by Anne Hampson
'It's a foul night,' he said.
'We needed the rain, though.' Her pleasure was dying, crushed beneath the weight that was fast descending again. She knew the light had gone from her eyes, and felt that a precious moment had been lost during that brief space when he had been using the handkerchief. For the smile of welcome and pleasure had died too; and under the strain that was pressing down on her, she felt awkward, unable to act in any way naturally, so her voice and words were stilted as she added, 'You had a good flight over?'
Paul eyed her thoughtfully for a long moment and, disconcerted, she lowered her eyes. It never dawned on her that he would think she had no wish to look at him.
'Very comfortable, thanks,' was his brief rejoinder when at last he spoke. 'I'll go and shower,' and without another word he left the room.
Dinner was a quiet meal, with Paul morosely glancing at his wife from time to time, and Laura sunk in the misery of her own thoughts. She felt the food choking her and left much of it on the plate, a circumstance that did not go unnoticed by her husband, who said, as Demetrius took the plate away after asking if she had finished, 'You appear to have lost your appetite, Laura.'
The chill in his tone only added to her misery. She wanted to cry; more than that, though, she wanted to open up her heart and mind, to tell him of her fears, for him and for all of them, in fact. But she knew that he would probably minimise the danger, refusing to be intimidated. He'd adopt an attitude which in her eyes would be reckless. No, she could not open up and confide; she must keep to her decision and leave here. It never dawned on her at this time that by leaving, she was certainly not changing Paul's relationship to Irene; he would still be her brother-in-law and so, if there were any danger, it would still be there. No, this never even crossed her mind; all she could think about was the advice given her by Marilyn, which was for her to leave the island while she and Mandy were safe. By natural reasoning she assumed Paul would also be safe.
'Laura…' Paul's voice came softly but the coldness was still there. 'I've spoken to you.'
She caught her underlip between her teeth. This drifting off in thought was certainly not improving her husband's mood.
'I'm not very hungry,' she said and produced a thin smile. 'I expect you are hungry, though?'
'A bit. I didn't eat on the plane. I was dozing.' The blue eyes were piercing as they looked into hers. 'Something's wrong, isn't it?' he said.
She shook her head instantly. 'No, of course not,' she returned, faintly surprised when the denial passed unchallenged.
During the rest of the meal they said little to one another, and although the silence was sheer misery to Laura, she was so full she could not possibly manage to make conversation. Her brooding mind drifted from the heartache she was causing to all three of them by her decision, to the more immediate awareness that Paul would most surely want her tonight. And, in her present mood, she knew she could never let him make love to her. No, not tonight, when she was planning to leave him only hours afterwards.
The hour that passed after dinner was an even greater ordeal, with Paul silently and broodingly sitting there, in the deep armchair, drinking his coffee and cognac. He frowningly looked at his watch several times until, at last, having finished his drinks, he rose from the chair and said, 'I'm tired. I've had a long day.'
She rose too, her heart pounding against her ribs. How was she to put him off, should he decide to come to her? He had said, though, that he was tired, so perhaps he'd just say good night and go to his own room.
But instead he said, staring at her through narrowed eyes, 'I'll see you later.'
'Y-yes.' She watched him go, then followed slowly. If only he hadn't come home early…
She was standing by the window, looking out on to the dismal scene of the shadowed, mist-laden garden, when he entered the room through the communicating door. She did not turn because she feared she would cry, break down completely under the sheer weight of the desolation which pressed down on her. Vaguely she knew it had started to rain again, suddenly, and with increasing force that caused bubbles to burst in crystal sprays against the window. So bleak… all in her life was bleak, without light to show her what the future held for her and the child she was now legally able to keep. For it was not feasible that Paul would want her, even though he was now her legal father. No, Mandy was hers and hers alone; she would have to work for her, make sacrifices…
'Laura, come over here to me.' The command was spoken in low but unmistakably authoritative tones, and reluctantly she turned, lips quivering as she made a desperate effort to stem the tears locked in a painful cloud behind her eyes.
