As if suddenly conscious of her silent regard, he turned back to her with a rueful sigh. 'Well, here we are, Mrs. Freeman. I suppose we'd better get up to the house.'
There was no warmth in his voice to give that derisive 'Mrs. Freeman' any special meaning. Sandra shrank.
'You'd better go along, Stein. I'll carry as much as I can. It's not far.' Her glance went over their few pieces of luggage.
'Don't be foolish,' his face hardened, 'I didn't marry you for a slave. Give me your large case and leave the rest. I’ll send someone for it.'
'Someone?' She paused as if struck. 'But you said there
wouldn't be a servant.'
'There may not be. I don't make any promises,' he retorted impatiently, 'I'm simply hoping. Good wages don't count much with these people, but the fact that I'm blind just might. Also, one of them might feel that such a charming young bride should not be left entirely at the mercy of a husband whose affliction could drive him to harshness.' She stared. 'Stein -------------------------- '
He laughed, though she was sure there was little mirth in it. 'I only tease, child. Don't take everything so seriously — that way you invite the devil in me. I ought to have said curiosity might bring our errant islanders when all else fails. These people are romantics. It will intrigue them that their master has brought himself such a beautiful young bride.'
Dismayed, she stared up at him, seeing his dark face, all planes and angles, forgetting how they stood exposed, high up on the naked plateau. "Please, Stein," she begged, 'I think I'd much rather manage alone. I — we don't want their curiosity. They'll only wonder and watch.'
'And the morning might bring conclusions you don't like, or should I say ones you won't be over-proud of.'
'I didn't mean ------ '
'Oh yes, you did,' his eyes glinted coldly. 'In the old days, on these islands, a bride hung the sheet out of the window, come the morning. These people are, in the main, still pagan. You may not believe it, my dear, but they still cling to the old habits.'
Her face scorching, Sandra twisted away from him, her heart thumping. 'Hadn't you better explain, then, that in our case they'll be wasting their time? I don't care what they think, but I won't be watched like a puppet show. Nor do I intend to be!'
With a swift stride he reached her, impaling her against him, 'Nor,' he grated tersely, 'do I intend cooking my own dinner or breakfast. Not if I can help it.'
With quick savagery he lowered his head and she was lost under the dark passion of his kiss. More than that, she felt the old excitement stirring, felt the thrill, at once piercing and sweet, shiver through her entire being. It was a kiss that deepened meaningfully, intensifying desire until her arms went instinctively around his neck so that, outlined against the sunset and a fiery red sky, their bodies appeared to become as one.
Seconds later she was free of his demanding lips and arms as a youth walked towards them across the compound. With his extraordinary sense of perception, Stein must have heard him, but to Sandra the only sound had been the dizzying ring in her ears.
The man — Sandra saw he wasn't so youthful as he drew nearer —was very polite. He obviously knew Stein and murmured a few words of greetings. He then spoke quickly and when Stein nodded his head and said, 'Ne, turned to Sandra, waiting to be introduced.
'This is Panos,' Stein explained, as Sandra held out her hand. She had been in Greece long enough to know the Greeks considered this a necessary politeness. 'Kalispera' she said.
'Good evening,' Panos replied, in good English.
'Madame doesn't yet speak Greek,' Stein said laconically, 'but she will soon learn. Already,' he cast her a mocking glance, 'she tries.'
Sandra gave a little start, as if realising for the first time her new status as a married woman. She was Madame now, and for reasons of his own Stein seemed to be reminding her of it. Her pale cheeks flushing again she looked inquiringly towards Panos.
'Panos is going to help us,' Stein continued. 'He and his mother will come first thing in the morning. Thyra would have come this evening, but one of her daughter's children is unwell.'
'Oh, I see. How unfortunate!' Anger curling swiftly within her, Sandra forced a sympathetic smile. She couldn't believe it was only her presence that had precipitated such a positive rush of assistance.
As Panos picked up their luggage she hissed, 'This rather contradicts what you told me, Stein!'
