‘Yes,’ she said unsteadily, cursing herself for having started down this path, but feeling she had no choice but to soldier on. ‘I still believe in love, in its strength and purity.’
Damian studied her with a kind of ruthless deliberation, and she was caught in his gaze like a pin drawn to a magnet ‘How can a man and a woman explore all the mysteries of love if they don’t give free rein to their emotions?’ he said thickly. ‘This pure, strong love you talk about, which is smothered in your rules of restraint, is a barren and cold thing, denuded of all passion.’
Oriel was mesmerized by his vital, masculine presence. She could feel the heat radiating from his body as he stood close to her, and made the mistake of glancing up at his sensual mouth. He caught her look, a gleam deepening in his eyes. Her mind cast around desperately for a defence against this invasion of her senses. ‘The mythology of your country is teeming with tales of unleashed passions, drawing in their wake the most horrific tragedies.’
He moved closer still, his face now only inches away. ‘The passion we feel for each other, agápi mou, can only lead to fulfilment, never tragedy.’
‘Fulfilment of the body, never of the soul.’
‘We are the victims of our own biology, aren’t we? A nun or a monk can ignore the temptations of desire, but only provided there is a stone wall protecting them from being physically touched. You are not one of those, matia mou. You are aware of your body and its merciless demands. More than once you have given into it with me … and if I want, I can prove it to you again and again.’
‘Oh yes, you’re so sure of yourself. I suppose you think—’
In the next instant Damian silenced her words by jerking her into his arms as his lips came down hard on hers, crushing her to him in the most thrilling way. His electrifying response almost winded her. Her hammering heart gave in to it as her arms went around his neck, better to feel him and enjoy the violent onslaught of his mouth. Oh, the bliss of this man’s possessive kisses! It was like a hurricane sweeping her away to a land of rapturous delirium. Oriel had heard it said that some men could ravish with a kiss but at that moment, kissing was not enough.
What happened next was as natural as day following night. His skilled, hot mouth moved down and brushed the pulse that throbbed in her throat, sliding gently across to the fragile slope of her shoulder. To Oriel’s untutored body, Damian’s touch was dark magic and smooth, sweet fire. She had no thought of saying no, no desire to rein back the fierce excitement that ran like forked lightning through her veins.
His hungry exploration went further, became bolder, his warm palms skimming over her shoulders, sure, gentle, yet unrelenting as they moved over the silky skin of her arms till, at last, they reached the curves and the points of her breasts, barely touching them, but oh, so much more tantalizing!
Oriel looked up into eyes that blazed into hers, burning away inhibitions until she was left at the mercy of her long-repressed hunger. She trembled, every part of her pulsating and alive to his burning gaze. Her thighs quivered, her stomach tingled and her breasts became heavy, the nipples upstanding. As the heat of desire burned between her legs, she was aware of her vulnerability to this man, now every part of her craving his possession of her; and so, instinctively, she half lifted herself towards him, arching her back as she did so, wanting to feel the muscled, potent hardness of him.
It was a provocative gesture like a red rag to a bull. Damian’s hands grasped the cheeks of her bottom through the thin material of her dress. Pulling Oriel even closer to him, he leaned into her, the swell of his arousal rising hard against her thigh and she smothered a small cry of need when he gently rubbed himself against her in silent imploration. She could sense his impatience; she could feel the intolerable desire tightening his body and the knowledge excited her. She clung to him, wanting, revelling in the strength that held her imprisoned.
Once more, Damian’s head came down, the heat of his mouth scorching her lips as he began to kiss her. Deep, hungry kisses of consuming intensity; kisses of exploration and discovery, seeking and exulting in every tingling nuance of sensuality.
Such a warm lovely mouth, she thought as her own opened to it in instinctive response, welcoming, savouring, pleading to be loved. His marauding tongue was fierce and urgent, but his searching hands were gentle and caressing as they shaped the back of her head, her neck, then sliding down, sensuously fondling her breasts through the thin cotton fabric, with more urgency this time. Then, lifting the short skirt of her dress to gain access to the more intimate part of her, his fingers made their way slowly up her thighs, stroking her skin.