'Yes, Paul…?' She had no idea why her manner was questioning since it was plain what he wanted.
'What has happened while I was away?'
'Nothing… nothing at all. I've already said so.'
'But not very convincingly.' His blue eyes were searching and she dropped hers to hide her misery. She was thinking of the note she had already written. Just a few words to say that she now regretted her marriage and was returning to her own country. She wanted only to be with Phil; she hoped Paul would divorce her. That was all, except for her name at the bottom of the page.
She had realised that he loved her and knew he'd be inexpressibly hurt, but better that than he should suffer some permanent injury inflicted by maniacs with evil in their blood. How she hated them—these Gavezas brothers who seemed to think there was no crime in taking the law into their own hands.
Laura glanced up into a face on which harsh lines were etched, and a quiver of pain went through her. Paul had never looked at her like this before, and she wondered what he was thinking.
'There really is nothing the matter,' she persisted. 'I don't know why you should be like this, Paul.'
The blue eyes glinted as his mouth compressed. 'You're putting on an act,' he accused. 'Your whole manner is different from what it was before I went away. You've changed dramatically in a matter of days and I demand to know why!'
'I can't explain!' she cried, almost at the end of her tether now. 'Leave me alone, will you? Go away and leave me alone!' She was losing control, carried along by ragged nerves to a state of near hysteria.
Paul stared, all anger gone. He shook his head in a gesture of bewilderment. 'Laura, dear, what is it? I'm your husband and whatever you have on your mind is my worry too.' He came towards her, hands outstretched. She closed her eyes, one part of her desperate for the comfort of his arms while the other part wanted to reject him, for she felt she wanted to be alone.
And it was in this moment that she realised she loved him…
'Take no notice of me,' she managed to say at last as she lifted limpid eyes to his gaze. 'I… don't feel too well.'
His eyes flickered; she felt sure he did not believe her. 'In what way?' he asked, his hands still outstretched.
'It's just… er… my head. It… it's ached all… all day.' Not at all convincing, she admitted, and was not in the least surprised to see the hardness darken his face again.
'Where is all this leading?' he demanded, taking a step which brought him closer to her. 'Are you telling me to clear off?' Dangerously quiet the voice now and his eyes raked her body with sensuous disregard for her embarrassment as she spread her hands over the transparency of the nightdress, sliding them downwards. Mocking amusement mingled with the hard glitter in his eyes. 'Come here,' he ordered softly, and for a moment she hesitated. 'Come here,' he repeated, and this time Laura obeyed him.
His arms came out and she was pulled against his body in a way that lacked both gentleness and respect. She struggled instinctively even while knowing it was futile. The action seemed to inflame him, and when his mouth met hers the kiss was as brutal as the hands that imprisoned her so securely that she was part of him, her body forced to meld with his. She gave a little moan as his ruthless fingers bit into her flesh, and renewed her fruitless struggles.
Furiously he took hold of her wrists, forced them behind her back,
then held them with one hand. He towered above her, wrathful and forbidding. Laura tried to speak but his mouth locked with hers while his body's tautness made her vitally aware of its hunger for the possession of hers. Hard and male and virile, his lean lithe frame dominated her by its strength. She felt small and weak and totally in his power. The fingers imprisoning her wrists relaxed their hold and slipped her nightdress from her shoulders. She had no strength left to fight him; in any case her own erotic nerves had been awakened, and she knew the heady sensation of desire even before his hand slid warmly over her firm young breast, the fingers teasing and caressing—far more gentle now, as if what he handled was like some precious piece of porcelain, fragile and beautiful. He looked into her eyes briefly as his lips left hers to kiss the rosy little bud that had hardened to desire. A shudder of ecstasy ripped through every nerve as she felt his teeth against it and then his tongue, rough and yet so gentle. Desire spread and her loins craved his caresses; she managed to bring her hands up to his neck and felt him jerk with a spasm of pleasure as she caressed his nape with one hand while the other slid into his thick, wiry hair.
