Aphrodite's Tears

by Hannah Fielding

  ‘Né, né, I’ll take you down.’

  Automatically, she placed a hand on his arm. ‘I know the way, Damian. Stay here. I’ll be fine in the morning. It’s been a heavy day and I need to be alone.’

  His expression became unreadable. ‘I quite understand, agápi mou. If you need anything, just call out. I’ll be either on deck or in the next room.’

  Oriel went down to her cabin. She turned on the cold water of the shower in the bathroom and forced herself to step under it. It briefly took her breath away and she shuddered violently but it was the only method she knew to rid herself of the tension that held her so tightly: the grip of a need so savage that it was almost a physical pain. She stood there for a long while, totally still, feeling the pressure seep out of her under the cool drizzle, and willing it to wash away the yearning she felt for him.

  When Oriel came out she towelled herself vigorously, bringing back some life and warmth into her numbed body. She studied herself in the mirror with bitter contempt: she was pale and there were dark rings under her eyes. Your head is in a mess, she told herself. Isn’t it time you unscrambled whatever brains you have left? Don’t look vulnerable. More than that, don’t be vulnerable.

  The night was warm, the cabin was hot and although equipped with air-conditioning, she preferred to open the porthole. She slid between cool sheets that felt silky against her naked skin. Her nightdress was at the bottom of her case and she was too tired to go looking for it. Still, when she lay down and closed her eyes an agitated feeling ran like a low hum through her body. Restless, she lay there, willing herself to relax but she knew that whatever he was doing, Damian was close by.

  The tap at the door was so soft that she chose to ignore it, thinking it must be the boat creaking. Yet her female intuition – something that seemed to operate on overdrive whenever Damian was near – made her open her eyes wide and she realized that he had come into the cabin and was standing next to her bed. He had a mug in his hands.

  Oriel sat up with a jolt, pulling the sheet almost up to her chin. She was quite awake now. ‘Don’t you ever knock?’

  ‘I knocked but you didn’t hear.’

  ‘What … what are you doing here anyway?’ she demanded with an uncontrollable tremor in her voice.

  ‘Bringing you some hot milk, I thought it would help you sleep.’ Damian set the cup on the small shelf beside her bed. He stood there looking down at her. The moon, through the porthole, shone on his scarred, broad chest, leaving his face in the dark. Why couldn’t she find him repulsive? It would solve all her problems. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and Oriel guessed that was all that was covering him. A tiny kick of panic in her stomach heightened the excitement that had begun to invade her body. She was trembling, a pulse beating in her throat, afraid of being alone with him in this room while both of them were almost naked. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the sheet up even further.

  ‘Thank you, that’s very kind. But you’d better go now,’ she told him in a hollow voice.

  ‘You want me to go?’ He’d heard but it seemed he couldn’t believe his ears, and she didn’t blame him. It seemed only minutes since they had been up on deck, clinched in a steamy embrace.

  ‘Yes, I’m very tired.’ She gripped the sheet tightly.

  He flicked the switch on the night lamp next to her bed. ‘Why do you cover yourself, agápi mou? Do you have anything to hide that I don’t already know about?’ His hungry scrutiny roamed up and down her body, starting a throbbing ache between her thighs. His eyes were hot with challenge. ‘Tell me you don’t want me.’

  ‘You know that’s not the point …’

  ‘You want this, I want this … that’s all that matters.’ Damian reached out a hand to touch her face.

  ‘No … please don’t,’ she cried out, jerking her head away, summoning the strength to pit her will against his.

  ‘Mitéra tou Theoú! Mother of God!’ His gaze was wild, lit by the fire of raw possession; the heat between their bodies was smouldering so intensely it could have turned metal to liquid. ‘There’s only so much a man can take,’ he growled, pulling the sheet back and exposing her naked body. Oriel’s arms flew automatically to her bare breasts. ‘What are you hiding from me, eh? Have you forgotten that I have touched, caressed, licked, loved, every intimate inch of your body? You drive me wild and then you say, “Don’t touch!” Do you want me to lose my mind?’ He pulled away his towel, exhibiting the effect she had on him.

