The last few months were a nightmare she had to forget, pretend had nevar happened. Deep in her inner being she had known from the start that her relationship with Ales was doomed to failure. Eve apart, she quite simply was not in Alex's sophisticated league and did not really want to be. She had been a fool to believe otherwise. The pain in her chest would fade. Hearts did not break, she told herself firmly, ignoring the ache in her own; they simply atrophied.
She stepped out of the shower, turned off the water and picked up a couple of towels from the rail. She wrapped one around her wet hair and rubbed herself dry with the other until her soft skin was red with the effort, then pulled on the robe James had given her, grimacing wryly at the colour. Black! How fitting! she thought bitterly. The death of love! The death of a marriage! The death of foolish dreams!
She must stop thinking like that, she remonstrated with herself, and, moving to the vanity basin with the mirror and wall-mounted hairdrier above, she unwrapped the towel from her head. For a second she thought she heard a ringing in her ears; probably lack of food, she told herself staunchly, and, turning on the drier, began to ran her fingers methodically through her long red locks. She didn't see her reflection in the mirror; she didn't want to; instead she succumbed to the mindless task of drying her hair, oddly soothing to her shattered emotions.
Finally, her toilet complete, she stared at her reflection, sure that the traumatic events of the evening must have marked her for life. But she saw the same ginger-headed, solitary girl she had always been. Reassured, she turned to leave the room, and only someone who knew her well could have recognised the change. . . The green eyes, once sparkling with life, quick to flash in humour or anger, were oddly opaque; the light had died from them, and with it an intrinsic part of Saffron was lost. . .
She tightened the belt around her waist, rolled the over- long sleeves of the robe halfway up her arms and silently, barefoot, moved down the short corridor. She pushed open the door of the living-room. Time to face James, get his help and get on with her life. . .
James was sitting on a wing-chair; his blond head turned as she entered, his blue eyes flashing a negative message she didn't understand.
Slowly her gaze slid to the opposite side of the fireplace and a long sofa. Alex! Alex was here, his black hair damp and plastered to his broad brow, his dark eyes narrowed to mere slits in the bronzed sculpture of his face, his sensuous mouth a thin slash of barely controlled fury. For a second, in the tense silence, Saffron thought she heard his teeth grinding together.
His piercing eyes raked her from head to toe, taking in the wild, freshly washed hair, the low V of the man's robe skimming her breasts, the cinched waist and the bare feet. His gaze returned to her face, and the implacable rage, the contempt glittering in his eyes would have intimidated her at any other time, but not tonight. Tonight her heart had died; she was numb, her emotions buried, as frozen as an Arctic ice-cap.
Silently Alex rose to his feet, his large hands curled into fists at his side. Idly Saffron noted that his knuckles gleamed white, and watched as his proud head turned to pin James with a lethal look.
'So this was why you told me you hadn't time to discuss the new business, James. You were entertaining my wife.'
'Entertaining, no. Saffron came for my help, nothing more.'
'And I can see what kind of help you gave her. The bitch is standing there naked beneath your robe.' Alex's hand gestured wildly to where Saffron was standing immobile as he lunged forward, towering over James. 'Stand up, you bastard, so I can knock you flat,' he roared like an enraged lion.
Saffron cried out, 'No—no, you're wrong,' shocked by the murderous look on Alex's face.
Ignoring her, Alex grabbed James by his shirt-front and hauled him to his feet; his fist shot out and knocked
James straight back into the chair with a crunching blow to his face.
'Stop it! Stop it!' Saffron dashed across the room and grabbed Alex's raised fist as he prepared to repeat his action.
'Listen to your wife,' James drawled with remarkable English restraint considering his nose was pouring blood. 'One punch I'll take—the situation could be misconstrued, I'll grant you. But two and I'll retaliate,' he offered phlegmatically.
'Please, Alex,' Saffron pleaded, hanging on to his arm. 'Leave James alone.' He shook her off as he would dispense with a fly and she fell heavily to the floor, a cry of shocked pain escaping her.
Alex turned his furious gaze on her dishevelled form; her robe had fallen open to reveal a long, shapely leg. 'You conniving, enticing bitch, I should kill you,' he snarled.
For a second the breath was knocked out of her, and she gazed helplessly up at him, convinced that he would carry out his threat. It was in his voice and the wild, primitive savagery in his black eyes.
He looked at her for a long, tense moment, then, like a mask falling, his expression changed; his dark eyes went blank and only a small muscle jerking beneath the skin of his cheek revealed his inner turmoil as he added scathingly, 'But you're not worth swinging for.' With a last contemptuous glance at her sprawled body, he spun back to James. 'As for you, clear your desk tomorrow; I never want to see you again.' Then, turning to where Saffron had straggled to her feet, he snarled, 'Get dressed; we're leaving.'
She did not argue, simply stalked past him to the bathroom and hauled her damp clothes back on. Head high, she marched back into the room, and before she had a chance to open her mouth she was swung over Alex's shoulder in a fireman's lift. But by the time she realised what liad happened he was out of the door and marching towards the car.
