“Exactly what I said,” he murmured with a trace of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth.
“I couldn’t. I couldn’t possibly,” she cried out, aghast. “I—I don’t know the first thing about being a gardener!”
“You know about color, composition, texture. I’ve witnessed your glorious sense of design with my own eyes.”
Glorious? Did he have any idea that when he said things like that, joy filled her being until she felt giddy?
“The only difference is that you’ll be working with growing things.”
“But Perseus, I—”
“You promised to act the part of my bride,” he broke in smoothly. “We’ll have times when we work apart. But it’s important to me that when we are together, we share more interests than a swim in the pool or a romp in the sea. Putting in a yard will make you feel our home is as much yours as mine.”
“1—1 don’t think—”
“Shh...” he warned, putting his arm around her to draw her to his side, “or Yanni will assume we’re having a lover’s quarrel. Since he’s one of the biggest gossips on the island, this ought to channel the course of his thoughts.”
Quite how he managed it, Sam didn’t know, but she suddenly found herself in his lap, his mouth descending on hers.
His lips brushed hers softly, as if testing their willingness to be kissed. “Your mouth hints of wild honeysuckle whose petals unfurl with the heat. Such delight I haven’t tasted in a very long time. Pretend I’m the sun and open them to me.”
His voice sounded deep and husky. How did he imitate the kind of emotion that said he was dying for her kiss, when she knew this performance was for Yanni’s benefit? Yanni, whose tongue would carry tales far enough to reach Sofia’s ears.
This was wrong. But for the life of her, Sam had never known any sensation as pleasurable as the feel and taste of his mouth coaxing her lips apart to feast on the sweetness within.
As the pressure of his mouth increased, little shivers of ecstasy rippled through her body. He brought her right up against his chest, engulfing her in heart-throbbing sensuality.
She’d been kissed before, but she’d always been too aware of what she was doing, the mechanics. This was so different. With Perseus, there wasn’t only an exquisite bonding of lips, mouths, bodies. She felt her soul leap to merge with his. The totality of their embrace made her forget the ordinary conventions of time and place.
This new level of communion with Perseus was more desirable than anything she’d ever experienced before. Then the frightening thought occurred that this could easily become the only form of communication which would satisfy her from here on out.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I-I’M Q-QUITE sure we’ve convinced Yanni by now,” she stammered a few minutes later, hiding her flushed face in his neck. She was struggling for breath because he’d untied the ribbon in her hair to test its silky weight with his fingers.
“To be absolutely certain, stay right where you are and don’t move a centimeter until we reach the villa.”
Whether a command or not, she couldn’t have done anything else but obey. He held her sensitized body cradled in his arms while his hands memorized the shape of her head, the length of her hair splayed over his hard-muscled arm.
“Only the gods could come up with a formula to create anything as miraculous as one golden strand of this gossamer mane.” The sound of wonder in his voice was only increased by her own sense of awe that he would say these incredible things to her.
She was on the verge of forgetting this was an act on his part, and lifted her head to tell him this couldn’t go on. In the process, her lips accidentally brushed against his scar. She quite forgot what she was going to say and blurted, “Does it ever hurt you, Perseus?”
“No. But if it repulses you, or makes you pity me, I’ll go in for plastic surgery.”
In her anger she cried, “Repulses me? How could you even say such a thing! Don’t you know it makes you more interesting than you already are?”
Once again she’d spoken her true feelings without thinking, but it was too late now.
“As for feeling sorry for you, you couldn’t be further from the truth. To be honest, the thought came to me that if I were a man, I know I wouldn’t want to tangle with you. I’d probably be thinking that if you had a scar, then the other poor devil must have come off much worse.”
She heard the rich sound of laughter deep in his throat. “The possibility of you being a man is too inconceivable to warrant this discussion. Still, I’m thinking of having a plastic surgeon take a look.”
“That is entirely your decision.”
“Wrong. From here on out, I plan to consult you on everything, and expect you to do the same with me, otherwise our marriage will be less than it could or should be.”
Though he didn’t know it, Perseus had just put his finger on what she secretly believed ought to constitute a good marriage. But such a presumption was based on the premise that the two people involved were madly in love with each other. Hardly the case with her and—
“Parakalo, Kyrie Kostopoulos—”
Sam was thankful the driver had spoken up. She used the small interruption to slide off of Perseus. He seemed reluctant to let her go. Only then did she realize the car had stopped in front of the newly constructed villa.
She felt a slow wave of heat invade her body. Who knew how long Yanni had been waiting to alert them that they’d reached their destination?
How clever of Perseus to sidetrack her until she appeared to be the smitten bride who probably would have stayed in his arms another hour and still never noticed anything going on around them.
Like taking candy from a baby, he’d manipulated the situation to his advantage. No doubt he handled all his business decisions with the same flawless technique and finesse. Why should that surprise or shock her?
When she thought about it, their marriage was simply another one of his business arrangements, albeit one with a great deal more at stake than money alone.
Of course, no one had forced her into doing anything. She’d entered into the contract of her own free will because she wanted to be near Perseus at any cost, so she had absolutely no room to complain at his methods. If on the ferry she’d felt an overwhelming compassion for Perseus, and had told him she wanted to help any way she could, then that was her problem, not his.
