She carried the tray out to the terrace and set it on the table, covering the food with a cloth as a safeguard against the inquisitive wasps which were already gathering.
Then she went upstairs. Her hand was raised to tap on his door, when it opened suddenly, startling her. Downstairs, he’d been wearing a pair of faded denims and nothing else as far as she was aware, but now he had changed once again into the Cretan dress, minus the jacket he’d been wearing the previous day. He’d shaved, and his hair was wet from the shower, and she could smell the cool, damp fragrance of his skin.
He was one of the most physically arresting men she had ever seen in her life, Gemma thought dazedly, looking at the way in which his damp hair clung curling to the shape of his head, the length of the lashes which shadowed eyes as black as onyx, the sculpturing of that wickedly experienced mouth...
She said huskily, ‘Your breakfast is ready,’ and turned swiftly to escape downstairs, only to be brought to an abrupt halt by his hand on her arm.
He said silkily, ‘Perhaps the day should begin here.
Kalimera
, Gemma
mou
.’ And bending his head, he brushed his mouth lightly across hers.
As a kiss, it was over almost as soon as it had begun, but it left Gemma with the bruising, shameful knowledge that she had wanted it to go on. Her pulses were pounding, and breathing was suddenly difficult. She did not dare look at him again, merely turning and almost stumbling in her haste to get downstairs.
By the time he joined her on the terrace, she had almost regained what rags of composure were left to her.
His eyes flicked over her, travelling frowningly from her aloof expression to the empty plate in front of her.
He said, ‘The bread is good, Gemma. Take some.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ she informed him defiantly.
‘Nevertheless, you must eat, or you will make yourself ill.’ There was a steely note in his voice.
Gemma raised her eyebrows. ‘Yet only twenty-four hours ago you were threatening to let me starve.’
‘It still seems to have much to recommend it,’ he said grimly. ‘However, I have allowed humanitarian counsels to prevail. Besides,’ he added with a shrug, ‘a girl weak from hunger is unlikely to prove very stimulating as a companion in bed.’
Gemma’s lips tightened. She was incredibly hungry—the sun, the air, the appealing fragrance of the bread all putting an extra edge on to her normally healthy appetite. Now, she was damned if she would eat as much as a crumb in front of him.
She said glacially, ‘But then providing you with that kind of entertainment is the last thing I have in mind.’
‘So—what is the first?’ He sounded politely interested, no more.
‘Getting out of here,’ she said between her teeth. ‘And putting you in jail where you belong.’
‘An ambitious scheme.’ He didn’t sound particularly perturbed. He spread jam on to a slice of bread and ate it with every appearance of enjoyment.
‘But not an impossible one.’ She hesitated. ‘After all, you can’t hope to get away with this. I’m not completely alone in the world. I have a return flight to take—a job at home in England— my family. If I don’t return when I’m supposed to, then enquiries will be made. You must see that.’
He shrugged, ‘And when these enquiries are made, Gemma
mou
, what will be discovered? That you were here with me. That we were lovers. It is a story as old as time, and will surprise no one— except, perhaps, your family, and it is my intention that they should suffer through your dishonour anyway.’
Her voice thickened. ‘They don’t deserve that.’
‘Nor did Stavros and his wife,’ he said coldly. ‘It is something this brother of yours should have considered before he seduced Maria.’
She lifted her chin. ‘So—what would satisfy them? If Mike married her?’
‘Do you think that is likely?’
Gemma bit her lip. ‘No,’ she said honestly after a moment’s thought. ‘He’s still a student. He can’t afford to get married to anyone for several years yet. Although I suppose he’ll have to contribute something to the baby’s support,’ she added frowning. She was silent for a few moments, staring down at the empty plate in front of her, tracing its pattern with her forefinger. Then she said, her voice unsteady, ‘If you’re determined to punish Mike through me, can’t you leave it at that?’
‘I’m not sure I understand you.’ He drank some coffee.
The colour deepened painfully in her face. ‘If I—agree to—to let you do what you want to me, will you let me go afterwards—when it’s over?’
His mouth twisted wryly. ‘I have had more beguiling invitations,
matia mou
. Why should I agree to any such thing?’
