Aphrodite's Tears

by Hannah Fielding

  That was reckless of you, Oriel chided.

  This was a remote island in Greece, a strange land with people who had alien customs, and now there were mysterious noises stirring near to her and, in the descending mist, they took on a threatening aspect. Again, the sound of a wild animal howling carried on the night air. Oriel drew her shirt closer and hurried on, telling herself that she’d soon reach Heliades.

  She had almost arrived at the end of the wild expanse when she heard a different noise. Was the darkness getting to her? Was her imagination running away with her? It was a kind of muffled padding on the dirt road – four-footed maybe? She couldn’t make it out, but something was definitely following her, she was sure of it now. Oriel felt an icy chill run down her spine but she didn’t want to stop or look behind her. The noise was nearer now, a slow and inexorable pacing at her back. Soon it would be catching up with her. There was the sound of animals panting. Was it wolves? She wanted to run but her legs felt like lead. Then a strong, harsh light flashed upon her face. Dimly, she saw that the dark bulk bearing down on her was a black horse and that it had a rider. Two large dogs trotted at its side.

  ‘Calypso? What the hell are you doing here?’ It was Damian’s voice.

  She heaved a sigh of relief. His great hounds, Heracles and Peleus, approached and sniffed the ground around her and Damian called them back to him with a single word. Oriel realized that it must have been them she had heard howling.

  ‘I’m walking back to Heliades.’ She tried to sound composed, but there was a betraying break in her voice.

  ‘How did you get here? Has the car broken down?’ Damian sounded anxious.

  ‘No, no, nothing like that, I just didn’t take it.’

  Damian muttered some Greek oath, which she didn’t quite hear but knew was not complimentary to her. He jumped down from his horse. The powerful torch shone on her lightweight gold sandals and bare legs.

  ‘You’re hardly equipped for walking, and at night too,’ he growled, slowly moving the torch beam up and down her body. His tone left no doubt of his low opinion of her conduct and it spurred her rebellious nature, even though she knew he was right.

  She laughed a little unsteadily.

  ‘Oh, Damian, how ridiculous! In England I go for long country walks at night alone.’

  Damian’s eyes gleamed. ‘Your Englishmen might be dead from their thighs up or is it, perhaps, that they are born blind?’ His voice was low and hoarse.

  The colour rushed to Oriel’s face – she hadn’t anticipated his response and it left her lost for words

  Damian whistled to the dogs to walk on and they scampered ahead, up the road. He took her arm. ‘It’s a good thing that I came along before some animal happened upon you and mauled you,’ he said gruffly and, before Oriel had properly grasped what he intended, he had picked her up with shocking ease and swung her on to the broad back of his big black horse. Clearly left with no choice, she grasped the pommel of the saddle, fighting for balance but then Damian sprang up behind her, holding her tight. The horse swayed and pranced, calming quickly at his command.

  Not having been on a horse often before, and certainly not like this, Oriel instinctively leaned forward to steady herself but Damian pulled her back. ‘Easy, I have you,’ he murmured, his voice softer now.

  As his arms clasped her further to him, her head was pushed back against the strong wall of his broad chest where it rested, the muscles of his arms pressing the curves of her breasts with supportive pressure. His body felt warm, firm and reassuring, and together they quickly settled into the cadence of the horse’s motion. Above the dull sound of the horse’s hooves she could hear the steady beat of Damian’s heart. It seemed to vibrate right through her as if it were the throb of her own. It had felt the same when they’d danced, clasped in each other’s arms in Santorini, and she’d wished that time had stopped, right then, on the dancefloor.

  The strong muscles of his thighs bracketed Oriel’s bare ones and she could feel them flex rhythmically, filling her with a crude, undeniable longing. A slow wave of heat curled through her body and the shock of her own need ricocheted through her, frightening in its intensity, bringing back the old memories in a dizzy flood.