  ‘Please, Damian, don’t … don’t do this.’ Oriel’s breath was coming in ragged gasps; her body rigid at the display of his potent arousal. She could see he was fighting for control, as was she herself. Lifting her head, she was trapped in the endless liquid silver of Damian’s eyes. Her heart was beating so violently against her ribcage that she could hardly breathe, and a pulse was drumming wildly at the core of her, flooding her with a warmth that seemed to find its way through her limbs, all the way to her head. The emotion was such that her eyes welled up with tears. Oh, how she wanted to feel him inside her!

  Obviously mistaking them for tears of misery, Damian paled and his body relaxed. ‘Ochi, agápi mou, no tears, please.’ His frustrated anger was over as quickly as it had flared and his expression suddenly tender. Immediately wrapping the towel back around him, he sat on the edge of the bed.

  Oriel couldn’t bear to see him like this. Earlier she had left him unsatisfied and now she was doing it again. It was as much her fault as his, she thought bleakly as she watched the struggle in his eyes. All she wanted was to comfort him.

  ‘What’s wrong, matia mou?’

  ‘What we’re doing isn’t right.’

  ‘What do you mean it isn’t right? So what was the other night, a momentary lapse of moral principles?’

  Oriel’s cheeks flamed. ‘I’m trying very hard to forget that.’

  ‘Why? And what about half an hour ago? We both know what would have happened if that boat hadn’t interrupted us.’

  She tried to stay calm in the face of his frustration. ‘Physically … sexually, you excite me, I’m not denying it. But I don’t want to become more involved with you, so I feel that what we are doing is wrong.’

  ‘Making love to you is wrong?’

  Oriel shook her head. ‘This isn’t love, Damian. It’s rampaging lust, and you know it. It’s a betrayal of all my most private dreams. Yes, you ignite a desire within me with a skill bordering on demonic, but giving in to that is a desecration of everything I hold most dear.’

  Damian looked at her, his eyes turning to slate. She could see the muscle angrily tensing in his jaw as he leaned his elbows on his knees and looked back at her. ‘Since when has our lovemaking become a betrayal of your private dreams? And what is all this about my demonic skill in arousing you?’

  Oriel paused. Her eyes fell to his muscular forearm, thinking about how many women had felt the way she had about those particular skills … how many he’d taken to the Room of Secrets and made love to between those sheets, under that outrageous mirror.

  She pushed the hair away from her face and tucked it carefully behind her ear. ‘That room we … how many times have you …?’ She looked up and read the confusion in his expression. Oriel adjusted the sheet around her impatiently. ‘How many other women …?’ The words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t finish her sentence because of the fear that his answer might make the stab of jealousy she felt in her chest even more agonizing.

  Damian shook his head ruefully. ‘No, matia mou, you have it all wrong.’

  ‘Do I?’ Oriel responded, her voice edged with terseness. ‘How is that?’

  He met her intense gaze, his own bright with frustration. ‘The Room of Secrets was built by Gjergj Lekkas. It was a kind of homage to an ancient Greek room dedicated to erotic love. I’d never used it before.’

  Oriel blinked. ‘Never?’

  His silver eyes bored into hers. ‘I had an idea that this room was made for us, a room where passion could be unlocked. Your
passion. So no other woman has been there with me before.’

  ‘But you planned to take me there.’

  ‘Yes. Or at least I wanted to … as long as you were willing.’

  ‘And everyone in the house knew of your intention.’

  Damian swore under his breath. ‘All right, yes. I realize it wasn’t the most tactful thing to do. I’m sorry, agápi mou. That doesn’t change the way I feel about you and I don’t regret what we did. Do you?’

  It made a difference that she had been the first, Oriel had to admit it, and with that realization something tightly coiled inside her softened and loosened, giving way to hope. Still, she held his gaze and said quietly: ‘I’ve told you before what I think about this sort of intimacy. It’s special, sacred, to be enjoyed by people who love and trust each other.’

  Damian’s eyes flashed and she could see the effort he was making to keep his cool. It was a hurtful thing to say but it had to be said if she wanted to protect her sanity and not degrade herself any more than she already had.

