Pagan Lover (2 page)

Tara spun round, anger flashing in her eyes.

‘I don’t know what your reason is, Mr Petrides, but your request is one that amazes me. Patients don’t usually order the nurses about—’ Again her voice was cut, this time by the movement of the man. And she was too late in grasping his intention, too late to escape as he covered the distance between them with the silent smoothness of a jungle cat. She was gripped by the wrists and within seconds she felt the masculine hardness of his body, the warmth of his hand as her face was jerked up, the ruthless possession with which his lips crushed hers. She struggled wildly, using up her strength in vain. The man’s strength was incredible, so easily did he hold her, just as if she were not struggling at all. His kiss, fierce and burning, seemed to last for an eternity, and in the end her struggles ceased and she lay passive against him, offering no resistance when with arrogant mastery his mouth forced her lips apart. At last he held her at arms’ length, his gaze intently searching her face.

‘You surrendered delightfully,’ he murmured. ‘We shall do very well together—’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’
Tara twisted her slender body and managed to release herself from the grip of his hands. ‘You—fiend! I shall report this immediately!’ She was crimson with anger and embarrassment. For the Greek had been making no false statement when he said she
had
surrendered. That it was an unwilling surrender, made only when her strength had ebbed to failing point, made no difference. She
had
surrendered, and she knew a terrible deluge of shame and self-disgust. She naturally thought of David whom she had let down, through no fault of her own. She thought of Sue and wondered why the Greek had not given her a demonstration of his unbridled passion.

‘I do not believe you will report that most pleasant little scene,
Tara,’ the man was saying, his eyes apparently fascinated by her heaving breasts. ‘You enjoyed it just as much as I—No,’ he said with a commanding gesture of his hand, ‘do not deny it. You would have continued to struggle had you felt my kisses to be distasteful—.’

‘What an inflated opinion you have of your prowess as a lover!’
Tara could not have said why she phrased her words like that; she knew only that she was seething with fury and she would have done him a physical injury if that had been at all possible. She looked at the dressing on his forehead and wondered for a moment if the wound had not been so superficial as the doctor believed. Could this injury have affected the man’s brain?
Tara soon dismissed that idea; the Greek’s mental faculties were no more impaired than were her own. He was just a rake whose innate surfeit of ardour had got the better of him! Heaven help his wife, if he had one. She would not only be subjugated mentally but physically as well.

‘I have found,’ the Greek was saying in response to her angry sarcasm, ‘that woman do in fact enjoy my— er—attentions. I am sure that you will admit to enjoying my little demonstration of—’

‘You talk like a fool! ’ she interrupted, glaring at him. ‘As for not reporting you—well, that’s the first thing I shall do when I leave this room!’ And, with far more speed than dignity, she was at the door and, whipping it open, she almost ran through it.

Hateful,
hateful
creature! It was a great pity that the accident had not laid him low—for ever!

She managed to get another nurse to go in for the tray, but did warn her that the man was something of a wolf.

‘Made a pass at you, did he?’ grinned the nurse. ‘One of the hazards of the male ward, of course. If this Greek says a word out of place to me he’ll get a swipe over the kisser!’

Naturally
Tara was interested to know what had happened. when, a few minutes later, the nurse came out with the tray.

‘How was he?’ she asked, seeing the girl’s serene expression.

‘Not a word. Very cool and aloof, sort of. Just nodded and picked up a book.’

Tara frowned in puzzlement.

‘Strange,’ she murmured almost to herself. ‘He didn’t make a pass at Sue, either.’

‘Perhaps he’s fallen in love with you at first sight,’ laughed the nurse, and went off, leaving
Tara scowling ... and wondering why she had changed her mind about reporting the amorous Greek.

That evening she met David and they went to the
Royal Oak for dinner. Looking at him across the candlelit table she found herself comparing his handsome open co
u
ntenance with that of th
e
Greek. And then she frowned, vexed at the way that pagan face kept intruding into her mental vision. David, noticing
t
he frown, enquired the reason for it.