Moisture flooded Oriel’s loins, the swollen bud throbbing as she craved release. Fighting her growing need to give him access to that place, she felt she would explode in fireworks if he so much as touched it. Her body stiffened and she brushed his hand away silently but forcefully, without breaking their kiss.
Damian didn’t insist. When his lips finally pulled free of hers and he looked down into her eyes; they were both breathing hard. She felt as she always did when he touched her: so confused, her mind and body fighting a storm that was getting out of control. How much longer could she ignore her passion for him?
Oriel stared at Damian, her every nerve ablaze, quivering with yearning, and the desire to be possessed by him was stronger than ever. ‘I’ve told you before, you’re the devil,’ she choked.
His hand stroked her cheek as he held her tight. ‘Maybe, agápi mou, but then a woman’s face is the devil’s mirror when she has eyes green and deep as the darkest jungle, where they say a man should never get lost,’ he said hoarsely, his thumb tracing over the bottom edge of her mouth. ‘… And lips, Theé! Smooth and soft as the sweetest roses.’
Damian’s arousing words left her helpless beneath the torrent of feeling that flooded her as she met the smouldering gaze beneath his dark brow. Whether she liked it or not, heart, mind, body and soul she belonged to this Greek god who, one night years ago, had swept her away to his heaven, while today she was burning in the hellish flames of her self-imposed abstinence. ‘I will never force myself on you, agápi mou,’ he murmured, his mouth still so near to hers. ‘But you must know that our bodies are made for each other. You are fighting a losing battle, Calypso, and I will prove that to you.’
He was still holding her against his powerful, hard frame when there was the sound of knocking at the door. Quickly loosening her arms from around his neck, Damian moved away from her. With equal haste, Oriel stepped around the table and smoothed down her dress, flushed with frustrated desire, her mind in disarray.
‘Yes, what is it?’ Damian barked. He was already at his desk and, even while Oriel was trying to unravel her tangled thoughts at the same time as straightening her rumpled dress, she could see that he was equally disconcerted. The door opened and the wiry figure of Yorgos appeared.
‘Sorry to disturb you, Kyrios. I’m sure you’re already aware, but Yolanda is back on Helios. She wanted me to tell you that she’s singing tonight at Manoli’s. Her tour has been a sell-out so the place will be packed.’
Oriel turned to see a slight smile on the estate manager’s face as he spoke, one she found deeply irritating. Suddenly her mind registered the name: Yolanda. It was her, the childhood sweetheart. Her scalp prickled with apprehension as she stared at Damian, whose face had paled.
‘Perhaps you’d like me to get you and Yolanda a table after her act tonight?’ Yorgos continued smoothly. ‘You must have lots to catch up on.’
Damian ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’m taking the team out tonight,’ he said brusquely. ‘We’ll talk about this later, Yorgos.’
‘Of course, as you like. If you want some privacy, just let me know.’
Damian looked at Yorgos, stony-faced. ‘I said we’ll talk later.’
Yorgos’s obsidian eyes narrowed to two slits in a way that put Oriel in mind of a cornered fox. Then he nodded and retreated, closing the door behind him.
Oriel stood
there, frozen to the spot, still feeling as if Damian’s kiss was burning into her lips. She only managed a few words to break the oppressive silence between them. ‘I’d like to go now.’
Then she turned her face from him and silently headed for the door as quickly as she could.
* * *
As she showered, Oriel couldn’t seem to shake the combination of fear and excitement that stirred within her. There were no words to describe the soul-wrenching intimacy she felt with Damian and the debilitating confusion he created in her. Her skin, her limbs, her entire femininity had wanted to be crushed to every male inch of him. She had responded to this carnality with a savage abandon that, in retrospect, made her blush in shame.
Then, once again, her bubble of self-delusion had been burst. This time by the news that Damian’s old flame, Yolanda, would apparently be performing to her adoring fans at Manoli’s tonight. Was Damian still carrying a torch for her? She had seen how his face had paled at the mention of the singer’s name.
