by Penny Jordan
‘Only one thing will make me feel better,’ Chloe said bitterly, ‘and that’s being free of you, and this island.’
‘And so you will be,’ Leon said evenly, ‘just as soon as you give me my son.’
‘Never!’
The gauntlet was thrown beyond recall, and Chloe stood as stiff as a ramrod, her hair a silver curtain round her slender shoulders, her eyes wide with nervous apprehension.
Another man might have been moved to pity by her obvious dread, but Leon merely smiled cynically, one hand reaching up towards her throat, his fingers sliding through the silken net of her hair, the dark eyes mesmerising her into stillness as his fingers threaded through her hair to the base of her skull, where their firm pressure forced her head up and back, his dark head blotting out the moonlight as his mouth took hers in a kiss that possessed ruthlessly, barely concealing an anger which seemed to reach out to a deeply hidden core within Chloe, releasing her own bitterness in a storm of emotion which left her fighting the possession of his mouth as furiously as he reinforced it.
At last, as though growing tired of her rebellion, Leon punished her defiance with lips that seared and branded, the steel grip of his fingers completely preventing her from moving, as he eased her tightly clamped lips apart and enforced upon her a kiss which admitted no hindrance.
The hand which was not constraining her head swept downward, pushing aside the flimsy fabric of her dress, cupping her breast and ruthlessly punishing the tender flesh, until the last of Chloe’s slender self-control snapped and his touch sent her shuddering into his arms, lost to everything but the dark tide of emotion surging up inside her.
‘You want me, Chloe, don’t try to deny it,’ she heard Leon mutter thickly from a distance. ‘Stop making it harder for yourself. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in feeling desire, and you do feel desire,’ he groaned against her skin. ‘We both do….’
That restored Chloe to sanity. She took advantage of his relaxed grip to push him away, running shaking fingers through her tangled hair.
‘I’m not a romantic teenager any more, Leon,’ she reminded him brittlely. ‘Those sort of facile arguments might have worked once, but not now. Desire might be enough for you, but it isn’t for me!’
She would have left him, but he reached for her suddenly, frowning as he stared out into the garden.
‘The others are back,’ he said briefly. ‘Marisa doesn’t seem to be getting on very well with Nikos.’
‘Are you surprised?’ Chloe demanded. ‘Madame Kriticos is, quite naturally, concerned about the match.’
‘And you, of course, did nothing to persuade her otherwise?’ Leon commented, his lips twisting a little. ‘How your sex delights in inflicting wounds upon itself! I know you and Marisa have had your differences in the past, but….’
‘It’s got nothing to do with how I feel about Marisa,’ Chloe burst out impetuously. ‘Leon, how can you contemplate such a marriage when all the time… all the time….’ Strange how even now she found it difficult to put his relationship with his half-sister into words. ‘You know what I mean,’ she finished lamely. ‘I feel so sorry for poor Nikos.’
‘So, there you are!’ Madame Kriticos’ voice rang out gaily. ‘You should have come with us, Chloe,’ she continued. ‘Leon had no taste for the moonlight without you.’
Chloe forced herself to join in the general laughter, absurdly conscious of Leon’s hand on the back of her neck, of the strong, dark hairs curling with arrogant maleness against the crisp white cuff of his shirt. A lump rose in her throat, her eyes aching with unshed tears.
‘If you’ll all excuse me, I think I’ll go to bed,’ she murmured, wriggling free of Leon’s grip. In the passage she bumped into Marisa, who favoured her with a bitter, burning glare.
It was a relief to reach her bedroom—no, not ‘her’ bedroom any more, Chloe thought half hysterically, for from tonight she would be sharing her room—and her bed—with Leon.
She couldn’t bring herself to prepare for bed, or to do anything that would give Leon the opportunity to claim that she might welcome his advances, and even though her body craved sleep, her mind kept her awake.
It was two o’clock before she heard his footsteps outside the door; he walked into the room without seeing her, tugging impatiently at his dinner jacket, which he flung carelessly on to the bed, pausing only when he realised that she was not in it, but sitting in a chair.
