Constantine's Defiant Mistress

by Sharon Kendrick

  ‘Laura, why are you being like this?’ he exploded.

  Why, indeed? Because he made her feel cheap? As if the real Laura could only be tolerated if she was dressed up to look like someone else? Because he would never love her as she wanted to be loved? She raked her loose hair away from her face and looked at him in the bright moonlight which flooded in from the unshuttered windows.

  ‘Being like what? You’re the one who’s burst in here with a face like ice!’ she returned. ‘So have you come here for something specific? Because I’m tired and I’d like to get to sleep.’

  His eyes narrowed—it was the first time she had not melted automatically into his arms, eager for the closeness of his body.

  ‘Yes, I came here for something specific,’ he said, and his mouth hardened as he bit the words out. ‘To ask you once again to marry me.’

  It was ironic, thought Laura fleetingly, how something which you had only ever pictured in your wildest dreams should dissolve when it happened in real life. This was different from the last time he’d asked her—when they’d barely known each other. Because now they did. Now they were lovers who had shared time with one another—so that him asking her to marry him could be given proper consideration.

  A proposal of marriage from the man she loved—supposedly the one thing her aching heart longed for. And yet it had been delivered with all the warmth of a giant chunk of ice floating in an Arctic sea.

  She drew in a deep breath. ‘Presumably to legitimise your son?’

  He looked at her. Hadn’t they been through too much for him to dress up the truth with niceties? He shrugged. ‘Of course.’

  Laura could have wept—or hurled the nearest object at his hard-hearted head. But since that happened to be the diamond set she didn’t dare risk it.

  He sensed her displeasure. ‘Of course there would be more to our marriage than that.’

  ‘There would?’ she questioned hopefully.

  He nodded. ‘We have shown that we can live compatibly, ne?’ His voice softened into a tone of pure silk. ‘And in bed—or out of it—we are pure dynamite together, agape mou. You know that.’

  Yes, she knew that—but wasn’t that the most frightening thing of all? To have physical chemistry up there as one of the main reasons for being together. Because didn’t everyone say that it faded in time? And then what would they be left with? A cold shell of a marriage. Already she could imagine the reality of such a marriage, and an icy chill made her begin to shiver, despite the heavy warmth of the night.

  ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘No?’ His voice was incredulous, and he took a step forward. ‘How can you say no when you know that it is what Alex would want,’ he said, his voice dangerously soft. ‘What Alex wants.’

  Her fingers flew to her throat and she stared at him in fear. ‘Have you asked him? Gone behind my back to get him to side with you?’ she demanded hoarsely.

  His mouth twisted. ‘You think me capable of such an act, Laura? No, I have not—but you know that what I say is true. The boy loves it here—you have only to look at him to see how much he has blossomed since he arrived.’

  Guilt shafted through her heart. Hadn’t she thought the very same herself—and had he guessed that? ‘But that’s…blackmail,’ she whispered.

  No. It was fighting for what was truly his—something which he had discovered meant more to him than all his properties and ships and the international acclaim he enjoyed. His son meant far more to him than the continuation of a bloodline…young Alex had crept into his heart and found a permanent home there. Was Laura prepared to ride roughshod over their son’s wishes purely for her own ends?

  ‘Ask him,’ he taunted. ‘Go on—ask him!’

  But Constantine’s cruel words focussed Laura’s mind on what really mattered, and now she got up and faced him, staring mulishly up at him. It was true that he towered over her, and made her feel ridiculously small, but she didn’t care. She might be small but she certainly wasn’t insignificant. And he would hear her out!

  ‘No, I won’t ask him—because I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth!’ she hissed. ‘A man so cruel and so cold that he can’t bear to forgive his own father. Even though that father has asked him time and time again to forgive him for all the wrongs he admits he did!’

  ‘Have you been speaking with my father?’ he demanded furiously.

