by Penny Jordan
Had he no pity or compassion? Chloe wondered, looking at Marisa’s pale face. Surely he could see what effect his words had upon her?
Madame Kriticos had obviously witnessed Marisa’s distress, because when she and Chloe were alone, she confided warningly, ‘My dear, it is none of my business, but Marisa is far too emotionally involved with Leon. If you want my advice, a few months in Athens under the eye of some stern matron is exactly what she needs.’
The Kriticos family were leaving at ten o’clock, and they had dined early to make sure that they were not delayed. Chloe was to meet Marisa by the pool at nine, and when she slipped outside into the velvet darkness of the night, at first she thought that Marisa was not going to come. She had been waiting ten minutes and was on the point of giving up when the Greek girl suddenly materialised at her side, grasping a familiar slender dark blue rectangle.
‘Here you are,’ she announced, pushing it towards Chloe. ‘I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain—now it’s up to you to fulfil yours. If you don’t I’ll make you sorry you were ever born! It’s me Leon loves. Me, do you understand?’
She was gone before Chloe could reply, vanishing into the darkness like a wraith.
Slowly Chloe looked down. Yes, it was her passport. She drew a trembling sigh. All she had to do now was to get down to the yacht and conceal herself there without anyone being aware of her absence. A Herculean task, but no more so than the one already accomplished!
CHAPTER SIX
IN the end it was amazingly easy.
They were not to go down to the yacht with them, Madame Kriticos insisted. There was a cool breeze, and anyway, she hated goodbyes, and so, while Leon drove them down to the boat with their luggage, Chloe slipped out into the night, using the short cut which avoided the island’s one road, and reached the harbour well before there was any sign of the car.
There was no one guarding the gangplank—why should there be? And although there were signs of activity on board, no one seemed to notice Chloe as she slipped from the shadows and up on deck.
It wasn’t easy, feeling her way around in the dark. The companionway was steep and the corridor at the bottom of it inky black. Chloe was just starting to feel her way gingerly along the wall when sounds from above panicked her into opening the first door she came to and darting inside.
The cabin was in complete darkness, even the portholes apparently covered, and it was impossible for her to see anything of her surroundings. Beneath her feet she could feel the steady thrum of the powerful engines. Seconds, or was it a lifetime, seemed to drag past, fear grasping her by the throat as she waited, listening for the sounds of footsteps approaching. No one came. Perhaps the Kriticoses wouldn’t come down until after they had sailed.
Now, with time to think clearly, Chloe acknowledged the extent of her previous danger—as much from herself as Leon. With frighteningly little effort she could recall every smallest detail about him—the involuntary flexing of his muscles as he walked, the look in his eyes when he was aroused, the feelings his presence brought to life within her. Feelings which had brought her close to the brink of giving in to him on more than one occasion!
The engine note changed; the yacht surged forward, out into the purple Aegean night, the silence so intense that Chloe could hear the swift slap of water along the bows. In her mind’s eye she pictured the white vessel cleaving the dark water, graceful as a bird, and a shuddering sigh broke from her lips.
Groping her way round the cabin, she came to a bed and sank weakly down on to the edge of it. She had done it! She had escaped from Eos, from Leon. So why should she feel this nagging sense of anticlimax, of disappointment almost?
The cabin door swung inwards suddenly, the light dazzling eyes now accustomed to almost Stygian darkness, and Chloe gathered her defences, clearing her throat as she prepared her speech of apology and explanation. A quarrel was how she had decided to explain her flight from Leon, and she was so busy rehearing the words that she was almost upon the tall figure standing in the illuminated doorway before she realised who it was, his name whispering past lips suddenly stiff with shock.
‘Leon!’
‘Surprised?’
He stepped forward into the cabin, closing the door behind him and reaching for a light switch. A subdued mushroom glow illuminted a cabin far more luxuriously appointed than any bedroom Chloe had ever seen in her life, and despite her shock she was still awed enough to register peach silk curtains matching the beautiful embroidered bedspread and stylish fitted furniture of a type she had only ever glimpsed enviously in prestige glossy magazines. A deep-pile peach carpet covered the floor, and adjacent to the door to the corridor was another one which she guessed must lead to an en-suite bathroom.
