The Devil's Bride

by Margaret Pargeter

  'I never thought that!'

  'No — but I'm no magician either, Sandra. For some things, such as ensuring I don't wear the same shirts continually, I have to rely on other people.'

  'Yes, of course. I do see,' Sandra frowned, wondering just how much more about this man she had yet to find out? 'But here?'

  'You will help me, but don't worry,' he relented, a faint smile on his mouth. 'I promise not to ask anything of you that might offend your virginal sense of propriety.'

  Her small gasp of indignation must have been a mistake, for swiftly he reached out, drawing her ruthlessly to him, as if using her body to emphasise his next words. 'Not until you're ready,' he mocked.

  As she began instinctively to struggle, his arms tightened. 'Stop being so nervous, my dear. I'm not going to assault you.'

  'I didn't think you would,' she gulped, 'but why this?' 'You should have more confidence in your own charms,' he grunted. 'Many men would give a lot to have such an innocent young girl in their arms. If that's really what you are?' his lips curled cruelly. 'A blind man would have only one way of finding out.'

  'I knew ...' she began, her cheeks flaming.

  'You don't,' he stopped her, making no pretence not to understand. He ran one hand over her shoulders without letting her go. 'I'm merely attempting to confirm a suspicion that you haven't done more than sit in your room and shiver since we arrived. Whether in anticipation or apprehension I'm not sure, but there's nothing about you, no dampness to your skin or silky hair, to suggest that you've bathed and changed, as I have.'

  'You enjoy mocking me!' she choked, attempting to disguise a sudden shame of her own indolence.

  'Perhaps,' he returned enigmatically. 'But this might only be because you appear, so far as I'm concerned, to have developed a habit of suspecting the worst. You are always so terrified, are you not, that I come searching for this?' Without warning, as she trembled, he brought her hard up against him, crushing her shaking lips beneath a mouth which was even more intolerant than his words.

  When, moments later, he lifted his head his eyes had darkened perceptibly, and, after a brief hesitation, his mouth moved, with a little more gentleness, over her face while his hand curved her slender nape. His voice thickened slightly as he muttered, 'I believe you have it in you to incite a man to madness.'

  'Please let me go,' Sandra begged, wishing feverishly that she could think of something more original, but her head was swimming, her legs curiously weak. The hot surge of feeling which washed through her was caused, she knew, by the disturbing impact of his hard body but, while she wanted only to escape him, she seemed unable to move.

  He didn't appear to hear her urgent whisper as his lips discovered the throbbing pulse in her white throat. Helplessly her weighted lashes fell as he cupped her face in his hands and said wryly, 'I regret not being able to look into your eyes, Sandra, to read what lies there. A woman might not always be ready to confess that which a man wishes to hear, but her eyes will often betray her inmost secrets.'

  His voice was like a drug, smooth yet insistent, not anything she might effectually fight. 'I'm sure, once you're in Corfu, you'll find someone more interesting to bait, Mr. Freeman.'

  'Mr. Freeman!' As if to punish her for calling him this, his mouth closed over hers again, his arms holding her savagely to him. She tried to resist, but it was like being thrown into the middle of a violent storm, one that surged and ravaged and played havoc with the senses. His mouth and hands, as yet moving with apparent innocence, were arousing in her a degree of response that made her wonder however she would fight him if he really began making love to her. As it was she found it almost impossible to prevent her arm from creeping up to his broad shoulders.

  Then, with a strangely unsatisfied sigh, he put her from him. 'Ring for some tea,' he commanded, as if they had merely been discussing the weather. 'We'll have more time for such light dalliance on Corfu. Or should I say, I will. I'll see you have work to keep you occupied, Miss Weir, but no doubt my grandmother, when she sees how you don't really care for me, will find someone more willing to pander, shall we say, to my baser instincts.'

  Over tea, for which Sandra found she had little appetite, he told her he had ordered a car and driver to show her a glimpse of the city.

  It's all you'll get, I'm afraid,' he said unrepentantly. 'Later, as you know, I must go out, and I don't want you running around on your own. You might only get lost and appeal to the first

  man you met, and he might be even more unwilling to stop at a few kisses than I am.'

