The Beads of Nemesis (13 page)

do without it.

“Well, you don’t own me!” she said with spirit. “If I like Takis, I don’t see why I shouldn’t talk to him all I want to!” She very nearly added ‘So there!’ but was prevented by the look on his face. It served him right, she thought rebelliously, to be a little less sure of her. Perhaps he would notice her more if she stood up to him.

She looked uncertainly at him and looked away again as quickly.

“Indeed?” he said coldly. “As a matter of fact,” she answered, “as a matter of fact I don’t care for Takis - ”

“Then you don’t need to talk to him?”

“N-no, though I can’t ignore him completely. He is your cousin and, seeing he’s staying in the same house - ” She broke off. “Perry, I do try not to be alone with him!”

“Try a little harder!” he advised, his voice tinged with ice. “I mean what I said about that young man. You’re my wife, Morag, not his. See that you remember it!”

She blinked. “You have very Greek ideas sometimes,” she said. “But I’m not Greek. You ought to remember that!” The coldness left his face. “What do you mean by that?” he drawled, giving her an amused look.

“I mean I have a mind of my own!” she answered defiantly, taking a grip on herself. It wasn’t the moment she would have chosen to have a row with him, but if he wanted it that way, she wouldn’t baulk at obliging him. Her eyes glinted dangerously, reflecting the fearful excitement that still clutched at her stomach. “I don’t take orders!” she added for good measure.

“You’ll take mine,” he answered. He still looked amused, and that added a fatal spark to her temper.

“Why should I?” she demanded.

“Because,” he said quietly, “in the last resort we both know that you would rather please me than fight with me. You may not be Greek, but you’ll take your lead from me and be pleased to have it so. Don’t be silly, Morag! Would you rather have it the other way round?”

Fortunately for Morag, she escaped having to answer because her mother-in-law came rushing into the room, her hair standing on end, and looked with surprise at the two of them.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked Pericles. “I keep telling everyone that I’m not going to show the paintings in here! The light isn’t right. All I need is a little help in moving the few that I want seen into the other room. If you carry these ones, Morag can manage the one with its face to the wall, and I’ll bring in any others I’ve decided on while you’re shifting those.”

Pericles grinned. “Which one is our wedding present?” Dora shrugged her shoulders. “We’ll leave you to guess,” she turned on Morag, running a hand through her hair, thus making it look wilder than ever. “It’d serve you right if Pericles humbled your pride for you in front of all those people!” Her expression softened at the look on Morag’s face. “You look beautiful in that dress, my dear. I’ll have to paint you again in that one day, but not until you’ve found yourself.” Her enthusiasm grew as she thought about it. “Yes, it will be a splendid counterpart to the first one! I’ll give them both to you!”

“So that’s what our wedding present is,” Pericles remarked.

“But you’re not to look at it yet!” Morag put in hastily. She was surprised to hear that her voice sounded quite normal. Even so, she couldn’t quite bring herself to look at her husband in case he, too, should know what Dora had meant both by her finding herself and by the hope that Pericles would humble her pride. Dear God, it was uncomfortable enough to be in love with a man without having to tell him so in words, when one had no idea if he even liked in return, let alone felt any of the hurricane of emotion in which she found herself.

“Why not?” Pericles asked.

She made no answer but turned her attention to struggling to lift the heavy canvas to take it into the other room.

“Here, let me have it!” said Pericles, taking it forcibly away from her. He turned it round and placed it back against the wall, standing well back and taking a long, thoughtful look at the painting.

Even Dora stood quite still awaiting his verdict. Morag’s eyes went straight to the painted image of herself. Perhaps it wasn’t as revealing as she had remembered it. And, if it was, perhaps Pericles wouldn’t notice the naked invitation in her eyes, or the strength of her desire as she looked quite obviously at him. The silence stretched on and Morag longed for the floor to open and swallow her up! Couldn’t he say something, anything at all?

But then he did speak and she wished just as passionately that he hadn’t, “I didn’t think anyone else had seen her like that,” he said.

“Like what?” Morag asked in a whisper. She cleared her throat. “Like what?” she said again.