‘I’ve told you—I have a life in England to return to—a career. I want to get back to them,’ she said fiercely.
‘And a man too, perhaps?’
The words of denial were already quivering on her lips, when Gemma scented danger in the apparently idle question.
She said, ‘That’s none of your concern.’
‘You think not? Yet I am naturally interested to know whether you will come to me a virgin, or some other’s willing pupil.’
She tried for nonchalance. ‘Of course there have been men.’ She shrugged. ‘As you’ve implied yourself, things are different in England. We—we don’t lead the same sheltered lives as your girls.’
‘Is that a fact?’ He leaned back in his chair, surveying her through lazily narrowed eyes. ‘But if you are so free with your favours, Gemma
mou
, why the virtuous protests?’
Gemma could have ground her teeth in frustration and temper. She had been certain that he’d wanted her to admit she was a virgin—that for some reason, probably to make his revenge totally complete, she supposed bitterly, it was important to him. It had been a long shot, but she’d hoped that if she claimed experience, hinted that he would be one of a long line, he might find it sufficiently distasteful to bring about a change of mind where she was concerned.
She said sharply, ‘Because I prefer to have a choice. Having forced me into this situation ...’
He laughed. ‘What force have I used?’ he challenged. ‘Within the confines of this house you move freely. I have not tied you to my wrist— dragged you screaming into my bed. There are no marks of violence on your skin—no bruises.’
She met his glance defiantly. ‘Not yet.’
‘Not ever.’ He lifted a dismissive hand. ‘Why should I use brute strength when I know a little patience will succeed in bringing me everything I desire from you?’ His eyes met hers, steadily, unsmilingly. ‘As we both know, Gemma
mou
,’ he added softly.
The silence between them seemed to crackle. Gemma swallowed quickly. ‘You—you revolting egotist,’ she said.
His mouth twisted. ‘So—if we are calling names—you, my lovely Gemma, are a little hypocrite. At Knossos you were as aware of me as I was of you. I need not have been honest with you. I could have sought your acquaintance, as if you were any pretty tourist to whom I was attracted—could have brought you here, seduced you, taken you body and soul—and then, but only then, told you the truth. It was a temptation, believe me,
matia mou
. Is that what you would have preferred?’
She sat very still, her mind considering and rejecting the all-too potent images his words had conjured up. She could imagine only too well how she’d have felt, falling asleep in his arms, sated with passion, believing herself desired, then waking to the ultimate cruelty of the truth.
It could, she realised stunnedly, have destroyed her—and the shock of that realisation drained the colour from her face. It contained implications she had no wish to explore—implications with the power to terrify her.
From a great distance, she heard him repeat quietly and remorselessly, ‘Is that what you would have preferred?’
She said thickly, ‘No.’
‘That is what I thought.’ He sounded as if the question had only been of minor interest to him. He drank the rest of his coffee, and pushed the cup away, glancing at his watch as he did so.
Gemma took herself in hand. ‘An appointment?’ she asked with heavy sarcasm. ‘Please don’t let me keep you.’
He smiled thinly at her. ‘You could not, Gemma
mou
, if I did not wish to stay. And, as it happens, I do have an appointment—business to attend to elsewhere today. I hope you will not be too lonely.’
She stared at him. ‘Oh, I imagine I’ll survive.’ She spoke calmly, but her heart was beating faster with the first stirrings of excitement. He was actually going to leave her here—alone. Of course, he’d be taking the jeep, she hadn’t the slightest doubt about that, but there were other ways— there had to be ...
‘I expect you will.’ His smile widened slightly. ‘But to ensure it, I have arranged a companion for you.’
The balloon of hope inside her deflated as quickly as if it had been stabbed with a pin. She forced her face and voice to remain impassive.
‘You’re very thoughtful,
kyrie
. But I really don’t need a surrogate jailer.’
‘You think not?’ He pushed back his chair and got up. ‘But you need something,
pedhi mou
, to protect you from the consequences of your own recklessness. And I feel sure that if I left you here, completely alone, you would be tempted to be— very reckless.’ He paused. ‘As it is,’ he added sardonically, ‘I can relax and go about my business, knowing that you are here, safely occupied with your domestic concerns. Who knows?’ He shrugged slightly. ‘You might even miss me a little.’