'What was the matter at first?' The voice was throaty and low and he did not expect an answer because his lips were fastened to hers instantly, moving moistly, sensuously, making her part them, and the next moment his tongue was caressing hers. Nor were his warm hands idle; they slid from her breasts to her waist and down to her thighs, bringing her alive in a way that set her heart pounding and the blood drumming in her temples. Her whole body was on fire, arching in surrender, shaping itself to his virile masculine curves while his hands continued their exploration, sparing her nothing in their mastery or their strength.
'Paul… oh, Paul…' Her yielding body clamoured for him, and he held her away to let the nightdress fall to the floor. Then he swung her up into his arms as if she were weightless, laughed at her blushes as he carried her across the room to the king-size bed, and laid her on top of the covers. She watched with burning cheeks as he discarded his dressing gown and pyjamas. Then he stood for a fleeting moment as if he would give her a glimpse of his body shorn of all covering. She closed her eyes slowly, felt him lie down beside her, knew the thrill of his arms cradling her against his naked frame, smelt the heady, tantalising aroma of his maleness as it blended with the cologne he had used before coming to her. Love play was long as Paul, with practised finesse, brought her to complete surrender, and for the first time since their marriage she gave her body to him with love as a bonus.
Could he know? she was asking herself when, after the fire had died and only embers smouldered in their bodies, they lay wrapped in each other's arms, heat cooling, nerves and heartbeats settling in that glorious aftermath of the flight to paradise. So frequently she had sensed his perceptiveness, and now she could not help considering the possibility that he knew she had fallen in love with him. For she had given far more freely than ever before, caressing his body, murmuring huskily against his mouth, his cheek, his breast.
The soft, creamy-rose bed-light had been deliberately left on, and she could see his face against the pillow as she turned her head. Nothing to be read from that contented countenance or the enigmatic half smile that curved the noble line of his mouth. For a long while she waited, thinking he would eventually open his eyes. It was only when she heard his even breathing that she reached over, switched off the light and, snuggling even closer to him, relaxed her whole body and hoped she would sleep.
Chapter Ten
'But Mummy, why must we go away from Crete? And why isn't Daddy coming with us?' Edged as it was with tears, Mandy's complaint was like a stab of pain in Laura's heart.
'I can't explain, darling,' she said. 'But it has just got to be like this. You and I will be together just like we were before, remember? It was nice and cosy, and we used to have fun at the zoo or when we went on holiday and played on the sands…'
Laura's own voice trembled as tears filled her eyes. She was sitting next to Mandy on the plane and conscious of noise and shuffling, of heat and bodies and people walking up and down the aisles to relieve the boredom. When Paul had brought them over to Greece they had travelled first class. Well, those days were over; they would never travel first class again—in fact, they would be lucky if they ever travelled at all, she thought, wondering if the hopes she had of getting her job back would soon be crushed. But at least she had a home. Thank goodness for that especial piece of luck. No one had been interested enough to buy her Mews house.
'It was all right then,' agreed Mandy but went on to say, 'But it wasn't as happy as when we were at Daddy's villa, was it? I don't want to go back to England; I like Greece best because it's warm and because of the lovely garden I could play in with Lefki and Pelaya and—'
'As we're passing through a region of turbulence, will all passengers fasten their seat belts?' The interruption brought a frown to Mandy's face.
'Mine's already fastened,' she said.
'Yes… well, you wanted to keep it on, didn't you?' What was everyone doing back at the villa? Had Paul read her note yet? She had left it in his bedroom in a sealed envelope and hoped none of the servants would go in there before Paul did. He had been busy in his study as usual, and she knew that at half past three he had an interview with a business associate who was calling at the house. So it was debatable as to whether or not he had found the note yet.
'Mummy, you haven't fastened your seat belt.'
'Oh, no…' She fastened it, annoyed that her mind kept on wandering.
'I don't want to go back to England,' repeated Mandy fretfully as she wriggled in her seat. 'You never even let me say good-bye to Daddy, and he'll wonder where I am.'
