very attentive husband then, was I?” he mused when they were on their way back to the house. “You must often have been lonely, even when we were living together. Why the hell didn’t I go with you to that party in Venice?”

  Her face shadowed.

  “Shall I tell you why? It was so trivial. I was making a point. I was taking a stand. I worked late on into the evening, and then all of a sudden I got angry. I lifted the phone and ordered the jet to go on standby. I felt very self-righteous.”

  “Don’t…” Should she try to explain? He seemed in an unusually quiet and approachable mood. As she hovered on the brink of an explanation that might well have proved momentous in the face of Alex’s candour, someone came out of the house and waved.

  “Spiros. The post must have come in,” Alex sighed. “He remembers the workaholic I used to be.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SOFIA HAD coffee waiting for them in the lounge. Alex, flicking through the envelopes, suddenly paused and strode over to her where she sat. “For you,” he said.

  He dropped the letter into her lap and she lifted it, recognising Steven’s impossibly neat copperplate handwriting. She tucked the envelope in her pocket and collided with Alex’s dark, intent scrutiny. She didn’t realise what was wrong until he finally breathed, “Aren’t you going to read his letter?”

  He had recognised the postmark, of course. “Why, do you want to read it too?” she enquired in exasperation. “Honestly, Alex, Steven is my friend and my partner, and he has never wanted to be anything else.”

  “That has not been the impression I have received,” he parried icily.

  She had had enough, and he had barely begun. If Alex was even going to question her mail, what hope did they have? Could adultery be committed on paper? He really would not be satisfied until he had her locked away in a little cage. Warding off the urge to leap down his throat, she murmured gently, “You’re going to have to learn to deal with your jealousy, Alex.”

  Even as she said it, she could have bitten out her tongue. She might as well have dropped a burning rag on the surface of something highly inflammable. He went up like a Roman candle. “Jealousy?” he erupted in raw rejection. “Of what would I be jealous?”

  She paled. “Maybe possessiveness should have been the word I used. I don’t know. But I do know that there is a problem.”

  “And shall I tell you what it is? My wife does not have male friends. Either you sell out your interest in the partnership or you give it to him. I don’t care,” he grated. “But you will sever the connection completely.”

  For the second time he missed out on the coffee. Kerry wiped at her damp eyes. The illusion of greater understanding between them was destroyed. She no longer wondered why he had brought her to Kordos. The men in the village held Alex in the highest esteem. None of them would have dared eye up his wife. He owned the island, he was their benefactor. Whether Alex saw it in himself or not, he really wanted to wall her up alive and prevent her from coming into contact with other men. What hope did she have of combatting his distrust? Vickie, what did you do to us both? she questioned miserably.

  She read Steven’s letter. It was fortunate that Alex had not tried to do so. “Feel like telling me the truth yet? Remember this shoulder is always here. I make a great wailing wall when I’m not wailing myself.” It chirped along much as Steven did, filled with personal questions, casual endearments and entreaties to write soon and tell him where she had hidden the spare keys for the MG. An impending visit from Barbara received a careless reference. “I can’t cope without you, seriously I can’t,” he completed. “Please dump him and come home.”

  She sighed. No, he wouldn’t be managing. He was too disorganised. As long as there was food on the table and petrol for the car, he would be happy. He had no ambition beyond that level, and he had depended on her heavily. If Barbara was half the woman Kerry thought she was, she would step into the breach. The business, properly run, would keep a married couple comfortably.

  It was early evening when the call came. Spiros came into the lounge to have a discreet word with Alex. Kerry was lying on a couch reading an English newspaper and ignoring an atmosphere which positively pulsed with unspoken expectations. She had given Alex no reason to suspect Steven. The thought of lowering herself to further explanations stuck in her throat and a mention of Barbara now would probably strike Alex as highly suspicious.

  “It seems you have a caller who refuses to identify himself.”

  Her head flew up. “I have a visitor here?” she said in amazement.

  “A phone call,” Alex contradicted.

  She began to get up, but Spiros was already passing her the nearest extension. She swept up the receiver, fully expecting to hear her sister’s voice. The voice she did hear shot her in a state of imminent heart failure back on to the couch.

  “Kerry? If it’s you, for God’s sake say something,” the New York twang implored. “I’m not much good at cops and robbers.”

  “It’s me.”

  “I guess you won’t have forgotten me completely. Jeff Connors?”

  Had Vickie got hold of him, after all? It seemed conscience had finally won out. Dazedly, Kerry was practically digging the phone into her ear in case the voice travelled within incendiary distance of Alex. To her intense relief, he sprang up and left the room.

  “I’m alone now. You can talk,” she muttered.

  “Vickie told me everything. You’ve got to believe me when I tell you that I had no idea you and your husband got a divorce. I just couldn’t leave it lying so I came over…”

  “Over where?” Her heartbeat had hit the Richter scale.