  ‘And what if I have? Is that such a heinous crime?’ she retorted. ‘Am I supposed to ask your permission if I want to speak to somebody?’

  ‘You dare to accuse me of going behind your back, and now I discover that you have done exactly the same!’ he thundered.

  ‘Oh, please don’t try and get out of it by using logic!’ she flared, showing a complete lack of it herself. ‘Your father made mistakes, yes—and so did your mother. Though it sounds to me as if she couldn’t help her own behaviour, and some people are like that. Weak. Unable to give love—even to their own children. And they can’t help it, Constantine—they were born that way!’

  He clenched his fists in fury. How dared she? How dared she? ‘Have you quite finished?’

  That intimidating tone would have silenced many people, but Laura was too passionate to stop. This meant far too much for her to be able to stop. ‘No, I have not finished! I can’t believe you even made the suggestion that I marry you. You’re still angry about the coldness of your own childhood and yet you want to subject Alex to more of the same!’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about, Laura?’

  This was painful; maybe too painful—and Laura was not prepared to go as far as admitting that if they married then the balance of love would be as one-sided as in his parents’ own marriage. Because he didn’t realise she loved him, did he? And wouldn’t it give him power over her if he did?

  ‘I’m talking about bringing a child up within a loveless marriage—it’s just not fair. Things would only get worse between us—never better—and as Alex grew he would have to tiptoe around our feelings and our animosities. What kind of example is that to set him?’ she said, her voice beginning to tremble as she thought of her darling son. ‘What hope is there for him to be happy in his own life if he looks around and sees discord all around him? How can he believe in love and happiness for himself if he never sees an example of it at home, Constantine?’

  Her breath had deserted her and her words died away. She had nothing left to say—but she did not think she needed to. For Constantine’s face had suddenly become shuttered. And his eyes—always enigmatic—now looked like strange, cold stones. As if a light had gone out behind them.

  ‘This is what you think?’ he demanded.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered, although it broke her heart to admit it. ‘Because it’s the truth.’

  For a moment there was silence—a heavy and uncomfortable kind of silence—and then Constantine’s mouth hardened.

  ‘Very well, Laura,’ he said, in a voice of pure steel. ‘I can see the sense behind your words, since they are—as you say—the truth. And at least if you go then I will no longer have to endure your intolerable interference in things which do not concern you.’

  She prayed her lips would not crumple, nor her eyes give her pain away. ‘Constantine—’

  But he silenced her with his next statement. ‘We will need to make plans. And we must do it so that everyone benefits as far as possible. You will require financial assistance. No!’ He held his hand up peremptorily, anticipating her objections. A harsh note of bitterness entered his voice. ‘This is not the time for pretty displays of unnecessary pride,’ he spat out. ‘You are the mother of my son and I insist that you have an adequate income to support him in a manner which I hope we can both agree on. I want him to go to a school where he isn’t bullied—’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘He did, of course,’ he said impatiently. ‘Not in so many words—but it was clear to me that he is not as happy as he could be. He needs a school where there is plenty of sport, and you
need enough money to take that haunted look out of your eyes, never to have to supplement your income with damned waitressing jobs again. And I…’ He drew a deep breath as pain like he had never known rushed in to invade the heart he had tried to protect for so long. ‘I want to see as much of Alex as possible—we’ll need to come to some agreement on that.’

  She wanted to reach out to him. To tell him that he could see as much of Alex as he wanted—to reassure him and to comfort him that they would do the best they possibly could. But there was something so icy and forbidding about his words and demeanour that she did not dare. Suddenly he had become a stranger to her. ‘Of course,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘I will arrange for you to return to England as soon as possible. I think that best, in the circumstances. My lawyers will be in touch on your return. But I want some time alone with Alex tomorrow morning.’ He drew a deep breath as reality hit him, seeming to turn his whole body into stone. He forced the next words out. ‘To say goodbye to my son.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘BUT Mum, why do we have to go home?’