  Her heart faltering, she tried to ignore what he said. 'I'm here to do a job, Stein, I don't have to go out at all. You certainly don't have to take me around like a travel

  guide. Besides,' she added unthinkingly, 'you can't...' 'See,' he supplied softly, as she halted aghast. To her relief and embarrassment he didn't seem unduly perturbed by her clumsy blunder. There was even a faint twist of amusement to his strong mouth, as if he enjoyed her confusion. 'I know I can't see, Sandra, but Greece, to me, has always essentially been a land of smells —hot herb smells, flowers, eucalyptus and pine trees. They remind me easily of olives glittering in the sun, burnt grass, hot sands and parched hills. Greece often smells like you, very young, sweet and clean, but perhaps, again like you, she also seems tainted occasionally by that which is less wholesome.'

  'You talk as though I were evil!'

  'Have you not in your veins the same blood as your cousin?'

  How Greek he seemed when he spoke like that! 'Why did you have anything to do with me if I'm so repulsive?'

  'I didn't say repulsive, girl. A man can feel beauty with his hands perhaps more clearly than he can see it with his eyes, and one can even sometimes enjoy a glass of inferior wine —if the thirst is there and nothing else is available.' Pain needling through her, Sandra retorted, 'You don't pretend I'm more than a stopgap, yet you have to rely on me almost entirely. For someone as defenceless as you,' she added sharply, 'you have either a rare courage or a vast stupidity!'

  'I'm never defenceless, girl, so don't fool yourself.'

  'Neither am I, Mr. Freeman!'

  He laughed with lazy cruelty. 'I'm quite aware that the small cat scratches, but so much more enjoyable the taming of such a creature. But haven't I warned you before about calling me Mr. Freeman? A slip of the tongue like that on Corfu and my grandmother will pounce like a hawk. Perhaps I should say a ton of bricks, as you would indeed be crushed to death by the

  weight of her disapproval.'

  'A nice lot you are!' Sandra cried.

  'As you may well find out,' he rejoined sarcastically.

  Next day, on the four-engined Boeing jet, heading for Corfu, Sandra found herself going over the events of the previous evening. Not that it made very exciting reminiscence, but odd things jerked her memory. After tea Stein had given her ten minutes to change before the arrival of a luxurious hired car. In it he had directed the driver, in fluent Greek, to take them to the Acropolis.

  'You must see that,' he'd said dryly, 'otherwise your friends might refuse to believe you'd been to Greece.'

  The Acropolis stood out above the city, but he wouldn't allow her to explore alone. Nor did he feel, he said, like fighting his way blindly through the crowds. One day, he had promised, he would show her properly, and she had had to be content, although she had had a crazy desire to take his hand and lead him up through the gardens to the top of the hill. Knowing exactly what he would think of such a plan if voiced, she had remained silent, crouched in her comer of the smoothly murmuring car which then drove them to Piraeus, Athens' harbour. Two things Stein pointed out, in complete contrast— the Acropolis, so distant and still, as if the hands of ancient Greek gods were still laid upon it, and the harbour, with its shops and waterfront bustling with noise and life, where everything and everyone seemed more than alive.

  They didn't stay long. Stein's face had grown grim and Sandra had found herself wondering if he had ever sailed. There was so much about
this man she didn't know, so much she longed to find out, but as he had stood there, his head turned towards the sun and sea, she hadn't dared ask.

  Later, at the hotel, he had asked her to find him something fairly formal to wear for dinner and told her not to wait up as he didn't know what time he would be back.

  Sorting his clothing had seemed so intimate a task that she had been nervous that he might ask her to do more.

  She had been even more frightened that he might, perhaps

  mistakenly, invade her bedroom when he returned in those early hours, which could so sway the emotions. Moonlight over the beauty that was Greece, she suspected, might be powerfully potent. But she had fallen asleep almost straight away, in spite of her apprehension, the worst she had to deal with being Stein's derisive grin at breakfast that morning, as if he had known all about the fears which had beset her and was amused by them.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  About an hour later they landed on Corfu, at the international airport by the Ionian Sea. Here they were met by a large car and Sandra, who had been expecting having to wait for a taxi, gazed at it in surprised relief. The man who drove it, while not in uniform, had the unmistakable air of a professional chauffeur.