'Not necessarily.' He flung her an exasperated glance. 'Alone, I might very easily have stayed that way. They have only come to see the charming young madame. The people of Greece, Sandra, have a great admiration for courage, and here they will consider you have more than enough in marrying a man who can't see.'
'Oh, Stein!' Her voice broke as she tried to stifle her heartache.
'Shut up, my dear.' His civility was curt. 'You must know by now that I prefer other things to pity.'
The house was even larger than the villa in Corfu and she remembered he had called it a castle. It was very like one with its high stone walls and rambling dimensions, but the living quarters were surprisingly modem. It felt, inside, as if the spring sunshine had already warmed it. She was pleasantly surprised. Still shaken from his searching kisses, she felt somehow comforted.
"Shall I take your bags upstairs, kyrie?" Panos asked politely.
"Yes, put them in the large room at the end of the corridor," Stein answered abstractedly.
Minutes later when Panos came down again he said, 'Thank your mother, Panos, tell her we look forward to seeing her in the morning.'
‘Yes, kyrie.'
Anxiously Sandra watched Panos departing. She removed her coat, without thinking, then wished she hadn't as there seemed nowhere to put it. She would like to have gone upstairs, but felt choked with reluctance to ask Stein where she was to sleep. It was, after all, her wedding day and whether it was a sham or not, she had had enough of his taunting. If she asked about her bedroom she might only be inviting more. The situation reminded her of Athens.
Apparently in no hurry to enlighten her about what was so obviously on her mind, he drawled, 'I'm afraid you'll have to cook our dinner this evening, otherwise we'll have to go hungry.
Mind you, I'd be the first to admit it's not the usual thing for a man to ask his bride of only a few hours.'
'Oh, don't be so —so — oh, I don't know what!' Warm with confusion, Sandra flung out her hands helplessly. 'You know ours is just a marriage of convenience!'
'Maybe,' he grunted non-committally. 'All the same, a bride is a bride, whatever the circumstances, and I won't forget it.' He hesitated, turning his head thoughtfully in the direction of the stairs. 'How would you like to shower and get into something less restrictive than I imagine you're wearing? Then we can go to the kitchen and see what there is, perhaps have a picnic in the lounge. If I know anything of Thyra I guess we'll soon be eating more than we need.'
A huge staircase rose darkly from the well of the hall and, as she followed Stein up it, Sandra wondered why she should feel so nervous. It was probably that nothing felt real? She was here in this huge house; she was married but couldn't believe it. Or was it that she didn't want to? If only Stein had loved her —but it grew more apparent he did not. At the same time it also seemed clear he didn't find her altogether repulsive, and men were promiscuous creatures, unlike most women. If the mood took him he might not care whether he loved her or not. Perhaps it was up to her to keep some distance between them and not allow herself to be dominated as he chose.
At the top of the stairs he walked along the twisting corridor with a confidence which again seemed to belie his story that he wasn't too familiar with his island home. He paused exactly beside a heavy oak door. 'I think you'd be wise to take this room next to mine.' Sarcastically he added, If you really think you're in any danger you can have one at the other end of the passage or even on the next floor, but in a house this size you might be happier knowing I'm near.'
There seemed sense in this which she couldn't den
y or refuse. She decided his offer was a good one, even if not altogether prompted from kindness. Recalling the feeling of warmth she had felt when she first entered, she was sure this wasn't a house to make the flesh creep, but the dark hours of the night might be an entirely different matter.
Stein interpreted her slight silence quite differently. 'Are you still afraid I might ravish you?' he asked curtly.
'No ------ ' she felt so muddled, so torn with strange emotions,
she flinched, attempting to squash the wholly irrational suggestion that this might not be too awful. Stein was an extremely attractive man, tall and virile —and her husband. And between them, there was something, she would be the last to say otherwise. But not without love! She could be crying for the moon, but for her any closer relationship would be impossible without that.
