Second-Best Bride

by Margaret Rome

  'Angie, my love!' Cilla trilled at the sight of her. 'You look more like a schoolgirl than ever!'

  'You mean she looks all virginal and undis­covered?' Terzan drawled as he strode without a falter to the side of the bed.

  'Gauche and naive are the adjectives that spring most readily to mind,' Cilla corrected dryly, her eyes darting from Angie to Terzan, who had reached out to enclose her limp white hand in his.

  'Same thing,' he shrugged, then turned his atten­tion upon Angie, bestowing a smile sweeter than any she had ever encountered. 'Crisulla assures me that you have almost completely recovered, can you confirm her belief?'

  'Yes . . .' She quivered beneath the impact of dark lenses trained upon her face, reminded of fierce amber flame lurking behind the blank, steel door of a furnace. 'I'm feeling fine now. I'm sorry to have caused such a fuss, I now realise how stupid I was to ride in the sun for hours without protecting my head. Lira tells me that you blamed Nikos for my omission. Please don't,' she pleaded earnestly, 'the fault was entirely mine—forgive me...?'

  He punished her by pretending to consider for a moment, but when her fingers began to tremble within his grasp he relented, it will be a long time before I am able to look upon that old fool Nikos with favour,' he told her dryly, 'but you, elika, have a generosity of spirit that makes you easy to forgive.'

  The rare compliment startled her. Her grave eyes widened, searching his expression for the hint of sarcasm she had grown to expect.

  Obviously Cilla, too, found his words startling, her look was enquiring, cold as venom, when she sauntered to his side. Angie's quick suspicion that she was not yet aware of their marriage was con­firmed by her sister's brittle observation.

  'Either you possess built-in radar or you're blessed with the instincts of a homing pigeon, Terzan. The ease with which you located my sister's bed struck me as quite incredible—if I didn't know her better, I'd be tempted to assume that you'd trodden the same path many times before.'

  Grateful for the fact that the sperveri had been folded away, Angie blushed scarlet and squirmed her fingers out of his grasp. It seemed that for the time being he had decided to keep their marriage a secret, and for that she was grateful, for in her weakened state she did not feel able to cope with the scandalised probing that would have been bound to ensue.

  Her blush of embarrassment should have given her away completely, but Cilla had no eyes for anyone but Terzan, who had firmly recaptured her hand to raise pink fingertips to his lips. Angie knew her husband too well to be deceived, and recognised immediately the sadistic pleasure hidden in his negligent reply. 'How remiss of me!' He lifted his head to direct Cilla a cool smile, ‘I must have forgotten to men­tion that Angelina is now my wife. Our marriage took place three months ago ...'

  Angie snatched her burning fingers from his grasp, hating herself for being so susceptible to the touch of a man whose favourite pastime was cruelty.

  'Married? You and Angie . . .?' The look of in­credulity Cilla darted at her sister was far from complimentary. Then shock dulled the brilliance of her eyes as she searched for the truth and found it written all over Angie's flushed, embarrassed face.

  ‘I think, agape mou, that we should leave you to rest now.' Before she had time to take evasive action he leant across to plant a long, deliberate kiss upon her surprised mouth. 'Sleep well, elika?’ he murmured fondly, 'then perhaps you will feel well enough to please us with your presence at dinner this evening.'

  With an air of command that even Cilla did not dare to disobey, he indicated that it was time for them to leave the room, then left Angie gasping against her pillows, wondering why she found such an arrogant rogue so very easy to love.

  Immediately the door closed behind them she decided that nothing would induce her to play into his hands by dining downstairs that evening, but after she had spent the rest of the day dozing fit­fully boredom, drove her out of bed and into the bathroom when, after a second refreshing bath, she felt so well that she knew she would have to forsake solitude if only for the sake of sanity.

  Lira came to help her to dress, but she chased her away, then prepared herself leisurely, changing her mind half a dozen times about which dress to wear before finally concluding that her choice was limited to the least disreputable—the white shirt-waister she had worn to her wedding. When she judged that it was about aperitif time, she steeled herself to go downstairs and face whatever might be in store, but just as she neared the door it was flung open and Cilla stormed into the room, beautifully coiffured, exquisitely dressed, and obvi­ously very, very angry.