  When he had made love to her that night in Aegina she had felt the power of him through each sensual caress. His possession of her, at moments, had been almost savage. It was partly because of the dominance radiating from him that she had been able to let herself go, without shame at her wanton behaviour and without restraint. Oriel knew that she could never belong to anyone else after Damian. How could she? Nobody would ever match up to him. During those years afterwards, his face, his voice, his touch had lingered in her memory. Now, after their uncanny reunion, she felt the fire and passion rekindle between them every time they touched. How long would she be able to resist?

  The scent of Damian’s skin, fragrant with sunlight and the sea, seemed to invade Oriel’s senses. His large palms holding the reins covered hers and now, as they came to a bend in the road, his hands moved up with the reins, the backs of his fingers brushing against her nipples which tightened even more under the warmth of his touch that seeped through the fine fabric of her blouse.

  ‘Se thélo pára poli, omorfi Oriel mou, I want you so much, my beautiful Oriel,’ his lips whispered hoarsely against her ear, triggering a fresh wave of desire melting down through her stomach and thighs. Everything in her wanted to cry out: ‘And I want you too, Damian, oh, so much.’ But she was not his Calypso, any more than he was her Damian. His words only described a physical need; no tender emotion, no love. Perhaps that was a stronger bond reserved for Yolanda. The thought struck her with cold reality and she stiffened in his arms. She would conquer this frantic commotion that was fogging up her brain and torturing her body; she would not be his ‘thing’, used to purge his frustrated desire like some sensual exorcism.

  Oriel didn’t answer him. She was rigid like a statue in Damian’s arms and didn’t dare to move in case her body gave itself away. Until they reached Heliades he made no further attempt to speak to her either.

  ‘We’ll go via the stables,’ he told her as they clattered under an arched gateway and across a flagged courtyard, an area that she had not yet seen. The stable block was set at the far end of the wing that belonged to Damian. A large cloud had covered the moon, and in the semi-darkness she could only distinguish the outlines of a few different-sized buildings around a large sandy manège, enclosed by a fence made of thick logs. The dogs were already there and had gone to lie down next to some sacks on the ground.

  Damian stopped in front of one of the buildings, leapt down from the saddle and held up his arms to help Oriel dismount. The cloud glided away and their gazes collided in the moonlight. There was an expression in his that tugged, quite unexpectedly, at Oriel’s heartstrings; a haunted look, she thought. A nerve pulsed at the side of his mouth as she slid to the ground, brushing against the length of him, his arms closing around her. Damian held her close, with a sense of urgency, steadying her trembling body. His breathing was laboured and she could feel the thudding of his heart next to her own.

  Oriel didn’t even try to get away as she felt the hard ridge of Damian’s maleness pressing gently into her: she wanted nothing more than to be held, kissed and caressed by him. But then suddenly he let go of her with a low kind of growl that seemed to erupt from deep in his throat. ‘I’m only a man, Calypso. What d’you expect when you show so much enticing bare skin? If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep that in mind from now on.’

  Oriel didn’t answer, too stunned to find her words. The torrent of magnificent sensations she’d felt in his arms had brought a rush of heat to her face. Now it was followed by a flood of cold that hit her so hard her teeth chattered as though he had doused her with a bucket of iced water. So this was Damian’s way of getting back at her for trying to resist him.

  A groom appeared from the yard to take the horse, and Damian gave him an instruction while O
riel tried to gather her wits. As the man led the horse away, Damian tossed her a brief, dark look and then turned his back on her for a few moments, pushing a hand through his hair as though composing himself. Turning round again, he regarded her pensively now. ‘I hope you aren’t too tired to have dinner with me tonight. I have a suggestion for how you could spend your time tomorrow,’ he said, somewhat contritely.

  ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll skip dinner,’ said Oriel. ‘I had a late lunch and don’t have much of an appetite now.’ She didn’t mention that there were also uncomfortable butterflies in her stomach after experiencing such close contact with him.

  ‘Then join me for a drink on the terrace.’ His mouth quirked. ‘For me it’ll be an aperitif. For you, an early nightcap.’

  One drink couldn’t hurt; it might steady her jittery nerves. She nodded. ‘That sounds like a good idea.’

  ‘We’ll go round the back then. It’s this way.’