  Laura’s smile didn’t slip, even though her face felt as if it had been carved out of marble—but during the sleepless night which had followed her furious row with Constantine she had decided the best way to handle questions like this. And the best way was to present her and Alex leaving Livinos as something perfectly normal. Which it was.

  ‘Well, we only ever planned to come out for a few weeks,’ she reminded him. ‘Remember?’

  ‘It’s been less than that,’ said Alex sulkily. ‘And I like it here.’

  She knew that—and it broke her heart to have to drag him away—but what choice did she have? He’d been happy in England before and he would be happy again—especially if there was no more bullying and if he changed schools, as Constantine himself had suggested. And didn’t all the books on child-rearing say that the worst thing you could do was to subject your children to a hostile atmosphere and infighting between parents? She could do worse than remind herself of the bitter words she and Constantine had exchanged last night if she needed any more convincing that the two of them were basically incompatible.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Laura, with a brightly cheerful smile, even though the thought of the future terrified her, ‘you’ll be coming back to Livinos lots…to see your daddy. And he’ll be coming to England to take you out. You’ll…well, you’ll have the best of both worlds, really, Alex!’

  Alex bit his lip, as if he couldn’t bring himself to agree with this. ‘Can I go swimming with Stavros, please?’

  Laura felt her heart threaten to break as she saw his pinched little face. ‘Of course you can,’ she whispered. ‘But you’ve only got a couple of hours. The helicopter will be leaving straight after lunch, and we mustn’t be late.’

  He didn’t say another word as she took him outside to find the affable Greek student, and Laura stood there, watching the two of them heading towards the pool area, her eyes full of rogue tears which she fiercely blinked back.

  Returning to her room, she finished packing—folding her cheap clothes into neat piles and then stuffing them into the equally cheap suitcase. For a brief moment her fingers strayed towards the costly gowns Constantine had bought her, and then strayed back again. Because what was the point of taking them back to England? They had been purchased with the sole purpose of making her look like a Karantinos woman—and she wasn’t one and never would be. She had no right to wear the exquisite garments and they had no place in her life—where on earth could she possibly wear them in Milmouth?

  Packing up Alex’s stuff was harder—because here she really was tempted to take some of the wonderful toys and books Constantine had provided for him. But even if they took a whole load back—where on earth would they find room to accommodate them in their tiny apartment? And besides, they would always be here for him when he visited.

  Laura swallowed the sudden acrid taste of fear. Because wasn’t that an additional cause of her fretting heart? The fact that Alex would have his wonderful little world kept intact here—a world of toys and swimming pools, boats and planes, and the growing knowledge that he was heir to the fabulous Karantinos fortune…not simply the son of a struggling single mother. Would the day come when he chose to live out the Greek side of his heritage—rejecting her and the country of his birth?

  Alex wouldn’t do that, she told herself desperately—but still the fear ate away at her.

  Their packing completed, Laura stole a glance at her watch. She had already said a brief and upsetting farewell to Constantine’s father, and to Demetra, too. Goodbyes were awful at the best of times, but these felt a million times worse—loaded down with the terrible and aching significance of all that she was leaving behind. And most upsetting of all was the thought of leaving Constantine.

  Was she being crazy? Wouldn’t it make more sense if she gritted her teeth and accepted the fact that, while he didn’t love her, Constantine would provide a secure childhood for Alex?

  But not a loving childhood, she reminded herself. And she knew that this was about far more than her ego being bruised because Constantine didn’t love her. Why, he couldn’t even forgive his father. How could she let Alex exist in an emotionally cold world like that?

  Laura glanced at her watch. The time was ticking away, and her stomach was churning with the kind of slow dread she got before an exam. What the hell was she going to do between now and the arrival of the helicopter, which would whisk them to Athens to catch the private jet which this time she had been unable to refuse? Maybe she would take one last lingering tour of the beautiful grounds which surrounded the Karantinos property.