  'Well?' she glared. 'What's your excuse? No doubt you have a very plausible explanation for your behaviour—a traitor usually has!'

  'Traitor . . .?' Angie echoed stupidly. 'How can you call me traitor when everything I did was for your benefit?'

  'Really.. . .?' Cilla's eyes flashed. 'Then would you mind explaining how I'm supposed to benefit from having my fiancé stolen from me? How dare you trick Terzan into marriage when you know how much I love him—how much he loves me!'

  ‘I didn't trick him,' Angie's cheeks paled to the whiteness of a magnolia blossom, 'marriage was his idea entirely.'

  'Because he was desperate for companionship, no doubt,' Cilla returned bitterly, 'filled with des­pair because he thought I'd let him down!'

  'And hadn't you?' Angie drew herself up to her full height and studied the flaws in her sister that had erupted diamond-bright. 'What about David Montgomery?' she reminded her quietly, ‘I seem to recall your mentioning that you and he were on the verge of announcing your engagement?'

  Cilla's glance dropped, then she shrugged and turned away, ‘I discovered just in time that finan­cially David's family was on the rocks. There seemed no point in exchanging one poverty-stricken home for another—however stately.'

  'So you decided Terzan was the better bet.' Angie expelled a shaken breath, unwilling even yet to believe her sister capable of such selfishness.

  'Exactly!' Without a trace of shame Cilla rounded to deliver a promise. 'And I give you fair warning, dear sister, that I intend to get him back! You may think we're on equal ground simply be­cause Terzan can't compare me with his plain and dowdy wife, but there are many baits that can be used to trap a man besides the bait of visual attrac­tion—and believe me, I’m familiar with each and every one of them!'

  During dinner she began to demonstrate that her promise had been no idle threat. Angie's heart sank as she watched Cilla's hungry eyes devouring Terzan as he sat at the head of the table looking irresistibly attractive in a black velvet dinner jacket that slunk across his broad shoulders with the sup­pleness of an exotic pelt; a matching cummer­bund waisting immaculately creased trousers, and a cream silk shirt with pleated front, the cuffs linked by diamonds that cast brilliant prisms each time they were caught in the beam of an overhead lamp.

  'Let me help you, darling,' Cilla cooed posses­sively when Nikos had served his master with soup.

  Both Angie and Nikos froze with horror as they watched her press a spoon into Terzan's palm, then cringed with dismay when she imposed a further outrage upon her proud Greek host by enquiring of Angie, 'Does he take salt?'

  A lesser person might have rejoiced at her rival's faux pas, but Angie's heart was too full of concern, for Terzan, who was so sensitive about his disability, so fiercely resentful of the sort of patronage Cilla had just demonstrated. Predictably, he reacted with a clipped, chilling reminder that almost shrivelled Angie's spirit even though she was not the recipient.

  'As I am neither deaf, witless nor dumb, would you please extend the courtesy of addressing such questions to me personally? I can assure you that I am perfectly capable of indicating whether or not I take salt! Also, were I not sufficiently proficient with a knife and fork to eat in civilised company, I would ask to have my food served in a bowl, all mixed up like a dog's dinner, and eat it alone in my room.'

  In spite of the fact that Cilla's lack of insight had confirmed Angie's
doubts about her suitability as a helpmate for Terzan, she could not help but feel sorry for her sister, who was left floundering; in a depth of embarrassment. All sympathy fled, however, when instead of apologising Cilla opted for brazen impudence.

  'You must try to make allowances for me, darling, if ever again I seem clumsy or over-anxious, After all,' she allowed her voice to quiver, making a masterly play upon his sympathies, love can't be turned off like a tap, the fact that you're now mar­ried to my sister can't stop me from wanting to help you even though I'm not sure how, even though I'm scared of not doing enough or, conver­sely, of trying to do too much.'

  A hush fell over the table, all eyes became fas­tened upon his tight features as tensely they waited for his reaction. Angie was not surprised when he responded with a smile to the charm her sister had used many times in the past to extricate herself from difficult situations.