  'Kyrie/ Leaving the car, he came quickly towards them, speaking to Stein.

  'Thimios?' The two were obviously old friends. They embraced in the typical Greek fashion before Stein turned back to where Sandra stood uncertainly.

  'Sandra, come and meet my grandmother's right-hand man.' He introduced her to Thimios. 'My secretary, fiancee, Miss Weir.' Sandra noticed how he added fiancee last!

  She liked Thimios's old-fashioned bow, although she didn't quite know what to make of it, or what to say. His brown eyes twinkled in a brown-skinned face which reminded Sandra of the softest tanned leather, and she smiled.

  Thimios must have been satisfied with her tentative smile, for he bowed again, as if in approval. 'If the thespinis

  will come this way ------- ' he led Stein and her across to the

  waiting car.

  'Thimios has been with my grandmother longer than I can remember,' Stein told her as they roared off with an overextravagance of tooting and screeching brakes. 'He used to hook me out of the sea before I could walk. It must be due to him that I'm still here.'

  'Then you have a lot to be grateful for.' Sandra smiled gently at Thimios's dark head bent over the wheel.

  'Perhaps!' Stein exclaimed harshly. 'But I might have reason yet to wish he'd let me drown. Now I can't even see the waters he saved me from.'

  Sandra drew a quick breath. She could-scarcely accuse him of self-pity, because there was none in his voice, but she was already aware of his black moods and had come to fear them, for he treated any indication of sympathy with obvious contempt. While she longed to comfort him he wouldn't allow it. Wasn't he always warning her that he wanted nothing of her thoughts or pity! Hadn't he just emphasised this again, perhaps more for her benefit than Thimios's, when he had introduced her first as his secretary. She must occasionally endure the brunt of his savage, Greek-like passion, but that was all!

  Shaken, she groped her way through a maze of varying emotions, trying to find a few impersonal words. 'Perhaps one day you might recover your eyesight, Stein. Then you might also regain a reason to be grateful that Thimios saved your life.'

  She wasn't prepared that he should find her hand, crushing it until she cried out. They were going through Corfu town and Thimios didn't seem to hear her whimper of distress.

  Stein had apparently been waiting for it and with harsh laughter flung her hand back to the padded upholstery. 'Stop parroting such glib remonstrations, girl, or you might find I can hurt even more.'

  'I hate you!' She shrank back into her corner, swallowing hard to control the sobs which were making her throat ache.

  Unerringly his hand came out, this time to find the tear on her pale cheek. Contemptuously he flicked it. 'I prefer a healthy hate, my dear, to a dishonest pretence of caring.'

  They left Corfu town with its high-rise flats and hotels behind, making for the north-west coast. They swept through small Greek villages with plain little shops set on narrow streets. They ran between orange and olive groves, past rugged bays and promontories with the road growing rougher as they travelled further north. There was a fat little woman sitting on a donkey, looking as if she had all the time in the world to reach her destination, but otherwise very little sign of any other life. Above them loomed the cypress-covered hills and below them the glass-smooth water of the Ionian Sea. The pink of the oleander blended with the silver plumage of olive trees to give a certain beauty to the villages which grew fewer and lonelier as they went along. It amazed Sandra that many of these seemed to be perched halfway up the mountain sides, until Stein told her it was because of pirates who until well into the nineteenth century had raided the coast. To protect themselves the villagers had been forced to build their homes where they might see the raiders approaching.

  Half an hour later they took a precarious bend and turned off the main road to approach, along a narrow track, a large white villa. Standing out against the cypress- shrouded mountain on a rocky ridge above a narrow piece of land dotted prettily with olive trees, it looked as if it was literally clinging to the mountain side. Below, far off in the deep blue water of the sea, lay a large yacht, but otherwise, as in the villages they had passed, there was no sign of any inhabitants. Their isolation seemed complete and rather frightening.

  Thimios opened the car door with a flourish when they stopped. 'I'll see to your luggage,' he bowed. 'I expect Madame will be waiting.'