‘The master stateroom,’ Leon drawled, breaking the silence. ‘Like it?’
‘What are you doing here?’ Chloe demanded, ignoring his question. He was the last person she had wanted to see, and her eyes clung despairingly to the closed door, willing either her unwitting host or hostess to appear and rescue her.
‘I could ask that question of you,’ Leon retorted. ‘But it would be a pointless exercise, since we both know exactly what you’re doing here, or what you think you’re doing here. You were trying to escape from me, weren’t you? Trying to use the Kriticoses’ departure as a means of leaving Eos yourself.’
‘And I’ve succeeded,’ Chloe replied bravely, her eyes measuring the distance between herself and the door. Surely Leon didn’t mean to provoke a scene in front of his friends?
‘Have you?’
The softly spoken words were like a douche of ice cold water.
‘Of course I have!’ Chloe cried. ‘And if you don’t let me disembark at Athens I’ll tell your friends everything….’
‘Everything?’ The word was drawled softly, but beneath Chloe sensed bitter anger. ‘Like how you forced the lock on my desk, after trying to persuade Marisa to do it for you, and then removed your passport? Will you tell them that, Chloe? Or,’ he added softly before she could correct him, before she could take in what he had said properly, ‘should I say that is what you would tell them, were they here to be told?’ He smiled suddenly, the brief gesture devoid of any humour or genuine amusement, and so cold that it struck terror into Chloe’s heart. ‘You see, my dear wife, you were clever, but not clever enough. Alexandros had left some papers in my study before dinner and when I went to retrieve them for him I discovered the forced lock on my desk. As if that wasn’t enough to incriminate you,’ he added acidly, ‘Marisa came to me just before I came down here to confess that you had asked her to search my desk, thinking quite rightly that I would be less suspicious of her than I would of you. The moment I realised that you had retrieved your passport I guessed what you would do. My own yacht, the Nemesis, was at anchor in the bay on the other side of the harbour—I had ordered it moved there when our guests arrived, and it was a simple matter to switch vessels.’
‘Your yacht…’ Chloe stared disbelievingly up at him. ‘You mean that… I….’
‘You, my dear Chloe, might have escaped from Eos,’ he agreed smoothly, ‘but you have merely exchanged one prison for another. The Nemesis belongs to me and you and I are the only passengers on it. A fittingly romantic venue, wouldn’t you think, in which to conduct our… affairs.’
‘Let me go!’
Chloe flew past him, wrenching open the door, but she didn’t get very far before her flight was impeded by the strong male arms reaching out to grasp and almost swing her off her feet.
‘To where?’ Leon mocked, his lips twisting in bitterness. ‘Or were you intending to throw yourself overboard in true theatrical style?’
‘Even that would be better than being forced to endure you!’ Chloe flung at him, close to hysteria. ‘I’m not staying here with you. I….’
‘Enough!’
The crisp word silenced her protests, the sudden economy of movement which carried her across the peach carpet to be deposited none too gently on
the bed warned her that Leon’s patience was coming to an end.
‘I am asking no more from you than is my right—than you owe me,’ she was told in curt tones. ‘Had you not been so foolish before, none of this would have been necessary.’
‘By “foolish” I suppose you mean if Marisa hadn’t pushed me… Oh, I’m sorry,’ she apologised insincerely. ‘If I hadn’t “fallen” and lost the baby, I’d be free of you now. How can you be so callous—so coldblooded?’ she demanded. ‘Have you any idea what it feels like to be treated as a… brood mare?’
‘None,’ was the uncompromising response. ‘But I do have some experience of how it feels to be treated as a free meal-ticket; to be married purely for financial gain and then have my wife run out on me when she’s had enough. Why didn’t you divorce me? Or can I guess?’ he asked bitterly. ‘The longer the marriage exists, even if only on paper, the higher the eventual settlement, isn’t that how it goes?’