Jealousy lanced through Oriel painfully. She winced under the stream of water as it cascaded down her face, willing it to wash her mind clean of all those tormenting thoughts. Why did she lack the self-discipline to stay away from Damian Lekkas? Why on earth could she not control this masochistic impulse to let him back into her life? Today was another reminder that she could never be with this man who was a ‘conqueror of women’, who had a childhood sweetheart waiting in the wings … a man who would one day fulfil his duty and choose a suitable Greek wife to carry on the family dynasty. No doubt he would keep this Yolanda woman as his mistress.
Still, despite all her misgivings, Oriel couldn’t help but think about the alarming depths of passion between them. Her mind skittered back to that moment in his office, and the overwhelming sensual upheaval she felt in his arms; the way he looked at her, kissed her and touched her, as though he couldn’t stop himself. It had left her shaken and speechless. Now, the sense of anticipation she felt at seeing Damian again tonight stalked her like a guilty secret, and her heart hammered with a thrilling ferocity that made her whole body tingle.
Oriel spent a long while showering, drying and brushing her hair, creaming her body and polishing her nails, all the while deep in thought. The sun was setting when finally, wrapped in her bath towel, she moved to her walk-in cupboard to select something to wear. She chose a sun-soaked yellow dress made of delicate chiffon with a strapless sweetheart line: almost a beach dress but with a sophisticated, classic cut. The ruched styling of the low bustier enhanced the curve of her breasts, and the softly pleated skirt that skimmed the tops of her knees swung as she walked, showing off her long legs. Her only adornment was a bold hammered-bronze handmade cuff that she had bought at a second-hand shop while on holiday in Turkey. She wore no make-up, apart from a touch of gloss on her lips and a hint of dark-brown mascara on her lashes.
Slipping into dainty gold stiletto sandals, she stroked some of her favourite fragrance behind her ears, at the centre of her throat and on her wrists, and then went to survey herself in the full-length mirror of her walk-in cupboard. It was casually elegant, she decided, even if it did expose quite a bit of skin.
A slight frown wrinkled her brow. A little voice in the recesses of her mind chided: Why are you trying to keep Damian’s fire burning when you’ve already rejected what he’s offering? Even so, she pushed the thought away determinedly. Another more impulsive part of her wanted Damian to find her attractive, particularly if his old girlfriend, Yolanda, was singing at the bar that night.
She glanced at her watch: it was almost eight o’clock. She grabbed her thin copper-coloured wrap and a small clutch bag then stepped out of her apartment, nearly colliding with Helena’s wheelchair.
‘Out on the town, Despinis Anderson?’
She met the appraising steel-grey eyes that fixed on her face. Helena’s cold gaze was unnerving. ‘Yes, yes,’ Oriel answered quickly, trying to sound natural.
‘And who will you be trying to seduce tonight with that revealing dress, eh?’ the other woman jeered, her voice becoming ugly as she stared up at Oriel’s suddenly pale features.
‘Sorry?’
Helena’s eyes narrowed. ‘That harlot, his wife, was the same, walking around half naked, bringing shame on our family. While you’re a guest in this house, you will cover yourself up, do you hear me? We have standing on this island, and we can’t have any women of loose morals besmirching our good name.’ She looked Oriel up and down, her expression sneering. ‘You Englishwomen have no shame, you flaunt your flesh for all to see and then you cry rape if a man shows any interest.’
Oriel’s chin snapped up and she glared frostily into the other woman’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way, Kyria, but if you’ll excuse me, I must go now or I’ll be late.’ And without waiting for an answer she hurried past Helena and down the corridor, not looking back as she descended the stairs into the hallway. She stood a moment at the bottom of the steps to regain her composure; she was trembling. Then, taking a deep breath, she walked out of the house and with a brisk step went to join her date.
Damian was waiting for her, leaning against his Jeep, smoking. He had swapped his casual outfit of earlier for a pair of black trousers – a cross between jeans and chinos – which caressed every line of his body, from his belted slim waist and narrow hips to his lithe, springy legs. The small gold medal on a necklace he wore drew attention to the dark down on his chest, which flirted with the edges of his thin, black, open-necked shirt. Tall, lean and tanned, his appearance was a veritable assailment of masculinity and it was all Oriel could do not to stare.
