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“And very beautiful,” Chelsea confirmed.
Looking beautiful herself in virginal white, Florina eyed her with open hostility. Chelsea could hardly blame her for feeling that way. Had she been kept dangling on a string for years, only to see the object of her desire usurped by another woman, and a foreigner at that, she would have felt the same. It would be a waste of time telling her that she had no interest in her cousin.
It was hardly true anyway-in any sense.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_194ad8dc-4371-5b06-bab1-564632040e57)
NEVER a hasty event, and taking the late start into consideration, the meal went on until well gone midnight. All conversation was conducted in English, in deference to the guest, which made Chelsea feel even more of an outsider. Seated between Kiria Pandrossos and Dion at the big round table, with Nikos directly opposite, she was constantly aware of the dark eyes on her. Florina was by no means blind to the fact either, she reckoned.
Fending off questions about her background wasn’t easy. More than once she found herself on the brink of admitting the truth and accepting the consequences. That she didn’t was largely because of Dion, who would be devastated to discover how he’d been used. In all fairness, he had to be put in the picture first-and exonerated from any blame if and when the occasion arose.
It was almost twelve-thirty when Nikos departed. Kiria Pandrossos took her leave too, followed almost immediately by Florina, with a cursory response to Chelsea’s “kalinichta’.
“She’s distressed over Nikos,” explained Dion unnecessarily. “Because he spent so much time alone with you in the gardens.” He eyed her speculatively. “You looked disquieted when you returned.”
Not so much shaken as stirred, thought Chelsea with assumed flippancy.
“Your cousin’s an intimidating man,” she said. “Difficult to relax with.”
“Yet you asked him to accompany you?”
“A spur-of-the-moment idea because I couldn’t think of anything else to say,” she improvised, not about to acknowledge that the suggestion had come from him. “I didn’t expect to find him out here on his own.”
“He wouldn’t have been alone if Florina had known.”
“I’m sure.” Chelsea twirled the stem of her wine glass between finger and thumb for a moment before lifting it to drain the last of the contents, placing it back on the table to add tentatively, “Do you think he will eventually make the move?”
“To marry her?” Dion lifted his shoulders. “With Nikos, who can tell?”
“If he really does know how she feels about him, it’s hardly right of him to let her go on hoping if he has no intention.”
The shrug came again. “You heard me say that to him in the car earlier.”
“I heard you say that she hoped to be married in the not too distant future,” Chelsea conceded. “I didn’t realise at the time that it was aimed at him.”
“Nikos would have known it”
“Then hints obviously aren’t enough. Someone should try telling him straight.”
Dion gave her a bland smile. “If you’re so concerned for my sister’s welfare, perhaps you should do it yourself.”
Already tried, already failed, she could have told him. She laughed and shook her head. “I’ll pass on that one.”
“I thought you might.” He drained his own glass, indicating the still half full bottle of wine. “You’d like some more?”
Chelsea shook her head. “Not for me, thanks. In fact, I think I’ll be off to bed, if you don’t mind?”
“I’m desolated,” he claimed, looking slightly put out. “No other girl ever treated me the way you do. Do I not make your heart beat even a little bit faster?”
“Of course you do,” she soothed, recognising wounded male vanity when she heard it. “I’d have to be blind not to find you outstandingly attractive.”
“But you’ve no desire to share your bed with me?”
“I don’t share a bed with any man,” she said firmly. “I thought we had all that clear.”
The grin was reassuring. “We do, but I’m only flesh and blood. It’s man’s nature to desire a beautiful woman. Nikos was stirred by you himself; that much I could read of his thoughts. Never has he looked at Florina the way he looked at you tonight He demanded to know earlier if the two of us were lovers already.”
Chelsea tried to keep an even tone. “And what did you tell him?”
“That we were just friends. Not that he believed it ‘Between a man and a woman,’ he said, ‘there is no such thing as just friends.’“ Dion paused, eyeing her with the same speculation he had employed before. “Do you find him attractive?”
What Nikos made her feel went far beyond mere attraction, she acknowledged, remembering those tumultuous moments in his arms.
“As I already said, I find him thoroughly intimidating,” she claimed, not without truth. “He isn’t nearly as good-looking as you.”
“He’s older, and many women prefer older men. Especially when they’re wealthy too.”
“I don’t care about money,” Chelsea returned, truthfully again. “I’ve enough of my own to get by on.”
She paused, tempted once more to let Dion in on her secret. There was a possibility that he might feel honourbound bound to give her away, but she doubted it. There was little love lost between him and Nikos.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” she said, before she could change her mind. “A confession, I suppose you’d have to call it.”
The speculation increased. “So tell me?”
“I’m a journalist.” It came out in a rush. “I should have been honest with you right away, I know, but when you asked me to come here with you it was too good an opportunity to put at risk. No one’s ever managed to interview your cousin. I’m hoping to be the first.”
Viewing the handsome, and at the moment inscrutable face, she knew a gathering despondency. “I shan’t blame you if you feel like telling me to take off,” she added. “No one likes being used.”