‘For God’s sake, Chloe!’ he protested wearily when he did see her. ‘No more arguments—not tonight. Alexandros has just informed me that his wife does not think that Marisa will make Nikos a good wife. It was an extremely embarrassing interview—for both of us.’
In spite of herself, Chloe felt a small tug of sympathy. To hide it she said coolly,
‘It’s probably just as well. Even if the Kriticoses had been willing you would never have managed to persuade Marisa to go through with it.’
‘Marisa is a child, and still under my guardianship,’ Leon replied briefly, frowning. ‘She will do as she is told.’
‘Even if it means marrying someone she doesn’t love?’ Chloe retorted mildly.
‘Something which you know all about, of course,’ Leon mocked cynically, pushing his broad shoulders off the wall where he had been leaning. ‘Haven’t you learned yet, my lovely wife, that we can never pass on to others the benefit of our own bitter experience?’
‘You’re drunk,’ she accused, suddenly catching the smell of spirits on his breath.
‘I’ve been drinking,’ he corrected, wrenching open the thin silk shirt he had been wearing beneath his dinner jacket. ‘But I am not drunk—there is a difference. Oh, for God’s sake don’t look at me like that—as though you were suddenly looking upon the face of the devil!’ Leon swore angrily. ‘I’m a man like any other, Chloe, with the same needs and desires. I like the feel of the sun’s heat on my body, the silken caress of the sea; I like to eat, drink, and make love. I want to hold my child….’
How close he had come to slipping under her guard, Chloe thought breathlessly. All at once the room seemed to be stifling her, the walls closing in on her.
‘I’m… I’m going out for a walk,’ she said shakily. ‘I want a breath of fresh air. I….’
She was completely unprepared for the savagery with which Leon took hold of her, fury smouldering deep within the grey eyes, the hard bones of his face tensed beneath the brown silk of his skin.
‘What are you trying to tell me?’ he demanded thickly. ‘That you can no longer bear even to breathe the same air, because it is so contaminated? Enough! You are my wife, Chloe, and you will bear my child. I would be within my rights to enforce my possession of you—well within them, according to Greek law!’
‘Then what’s stopping you?’ Chloe flung back, forgetting all her good intentions of not arousing him to anger. ‘Why stop at physically possessing me against my will when you’ve practically kidnapped me and forced me to live here with you, or does your pride stick at the thought of having to force a woman to accept your embraces? Is that it, Leon? Do you want the sop to your vanity of believing that I might come to you willingly?’
‘You did before—more than willingly,’ Leon reminded her huskily. ‘It could be like that between us again, Chloe.’
His fingers reached out and touched her arm, the tiny hairs lifting beneath the brief caress.
‘Don’t touch me!’ The angry words were as much a product of her own melting reaction as Leon’s cool familiarity, but he was not to know it, and watching his eyes darken to the colour of slate, Chloe wished the words unsaid, fear shivering along her spine as Leon bit out grittily,
‘You little hypocrite! You wanted me once before, I can make you want me again.’
‘Physically perhaps,’ Chloe agreed coolly, inwardly marvelling at her own apparent calmness. ‘But there’s more to a relationship between two people than physical arousal. Leon, what are you doing?’ she asked curiously, as he re-buttoned his shirt.
> ‘Now it’s my turn to feel the need for fresh air,’ he mocked. ‘I’ve had a surfeit of maudlin sentiment, I find it… cloying. Don’t bother to wait up for me.’
Where had he gone? Chloe wondered as the door closed behind him. To Marisa?
Wherever it was, he only returned in the early hours of the morning to leave again before the sun streaming in through the windows awoke Chloe to an empty bed, only the dented pillow at her side proof that she had not slept alone. A weakening sensation she was glad Leon was not there to witness stole through her as she remembered other mornings when she had awoken to find him beside her. A sigh trembled past her lips, followed by an intense sensation of loss. Pushing the feeling aside, Chloe showered and dressed.
Breakfast was being served on the patio, Gina told her, and Chloe was just drinking her second cup of coffee when the Kriticos family arrived.