‘Sorry if I’m late, Damian,’ she said awkwardly as she came up to him, ‘but I was ambushed by your cousin on my way out.’ Suddenly, she felt irritated; she was already trying to tamp down feelings of vulnerability about this evening, and Helena’s appearance hadn’t helped.
He eyed her cautiously. ‘Everything all right?’
Oriel paused. Should she tell Damian about his cousin’s vitriolic outburst? No, Helena’s comments were just the embittered words of a jealous and deranged woman. Besides, talking of it to Damian now would just make her feel worse, she decided, and she needed to pull herself together. ‘It’s fine,’ she answered blithely. ‘I’m here now.’
His glance swept her figure as she stood in front of him in her golden dress. ‘Yes, you are, beautiful Calypso, and looking so glamorous,’ Damian said, still leaning against the car, his speech – like his gaze – slow, lazy and sensual as it moved over her body.
Undercurrents shimmered between them, almost visible in the silence of the night. For a moment Oriel found herself trapped in the quicksilver of Damian’s steady regard, so that she pulled her wrap instinctively around her shoulders, feeling as if the embarrassed heat of her body would come right through the material.
‘No need to do that, agápi mou, and deprive me of the pleasure of looking at so much of your beautiful velvet skin, even if you have forbidden me to touch it.’
Oriel would have loved to come up with some clever snippet of repartee, but Damian’s disturbing allusions almost always left her speechless. A pink hue stole into her cheeks. He was only trying to bait her because she wouldn’t let him take her to bed. Still, as always, he had taken her composure and snuffed it out, as he might a candle flame, between his strong fingers. He was no doubt adept at using his sensual way with words on women through plenty of practice, Oriel thought, as a swirl of emotion shot up inside her to a sharp and almost painful degree.
Straightening up, Damian regarded her now with an unreadable expression. He raked a lazy hand through his raven-black hair and then opened the door to the Jeep to let her in. Oriel watched him stroll round to the other side to take his seat next to her, all the while making a huge effort to drag her distracted senses back into line.
The door slammed and they shot away into the night. Oriel looked out into the semi-darkness, trying to concentrate on the view as they took the coastal road. The sh
ore was broad, and beneath the moonlight it appeared as white as snow, spread in tones of marble and velvet shadows, while on the hills above there was a grove of black trees.
Damian glanced at her. ‘Manoli’s is built on the site of an ancient Greek temple that overlooks the sea. I think you’ll find it a magical scene.’
Oriel kept her head turned away as she stared into the night. ‘That’s what I love about these islands, the past is still so evident … though the modern world is impinging day by day and more buildings are appearing. Not here though.’
‘How so?’
‘From the minute I set foot on Helios, it struck me as different. Here, time seems to have stopped. Everything is as it would have been thousands of years ago. I love it.’
He shot her a wry look. ‘You love the land but you despise its people.’
Her gaze snapped back to him. ‘That’s outrageous! Don’t put words into my mouth, I never said that,’ she exclaimed. Her eyes flashed olive-green, glittering as the baleful glare of a cougar. ‘Just because I disapprove of arranged marriages, where a woman is merged into the possessions of a man, doesn’t mean that I despise the people here. I only resent the rules that govern them, rules you talked about on the night of my arrival. Your rules!’
‘They are not my rules, but customs and traditions that have held hard and proved effective over thousands of years. Who am I to dispute them, eh?’
Damian’s passive attitude made Oriel bristle again. ‘You should try at least to reform them. You’re the educated one.’
‘A wise man does not interfere with nature. Have you read To Kill a Mockingbird?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Atticus Finch says about nature: “Love her, but keep her wild.” I’ve tried to apply that as much as I can in my life. I would no more try to change these people than I would attempt to tame a wild cat or force a woman into bed.’ Damian gave her a knowing glance before he turned the car off the road. ‘But we’ve arrived, méli mou, and so we’ll have to postpone this interesting conversation to a later date,’ he told Oriel as he brought the Jeep to a halt.
Aphrodite's Tears Page 23