'Put me down!' she screamed, her temper flaring white-hot; she thumped his broad back with her curled fists, but it was like trying to dent steel.
'Shut up, just shut up,' Ales growled, flinging her Into the front seat of the car and slamming the door, She made to get oat again, but he was too fast; In seconds he was In the driving seat and hurtling the car through the city traffic like a man possessed.
She fastened her seatbelt then glanced at him with cold, furious eyes. How dared he suggest for one minate that she and James. . .? Deceitful, debauched son of Satan! she cursed silently. 'Bloody Neanderthal brute,' she swore out loud. She shot forward as the car screeched to a halt, only fast seatbelt saving her from hitting the windscreen.
Alex's hard hand caught her chin and tamed her face towards his. 'Don'! you ever swear at me again. I won't tolerate any more from you,' he grated, his hand on her fece shaking with the force of his rage.
'That's rich coming from you,' she shot back. 'At least my meeting with James was perfectly innocent.' Not like his permanent arrangement with Sylvia, and as she remembered her reason for going to James in the first place the anger that bad consumed her for the past half-hoar vanished. What was the point?
'Innocent!' he sneered with cynical disbelief. 'Wearing only the man's robe? What do you take me for—an idiot. . .?'
She opened her mouth to respond, but Alex locked the words in her throat as he covered her mouth with his own; his fingers dug Into the flesh of her jaw while his mouth ground against hers in a raging travesty of a kiss, forcing her lips against her teeth, stealing the breath from leer body until she thought she would choke.
For once her body did not respond in its usual wanton way. She felt nothing but horror and disgust as his other hand dosed over the damp material of her blouse and roughly kneaded her breast until finally, as he sensed her lack of response, with a muffled curse, his hands dropped from her face and breast and she fell back against the seat, gasping for breath, her green eyes stormy with suppressed fury.
'Sated by James. . . But not for long. I know your wanton ways too well,' he opined with sneering sarcasm, and, swinging back to the steering-wheel, he started the car again.
Saffron curbed the angry impulse that made her want to scream her hurt, and rage at his hateful face; instead she closed her eyes, blocking him from her view as she blocked him from her heart. Where he was taking her she didn't kn
ow and didn't much care. The marriage was over; he could keep his Sylvia and good luck to them. The side of himself Alex had displayed tonight had horrified her and only confirmed what she had already decided, what she had always known. . . She was better off on her own. . .
CHAPTER TEN
Ten minutes later Saffron was strapped into the helicopter and Alex was at the controls. The rain lashed the reinforced glass and she wind buffeted the fragile fuselage. 'Isn't it rather stormy for flying?' she asked icily, puffing her soaking clothes around her shivering flesh.
'If we go, we go together. Till death us do part and all that—something you have obviously forgotten,' Alex responded with mocking cynicism.
Saffron shot him a furious glance and pressed her lips together. Let him play his two-faced game, she thought. She knew he had kept Sylvia as his mistress, and to try to tar her—Saffron—with the same brush was simply despicable and not worth denying.
She felt some sympathy for James. He did not deserve to lose his job because of her, and on the short, stormy flight to Serendipidos she resolved that when she had finally left the island for good, which she fully intended doing at the first opportunity a letter exonerating James must be one of her first priorities.
By the time she was standing once more in the reception hall of the villa, Saffron was frozen to the bone and shivering from head to foot.
'For God's sake, woman, do you want to get pneumonia?' Alex exclaimed, and, picking her up yet again, he carried her upstairs and into the bathroom. Ruthlessly he stripped her naked, his face like thunder as ha turned on the shower tap and pushed her beneath the hot, reviving jets. 'Can you manage or shall I help?'
She tossed her head back, her green eyes burning with bitter resentment. 'No way,' she snapped back, but her chattering teeth rather spoiled her defiant attitude.
Alex stared at her naked, shivering form for a tense, angry moment, then spun on his heel and strode out of the bathroom, the violent crashing of the door making even the shower spray quiver.
The next day, Saffron awoke from a deep sleep to the sound of the helicopter departing. She stretched out a hand to where Alex had lain, as she did every morning, seeking the security and comfort of his lingering warmth, when it hit her! It was finished, over. She hauled herself up into a sitting position and glanced across the wide bed to the other pillow; it was smooth, unused.
She should be grateful, she told herself; at least Alex had had the decency to sleep somewhere else last night. After her shower, exhausted by the day's events, she had crawled into bed, her body warm, her heart a frozen lump in her chest.
A cross between a yawn and a sigh escaped her as, swinging her feet to the floor, she slipped out of bed and moved to the window. The sky was a uniform grey; it fitted her mood exactly. She glanced down at the garden; the ravages of the storm were very evident— broken branches scattered the lawn and the flowers still blooming in November were now flattened to the earth. A bit like herself, she thought sadly.
She glanced at the sea; it was cold and black, but calm. She could leave today; there was nothing to keep her here any more. Alex had never cared for her. Oh, he had raved when he'd found her with James, but it had not been out of jealousy or any real emotion. It had simply been a male reaction to an apparent blow to his ego.