  He walked ahead to open a gate in the wall surrounding the stableyard. Oriel watched his lithe body as it moved, tapering down from broad shoulders to a narrow waist and slim hips. She tried not to speculate on Damian’s reasons for refraining from kissing her, but it was difficult to think of anything else when her pulse raced at the mere thought of his mouth on hers.

  Still, she wondered at his restraint. Damian was a man with great experience of women, surely he’d known that she wanted him to kiss her? Was he giving her a taste of her own medicine, enflaming her senses and then pulling back? She wouldn’t put it past him. Or was he teaching her lesson? His punishing words as he let go of her had sounded very much like a threat. Oriel had to admit it: she had been walking on a deserted road in shorts, which was rather reckless. Her eyes, still lingering on his outline, snapped back up to his face as he turned to hold the gate open.

  ‘I met a friend of yours today,’ she announced hurriedly. ‘That’s why I was late getting back.’

  He looked at her sceptically. ‘Oh yes?’

  She waited as he closed the gate behind them. ‘A fisherman called Mattias.’

  For the first time a smile appeared on his face. ‘Ah, Mattias! Yes, he’s a good friend.’

  ‘He invited me to the Epiklisi festival tomorrow.’

  ‘Did he now?’ Damian’s tone was mocking but he looked pleased. ‘You must have made a good impression on him, eh? If you hadn’t stayed out so late, I would have told you all about the festival myself. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I was going to invite you.’ He gestured that they should follow the edge of the house, through the gardens.

  ‘You were?’

  ‘The Epiklisi parade is an important day for Helios, an invocation to Typhoeus to protect the island. I thought you would be interested to witness it. There’s a procession to Mount Helios, with everyone dressed in costume, then feasting and dancing.’

  ‘But I don’t have a costume.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Calypso. I will provide you with one.’ He glanced at her, his eyes skimming her contours briefly. He then added in a low, suggestive voice, ‘I think by now I can guess your size.’

  Heat prickled along her skin and she looked away. She had to try and curb this ridiculous infatuation of hers that turned her into a tongue-tied simpleton whenever she was in close proximity to him.

  ‘So you met Mattias …’ Damian said pensively as they mounted the steps to his terrace. ‘I was going to suggest that Stavros and his family accompany you.’ He caught her quizzical look. ‘I’m involved in the procession, you see. I’ll be tied up for a good part of the day. But that’s lucky, Mattias can take you instead.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll enjoy getting to know him better. He’s an interesting man.’

  ‘That he is,’ replied Damian. ‘What will you have to drink? I have some excellent Metaxa. Would you like some?’

  ‘Thank you, yes. It’s a brandy, isn’t it?’

  He nodded. ‘A blend of brandy and spices.’

  ‘I’ve never actually had it before.’

  ‘Well, then tonight you will, and the best Metaxa Greece has to offer.’ He spoke with a sort of pride, as if he were initiating her to some wonderful ritual, yet there was a pent-up quality to his voice as though he was talking to distract himself. ‘The best Metaxa is difficult to find here because we export almost all of it.’

  Damian went to a small table standing in a corner on the terrace. It was stacked with various well known brands of spirits and fine crystal glasses, and he picked up a beautiful Cristal de Sèvres decanter with a gold-painted stopper. ‘This is one of my favourites. Here,’ he said, as he poured the clear, deep mahogany-coloured liquid into two heavy crystal glasses and passed one of them to Oriel. ‘Breathe in the aroma first, take a small sip and then tell me what you think.’

  Silently they moved to the balustrade with their drinks and looked into the night. The stillness quivered from time to time with the low-pitched call of breeding frogs from the pond and ditches, and the sharp, querulous barking of dogs somewhere in the distant neighbourhood. The garden, the sea beyond and the far-off pinpoints of light seemed to belong to a different world. It was as if they were suspended in a motionless bubble of time, so inert it was.

  Oriel shot a glance at the tall, proud-faced figure standing beside her and lifted the glass of Metaxa to her nose, breathing in the heavy, spiced fragrance that filled her lungs with warmth. She ventured a sip, then another. Dried raisins and figs, citrus peel, honey, pine, vanilla and sweet spices were released, one after the other, on to her palate. You could almost taste the Attica sunshine in every drop, she thought; a magic potion made for Aphrodite, the goddess of love.