‘I don’t know whether it is the sea air, or the lack of traffic, but I slept far longer than I normally do,’ Madame Kriticos laughed. ‘How lucky you are to live on this beautiful island, my dear.’
‘How lucky she is to have a husband wealthy enough to be able to afford such luxuries,’ Alexandros joked.
It had apparently been agreed that they would remain on Eos for another day—a sop to convention and good manners, Chloe suspected. There had been no sign of Marisa at the breakfast table and Nikos had brightened considerably when he realised that she was not there. Somehow, between now and when the Kriticoses left, she had to get her passport and get on board their yacht without Leon becoming aware of what she was doing.
After breakfast, Nikos asked rather shyly if she knew where the island’s best beaches were situated. It transpired that he preferred to bathe in the sea rather than use the pool, and as Madame Kriticos was not feeling very energetic, and her husband had business to discuss with Leon, Chloe offered to go with Nikos to the beach.
The housekeeper, Katina, gave them instructions how they might find a small, secluded sandy cove on the more sheltered side of the island, and they set off shortly after breakfast in Leon’s rugged jeep, a hamper of food in the back.
‘You will not forget that we are leaving later this afternoon, will you, Nikos?’ Madame Kriticos reminded her son as they left. Chloe hadn’t seen anything of Leon since getting up, nor of Marisa, and she wondered if Leon had told the other girl that she wasn’t to be forced into marriage after all.
The cove was at the far end of the island, sheltered by rugged cliffs, and in order to reach it they had to park the jeep at the top and walk down a narrow flight of steps cut into the rock. Nikos went first, pausing frequently to make sure that Chloe was all right. As he had the hamper in one hand and their towels in another, Chloe found his concern rather touching.
‘I am not quite so old and decrepit that I can’t manage a few steps,’ she teased him at one point. Nikos had already reached the cove and was turning to assist her down the last few steps, his brown eyes warm with unhidden admiration as they studied her curves, covered only by brief shorts and a halter-necked top.
‘Not old at all,’ he breathed fervently. ‘You are very beautiful, Madame… very beautiful,’ he added softly, gazing at her hair. ‘Leon is a very lucky man.’
‘Stop flattering me,’ Chloe commanded. ‘We came here to swim, remember!’
She was already wearing her bikini beneath her shorts and top and felt no inhibitions about removing them in Nikos’ company. The sea felt like silk against her heated skin, and she revelled in its gentle buoyancy, calling to Nikos as he raced down the beach to join her, a lithe figure in close-fitting white briefs. ‘You were right—this is much, much better than the pool.’
She floated on her back while Nikos performed an energetic crawl out to a rock in the middle of the small bay, closing her eyes and letting the waves lap her into a semi-somnolent state.
A sudden spray of sea water on her face roused her. Nikos was treading water at her side, grinning mischievously.
‘It’s lunchtime,’ Chloe informed him. ‘Race you to the beach!’
Even with the head start he gave her she had trouble keeping up with him. He was a powerful swimmer—just as Leon was. Leon! It was as though a cloud passed over the sun, the very thought of her husband’s name reminding her of her plight.
Over lunch she questioned Nikos discreetly about the yacht, hoping to discover the best place to conceal herself until they were safely out to sea.
There were half a dozen main cabins, he told her; four aft and two forward. The forward cabins were the most luxurious, he explained, but at present they were being refurbished, so they weren’t in use.
While they talked Chloe’s thoughts were busy. If she could just get her passport, and find a way to smuggle herself on board the yacht—she had abandoned the idea of pleading the excuse of a shopping trip, because she felt sure that Leon would find some means of preventing her from leaving—she was sure she could conceal herself in the unused cabin, she hoped, until they reached Athens, but she was still reluctant to involve anyone else in her affairs or to confide in anyone, however sympathetic, the truth concerning Leon’s reasons for taking her to Eos.
After lunch Chloe sunbathed for a while, while Nikos explored the beach. Later they swam together, drying off in the sun before preparing to return to the villa. Nikos was a pleasant companion, Chloe reflected, when the latter suggested that she might want the beach to herself for changing her clothes.