‘A hard day at the hospital?’ he added, and
Tara automatically nodded. ‘How was the Greek you mentioned? I hope he didn’t speak as arrogantly to you as he spoke to Sue?’

Tara
swallowed, wondering what would be David’s reaction if she were to relate exactly what happened in that private ward. Guilt swept over her and it made her angry because she was in no way to blame. But yet she could not rid herself of the irksome conviction that she had been untrue to the man she loved. Perhaps, she mused reflectively, she
could
have put up a greater and more prolonged struggle. Perhaps she could even have prevented the Greek from kissing her at all. It seemed so absurd, in retrospect, that she had been forced into surrender like that. Yes, she should have put up a greater resistance than she had. No wonder she felt guilty. David was speaking, reminding her that she had not answered his question; she looked at him and hoped the light was sufficiently dim for her heightened colour to escape his notice.

‘He was rather tiresome,’ she returned, thinking that the word was just about the most inadequate she could possibly have used in describing the man’s conduct. ‘A bad patient; I’ve told you about them before.’

‘Must be very trying on the nerves sometimes.’ David took up his knife and fork and cut into his steak. ‘Is he still there?’

Tara
shook her head.

‘He left after lunch.’

‘Say goodbye’ to you?’ he asked her with a grin.

‘No; nor did I want him to.’ She did not add that she had taken good care not to be anywhere around when he departed.

‘Good riddance, then! You know, love, I’d feel far happier if you gave up work when we’re married.’

‘I shall, after a little while,’ she returned. ‘But for now, David, please bear with me. I do want to have our home furnished, plus all the little extras, before we start a family.’

‘I shall bear with you, darling,’ he smiled. ‘Yours is a most excellent idea, as we’re both agreed that once the children arrive their mother shouldn’t go out to work.’

The following morning
Tara was handed a magnificent bouquet of roses by the porter, who said how lucky she was.

‘They’re not for me,’ she was saying even as he was handing them to her. ‘You’ve made a mistake. Aren’t they beautiful! Some lucky patient is well and truly held in affection. Let me have a look at the card.’ She was holding the bouquet, two dozen or more long-stemmed roses delightfully arranged in their cellophane wrapping, with a wide bow of silver ribbon to tie them together.

‘They
are
for you,’ the porter said, eyeing her with a new interest. ‘From an admirer by the name of Leonides.’

Leonides....
Tara felt herself go taut. It must be the Greek! How dare he! She glared angrily at the card, scarcely able to contain herself, and prevented from tearing it to shreds only by the awareness of the porter, standing there waiting for her reaction.

‘Thank you, Bill,’ she said, hoping she sounded as casual as she intended to. ‘A grateful patient. I do wish they wouldn’t waste their money in this way.’ She gave a shrug of her shoulders. ‘They mean well, of course.’

‘Of course,’ agreed Bill in an expressionless tone.

‘Nice flowers, though. Must have cost a small fortune!’

Tara
; her temper boiling up inside her, could almost have thrown the flowers away. Almost, but of course she did no such thing. They were so beautiful that she could not resist taking some considerable time in arranging them in a large bowl, using, with them, some pretty green foliage which she brought in from the hospital garden. Everyone wanted to know who the roses were for, and who had sent them. Tara, hating to lie but unable to do anything else because she had no intention of saying they were hers, sent to her by the Greek whom all the staff had heard of since Sue had broadcast to all and sundry what he had been like, said she had received them from the porter and the card seemed to have got lost. It had in fact been put into one of the dustbins.

Later,
Tara was called to the telephone, Leonides Petrides speaking, she heard. Did she like the roses? She replaced the receiver instantly but found herself trembling. What should she do? She did toy with the idea of confiding in David but, somehow, she was afraid to do so. She ought not to be afraid, since her fiancé was naturally the one to whom she should turn in any emergency or other occasion when she needed help or advice.