As he pointed out earlier, he’d paid for her cooperation in advance.
Now she owed him. When they’d struck their bargain, she had no way of knowing she’d be transported by his lovemaking. Until today he hadn’t revealed the sensuous side of his nature. It never occurred to her that she was capable of such a passionate physical response.
Hadn’t her mother admitted to the same thing happening to her when she’d met Sam’s father? A magical bonding which had swept her away, nullifying any preconceived ideas of a gentle, sensible love which would allow her to stay in control and not lose her identity?
But a passion like that could never last When it had burned itself out, her father—who suffered no remorse because he had no conscience—had gone off to pursue his selfish life, leaving her mother pregnant and alone.
In the last half hour Sam had been given a little taste of what ecstasy was all about, and she wanted no part of it. Fortunately her situation and that of her mother’s, bore little resemblance. There would be no morning after for Sam.
No way. She was Perseus’s daytime bride only.
Oh, yes, she’d play house with him until he was strong enough to withstand Sofia’s wiles. But Sam would throw all her energies into the thriving new business she was going to create for herself. On the day he set her free, she’d leave Greece a successful artist in her own right, able to maintain a career and flaunt it in her father’s face.
With the image of his faithlessness continually before her, Sam would never allow a man to do to her what her father had done to her mother.
Perhaps in that regard, Sam and Perseu
s had one thing in common. Rejection in any form tended to put life into perspective and focus a human being on a particular path. In Perseus’s case, he’d carved an empire out of nothing.
In her own way, Sam was determined to do the same thing. The bargain they’d struck could only speed up the process.
With Perseus’s help, she alighted from the car, then gasped. The stunning chalk-white villa set against a backdrop of impossibly blue sea and sky made her feel as if she’d been transported to another world.
Yet because of Perseus’s suggestion, already in her mind’s eye she could imagine the stark serenity broken up by evergreens, sweet-smelling honeysuckle and uneven flower clusters of brilliant orange, deep shocking fuchsia pink, vermilion and lemon yellow, set right up against the walls of the villa.
A garden gone wild, yet painstakingly tended to make it appear so, as if color from nature’s pallet had accidentally spilled in clumps, creating a unique and breathtaking masterpiece.
Her eyes narrowed as her gaze ran from the front of the house to the sea. She could envision a geometric garden in keeping with the Geometric age of eighthcentury Greece. An exquisite melange of oleander blue, periwinkle, lavender and darkest plum, all in perfect order like a complicated mosaic.
The ideas were coming fast and furiously, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. She could hardly wait to get to her sketchpad.
Never in her wildest dreams had she considered creating a real, live landscape. Now, for some unknown reason, she couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful than crafting a design made of growing things. Her fingers fairly itched to dig into rich topsoil and plant her newly conceived garden with loving care...
Without conscious thought she said, “Perseus? H-how soon do you want me start on the yard?”
He was standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders in a gentle yet possessive grip. She swayed as he brushed the side of her cheek with his lips, caught off guard by the sensuous gesture.
“It appears my idea has appealed so much, it has already taken root. You’re miles away from me.” But there was a wealth of satisfaction in his words.
You’re wrong, Perseus. Since the first moment we met, you danced straight into my heart, changing the life-giving rhythm of that vital organ for all time.
“But to answer your question, tomorrow you can begin in earnest. This afternoon we’ll lunch, then nap. By this evening, we’ll be ready for a swim in the sea. It’s an experience unlike any other.”
Suddenly she grew dizzy as he put an arm behind her knees and swept her up in his arms. “Welcome to the Villa Danae, Kyria Kostopoulos. Your home from now on,” he murmured, then lowered his mouth to hers, blotting out the sun, stifling her little moan of protest that said this was only temporary.
Yanni had gone ahead of them and had opened the door of the villa so Perseus could carry her over the threshold in true marital tradition. Once again she could feel herself succumbing to the desire her new husband was encouraging her to share for his retainer’s benefit.
Struggling for breath she finally said, “Danae is the name of Perseus’s mother.”
He raised his head so his black piercing eyes could stare down at her. “That’s right. You’re familiar with the myth of the island?” He actually sounded pleased.
“Yes.” I know it by heart.
“Tomorrow I’ll take you to see the curious rock formations which resemble Medusa, Perseus and Danae.”
Her senses leaped at the thought of spending the day with him, exploring new sites.
“You’ve named your home in honor of your own mother, haven’t you?”
She heard him suck in his breath. “As it happens you are correct.”
They had come out of the scorching sun into a blessedly cool foyer. He lowered her to the tile floor, no doubt a local island design done in multicolors against a white background which she found exquisite.
With his arm around her shoulders, he ushered her through an alcove to a spacious, uncluttered living room of white walls, handmade furniture and a few art treasures, which gave out on a stunning view of the sea.
“A very astute observation. I promised my mother that one day I’d return to Serifos and build her the kind of home she deserved. Unfortunately she died before I could prove my words.”