Tears shimmered in Chloe’s eyes, and she turned away. Why hadn’t she divorced him? Deep in her heart she knew why. Because foolishly she had never stopped loving him; never stopped hoping that one day….
‘Are you trying to say that I married you for your money?’ she demanded at last when she had control of her vocal chords.
‘Are you trying to say that you didn’t?’ Leon asked with a cynical twist of his lips. ‘Let’s not play games with one another, Chloe, and let’s get one thing understood. I always insist on getting value for money. So far you’ve proved to be a less than good investment, and I’ve decided to do what any businessman of sense does in such circumstances.’
‘You mean divorce me?’ Chloe asked, dry-eyed. What a time to discover that she still loved him! The situation had definite overtones of black comedy!
‘Later,’ Leon agreed coolly. ‘But firstly I intend to realise my assets, get what benefit I can from my investment before I dispose of it. Think of it as buying yourself a comfortable old age,’ he goaded softly. ‘Or if that won’t do, think of whatever you thought of when we were first married, and you managed to receive my… embraces with such a touching display of pseudo-enthusiasm. Take care, Chloe,’ he told her harshly, grasping the small fist she had instinctively raised. ‘I could make it harder for you….’
‘I won’t do it,’ Chloe announced positively.
‘You don’t have any say in the matter.’ The soft reminder jerked her into real awareness of her situation. To all intents and purposes she was alone on the yacht with Leon—for she knew that none of his men would so much as lift a finger to help her, if she went to them, and she could tell by the harsh set of his mouth that he was way, way beyond the stage of pandering to her wishes.
‘No protests? But then you can’t morally raise any really, can you? Let’s be honest with each other for once. I’ll make it easy for you. Marisa has told me what you said to her….’
Chloe stared at him, waiting. Marisa had been very busy, she thought bitterly. First she had told Leon that she had tried to persuade her to break into his desk, and now…. What exactly had she told him?
She soon learned.
‘You told her that you had only married me because of my wealth, didn’t you?’ he demanded without emotion. ‘You told her that having my child had never been part of your plans, and never would be. Well, you know what they say about “plans”, don’t you?’
All at once his voice was soft with a menace that made the tiny hairs on Chloe’s body stand up in terror. She wanted to deny that she had ever said any such things, but her tongue seemed to have cleaved to the roof of her mouth and she could only stand and stare like a small frozen statue as Leon advanced upon her.
‘Well, if we’re going to reduce our relationship to terms of who owns what, I seem to remember that I was the one to provide you with this dress.’ He grasped the soft pale green silk as he spoke and Chloe could only watch in growing sickness as his grip tightened and he said slowly, ‘Which according to your rules give me the right to do whatever I choose with it—which is this.’
Chloe gasped once as she felt the frail silk tear and then closed her eyes, unable to bear the look of near-hatred in Leon’s as he looked down at the slender shape of her body.
‘I don’t know what I hate you for the most, Chloe,’ he muttered thickly as he scooped up her stiff body and lowered it on to the bed, ‘killing my child or destroying my faith in my own judgment. I thought you a shy innocent child, when in reality…. I should have known, I suppose. Living as you did in the world of high fashion you were still a virgin, and I should have guessed then that it was not innocence but shrewdness; a knowledge of how much such a gift would mean to the man with enough money to pay for it. A man like me.’
‘No!’
The word was dragged out of her in a long moan, her face as pale as milk against the peach silk. She felt as though someone were cutting out her heart with burning knives; even the pain she had felt on learning that Leon loved his half-sister had not compared with this raw, scorching agony she knew now.
‘Yes!’ Leon bent towards her, his face suffused with dull bitter colour beneath his tan, his eyes burning in his set face. ‘Yes, yes, yes. Say it, Chloe. Admit it!’
She turned away, but his fingers grasped her jaw, forcing it round. ‘Say it,’ he demanded hoarsely, ‘I want to hear you admit it with my own ears.’