  'The blame must be partly mine, I think,' he benignly forgave her. 'I have perhaps been too preoccupied with the need to appear at ease in the company of others to realise that my companions need help even more than I do myself. To most people a blind man is something of a novelty, but blind people mix with the sighted every day. You are good for me, Priscilla,' the amused affection in his tone gave lie to every assumption Angie had made. 'Where others might squirm in silent embar­rassment, I know I can rely upon you to point out the error of my ways.'

  Bravely, Angie suffered Cilla's spear of triumph before dropping her eyes to her plate, knowing herself defeated yet too weak and dispirited to care. Cilla always managed to get what she wanted, and Terzan, it seemed, was to be no ex­ception, which was why she made no attempt to compete for his attention, or to join in the conver­sation that ranged from the delights of Deauville to the welfare of mutual friends and did not flag once throughout the interminable dinner.

  Terzan seemed almost to have forgotten her presence until, as they prepared to retire into a drawing room where Nikos had been instructed to serve coffee, Angie tendered a quiet apology.

  'Will you excuse me if I don't join you? I'm feel­ing rather tired, so if you don't mind, I'll go up to my room.'

  'Go, by all means.' Though Cilla's glance was mocking, she took care to keep her tone pleasant. 'I'll be more than happy to keep your husband amused.'

  'Don't I get a goodnight kiss?' His request was light, yet commanding, as he held out a hand in Angie's direction.

  Wordlessly, she walked towards him and stood on tiptoe to press a cold kiss upon his mocking mouth.

  'Goodnight, Terzan,* she whispered.

  An arm whipped around her waist to hug her tenderly as a precious piece of porcelain. 'Kalispera, elika,' he breathed as he bent to return her salute with a long, meaningful kiss she was unable to interpret, yet which melted the ice from her veins until she felt wrapped in a warm, cosy glow.

  The light in her sister's eyes aroused in Cilla a jealousy that made her waspish.

  'How old friends would stare, Terzan, if you were to introduce as your wife a pious little nun! Knowing your penchant for sophisticated women of the world, how tongues would wag if ever the news got around that the bride of Helios, god of gold, walked to the altar wearing a dress that ought to have been discarded three years ago!'

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The sea shone with a sparkle blue as Cilla's eyes. On the horizon lurked a patch of cloud, morose as the frown that had darkened Terzan's features since the moment last evening when Cilla's feline observation had registered. As Nikos steered the boat across the stretch of water dividing Karios from the large cosmopolitan island of Rhodes Angie studied her husband gravely, wondering why her sister's sneering remarks should have shocked him to the extent that he had felt impelled to shake her awake in the early hours of the morn­ing to demand a complete inventory of her ward­robe.

  Bewildered, and half dazed with sleep, she had watched him fumble his way through every drawer and cupboard, questioning, searching, exploring by touch, until he was familiar with every item of her meagre possessions.

  'Do you realise,' he had hissed when finally she had managed to convince him that he had reached the end of his quest, 'that Lira is probably more materially blessed? How dare you subject me to the derision of gossiping servants—you must have known that whatever you lacked would have been provided merely upon asking?'

  'But I needed nothing . . .!' Her stammered ex­cuses had fallen upon deaf ears. 'There was nothing of importance that I lacked ...!'

  'Was our wedding of such little consequence that it did not merit the purchase of a suitable dress?' he had chastised savagely. 'Did it not strike you that in our calculating society a man's credit­worthiness can be irreparably damaged by a wife who insists upon dressing like a pauper?'

  ‘In the business world, perhaps,' she had whis­pered humbly, 'but here in Karios it hardly seemed to matter.'

  Irate hands had held her prisoner while thickly he had assured her, ‘It matters very much to me. For the time being, whether you like it or not, you are my wife, and a man has a right to expect his wife to be a reflection of his achievements!'

  As Cilla undoubtedly would have been!

  Without a stirring of the senses Angie eyed the streak of a silver fin through wine-dark water, wishing she was back doing the rounds of her father's parish—the only place on earth where she felt wanted, not looked upon as a liability.