His eyes swept over her face, but without the tenderness she had been hoping to find in them. “As though you wanted to be loved,” he said frankly.

The hot colour stormed up her face. “I don’t! I mean your mother is a very clever artist. I was just the model.” “Come,” said Dora, “we must take the paintings into the other room. Peggy has done a sketch of Morag also. Perhaps Pericles will find more to like in that likeness of you.”

“I like this one,” said Pericles. “But I’d prefer it not to have a public viewing tonight. It is not a view I want other men to have of my wife.” “Oh, arrogant!” Morag began, feeling a good deal safer by his decision. “Just because you think - ”

“So would any man!” he retorted.

She turned away from him. “But you do like it?” she asked.

“Yes - ” He cut himself off as he heard footsteps coming towards them. “Ah, Takis, have you come to help carry the paintings?”

The young Greek looked round the room, his eye falling on the painting of Morag. “Very pretty!” he commented. He gave her a wicked look, his smile wide and innocent, “Who were you looking at, pedki? Ah, but I remember now when you sat there and dreamed your dreams! You were looking at me, Takis Kapandriti!”

Morag wanted to deny it, but there were no words that came to her. She struggled vainly to defend herself when all she wanted to do was run away and hide. She owed that much to Pericles! She had to say something! This time she couldn’t let them think what they liked about her. This time it was Pericles who would suffer.

“I remember it well too,” she said in a small voice. She clenched her fists and drove herself on relentlessly. “Pericles had just said I’d never be free - ” But her husband wasn’t even listening. He had picked up a pile of paintings and had walked out of the room.

Morag thought the party was going on forever. It was time the children were in bed, she thought, and wondered if they would think her very officious if she suggested that they should take themselves off. Peggy was flushed with success from the praise she had received from her drawings and probably wouldn’t mind too much, but Kimon was deep in conversation with a man Morag had not previously noticed. Judging by the boy’s absorbed expression they were talking about coins. Any moment now and Kimon’s precious Spartan ‘cartwheel’ would be passed from hand to hand, while he told them yet again why it was so heavy and why it was made of nothing more valuable than iron.

But, rather to her surprise, the children were glad to go and disappeared without a murmur. Perhaps they had known that the party was about to break up anyway and knew they weren’t going to miss anything. Morag stood beside her husband and mother-in-law and wished them all goodnight to their friends, a fixed smile on her face. She knew now that she would never be happy with Pericles, and she thought the knowledge would destroy her, so badly did it hurt to know that he would never love her but that, on the contrary, he wasn’t even sufficiently interested to know that it was he who held her heart and not - nor ever could be - Takis Kapandriti!

What a relief it was to divest herself of her golden dress and to put on a cotton nightdress and a thin, filmy negligee that barely covered her at all. She went to take a last look at the children and found Kimon in tears.

“Morag, I’ve lost my coin! I took it into the garden to see what it looked like by moonlight and I dropped it on the path, and I can’t find it!”

She put her arms round him and hugged him tight. I’ll have a look,” she offered.

“But supposing you don’t find it?”

“I shan’t go to bed until I do!” she assured him. “I’ll give it to you in the morning. Don’t worry about it now!” But her confidence took a dive when she had crawled up and down the path on her hands and knees and still hadn’t found the coin. She didn’t even mind when she heard Takis humming to himself as he came up from looking at the sea and found her there, stopping only a couple of feet away from where she was kneeling.

“Don’t just stand there!” she said crossly. “Help me look for Kimon’s coin! He’ll be desolate if he’s lost it!” Takis obediently fell on his knees beside her and began feeling round for the coin. “Why do you make yourself the servant of these children?” he asked her.

She answered deliberately. “What other role have I here?”

“Morag.”

With a sinking heart she knew that Pericles had already seen her and, worse still, that he had seen Takis with her. “Kimon’s lost his coin!” she explained.

Pericles bent down until his eyes were practically on the same level as hers. “I warned you, Morag,” he bit out at her. He lifted her bodily to her feet. “Go into the house at once!” She looked down at the inadequate negligee she was wearing and hurried to obey him. He came after her almost immediately, catching up with her in the hall.