She decided to ignore the Greek’s conduct, assuming he would soon become tired of these absurdities. But that evening as she left her flat in the nurses’ new building she came face to face with him before she was half way to the nearby bus stop.

‘Go away!’ she cried before he could speak. ‘If you keep molesting me I shall ask for police protection!’

‘No such thing.’ He gestured towards a car standing by the kerb. ‘Get in and we’ll talk. I shall not take no for an answer,
Tara,’ he added imperiously when she attempted to interrupt. ‘We have to talk, understand? Our paths have crossed; we cannot just fade out of each
other’s lives. Please get into my car and—’

‘Do you suppose for one moment I’m that kind of a fool!’ She made to dodge past him, but he barred her way. She glanced around, troubled that she might be seen from one of the many windows of the nurses’ quarters. ‘Why you should think we have anything to talk about I can’t imagine. Kindly let me pass; I have a bus to catch!

 
‘Where are you going?’ His voice with its slight foreign accent was low, but the arrogance was clear. ‘I can give you a lift.’

‘I’m going to meet my fiancé!’ she flared. ‘So please get out of my way!’

‘Your—!’ He stared down into her lovely face, a face framed by a halo of golden hair, long and straight but flicked up at the ends in a sort of enchanting disarray. A half-fringe adorned her high, intelligent forehead, curling round towards her temple. ‘Your … fiancé?’ His voice sounded hollow, and
Tara, perplexed by his changed manner, stared interrogatingly at him, her anger for the moment set aside. ‘You are engaged to be married?’

‘Yes, I am.’ Her answer was brief; she felt oddly disturbed, as when a pain is inadvertently inflicted on someone. ‘And now, Mr Petrides, will you please allow me to pass you? My bus will be here at any moment— It’s here now,’ she added urgently as out of the corner of her eye she saw it through the trees. ‘I must go—’

‘No!’ Imperious the voice, and the pagan face was taut—even cruel in its expression. ‘I’ll give you a lift.’

She tried to pass him but in the end gave up, furious with him and yet at the same time aware that the feeling of concern was still with her.

 
‘I’ve missed it!’ She felt like crying, and that was not surprising, she thought, considering the way this foreigner was persecuting her. ‘My—my fiancé’ll be
worried about m-me. Oh, why are you pestering me like this!’

‘Haven’t you guessed?’ he enquired softly.

‘Guessed?’ She shook her head, scarcely able to concentrate as her thoughts were entirely with David, waiting there, with his car, for her to alight from the bus and get in beside him. He would have come for her each evening but they had more time together if she caught the bus and met him in town. ‘Guessed what?’

 
‘Never mind. Get into my car and I’ll take you to your fiancé.’ He sounded sincere and, strangely,
Tara trusted him to keep his word.

‘Very well.’ She hated his touch as he put a hand beneath her elbow, helping her into his car. She sat there stiffly upright, wondering if she ought to have trusted him after the way he had first treated her.

 
‘I want to talk to you, Tara,’ he said after a while. ‘Is there any real hurry for you to meet this fiancé of yours?’

‘He’ll be waiting for me at the bus stop.’

‘Then we have a few minutes, as we can always overtake the bus.’ And without waiting for her response he swung off the main road and into a tree-lined country lane. Dusk was falling, as it was the beginning of April;
Tara felt her heart give a great lurch, but knew that her protestations would fall on deaf ears. Leonides Petrides pulled up on a grass verge. ‘You can’t marry’ this fiancé you’re going to meet,’ he told her without preamble. ‘You and he are not meant for one another.’

‘What are you talking about?’ she demanded wrathfully. ‘You’ve never met my fiancé—’ She broke off, sighing helplessly. ‘You must be quite mad,’ she declared. ‘I ought to have asked for police protection in the first place!’

He looked at her in mild surprise.

‘What have I done?’ he wanted to know.

‘Kissed me, and sent me flowers, and telephoned me! And now you’ve forced me into your car....’ Her, voice trailed off to silence as she saw the expression of amusement that came into his eyes.