Then suddenly, as she glanced at him despairingly, she saw how strained he looked. There was a whiteness beneath his skin and his mouth was held harshly. 'Stein,' she begged, momentarily forgetting herself completely as a strange tenderness swept over her for this man who never seemed to bow down before any infirmity, 'Stein, I don't really mind where I sleep. I trust you.' As if to emphasise this she laid a tentative hand on his arm.
In hoping to say the right thing she failed miserably. His eyes hardened. 'You believe in tying a man's hands, don't you, Sandra? You declare you trust me, hoping such an innocent statement will keep me at bay. It was never prompted from that frozen little heart of yours, only from a sense of selfpreservation.'
'Please, Stein.'
'Don't plead with me!' He brushed her hand away contemptuously. 'I wonder how you will react when, one day, I might not need your pity anymore? Don't try me too far, my dear. Don't forget I am half Greek and was brought up to think wholly as one, to act as they do on these islands. Here I was taught that a woman is merely subservient. If I were to make proper love to you, here and now, until you perhaps screamed for mercy, I would only gain status.' With uncanny accuracy he paused to grasp her thin shoulders oppressively. 'And don't tell me you wouldn't enjoy it. Even without seeing you I am well aware how you are fashioned, how you are capable of a depth of
response which might completely shake you.'
Before she could gasp a reply, if indeed she had been capable of it, he released her as suddenly as he had taken her. With a half smothered exclamation he left her to enter his bedroom, slamming the door. Again she was forcibly reminded of the hotel in Athens and shrank from his continuing derision. Dear God, if only she could be back in England with Gran — but Gran wasn't there anymore and it was senseless to long feverishly for the comfort of her usually sound advice. Gran, in a way, had been like Madame Kartalis, outspoken, not above being waspish, but so full of common sense that Sandra didn't know how she could ever hope to manage properly without her.
Hopelessly Sandra turned and opened her own bedroom door. What was the use of a lot of stupid wishing and weeping for the past? It was the present she must concern herself with, this strange marriage, her new husband. Whatever she said or did seemed to be wrong. With Stein it was rather like finding one's way through a trackless jungle. He could be easy, almost tender, or suddenly just the opposite, whichever way his changing moods took him. If she couldn't judge beforehand how he was going to react to what she said then she could be going to suffer. Somehow she must learn to think carefully, and this could be difficult
as often, she realised, she spoke too impulsively.
Trying to blot from her mind his terse summing up of her emotional possibilities, she explored her bedroom, finding it much as she expected. The furniture was heavy, dark with age but, like the floor, polished to a beautiful burnished gloss. The bed was large, too, its spotless linen giving an air of luxurious comfort. Only the leopard skins flung over the foot of it made her shiver. In the adjoining bathroom the impression of luxury was continued.
Someone had spent money here. Sandra had no doubt her stay would be a comfortable one, but she felt bewildered as she gazed around. If only she could forget tonight was her wedding night she might even sleep well. She didn't think Stein would break his word. Not that he had promised anything, exactly, apart from making it clear that he was only interested in her ability to help him with his work, but she envied him his ability to dissociate himself from anything else. It was no use her wishing secretly and shamefully that she could be in his arms. Hastily, as she slipped out of her shoes, she corrected herself. She didn't want to be there, not really, but it would have been nice to be held and comforted. Comforted against what? Sandra wasn't sure how to answer such a confusing query. Nor did she stop to ask herself if this was entirely what a new bridegroom might be expected to have in mind.
CHAPTER SEVEN A week later Sandra was still beset by longings, but these were nowhere near as vague as they had been that first night. So far as work went nothing could have gone better, with Stein soon getting the hang of dictating and her typing improving daily to speeds which earned his approval. It was the sudden flares of tension between them that kept her strung up to a pitch where she dared not let herself relax, for fear she should find herself overwhelmed by the sometimes urgent desire to touch him. This, she knew, would never do. If he demanded an explanation she wouldn't know what to say for herself.