  “Athens. I’m trying to rig transport over to this island of yours.”

  “Are you crazy?” she hissed in disbelief. “You can’t come here, you mustn’t come here. He’d kill you before you…”

  “If your husband still feels that strongly, I was right to come.”

  “Have you got a death wish?” she murmured, thinking in a hurry, which was difficult when she was in a complete panic. “Don’t come to the island. Wait until we get home to Florence and bring Vickie with you. That’s essential.”

  “So you do want the story told?”

  “Yes, of course I do.” In her dumbfounded horror at the vision of Jeff stepping on to Kordos, she had not immediately p
icked up the significance of his willingness to redress the damage he had done. He really had to be a much nicer person than she had ever imagined if he was ready to take the trouble…not to mention the risk. Maybe he was just too stupid to realise what Alex was likely to do if he came across him. Alex would wipe him off the face of the earth before he even got his mouth open.

  “We owe you and it will be straightened out,” he promised. “I’ll persuade Vickie by kidnapping if necessary. You see, I’ve got my own aspirations riding on this, too. I want to marry your sister.”

  She came off the phone in shock. Vickie had told her so many lies. But her silence in London was now explained. She had been protecting Jeff. From Alex? Or from the knowledge of her own behaviour? After all, if Jeff, who existed in Kerry’s memory as a lanky blond man with formless features, was talking about marrying her sister, his good opinion would not have been something Vickie wished to risk losing. Clearly they were very friendly and had obviously remained in touch. Having told all to Kerry, Vickie had evidently confessed to Jeff as well. Kerry shook her buzzing head to clear it. It was like a chain reaction, and if it kept on moving…dear lord, Kerry might just have a marriage with a future again.

  “That was Steven. His idea of a joke.” She lied without a blush, popping her head round the door of Alex’s study with a wide smile.

  He had a glass of whisky in his hand. His sombre features merely tightened, but she ignored them. A heady surge of hope was rising within her as she adjusted to the import of the call she had received. Alex could not deny both Jeff and Vickie, surely? Even for Jeff to face him was a revealing fact within itself. But it all had to be done properly. She sighed. “Alex, please try to trust me.”

  “How? Do I police you everywhere I go?” he demanded scathingly. “I almost lifted the phone to listen to your call. To even think along such lines unmans me!”

  She drew in a long, sustaining breath. Had he been less self-restrained she would probably have been swandiving off the terrace right now and striking out for the nearest patch of dry land. She inwardly thanked her guardian angel for Alex’s principles. There was never anything sneaky about Alex in his dealings with her…aside of that business with Willard Evans and all the prying he had done. But she was in a good enough mood to concede well-meant intentions on those counts. Really, there was always a bright side to be found if you looked hard enough. And Kerry was suddenly seeing bright sides all around her for the first time in years.

  Over dinner, Alex’s silence passed over her preoccupied head. When she went off to bed, she slept like a log. The last agonies of the long nightmare would soon be over, she reflected cheerfully when she awoke the next day.

  “I’m glad to see you so happy,” Alex commented sardonically over breakfast.

  Her nose wrinkled as she tasted her coffee. It had a curious sharp flavour, but Alex didn’t appear to be finding anything amiss with his. She munched a piece of fruit to freshen her mouth. “Are we leaving for Florence soon?”

  Dark eyes swept her unwittingly hopeful face. His thick lashes screened his gaze. “No. I am content here for the moment.”

  “You said a week, maybe two,” she reminded him. “I miss Nicky.”

  “He can always come out here to join us.” He shrugged with cool finality. “If you want to do some shopping, I’ll take you to Athens.”

  “I do occasionally take my mind out of my wardrobe.”

  “And where does it travel then?” he murmured with a satiric edge.

  Slowly she counted to ten. She still got up. “I feel like some fresh air. I’ll go down to the beach for a walk.”

  “Don’t go far. Carina and Ricky will be here for lunch,” he warned her. “They’re leaving for New York tomorrow. He’s taking charge of our public relations department over there.”

  She managed a smile at the news. She liked Carina the best of Alex’s sisters, but her mind was more intent on how speedily she could bring Alex and Vickie and Jeff together in Florence. Jeff had said that he would fly back to London today. Impatience shrilled through her as she went down the steep steps to the beach. She was terrified that Jeff would lose interest or that Vickie would persuade him against his plan. If he was in love with her, Vickie would have influence over him. Perhaps in the heat of the moment Jeff had flown out to Greece. Kerry had stopped him in his enthusiastic tracks. Suppose he gave up the idea? Vickie wanted to pretend that it was all in the past. She was afraid to face Alex. Her pride revolted against the concept.

  Kerry wandered along the rocky beach, the sun beating down on her in golden warmth. She had been walking for some time when she came on the small cove where a yacht was moored. A bunch of sun-tanned young people were strewn out on the sand, sunbathing, while a stereo cassette pounded out Bruce Springsteen.