The deep ache in Sam’s heart over his pain intensified. A need to comfort him prompted her to say, “I have no doubts that she’s been watching your progress with motherly pride. Something tells me she’s smiling down on you right now.”
His dark brows met in a frown. “You believe in a hereafter?”
“Of course. Nothing as marvelous as this world could just come to an end, with nothing else to look forward to!”
“Keep talking like that and you’ll make me a believer.”
“When my time comes, I fully expect to see my mother and be with her.”
“And your father?” he interjected so smoothly, she would have had a hard time proving that he’d never thought to ask the question before.
Unfortunately, at the mention of her other parent, the magic vanished and Sam eased herself away from his arm. In panic, she wandered over to one of the nubby white couches upholstered in a kind of crewel work of the same hue. “I’d rather not talk about him if you don’t mind.”
“You always avoid the mention of him, but no matter. One day when I’ve won your complete trust, you’ll tell me. In the meantime, meet Ariadne, my housekeeper.”
Sam swung around in surprise, still pondering his remark about trust, and totally unaware that anyone else had come into the room.
“She’s Yanni’s wife. Together they take care of the villa.”
“Welcome to Serifos, Kyria Kostopoulos.” The fortyish-looking dark-haired woman with a thin, wiry build like her husband welcomed her in excellent English.
“Thank you, Ariadne. I didn’t expect you to speak my language so beautifully. I’m hoping you’ll teach me some Greek.”
She looked to Perseus for permission before he gave her a nod of assent. “It would be a pleasure.”
“Efcharisto.” Sam tried out the word the way Perseus had taught her to say it.
The older woman beamed. “Your lunch is ready whenever you say.”
“What is the word for lunch?”
“Messimergiano.”
Sam tried to say it exactly the same way, producing a nod of approval from both her husband and his housekeeper.
“Give us five minutes, Ariadne. My wife needs to freshen up first. I’ll show her to our suite.”
“Our suite?”
“Relax,” he murmured as he escorted her out of the room and through the foyer to the other side of the villa where the master bedroom faced the sea.
“Before you accuse me of breaking our contract, let me assure you that the room I plan to occupy adjoins this one through that connecting door. It has a lock you can turn against me every night.”
The way he said the last made her feel like a silly, virginal, naive little schoolgirl who was terrified of her own shadow.
“A-actually,” she stammered, “I do trust you completely and don’t plan to use the lock.”
His face became an inscrutable mask. “Perhaps you’d better. It wouldn’t be wise to tempt the gods, not on this island,” he warned in a haunting tone before turning away. “The bathroom is on your right,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to fetch you.”
The modern air-conditioning worked so well, she felt a little chilly. Under the circumstances she decided not to discard the jacket of her sundress.
His warning kept reverberating in her head. She had no fears of his entering her bedroom uninvited. The horrible truth of the matter was, she feared that if she spent very much time here, it was his door that would need locking. Against her.
Terrified at the implications, she headed for the bathroom to freshen up, scarcely able to appreciate the simple, yet perfect decor of the large room with its kingsize bed an
d dark wood furniture.
The furnishings exactly matched the aqua water and white sand she could see through the floor-to-ceiling glass doors facing his private stretch of beach. Further out, the sea they’d just crossed from Piraeus to Serifos reflected a vivid cobalt-blue color. That same tone had been picked up in the ethnic-styled lamp vases and floor tiles.
If she squinted, she couldn’t tell where sea and sky stopped, and the room began. In her artist’s opinion, there was no greater decorator on earth than nature. Perseus had created heaven in this ancient, serene oasis of the world. Only seventy-two miles from Athens, yet she felt they’d come to a forgotten region of the planet, away from the noise and chaos of civilization.
How tragic his mother wasn’t alive to see what great things her son had accomplished. But even more tragic was his love for Sofia, a woman who’d brought him no joy, no children. Yet his soul still loved her, his proud jawline still carried the mark of her betrayal for all the world to see.
Sofia.
She was the only reason Sam was here on Serifos.
“You’d be wise to remember that salient fact,” Sam said out loud to the image in the bathroom mirror.
To further awaken herself to the dangers of impossible dreams about Perseus, she sluiced her face with cold water, then reached for the fluffy, rose-colored towels. They matched the marble sink with its gold accessories.
Everything pleased her senses and invited, especially the fresh flowers, a combination of daisies and roses placed there for her enjoyment. Such luxury made Sam feel like she was moving about in some kind of fantastic dream not even her mind could have conjured.
Like a good fairy, it seemed Ariadne had been busy because all Sam’s toiletries had been placed in the bathroom, her new clothes, shoes, everything put away in the cupboards and drawers of her bedroom.
After looking in the cabinet, she applied a little lemon splash cologne to her throat and wrists, then brushed her hair. It was while she was retying her gold mane with the white ribbon that she heard the telephone ring. It’s piercing sound amid the stillness set off alarm bells in her head.
She supposed it could be a business call for Perseus, but she had the gut feeling the person on the other end of the line was none other than Sofia. No doubt word had reached her that Perseus and his new bride had arrived on the island and would have settled in his villa by now.
Bride by Day Page 7