‘It isn’t true!’ To her horror Chloe felt tears form and well in her eyes, burning like acid as they slid down pale cheeks and on to the lean brown fingers, cupping her face in a parody of the tenderness of a lover.
‘You’re a liar, Chloe! Didn’t your mother warn you that you would be punished for telling lies?’
He was punishing her; his lips feathering light, tormenting kisses against the vulnerable curve of her throat, his hands caressing her skin.
‘I’m not lying!’
Her defiance brought swift retaliation.
‘Oh, come on! There’s no need to keep up the pretence now.’ The lips which had been tormenting her skin curved downwards in cynical disbelief. ‘We both know the truth—now! What a pity I wasn’t aware of it beforehand, I could have made sure that I got my money’s worth. However, it isn’t too late. I still have tonight to remedy matters.’
‘Leon….’
‘Don’t waste your time pleading with me,’ she was told harshly. ‘There’s a word for people who take money under false pretences. They’re called cheats, and I don’t like being cheated, Chloe.’
She was frightened then for the first time, sensing the anger banked down inside him, feeling it in the bitter pressure of his mouth as it closed on hers, his hands pinioning her wrists to the pillows behind her. She tried to escape, to free her mouth from the hot, grinding pressure of his, but he was far too strong for her, and for all his obvious contempt and rage, to her dismay she could feel the desire beating up inside him, and knew that for some reason his fury had acted like some powerful aphrodisiac, from whose effect she wasn’t entirely free herself.
It was degrading, she told herself, curling her fingers into small tense fists; trying not to succumb to the force he was using to part the lips she had closed against him in silent defiance, and yet in spite of logic and common sense some part of her thrilled to the dominance of his touch, her body responding as though to some deeply ingrained programming, which made it impossible for her to reject him entirely. The warm aroused scent of his body filled her nostrils, the heavy pressure of his body, forcing her own back into the bed, making her aware of his growing desire. One wrist was released as he sought for and found the fastening of her brief lacy bra, his hand cupping the soft fullness far more effectively than the small scrap of satin had ever done. His fingers stroked and teased, knowing just how to evoke the response he wanted. Groaning her dismay, Chloe gasped when the involuntary parting of her lips was ruthlessly utilised to enforce a kiss that brutalised and ravaged the soft inner flesh of her mouth until she could taste blood.
‘Leon!’
Her
protest was as much against herself as him—a fear that she could all too easily be sucked down by the powerful undertow of a passion which threatened to overcome her like black velvet darkness. She tried to tell herself that passion on its own was degrading, meaningless, and insulting, but the emotions she had dammed up for so long broke through the barriers of her principles, and it was fatally easy to forget why Leon was making love to her and remember only the golden days of their honeymoon.
‘Leon….’ The word was stifled beneath the mouth imposing its dominance on hers, and as another wave of desire made her tremble beneath it, Chloe acknowledged the fear that had been at the back of her mind since Leon had come back into her life—she still loved him!
Once acknowledged, the truth was like a catalyst deep down inside her, all the traitorous impulses she had so valiantly controlled turning on her in outright rebellion, her small, heated moans of protest as Leon’s mouth moved along the soft curve of her throat, exploring the tender slope of her shoulders before dropping light tormenting kisses against the curves of her breasts.
Chloe reached for him instinctively, eyes closed, head thrown back in unaware abandon as her fingers probed the bones of his shoulders, tracing the outline of his spine before curving possessively into the thick dark hair growing low against his nape.
Not even the sudden removal of his body warmth from her, the sudden tensing of his arms as he levered himself upwards, infiltrated the passion-drugged haze engulfing her, and it was only the coolly incisive sound of his voice that finally pierced her fragile bubble of self-delusion, as he grasped her shoulders and pulled her towards him, forcing her face round so that she was forced to witness her own reflection in the mirrored wardrobe opposite the bed.
‘Take a good look, Chloe,’ he said cruelly, ‘and admit that you’re a hypocrite. You married me for money and position, you told Marisa. I don’t do a thing for you physically and never did. Just take a good look at yourself and repeat that statement to me—if you can!’