Her pulses felt erratic. ‘I wouldn’t count on it.’
‘You might also,’ he went on silkily, as if he hadn’t heard her last remark, ‘give some further thought to the fascinating offer of your body you made me earlier.’ He paused again. ‘I am inclined to accept, so if you were not serious, now is the time to say so.’
‘I wasn’t serious,’ she said.
‘Very wise.’ He sounded almost approving. ‘You see,
agape mou,
, I would have guaranteed nothing in return. You assumed, did you not, that I would be satisfied with one brief coupling which you would somehow endure?’ He shook his head, smiling faintly. ‘You are wrong, my lovely one, on all counts. Once I have you, Gemma, I intend to keep you—for a while at least. And it is also possible that once you belong to me, you will not want to leave either,’ he added softly.
She wanted to say something shattering, something which would blast his ego, his selfesteem to smithereens, but no words came. Did he really believe, she found herself wondering shakily, that his physical enthralment of her would be so simple, so effortless as he implied? And knew, in that moment, that he did.
At last she heard herself say in a voice which did not seem to belong to her, ‘You’re mad—you have to be. It’s the only explanation.’
‘It’s a crazy world, Gemma
mou
.’ He paused. ‘I will bring food for this evening with me when I come back. Is there anything else you require? Anything you would like me to bring you from the town?’
She raised her eyebrows in exaggerated surprise. ‘Trying to buy me now,
kyrie
? Surely you’re not losing faith in your own technique at this late stage.’
He looked at her for a long moment, bleakly, and in silence, his mouth firmed to a harsh line. Then he said, ‘It was a gesture of goodwill, intended perhaps to ease the situation a little. But forget it.’ He shrugged dismissively, and turned away.
Gemma bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said stiffly. ‘Actually, there is something—but I’m sure you don’t have to go all the way to town for it.’ She took a breath. ‘I’d like something to wear, please, if only as an alternative to this.’ She indicated the shirt, with a gesture of self-derision. ‘It surely isn’t too much to ask?’
‘No.’ He went on watching her. ‘At least not when it is asked in the right way.’
‘I said “please”.’ Her chin went up.
‘I heard you, but I would have preferred the request to be made with a little more warmth.’
‘Do you want me to go on my knees?’ She fiddled with the dishes, piling them together fussily on the table, avoiding looking at him.
‘No.’ He paused again. ‘I think I would prefer you to kiss me.’
‘Go to hell.’ Gemma spoke with bitter distinctness.
‘As you wish. Then your request is refused.’
She stared down at the table. ‘You mean—if I kiss you—and only then—you’ll bring me something else to wear.’
‘Why, yes,
matia mou
. That is exactly what I mean,’ he said mockingly. ‘Is it so much to ask?’ She swallowed. ‘I’m not actually putting you to any trouble. You’ve got my luggage hidden somewhere, after all. You only have to open the case...’
‘And you only have to walk a few paces across this terrace to me,’ the tormenting voice returned. ‘The decision is yours.’
Head bent, cheeks burning, hating him, she took the requisite number of steps. He didn’t move, and she had to stand more or less on tiptoe to reach his olive-skinned cheek with her lips, briefly and awkwardly.
He said something terse and very violent half under his breath, and in his own language. His hands clamped down on her shoulders, forcing her to stay where she was. His eyes glinted down at her contemptuously.
‘Is that what you call a kiss, Gemma?’ he demanded harshly. His dark face seemed to swim before hers, and she closed her eyes on a little shaken gasp as his mouth fastened on hers, taking expert, insolent toll of its sweetness, his tongue exploring its every contour, every moist crevice. She couldn’t speak, or think, or taste anything other than him. He seemed to fill the universe. She felt the deep inner trembling start within her, and knew that without that fierce bruising grip on her shoulders she would have collapsed on to the floor, her legs no longer strong enough to support her.
She was faint, she was going to die. Perhaps she was already dead, and this was Paradise already within her reach. The incoherencies rioted crazily in her head, as the world tilted on its axis dragging her down against the force of gravity into some undreamed-of maelstrom of sensation.