“No, they don’t.” The agreement was severe, the scowl even more so. “You should be ashamed!”
“I know,” she said. “I took a mean advantage.”
Dion studied her for a moment, the mock anger replaced by a certain calculation. “No more than I intended taking of you,” he said at length. “And still intend, if you prove willing.” He shook his head at the look on her face. “Not that. I asked you here for quite another purpose.”
Intrigued enough to forget her own position for the moment, Chelsea eyed him questioningly. “What purpose?”
“There’s this girl,” he said. “A daughter of one of the families allowed to share Skalos. I want her to think that you and I are an item-isn’t that the way you say it?”
“It’s the way some people say it.” She paused. “What is it you’re after, exactly?”
“I intend to show her she’s far from my only interest,” he stated with a flash of fire in his eyes.
Pride rearing its head again? Chelsea reflected.
“Why would you need me for that?” she asked. “You must have a whole list of girls you could call on.”
“Those who would like to be with me, yes.”
But none likely to agree to being used as a mere instrument, Chelsea surmised. At least it explained why Dion had been so ready to accept the limitations she had imposed on their own relationship.
“Having already told Nikos there’s nothing between us, isn’t it going to make you appear more than a bit of a liar if we start putting on an act for this girl’s benefit?” she said cautiously, thinking it wasn’t going to do her credibility much good either.
“We don’t have to put on an act,” he assured her. “It will be enough for Elini to see us together.”
Enough for what? Chelsea wondered. “I suppose I owe you something for not being honest with you from the start,” she said with some reluctance.
“If you do this for me, I’ll do everything I can to help you get what you want,” Dion promised. An innate decency prompted him to add, “Although I should warn you that there’s very little possibility of success. Nikos despises those who put themselves on public display. Nor would I advise attempting to publish anything without permission.”
“I wouldn’t do that anyway.” Chelsea could make that promise in all honesty. “I knew the odds were against me when I took this on, but it was worth a try. Still is,” she added, stiffening her resolve. “There has to be a first time for everything.”
Dion came to his feet along with her, a certain regret in his eyes as he scanned her face. “Must you really sleep alone tonight?”
“Really,” she said. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Kalinichta, friend.”
He made no effort to stop her as she turned to go indoors, but she could sense frustration in him. Nikos was probably right, she thought drily: there was no such thing as a purely platonic relationship between a man and a woman-certainly not where the man was concerned, at any rate.
In bed, but unable to sleep, she found her thoughts dwelling on Nikos again, seeing him in her mind’s eye, features sculpted from solid rock, body taut with muscle, remembering the feel of his lips on hers, the power to crush in his hands. She hadn’t known what it was to desire a man until now, because she had never before met a man who aroused her to such an extent. For the first time she could understand that love didn’t have to be a part of the equation.
Taking account both of what he had said to her in the gardens and the expression in his eyes every time she had met his gaze during the rest of the evening, there was every reason to believe that he found her equally desirable. If she couldn’t find fulfilment in one direction, she might at least…
She broke off her thoughts at that point, shocked that she could even contemplate such a move. There was such a thing as moral fibre.
Morning brought no change in Florina’s attitude. Chelsea gave up trying after receiving monosyllabic replies to all her overtures.
The skies were clear of any vestige of cloud, the rising heat tempered by a gentle breeze blowing in from the sea. Despite enjoying a lazy morning alongside Dion on the terrace, she knew it wouldn’t take long to become bored with the easy life. She needed to be up and doing-to have something to keep both body and mind active.
The party was due to begin at four. Dion’s father still hadn’t put in an appearance when they left the house on the hour. Dion was driving, with his mother occupying the front passenger seat, leaving Chelsea to share the rear with his sister. The latter spoke not a single word during the journey, gazing steadfastly out of the window, her face set in lines that warned off any attempt to start a conversation.
Compared with the haute couture outfits both the Pandrossos women were wearing, the silky black trousers and sleeveless top Chelsea had on were definitely second-rate, but they were the only things she had with her that were even remotely suitable to the occasion. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, she told herself stoutly. Who was going to be taking any notice, anyway? This was Dimitris’s day.
Their destination lay barely a couple of miles away around the other side of the headland. Reached through olive groves, the house drew a breath of delight. Creeper-covered white walls nestled beneath a faded red roof, each tall and graceful window flanked by dark blue shutters. Big enough to house several families, Chelsea judged, but still looking like a home rather than a showplace.
They were not the first arrivals. Several cars were already parked around the gravelled area fronting the house. Dion slid an arm around Chelsea’s waist as they entered a spacious hall which appeared to go all the way through to the rear of the building, where tall double doors were folded back to reveal a magnificent, uninterrupted view of the sea.
“I thought we didn’t have to pretend anything,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.
“No more we do,” he confirmed, but he made no attempt to remove the arm, steering her in the direction of the rear exit with his mother and sister following on behind.