  'Come along, Sandra,' Stein said coolly, pausing to wait for her by the door. 'I don't want you cringing along at my heels like an island cur. My grandmother will expect a girl of some spirit.'

  Silently Sandra trembled. 'You're despicable,' she whispered in fierce undertones, 'and I refuse to let you tread me into the earth. I'm actually beginning to believe Alexandra could be well rid of you. '

  She thought, from the expression on his face, she had gone too far, but she was glad that instead of her usual despair she felt nothing but cold anger. It gave her the strength to ignore the low sentence he muttered beneath his breath and stiffened her suddenly weak limbs against the possibility of his ever carrying out his low-voiced threats.

  His grandmother's villa was a revelation, though, judging by the car, Sandra had realised the old lady must have considerable wealth. The house was luxurious and surprisingly modern in its furnishings. By contrast Madame Kartalis was tall, grey-headed and austere.

  Unlike Thimios she didn't choose to welcome Sandra with a smile but stared her up and down from eyes a shade darker than Stein's and just as inhibiting.

  She gazed at Sandra hard after greeting Stein fondly. 'So this is the woman you are affianced to, my grandson?' 'Yes.' Stein's reply was brief, not noticeably enthusiastic, Sandra noted dully. 'But she is scarcely a woman, Stein. I will venture to suggest she is little more than a child. Far too young for you!' He shrugged.

  'It is little use going on about the difference in our ages, grandmother. I am scarcely in my dotage and the deed is done.'

  'I had hoped,' the old lady seemed to forget Sandra was there, 'that you would marry one of your Greek cousins. Now your blood will be further diluted —if this girl is capable of giving you the sons you crave.'

  This proved too much for Sandra. Her cheeks flamed and she couldn't refrain from cutting in. 'I'm sure Stein won't mind if I don't have a family, madame. It's something I haven't yet decided.'

  There was a moment's awful silence which Sandra tried deliberately to ignore by staring around the large, opulent salon, at the beautiful examples of Grecian pottery, the rugs spread richly on the marble floor. Stein was angered, she realised, by her statement. Gradually, over the past

  hours, he had seemed to grow more Greek than English and this was a land where men still generally dominated their women. Or had he been like this all along and it had only
taken the background atmosphere to make her fully aware of it?

  Then he said, coldly furious, 'Sandra, you will be shown to your room.' He gestured towards the black-clad servant who lurked in the shadows. 'I would advise you to go with Katrina. She is the wife of Thimios, so you will be well looked after.'

  Her heart beating quickly, Sandra made no effort to obey. She was conscious that he considered his orders not to be disputed, especially in front of his grandmother, and if she refused to do as he commanded he might lose a certain face. Nevertheless she was unable to drag herself in the direction he indicated but instead stood glaring at him, momentarily forgetting he couldn't see.

  'I don't feel tired, or like going to my room,' she retorted stubbornly. 'I'd much rather take a walk, perhaps by the sea.'

  'You will do as you're told!' he thundered, while his grandmother stood silently by, her eyes cool as steel but looking as if she derived much enjoyment from their less than loving duel.

  Unhappily, her new-found courage fading a little, Sandra stood biting her lip, wishing she dared go on defying him. How could Stein Freeman make her tremble and obey when all she had to do was turn her back on him? Perspiration touched her white brow and the deeply shadowed cleft between her breasts which had once known the exploratory touch of his lean fingers.

  Madame spoke triumphantly. 'When it comes to the question of a family you will be left with little choice, Miss Weir. Stein is a man who could beat any woman into submission.'

  Stein's lip curled in agreement. 'Sandra has already felt the weight of my disapproval on more than one occasion, Grandmother. She knows better than to try me too far, and you will no doubt forgive her if she sometimes seems indiscreet. Possibly later you might give her a few words of advice?'

  What an absolutely hateful old woman! Sandra thought bitterly after Thimios's wife had left her in her bedroom. Feeling unhappily exhausted, she gazed about her, all the pleasure she had felt in her surroundings fading rapidly. Madame Kartalis had been openly antagonistic, deliberately and spitefully introducing a subject which might have been embarrassing between intimate friends. She had stared at Sandra's narrow hips as if she had been a brood mare and found sadly wanting.