  “You can’t be a local!” A dark-haired youth proclaimed loudly. “Not with that gorgeous hair. I refuse to believe it.”

  She grinned. “You’re English.”

  Within five minutes she was sitting down with the group. There were two couples and one odd man out. They had rented out the small, shabby yacht to do a tour of the islands, and they were lively company.

  “The people in the village aren’t too friendly,” Hilary, the curvaceous blonde complained. “We got flung out of the taverna last night because Dave got on the wrong side of one of the men. We got all this guff about this being a private island, and the local cop saw us off at the harbour so we simply shifted anchor. Are you staying at the taverna?”

  Kerry was reluctant to admit who she was, for they had accepted her as one of them. She was enjoying the sound of her own language and the easiness of her welcome. “No, I’m staying at a private house. With my husband,” she added circumspectly.

  “You’re married?” Dave, the one who had originally spoken to her, groaned in mock despair.

  She laughed. “I’ve got a son of almost four.”

  “He must have stolen you out of the cradle. Rather you than me,” the other girl, Ann, said feelingly. “Life’s too short to get tied up young.”

  “It depends on the man,” Kerry murmured, unperturbed, and the conversation moved on to the places they had been and where they were hoping to get before their restricted budget ran out.

  “I’m gasping for a cold drink.” Hilary gave her boyfriend a nudge in the ribs. “Go on, take a walk into the village. The shop’s right on the edge of it.”

  In the end, two of the men went off. Kerry sat, cross-legged, talking about Antiques Fayre with Hilary, suppressing her regretful awareness that she was really describing a closed chapter in her life. Ann decided she was hungry and swam out to the yacht. Kerry rested back on the sand, letting the sun wash her upturned face and extended legs.

  She must have dozed off for the next thing she knew, somebody was tugging playfully at her hair. Her eyes opened. Dave was bending over her, too close for comfort. “Where is everybody?”

  “I persuaded Hilary to push off.”

  “Why?” she asked baldly, glancing simultaneously down at her watch. “Oh no…” she groaned.

  He caught her arm and prevented her from scrambling up. “Oh, come on, you can’t be leaving. You came down here for a bit of company, didn’t you, and I’m more than willing to play ball,” he told her with a thick, suggestive smile. “We could go somewhere a little quieter.”

  “Are you crazy?” Kerry snapped, her pleasure in the little friendly interlude now destroyed by Hilary’s desertion and Dave’s phenomenal conceit. The nerve of him, she wasn’t looking for a toy boy!

  Before she could pull free of him, his weight pinioned her down as his hand thrust at her shoulder and he made a rough, clumsy effort to kiss her. In sudden, frank fear, for he was considerably bigger and heavier than she was, she was trying to raise her knee when Dave went flying from her in a blur of movement. As he hit the ground several feet away, she pulled herself upright automatically, a gasp of stricken horror on her lips as she saw Alex dragging the winded Dave up with one powerful
hand. Her husband’s dark face was a mask of murderous fury. As his fist connected in a sickening thud of flesh on bone, she screamed, “Alex…stop it!”

  All her life she had shrunk from violence. She wanted to end the carnage, but her feet were rooted to the spot by paralysed fear. The third time Alex hit him, the suffocating blackness folded in on her. She crumpled down on the sand as if he had struck her.

  When she came out of the faint, she was lying on her bed and a whole row of faces were around her. “That boy…oh, my God,” she mumbled as it all came back to her in a wave.

  Someone’s hand gripped hers. Somewhere at a distance Alex was speaking in a vituperative and vicious spate of Italian. “He’s all right, Kerry.” It was her sister-in-law’s voice. “Ricky stopped Alex in time.”

  “I thought he was going to kill him…”

  Carina came down on the edge of the bed, shooing off the female staff with sharp orders. The room cleared. She turned over the cool cloth on Kerry’s brow. Kerry still couldn’t stop shaking. She kept on seeing Alex wreaking havoc on an over-amorous youth barely out of his teens. Abruptly, she clutched Carina’s hand. “You’ve got to get me away from here…” she muttered in despair.

  “What is happening between Alex and you?” Carina was pale and concerned. “A young man tries to kiss you on the beach and Alex goes out of his head. I never saw him lose control before, but my brother would not harm you.”

  Kerry looked at her with desolation in her empty eyes. She was defeated for the last time. Alex had broken every bond he held her by. Her emotions had gone into the cold storage of shock. All she could feel was a tearing, desperate need to escape his domination. She didn’t care any more about Jeff and Vickie and her airy-fairy hopes of their marriage surviving. It was a brief dream sequence she no longer had the heart to contemplate.

  “We were walking along the shore to find you,” Carina related. “You always forget the time. But Alex was laughing, you know…he was not annoyed…”