  Slipping out of the villa into the dappled sunlight, Laura thought how strange the atmosphere around the place seemed today. Was it because Constantine was nowhere to be seen? Or maybe it was just her.

  She could hear the distant splash of Alex and Stavros larking around in the pool, and she could see a sleek white yacht down on the sapphire waters of the sea—but none of it seemed real. She felt as if she was insubstantial; a ghost of a woman who walked through the fruit orchards and tried to focus on the scent of the pine trees rather than the tearing ache in her heart.

  Walking further across the property than she had ever ventured before, she came across a small bougainvillaeatumbled grove. It was a scented, secret sort of place, reached through a dusty tract of olive trees and shaded from the glaring heat of the sun by tumbling blooms, and she sank down on a stone bench, wishing that she’d drunk some water before leaving the house.

  For a while she sat there, trying to decide about what she would do when she got back to Milmouth. Maybe she’d think about selling more local produce in the shop—asking villagers if they wanted to shift any leftover crops from large gluts of home-grown vegetables. That would benefit everyone in the community, wouldn’t it? But the question seemed to have no real relevance in her life. Please help me to feel part of that community again, she prayed. And not like some sad woman who’s left her heart and her soul behind in this paradise.

  ‘Hiding away, are you, Laura?’

  A deep and familiar voice shattered the silence, and Laura’s heart leapt as Constantine stepped into the grove—his hard face shuttered, the dappled light casting shadows over the high slash of his cheekbones. She looked up into his eyes, but met nothing but cool curiosity in their ebony depths.

  ‘Why would I be hiding?’ she questioned, her voice sounding light in contrast to the hard thundering of her heart.

  He shrugged as he sat down beside her. ‘This isn’t a place you usually frequent.’

  ‘Then how did you know I was here?’

  There was a pause. ‘I followed you.’

  Another pause. Longer this time. And now her heart was beating so hard and so fast that Laura could barely stumble the words out. ‘Wh-why would you do that?’

  His eyes rested on the lightly tanned length of her slender thighs, their shape clearly outlined by the thin cotton dress s
he wore. Why, indeed? Because she continued to mesmerise him—even though he had vowed not to let her? Constantine’s mouth twisted as he felt the slow throb of blood to his pulse points. How many times had he told himself that she exerted an allure simply because she had refused him—because she had done the inexplicable and turned down his offer of marriage for a second time?

  He met the wide grey eyes which were observing him so guardedly, and noted the fall of fine blonde hair which was hanging around her narrow shoulders like a pale cloud. Had she read one of those books which advised holding out in order to increase her worth as a woman? He felt the stab of desire jerking insistently at his groin. Well, she would learn soon enough that he would not be played with—not any more. She had had her chance and that chance would not return. But in the meantime he would have her one last time!

  ‘Why, Constantine?’ she persisted. ‘Why did you follow me?’

  He picked up her unresisting hand and studied it. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Running the pad of this thumb questingly over the centre of her palm, he felt her shiver. ‘Any ideas?’

  Laura felt her already dry throat grow completely parched. His touch. His proximity. The sudden glint from his eyes. All those things were making her feel weak and helpless.

  She told herself to pull her hand away. To move. To distract him.

  So why did she stay exactly where she was? Letting Constantine stroke enchanting little circles over her skin and feeling herself tremble in response?

  ‘Mmm, Laura?’ he questioned, as he shifted his body a little closer on the bench. ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘N-no.’

  ‘Really? How remarkably unimaginative of you, agape mou. Why, I’m quite disappointed that someone whom I have coached so tirelessly in the art of love shouldn’t immediately take advantage of a sweet and final opportunity presenting itself like this.’

  His words were in a muddle in her head. Dangerous words—of which final seemed to be the most dangerous of all. You both know it’s over, she told herself desperately—so why are you letting him pull you onto his lap? And why aren’t you stopping him from sliding your panties right down, from putting his fingers between your legs and…