  Damian’s grey gaze flickered softly over her. ‘Verdict?’ he asked.

  They were standing close enough for her to catch the enticing, masculine scent of him. ‘It’s intoxicating,’ she murmured as she took another mouthful of the caramel liquid, looking down into its bronze reflections. He smiled a slow smile, watching her face, his eyes sparkling as though lit from within. ‘Sunshine in a bottle, a love philtre, eh? It should have been named Charme d’Amour.’

  God help her, his gaze felt as if it were touching her. But Damian had also read her mind.

  ‘I was just thinking along those lines a moment ago,’ she said huskily, a strange emotion strangling her voice.

  His eyes revealed to her some unknown shade of silver, like a precious metal yet to be discovered. ‘That’s the way soulmates feel,’ he said. ‘They’re constantly in each other’s thoughts and so instinctively read one another’s minds.’ There was a disturbingly caressing note in his deep, rich voice, making her skin tingle. She found she couldn’t answer.

  He leaned away from her on one arm, his intense gaze skimming down her body. ‘Calypso, you know I only had your best interests at heart this evening. You could have got into all sorts of danger walking in the dark. And not just from our island lotharios.’

  Oriel was at once acutely aware of her bare legs. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she conceded, taking another sip of her drink. The Metaxa was heating her insides with a delicious sensation, but not nearly so much as his overtly masculine scrutiny.

  ‘There are all sorts of wild animals that roam at night here.’

  She raised an eyebrow, looking him directly in the eye. ‘You mean on Helios or at Heliades?’

  His laughter was a low growl. ‘Calypso, every man could turn into an animal when faced with the sight of you.’

  She cleared her throat, her pulse quickening like a rabbit caught in a trap, and stared into her glass. ‘Perhaps I’ve had enough of this.’ She put her drink down on the wide surface of the balustrade.

  With quiet consideration, Damian picked up both their glasses and walked over to the table. When he turned back towards Oriel, she had to draw in a breath. Even in the shadows of the evening, he was magnificent. His hair was untamed in a way that managed to be both boyish and provocative. And most affecting was the way he looked at her, with the hungry glint of a predator s
izing up its prey.

  ‘Your legs are very long, did you know that?’ His voice was a low murmur. He sauntered back towards her with deliberate purpose, his eyes snaking up her body to her face and lingering there.

  Oriel inhaled slowly. Things were beginning to spiral out of her control but she had to stand up to him. ‘What is it you want from me, Damian?’

  He came close to her and a spark, intense as diamonds, flared deep in his gaze. ‘You really want to know?’

  ‘Yes, I really want to know,’ she assured him determinedly.

  For a split second he didn’t answer, then his eyes lit up again with a reckless flame. ‘I want more than anything to strip you naked and take you to my bed, and feel your body trembling beneath mine. To caress the silky skin of your beautiful breasts and stomach with my hands, my mouth, my tongue, and then lick you until your honeyed juice explodes in my mouth and you cry out with the same frenzied abandonment you did all those years back …’

  Oriel drew a shaky breath, her face like hot coals as a tide of fire swept over her. She had walked straight into that. His words brought an insistent throb deep down in her belly … but somewhere a deeper yearning remained. There was no mention of love. Was she so foolish to hope for something more? Could he ever care for her, beyond this lust that flashed between them like a lightning storm? Would she ever be enough for him?

  He stood inches away. ‘I can’t get you out of my mind, Calypso. God only knows I’ve tried.’ He muttered an oath. ‘Why shouldn’t we give in to this passion? It’s burning us both to a cinder. You feel it too, I know you do.’

  Her emotions were swinging chaotically between caution and desire and she couldn’t keep her eyes from him. ‘That’s exactly it. I don’t know how you really feel.’

  With that, Damian pushed her gently but firmly back against the balustrade, his two powerful arms pinning her on either side. ‘This is how I feel, Calypso.’ His hips pressed against her stomach, his arousal stiff and strong.