The doorway gave on to an iron-railed terrace, from which a flight of stone steps led down to a wide, paved courtyard brilliant with spilling plant life. There were several umbrella-shaded tables, but the majority of people gathered down there were standing around in small groups. The shouts and screams associated with young people enjoying themselves could clearly be heard, although they were nowhere to be seen.
“They’ll be down on the lower level,” Dion supplied, anticipating the question. He indicated the stone archway at the far end of the courtyard. “Through there. The gardens are built on several levels down to the shore. Nikos will have organised entertainment on one of the lawns so that they don’t injure themselves.”
He scrutinised the groups below, his grasp tensing a little as he found what he sought. “There’s Elini. The one in red.”
Chelsea followed his gaze, coming to rest on a curvaceous young figure in a bright red dress that showed off the cloud of black hair to its best advantage. No more than eighteen, she judged, studying the captivating face; something of a flirt too, if the way she was smiling up at the young man next to her was anything to go by.
Kiria Pandrossos and Florina had already descended to greet friends and neighbours. Chelsea allowed herself to be drawn down the steps, fixing a smile on her face as Dion proceeded to introduce her to people. The response appeared genial enough on the surface, though she sensed a certain reticence in some. It was only to be expected, she supposed, that not everyone would welcome a foreigner in their midst on a purely Greek occasion.
The group Elini was with Dion left till the last. Chelsea attempted to weigh up the girl’s reaction when they were introduced, but saw little sign that her presence was arousing any jealousy-assuming that was what Dion was after.
She stiffened involuntarily as someone came up behind her, knowing who it was even before he spoke.
“Come and meet my son,” said Nikos, making it sound as much like a command as an invitation. “He’ll be delighted to practise his English on you.” His smile encompassed the rest of the group, Dion included. “Signomi, parakalo.”
They were halfway across the patio before Chelsea drew breath. Nikos wasn’t touching her in any waywasn’t even all that close-yet she could feel the sunstoked heat of his body radiating through the white slacks and shirt he was wearing. Only the women had bothered to dress up, she had already noted, the men opting for comfort rather than style.
“It’s a lovely day for it,” she remarked, driven once more to say something-anything.
“For what?” Nikos queried without particular inflexion.
“A child’s birthday party. So much better if it can be held outdoors, where they can let off steam without creating havoc. I mean, no matter how good they are normally, kids tend to get over-excited on occasions like this. I can remember my mother going spare over the mess my guests used to create!” She was babbling and she knew it, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “Of course, you don’t have to cater for weather variations to quite the same extent we do back home. People even take out insurance against having an event rained off.”
“With very short odds, I imagine,” Nikos commented drily. He glanced her way, eyebrow lifting. “Do you have anything more to say on the subject?”
Chelsea pulled a rueful face. “I’m not always so garrulous.”
“But with me you have to talk in an effort to conceal what I make you feel.”
They had reached the archway. Down another flight of steps lay a walled and grassed area where what appeared at first glance to be several dozen children were whooping it up with a whole troupe of clowns. Nikos made no immediate move to descend, studying her face with unconcealed amusement.
“So assured on the surface, so timorous beneath,” he taunted. “Would you deny your response to me?”
Several suitably flippant replies raced through Chelsea’s mind, all of them discarded. The only way to deal with this situation was to answer in like vein.
“Not for a moment,” she said. “I’m sure there’s no woman alive whose heart fails to palpitate when you’re around.”
“Ah, but not all women stir me the way you do.” His voice had lowered, infinitely seductive in its caressing intonation.
“Tough!” she shot back at him, determined to keep her end up. “As I told you last night, I’m not on the market.”
“Last night was last night.” Eyes glinting in the sunlight, he indicated the steps. “Shall we go down?”
Conscious that several pairs of eyes were on them, Chelsea took the line of least resistance. At least there would be no more such talk with children in the vicinity. Time to unravel her stomach muscles and get a hold of herself.
A small, wiry figure emerged from the general throng as the two of them reached the bottom of the steps, tearing across to issue a breathless greeting. Dressed in shorts and T-shirt, as were most of the children, black hair cut short to control a riotous curl, he had a positively angelic little face, every feature exquisitely defined.
Not bothering to wait for Nikos to perform formal introductions, Chelsea gave the boy a broad smile. “Hallo, Dimitris, my name is Chelsea.” She held out the small package she had been toting around. “Happy birthday!”
Looking a little nonplussed, the boy waited for his father’s nod before accepting the present, not forgetting to say, “Efcharisto.” He showed the usual childish impatience in tearing off the wrappings, viewing the handsized LCD pinball game enclosed with puzzled eyes.
Forgetting Nikos for the moment, Chelsea squatted at the boy’s side to show him how to use the game, sparking an eager desire to try it for himself. Next moment he was racing off to show the machine to his friends, gathering a little crowd about him, all clamouring for a go.
“Thank you,” said Nikos as Chelsea straightened. “You appear to have a very good idea of what appeals to small boys.”
Big boys too, she thought with irony. The difference being that she wasn’t out to gratify the latter.
“Just a token,” she said. “Makes me feel a bit less of a gatecrasher.”