  ‘So how do you explain that our bodies are so attuned to each other, in such perfect harmony, eh?’

  Oriel looked down at the sheet covering her. ‘Chemistry and lust, I suppose. We both have strong libidos and find each other attractive.’

  ‘If you really think that then you’re lying to yourself. You’re not the sort of person who indulges in casual sex, anyone can see that. The proof? You stayed without a man since that first night we spent together, a lifetime ago.’

  Her eyes became green pools of emotion. ‘Yes, that’s true,’ she said softly. Admitting it to him was almost painful.

  Damian straightened up and ran a hand through his hair. ‘God knows, yes, you have a strong libido like me, agápi mou. Despite your innocence, you’re not shocked by what we do and you show no inhibition, no restraint. And you do and say things to me that I wouldn’t dare ask for. You think there’s no trust between us? You’ve let me please you with a wantonness that is totally out of character, openly revelling in my touch. Sure, I’m experienced, I’ve had many women but, as God is my witness, I have never done or wanted to do with them what you and I have done together.’ His gaze became penetrating. ‘This total abandonment in our intimacy has only one name: lovemaking. I love you, Oriel, and, whether you accept it or not, you love me too.’

  She looked at him, astonished. I love you, Oriel? Had she heard him right? She could barely recall his ever having uttered her name before and, in his mouth, it took on another dimension. It sounded liquid, like music or poetry. Dear God, what was she to do?

  Damian was scrutinizing her with a quiet intensity that unnerved her. Oriel drew a ragged breath, her mind fighting what her heart wanted to accept. He was ruthless when it came to relationships with women, it was something she must never forget. How could she truly know that he meant it?

  She smiled. ‘You should have been a lawyer … you argue well.’

  ‘I’m battling for my life … you are my life, agápi. But I can see that you don’t trust me.’

  ‘How can you talk about love, about trust? We know nothing of each other.’

  ‘Pístis, elpís, agápē. There are only three things that count in life, we say in Greece: faith, hope and love. You have given me all three. Faith, because I trust you. Hope, because you have restored my belief in humanity, giving me a new reason to start my life again. And love, because in the way you touch me there is all the proof I need of your love, and that is all I want.’

  Oriel turned away. ‘Oh, Damian … why are you doing this to me?’

  ‘Look at me, meet my eyes,’ he said very softly, leaning forward, his hand on the side of the bed. ‘Give me a chance, Ochi, give us a chance. I will prove to you that I love you, and that you love me too.’

  Oriel turned back and did as he asked. She met Damian’s mesmerizing gaze, boring into her, and looked at him blankly. ‘And how will you do that?’ She gave a hollow laugh. ‘In fairy tales, the prince was given a difficult task to fulfil in order to win the princess’s heart.’

  ‘We have a saying in Greek: Tò dìs examarteîn ouk andròs sophoû, to commit the same sin twice is not a sign of a wise man. I won’t commit the same mistake of letting you go without giving myself enough time to win you first. I’ve made mistakes with you that I have no intention of repeating.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  He paused. ‘The most difficult thing for me is to be near you and not be able to make love to you. From now on I will love you in silence. You’ll be locked up inside me, here.’ Damian put a hand to his heart. ‘But I will keep my feelings to myself.’ His eyes were intense, his voice husky. ‘As God is my witness, I will not in any way try to seduce you or put pressure on you to make you change your mind … until you come to me, Oriel … and you will come to me.’

  Her eyes widened at his unshakeable confidence. ‘Just like that? How can you be so sure, when I myself have no idea of how I feel about all this?’

  ‘A green fruit ripens slowly, as we say here. I am a patient man, Oriel. Peprōménon phygeîn adýnaton, it is impossible to escape from what is destined, and I firmly believe that it is our destiny to be with each other.’

  Oriel saw that Damian’s eyes, level with hers, were as passionate and determined as his voice had been. A great shivering suddenly seized her. Was she really that valuable to him?

  He took the mug of milk and gave it to her. ‘Here, drink this, it’ll help you sleep. Kalinýchta agapité mou.’ Then he turned off the bedside lamp and walked to the door.