On Corfu there had been other people, but here they were very much alone. Panos and his mother came every day, but they didn't stay during the night, and the nights were the worst. The long, lonely hours when Sandra failed to sleep, when her body seemed plagued by an unremitting restlessness which often caused her to leave her bed and steal downstairs into the vast kitchen below to seek a hot drink in the vain hope of subduing the inexplicable turmoil in her mind and body.
She was thankful the house wasn't too dark at night. Stein, years ago, had installed a powerful generator, capable of throwing light into the darkest corner. It ran, along with other things, a huge deep freeze that he arranged to have replenished whenever he intended spending some time on the island. On the first evening she had been quite started. Having expected to concoct a meal from a few basic local ingredients, when he had
shown her what was actually available, she had almost gasped.
Being usually just a passable cook she had been secretly rather proud of the meal she had produced that night. The steak, perhaps because she had prayed so hard, had been done to a turn, so had the frozen chips and peas.
'We could well be back home,' she had said, watching him carefully as he ate with apparent contentment.
'Yes,' he cynically agreed, 'if you're talking of the food, but don't forget my palate is more cosmopolitan than yours. Still, it's always nice to return to the normally plain fare of dear old England.'
After that she hadn't felt quite so proud of herself, but there had been no sense of alarm until a moment later when she'd noticed the hard set of his mouth. When he had gone on to ask, with what seemed deliberate emphasis, if this was all she had to offer, she fancied she had known exactly what he meant.
Either way the answer had to be yes. If he had loved her, been tender, instead of sitting there so tall, and darkly forbidding, she might have responded to his derisive joke differently.
'Perhaps,' he rasped, 'you should concentrate on Greek cookery for a change. You'll find it has a distinct flavour. Indirectly it might even help you to understand me better. I suspect you continue to associate me with the more intrepid Englishmen you've known. You must get used to the idea that I'm not like this, not underneath.'
Hastily Sandra had gulped. 'There seems little sense in getting to know each other better, does there? Not in our kind of marriage.'
'No?' His hand shot out to cover hers, catching her nervous tremor. 'I think it's a little too early to come to any definite conclusions about what kind of marriage we have. A man might have second thoughts about anything. See how you tremble.
Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about?'
'I think you're being unfair,' her voice came low.
&n
bsp; 'Not really,' he had drawled, removing his hand with a shrug. 'I'm simply warning you not to drive me too far. Otherwise I can't be responsible for the mixed blood in my veins.'
They had wine that night and every night since. Stein disappeared before dinner into the spacious cellars below the kitchens and returned with cobweb-covered bottles, the labels of which he ordered Sandra to read out to him.
'I'm quite used to negotiating the cellar steps in the dark, but I'm afraid I can't remember where to find each bottle.' He had drunk the wine morosely and, refusing coffee, said quite calmly that Sandra had better go to bed. It was late, she must be tired. He was going to listen to a little music and would be up later.
Sandra hesitated, aware that she would rather have joined him and feeling curiously reluctant to do as he suggested. Unreasonably, her cheeks hot, she was conscious of feeling cheated. It might, at least, have given her something pleasant to remember of her wedding day, to have been able to sit and relax with him for an hour instead of being sent, like a small child, to bed. It would have made the pretty dress she wore, the effort she had made to look nice, not seem wasted. But another glance at his set face had knocked such a notion apprehensively from her head and sent her scuttling ignominiously upstairs.
In the morning she had met Panos's mother, Thyra, who like her son spoke fairly good English. Sandra liked her immediately, although Stein had mentioned that she wasn't as expert as his last servants had been and that she would have to make allowances. They had been lucky to get anybody.
Because she fancied he sounded patronising, she retorted sharply, 'I'm not used to being waited on hand and foot! Before Gran died we didn't have any help whatsoever. I did everything.'
'And you consider that a virtue?' he had sneered, unimpressed. 'Well, you won't have to soil your white hands again, not that way. There might be problems here. I'm not altogether sure that Thyra will prove satisfactory, but in England I will supply all the fully trained help you need.'
The Devil's Bride Page 11