Saffron turned and walked across to the dressing-room, the set of her shoulders taut and somehow lonely. Slowly she packed her case with her own clothes, barely glancing at the things Ales had bought her, pushing them to one side without a thought. She felt nothing. Zombielike, she washed and dressed in blue jeans and a wool shirt—ideal for travelling. She carried her case and holdall into the bedroom, placed her navy reefer jacket over the top, and then picked up the telephone.
She rang the airport, and within minutes was booked on a flight from Athens to London leaving that afternoon. She glanced at her wristwatch; it was nine- thirty, so she had plenty of time.
Despina gave her a funny look as she walked down the stairs carrying her bags. 'You go?' she said in fractured English.
Saffron simply smiled, a twist of her lips that did not reach her eyes, and strode info the kitchen. She helped herself to coffee and sipped it slowly, staring blankly out of the window. Her stomach rumbled loudly. I must eat something, she thought, trying to remember the last time she had eaten. Yesterday morning.
She eyed the loaf of bread that had been left on the table, strode over and cut off a chunk. She chewed the tasteless fare, her small face pale, her green eyes remote as she did so.
Five minutes later she walked out of the house with her belongings and never looked back.
The bar was almost empty, except for the proprietor. Saffron calmly requested a ride to the mainland. He gave her a puzzled look, but instructed his son to get the boat ready.
With a soft, "Thank you,' Saffron sat down on a hardwood chair at a precariously balanced plastic table. She stacked her bags next to each other and then checked her purse. She had money and her passport; everything was in order. Soon, very soon, it would all be over. . .
The bar door swung open; the boat had arrived. She half rose, glancing sideways at the open door, and sank back down on the seat as Alex walked in.
His dark gaze flicked over her still form, and on down to where her cases stood. 'Going somewhere?' he asked flatly.
'I didn't hear the helicopter,' she murmured, her eyes going to his hard face. He looked dreadful—unshaven, his eyes sunken in their sockets, his mouth a grim narrow line, like a man who had not slept for a week.
Alex stared at her. 'I came across on the yacht.'
"The yacht?' she parroted, unable to think clearly. She had her departure planned, and it did not include seeing Alex again.
Alex stepped closer and stopped, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans, pulling the fabric taut across his muscular thighs.
Saffron's eyes followed his actions and incredibly her frozen heart jerked painfully inside her. 'I'm just leaving,' she said quickly.
'Yes, I know.' Alex moved and, bending, picked up her case and bag. 'Let me help you.' And before she could object he was striding out of the door.
She leapt to her feet and dashed after him. 'No, wait. I can manage. . .' Her voice petered out as she saw the yacht moored alongside the jetty and Alex standing on the gangway leading to the Lion Lore.
He turned; his burning dark eyes raked over her. 'I can't,' he said in a gruff voice. 'Get on board or I'll carry you.'
She closed her eyes briefly. This cannot be happening, she told herself, but when she opened them again Alex was still waiting. She glanced at the silent men standing around. Obviously they had been awaiting the arrival of the yacht to assist in the mooring. She had never looked out to sea. What an idiot' There was a long, intense silence; only the lapping of the water against the jetty broke the quiet. It was as if everyone was watching to see what would happen next.
'Saffron. . .' Alex's voice cracked like a whip.
She looked at him. 'A lift to the mainland,' she prompted, in an attempt to preserve some pride, and forced herself to move. She flinched as he placed a large hand under her elbow and urged her on board. He glanced at her and withdrew the hand as soon as they reached the deck.
'Go below; there isn't a full crew and another storm is brewing. I have to help.'
Her arm stung from his touch. No, please, God, no! she prayed; she did not want to feel again. Not ever. . . On leaden feet she walked along the deck and into the main cabin; colapsing on a softly upholstered sofa, she folded her arms defensively across her chest, and was not aware that she was rubbing the elbow he had touched with her hand.
She heard the heavy throb of the engine. She felt the motion of the boat. Not long now and she would be on a flight back to England, she told herself optimistically; then the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She turned her head.
Alex was standing blocking the door, his raw physical presence somehow filling the room. He was watching her with narrowe
d eyes, his expression unreadable, yet the menace, the iron will behind the impassive face warned that this man was not used to being thwarted by anyone, and certainly not by a woman—especially his wife!
Saffron swallowed nervously. 'What time do we arrive?' she asked—anything to break the fraught silence.
'We already have.' And in a voice as cold and calm as the Arctic he continued, 'We have a deal, you and I—my money for your body and a child; nothing has changed except that I intend to keep you on the yacht until you have fulfilled your part of the bargain.'
She had once compared him to a pirate, and looking at him now, standing barring the door, rock-solid and indomitable, she knew she had been right. 'I don't believe this!' she murmured softly, shaking her head.
'Believe it; you have no choice.'
'Do you honestly expect me to stay with you after last night?' He kept a mistressin Athens and he actually thought he could wield his power and money to pressure her into accepting his infidelity and carrying on as his wife. He was insane!
A Devious Desire Page 16