  ‘I was intrigued by the glimpse I caught of Rhodes Town when my friends and I did a quick excursion before leaving for Karios,' Cilla told Terzan as the boat drew nearer to the island where centuries before athletes had trained for the Olympics in a stadium overlooking the capital.

  ‘Its inhabitants swear that Rhodes is the gods' own place in the sun.' In spite of his aversion to travel, Terzan sounded in rare good humour.

  'According to Greek mythology, the sun god, Helios, chose it as his bride and blessed it with light, warmth, and lush vegetation.' Angie jerked with fright when his dark profile swivelled in her direction and had the feeling that he had a mes­sage especially for her when he continued slowly, 'A similar myth recounts that Helios fell in love with the nymph, Rhodon, and named the island after her. Rhodon means rose, a flower that has grown here in profusion since earliest times, along with hibiscus, bougainvillea, jasmine, and honey­suckle.'

  She blushed scarlet, and was relieved when Nikos chose that moment to cut the engine and set the boat gliding to a standstill at the foot of a flight of steps leading up to a harbour dominated by towering walls, parapets and fortifications en­closing the narrow streets of an old town filled with lively tavernas and stately palaces, scented by the aroma of Turkish coffee, enlivened by the blare of bouzouki music that disturbed the peace of shady, medieval squares and lent extra mystique to the open booths, the outdoor cafes and bustling alleyways of a teeming Turkish bazaar.

  A taxi was waiting to pick them up, but Angie could not tear herself away from the magnificent stone archway that allowed entry into the ancient city.

  'Couldn't we—' she began a breathless plea.

  'No, we could not!' To Cilla, Angie was as tran­sparent as a pane of glass. 'We came here to shop,' she reminded her harshly, 'to turn an ugly duck­ling into a swan--not to delve into the musty alleyways of the past!'

  Nikos was visibly sympathetic to her desire to explore the fascinating scene and in spite of his master's close proximity and acute sense of hear­ing, was moved to whisper in her ear:

  'Don't fret, little Anghlika—perhaps, once your shopping has been done, there will be time for me to show you some of the sights—the place where the Colossus, the huge statue of Helios, protector of Rhodes, was reputed to straddle the entrance to the harbour, permitting ships to pass between its legs, and holding above its head a torch that shone far out across the sea. Then there are the mosques and minarets of the old town's Turkish quarter, the imposing Grand Masters' Palace, and the tran­quil inner courtyards of the medieval inns.'

  'Oh, yes, Nikos, I should love that!' she whis­pered a deli
ghted reply, if you wait for me here, I promise I'll return as quickly as I can.' Casting a quick glance across her shoulder, she was reas­sured by the sight of Terzan seemingly engrossed in conversation with Cilla. So rashly, she assured him, 'What little shopping I have to do should not take longer than an hour. After that, I'm certain I will not be missed, the kiriös will be perfectly con­tent in the company of my sister.'

  The capital was divided into two towns, the old and the new, and as the taxi drove away from the harbour Cilla began craning her neck, eager to assess the potential of the modern hotels and restaurants, the scores of clothing and jewellery shops, boutiques and arcades abounding in the heart of the shopping centre, 'We might be in Rome or even Paris!' she gloated with excitement. 'Just look at the shoes and the handbags—and, Angie, did you ever see such fabulous furs?'

  Knowing the diversity of Terzan's business in­terests Angie ought not to have been surprised when the taxi drew up, as instructed, outside a three-storied, glass-fronted building with a gold-written sign up above proclaiming it "The House of Helios" and flanked by the now familiar hall­mark of a classical profile surrounded by a spiky halo of gold.

  Cilla almost drooled with anticipation as they walked inside a ground floor boutique holding a treasure trove of high fashion shoes, handbags and leather belts, pure silk scarves, chiffon stoles and costume jewellery unusual enough to excite the in­terest of even the most discriminating customer. An air of bustling activity indicated that the kirios's visit was not unexpected, a theory that was borne out when a tall, incredibly soignée Greek woman of indeterminate age glided across an ex­panse of thick pile carpet to greet him.

  'Dear Terzan!' She stood on tiptoe to place a kiss on each lean cheek. 'How wonderful to see you back in circulation once again—and with a brand new wife, I believe ...?'