“While you are my wife, you will not entertain your lovers at my front door!” he told her.

“But I wasn’t! I was looking for Kimon’s coin!”

For a long moment he stared angrily at her, then he opened the door to his bedroom and thrust her inside before him. “If you want to be loved,” he said tautly, “you can make up your mind to be loved by me!”

She backed away from him, almost falling on to the bed behind her. “But I didn’t go out to meet Takis - I wouldn't!” His hands slipped her negligee off her shoulders, ignoring her protests. He pushed her back against the pillows, his lips taking possession of hers with a fierceness that took her breath away. She made a last effort to prevent him from taking her more firmly into his arms, but her own need to give way to him was too strong for her.

“Oh, Pericles!” she breathed.

She felt him against her and she clung to him, welcoming his warm hands against her flesh. She didn’t care how it had happened, she didn’t care what happened afterwards, but to belong utterly to her husband was the fulfilment of everything she had ever dreamed of for herself.

Pericles was no longer beside her when she awoke. She started up, afraid that he had left her alone, but then she heard him splashing in the bathroom and knew he would soon be back, and that she would have to say something to him when he did. The door swung open and he came through it, his eyes brilliant as he looked at her. Reddening despite herself, she looked away from him and her eye fell on Kimon’s Spartan coin on the bedside table. She reached out for it, her heart pounding out a new, unfamiliar message within her.

“You found the coin!” she accused him. “You knew I was telling you the truth all the time!”

Pericles came over to the bed. He leaned over her, putting a hand on either side of her slim body.

“Yes, I knew,” he said.

“Then - ” She blushed vividly. “I think you might have told me you knew,” she said.

There was a curious look in his eyes and she found herself thinking how white and strong his teeth were, and that his mouth was every bit as strong and firm as it had felt against hers.

“Are you expecting an apology?” he asked her, the look in his eyes deliberately mocking. “I don’t have to apologise for making love to my own wife” he told her, as arrogant as she had ever seen him. “Not even to her!” he added. He bent his head and took an unhurried toll of her lips. “Especially not to her!”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Pericles had gone out. Morag passed a restless half-hour trying to persuade herself that she didn’t care where he had gone, but she failed dismally in this that she was all the more pleased to see her mother-in-law coming into the dining-room for her breakfast. Dora gave her a long, interested look as she sat down, smiling suddenly with all the warmth that made some people say she was the most charming woman they had ever met.

“You have a glow this morning, my dear. I think I shall have to paint you again like you are now. Perhaps Pericles would like it better. Positively complacent!” Her smile lit her eyes and died again. “It has happened to other women before, you know!”

Morag was getting used to Dora’s odd, slanting shafts of humour. “But never to me!” she said. She eyed her mother- in-law across the table. “Nobody can take that away from me!”

“Why should anyone want to?” Dora asked dryly. “Always before, someone has.”

“Delia?”

Morag nodded. “Did Perry tell you about her?”

“Not really,” Dora said with disinterest. “I think he mentioned her name once.”

“Most men prefer her.”

“Oh? I thought she had always been jealous of you? Didn’t she try and take your young man away from you?” Morag stared at her. “How did you know?”

“Kimon told me,” Dora said simply. “He had heard you and Pericles talking about it. Children hear far more than they are ever meant to. I can’t say that young man sounds much of a loss. Do he and Delia intend to marry?”

“No,” Morag said. “David is dead. He was killed in a car crash.”

Dora yawned. “I suppose she was driving?”

Morag maintained an uncomfortable silence. It was odd to think about David now. She knew now that she had never loved him, and that her liking for him had been rather uncertain, bred of habit and the comfortable certainty that sooner or later they would come together in a

more permanent relationship as other people did.

“Well?” said Dora.

“I never thought of it before,” Morag wondered at herself, “but Delia never did have any particular boy-friend of her own. Do you suppose that was why she wanted David?”

“Quite likely!”

“David wasn’t really in love with me. He took one look at Delia and that was that. I might just as well not have existed!”