‘My bikini is dry now,’ she assured him, standing up to brush sand off it. ‘I’ll just put my shorts and top on over it. After all, we haven’t got far to go.’ As she spoke, she stepped backwards on to the sharp, exposed edge of a shell, pain momentarily robbing her of balance. She put her hand out towards Nikos instinctively, grateful for the warm grip of his fingers as he grasped her arm, neither of them aware, as he knelt at her feet to examine the wound, of the tall, tautly male figure watching them from above.
‘Thank goodness it hasn’t punctured the skin!’ Chloe exclaimed, tentatively replacing her foot on the sand and disengaging herself. ‘I ought to have been more careful.’
Assuring Nikos that she was perfectly all right, she followed him up the steps to the jeep.
There was no one on the patio when they reached the villa. Everyone else had gathered in the salon for drinks, Maria explained to Chloe as she stepped into the hall.
Chloe was under the shower when she heard the door open. She reached instinctively for the towel, freezing as she saw Leon approaching her, his face a mask of controlled rage.
‘What are you trying to do?’ he grated furiously. ‘Wash away the caress of your lover? I saw you,’ he added before Chloe could protest. ‘So don’t waste your time lying to me. No wonder you didn’t want Marisa to marry him!’
‘Leon, you….’ She gasped as her towel slipped, and bent to retrieve it, colour stinging her cheeks as Leon’s glance slid slowly along the length of her body, taking in the firm, high thrust of her breasts and the softly rounded swell of her stomach before he said curtly,
‘Think yourself fortunate that my duties to my guests prevent me from punishing you as a Greek does punish his wife for behaviour such as yours. And remember, tonight our guests leave and you and I will be alone.’
He said it with such a wealth of grim satisfaction that it was several seconds after he had left the room before Chloe could bring herself to start dressing.
She was just applying a touch of frosted eyeshadow when Marisa walked in without bothering to knock.
‘I wanted Leon,’ she announced with cool insolence, staring round the room. ‘Where is he?’
‘Not here,’ Chloe replied equally coolly, refusing to be rattled by the other girl’s objectionable behaviour.
‘How can you stay?’ Marisa hissed suddenly, ‘knowing that he doesn’t really want you. That all he wants is the child he can give you.’
‘How can I not?’ Chloe retorted, putting down the eyeshadow, and turning to face her. ‘There’s the small
matter of my passport, for one thing, and for another….’
She wasn’t allowed to get any farther.
‘You mean if you had your passport you’d leave?’ Marisa demanded eagerly. ‘But how?’
‘I’d find a way.’ Chloe felt too suspicious of Marisa to trust her with the truth, despite the fact that she knew the other girl longed for her to leave. She didn’t trust her perverted thinking not to lead her into going straight to Leon and telling him what Chloe had in mind.
‘You’d really go?’
‘Like a shot,’ Chloe replied dryly, frowning when Marisa walked to the door purposefully. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m going to get your passport. It will be locked in Leon’s desk and I know where he keeps the spare key. If I give it to you will you promise to leave and never come back?’ she demanded fiercely.
Chloe nodded her head. Poor Marisa, in so many ways she was such a child still, a child whose adolescence had been tragically marred by her relationship with Leon, so mature and yet at times so very childish.
‘I’ll give you the passport after dinner,’ Marisa promised. ‘I’ll meet you by the pool.’
During dinner she was so different from the sulky creature of the previous evening that Chloe was not surprised to see Leon watching her. What was he thinking, she wondered, this man ruthless enough to force the girl who loved him, and whom he loved, into an unwanted marriage, simply so that he could have a child with the wife he had married purely to conceal his incestuous affair?
‘You must visit us in Athens,’ Madame Kriticos was saying to Chloe. ‘We shall go shopping together. You must arrange it, Leon. Bring her with you the next time you come to Athens on business.’
‘I shall not be visiting Athens again for another three months,’ Leon responded, ‘by which time my wife might not be feeling like air or sea travel….’
Marisa frowned. ‘But we always go to Athens in the autumn.’
‘Then this year must be the exception,’ Leon said quietly. ‘Although of course if you wish to go, Marisa, I can make arrangements for you to stay with friends.’