  ‘Kalinýchta,’ Oriel whispered.

  Damian stopped and looked back at her once again. ‘Remember, when you’re ready to come to me, I’ll be waiting … however long that takes.’

  He closed the door softly behind him, leaving Oriel alone and trembling, her hands gripping the mug of milk he had so thoughtfully brought her. Propped against her pillows, she sipped her nightcap thoughtfully. Her eyes were wide open now.

  What was happening to her was worthy of a romantic novel – six years apart, and then a few days together, and now they were arguing naked on a boat in the middle of the Aegean. Oriel was more confused than ever. Damian loved her? She had unrealistic dreams – so she’d been told – and she hadn’t yet met the man who matched her ideal.

  Was Damian the man of her dreams? What did she know of him apart from the fact that he was brave, a hard worker and proud to a fault? Strong and determined, of course – he’d had to be to overcome the tragedies in his life and still be standing – though it had left him with a vulnerability that he hid behind a mask. Still, that was not enough! Everything she knew of his life had been told to her by other people, he had never opened up to her. For all she knew, Mattias’s interpretations of the incidents in his life could be just the fisherman indulging in romantic drama. Yet that small tendril of hope was slowly unfurling inside her, reaching for the light.

  She finished her milk and settled down to sleep. In her dreams Damian came to her and loved her with all the passion and tenderness of which she knew he was capable, letting the tension seep slowly from her aching body, leaving her calm until dawn.

  * * *

  Oriel woke as the sun was coming up over the horizon, bathing the cabin in its aureate light. They were under sail.

  ‘Damian,’ she whispered, remembering her dream. She could hear him moving about on deck. Their conversation of the night before came back to her with a flood of warmth and nervous excitement.

  She sat up and pushed the hair back from her face, now fully awake. Damian had said he loved her – she hadn’t dreamt it. Was all that talk just a ploy to erase her misgivings so he could give full rein to his desires during the days they were alone together? No! Oriel couldn’t believe that of him … he wasn’t so underhand. Any man who put his life in danger to save that of another, as he had done with Mattias, couldn’t have such base instincts. She sighed. Tired of analyzing it now, she would leave a little to chance, she decided … luck, de
stiny, fate – each person had a different name for it.

  Oriel showered rapidly and put on her white shorts and a pink T-shirt. The mirror told her she still looked pale under her tan but her eyes were bright and she didn’t look too tired. When she went up on deck, Damian was at the wheel and the sails were billowing in the breeze. He was wearing denim shorts and a white polo shirt. Dark glasses covered his eyes, shielding them from Oriel; they also hid most of his facial scar and he appeared to her almost like the beautiful god she had met long ago. From the shore, she reflected, the boat must look like a painting in the pink morning on the calm blue sea, and he seemed more than ever at one with his idyllic surroundings.

  ‘Ah, Calypso! Kaliméra. You’re up early. After the eventful day we had yesterday, I would have thought you’d be asleep until noon.’

  Oriel smiled at him, marvelling at how bright and full of energy he looked. ‘I’m an early riser.’

  ‘I’ve just brought up a pot of coffee and your orange juice is ready. Which reminds me, how’s your foot today?’

  ‘Fine, thanks. It’s as if nothing had happened. Can I do anything?’

  ‘There’s some fruit in the fridge and pots of homemade real Greek yoghurt, if you’d like to bring them up.’

  ‘I’d love some homemade real Greek yoghurt,’ Oriel responded cheerfully. ‘Can I bring you anything?’

  ‘Ochi efharisto, I had some breakfast earlier, but I’ll have another cup of coffee with you.’

  Oriel went down to the fridge. The place was spotless. Everything had been washed, dried and tidied away. To think Damian would be so house trained! She found it surprising in a Mediterranean man who, all his life, had been surrounded by an army of staff. Oriel helped herself to some yoghurt and went back upstairs.

  She spent the rest of the morning reading and lying in the sun, getting up only once to make Damian some coffee. He barely took a break from sailing, as the water was slightly choppier that day, so at lunchtime she brought him a plate of food. Considering what had happened the night before, he seemed remarkably cheerful, even when the weather took a wilder turn.