'He knows where you are.'
'I don't think he does,' decided Mandy, and Laura slanted her a glance. Intuition, at this age?
Well, Mandy was highly intelligent, exceedingly so for her age.
'It's landing,' with a heavy sigh as Mandy dug fingers in her ears. 'Can I telephone my daddy when we get home?'
'No, I'm afraid not.' Was Mandy going to be awkward? Laura felt she had enough to contend with and could very well do without tantrums from the child, who quite innocently was the cause of all this heartache.
'I'm filled with self-pity,' she told herself, 'and it's got to stop!' There were plenty of people a good deal worse off, she thought, when at last the taxi had dropped them at their destination, and a fleeting tinge of excitement lightened her spirits at the idea of seeing her delightful little home again. She noticed a car parked a few yards away but took no notice. It was nothing unusual because most of the residents had no garages.
But, with her key in her hand she paused outside the half-open door.
'Someone's inside,' said Mandy unnecessarily. 'I can hear them talking.'
Gingerly Laura pushed the polished oak door inwards.
'And this is the smaller bedroom. The owner had it for her little girl, hence the animals and fairies on the wallpaper.'
The estate agent—with a prospective purchaser. Tensed and yet untroubled to a certain degree, Laura went in, followed by the taxi-driver carrying two large suitcases in addition to the two smaller ones carried by Laura and the cabin bag which Mandy was struggling with.
'Miss Hudson! What… !' The man, Mr. Scott, gaped at her for a few seconds and then looked at the taxi-driver. 'These people are viewing the property; they're the parents of—'
'So I see.' Laura felt embarrassed but soon regained her composure. After all, it was her house and no one was going to take it from her. The sense of possession was fiercely portrayed in her words as she told the agent the house was not now for sale.
'I'm sorry for any inconvenience I've caused,' she went on, impatient to pay the taxi-driver and see him leave. 'I shall of course pay you—' She stopped as the man lifted a hand.
'The house is sold, Miss Hudson—Oh, I'm sorry. You were married before you left, weren't you?' He was regarding her strangely—as well he might, thought Laura, the colour r
ising in her cheeks.
'Sold?' She shook her head. 'It can't be. You're still showing people over.' Turning, she paid the driver after telling him to put the cases into the small bedroom which, like the main bedroom, was on the ground floor, the sitting room and kitchen with its pretty dining area being situated on the floor above. Laura had planned it that way so as to get a rather attractive view from the sitting-room window.
'Thank you, madam,' said the driver, pleased with the tip she had given him.
'The house is sold.' It was the woman who spoke, a big woman with painted cheeks, protuberant eyes, and brittle, red-gold hair with dark roots.
'This lady and gentleman are the parents of the bride… A young couple are buying your property,' cut in the agent with a mixture of indignation and regret. 'It's plain that you've come back intending to move in, but the young couple are being married in three weeks and will be moving in immediately afterwards.'
'They'll be moving in at once,' interposed the man, stocky, middle-aged country-yokel type with a slur to his voice. 'They've things ready to bring.'
Laura's heart had given a great lurch and for a space she just stood there, regarding the three wordlessly and feeling like an animal at bay. 'I haven't signed any contract,' she said, and received the response she expected.
'You gave the manager of my firm authority to sign for you. I'm sorry, but the contract's binding.'
'So please take yourself off our property,' snapped the woman with an arrogant wave of her hand. 'Go on, buzz off!'
Black fury coloured Laura's cheeks. 'You get off my property!' she cried, fists clenched as if it would not take much to incense her into giving the woman a blow. 'This is my home and I haven't sold it—so clear off, the three of you!' It was all quite irrational and belligerent, she knew, deep down in her subconscious, but she still felt like the victim of some onslaught, with her back to the wall. For if she couldn't stay here, then where would she go? God, what could she do! No home, and with a child in her care, a child who was even now starting to cry as she tried to take in the meaning of what was going on.
