Desire Read online

  'An Irish girl? She managed to settle, then?'

  'She is in love,' returned Dendras simply.

  Love… An involuntary sigh issued from Kim's lips. Would love ever come to her? She had dreams, like any other girl, but as yet she had never met a man she liked enough to encourage. She often wondered if she was too choosey, because she had had several opportunities for going steady but had turned them all down.

  'Is there any kind of industry on the island?' she asked when the silence began to stretch. 'Do they grow anything as a staple?'

  'No, not as such. We have a few hotels now springing up, and there are the fruit and the olives.' He paused and then, with a faint, rather faraway smile, said, 'I haven't told you of the strange custom that somehow came into being in my family, have I?'

  'No.' Kim looked interested. 'Tell me about it.'

  'Well, there is an unwritten law in my family that puts an obligation on male members to see that any girl who becomes pregnant must never be left in the lurch—' He stopped, his young face gaining colour. 'It's a crude way of putting it, isn't it?'

  'Using the term "left in the lurch" you mean?' Kim laughed and shook her head. 'I don't think so, Dendras.'

  'Well, to continue. If one member of my family should die after getting a girl in the family way it's incumbent on another to marry her, be it a brother or cousin.'

  Kim could only stare disbelievingly for a long moment before saying, 'What a fantastic custom! What would happen if there wasn't a male free to marry the girl? I mean, they all might be married.'

  'To be honest, I don't think the custom has ever been put into operation—if that's how one would put it.' Dendras laughed. 'All our men must have lived to marry the girls if ever they did get them into that position…' For some reason he allowed his voice to trail off into silence, yet again he deliberately avoided Kim's eyes. She frowned at his strangeness, and felt the hair on her forearms lift as her nerves tensed involuntarily.

  'Dendras,' she said, 'I don't understand you at all. Are you serious about this custom you mention?'

  'Of course,' he replied indignantly. 'It's the truth. I expect it does sound silly but, after all, it would be just a matter of honour, wouldn't it?'

  'So you say; I still don't understand your manner.'

  He coloured, but managed to appear cool and controlled. 'Forget it,' he said, taking a crusty roll from the basket. 'Vidas is always saying he'll revoke it, but of course he hasn't bothered because he knows he'll never have to honour it.'

  Kim looked at him, her frown deepening. 'Do you mean to say that as things are at present, if you—' She stopped and now it was her turn to colour up.

  Toying with the roll on his plate, Dendras said, 'Yes, if I got a girl into the family way and then died, he would have to marry her in order to give the child a name.'

  'Well, of all the stupid customs! It's beyond belief!'

  'No such thing. The same custom existed in France for a very long period. It might still exist in some families.'

  Kim merely shrugged and changed the subject, asking Dendras to tell her more about his home, but he talked about his brother instead, saying that he lived for his business and had little time for relaxation.

  'He has a study in a quiet part of the house and spends a good deal of his time there. Of course, he has a lady friend now and then—I expect you gathered that from what I said earlier?'

  'From the way you acted,' corrected Kim. 'I believe all Greek men have lady friends, whether they are married or not?'

  'Their wives often have lovers too,' returned Dendras. 'Morals are not thought much of in Greece.'

  'Your brother's fifteen years older than you, I think you said?'

  'That's right, and so Father made him my trustee until I'm twenty-one. Vidas has the Castello and the land, but I have a large fortune, and this is being looked after by Vidas. I was only sixteen when Father died.'

  'If your brother's as old as that, it's a wonder he isn't married. Surely he wants an heir to all that wealth?'

  'He might marry one day. But I suppose he feels sure that I will eventually provide an heir.' He paused in thought. 'If I did have a son, I don't think Vidas would ever get married, because he seems more than satisfied with his bachelor existence.' Dendras looked fixedly at her, stressing the words as a tacit reminder that she was being offered the honour of mothering the heir to the Christou wealth. 'Yes, Vidas would be more than pleased if I were to produce a son.'

  Kim said casually, 'Tell me about your mother. I've noticed that you haven't said much about her at all.'

  'For a reason.' His foreign voice was almost harsh.

  'I'd rather not talk about my mother. She and Vidas are two of a kind—hard and unfeeling, unapproachable.'

  'I'm sorry,' she murmured, faintly shocked at the dramatic change in Dendras's manner. 'Forgive me—'

  'It's all right. You weren't to know that we don't see eye to eye.'

  A thoughtful expression settled on Kim's face as a result of what Dendras had just said. She was thinking of his brother and wondering how he got on with his stepmother, who had the right to remain in his home until he married. Kim had previously sensed that Vidas was not too happy with the arrangement, but she supposed he must get along all right with the woman or he'd have married before now, if only to rid himself of her presence in his home.

  But even as she was reaching this conclusion she heard Dendras say, 'Vidas doesn't get on with her either. She can be exceedingly awkward and determined, but he has no alternative than to put up with her.'

  'You'd think he would get married, then.'

  Dendras only shrugged and the subject was changed. However, Kim could not help dwelling on the matter and feeling puzzled that Vidas didn't decide to marry and free himself of what seemed to be a burden.

  Later, when she and Dendras were saying good night by her car, which was parked close to his, she heard his plea and a sigh left her lips.

  'I can't let you go like this, Kim—never to see you again. Please say we can meet and have dinner as usual next Saturday?'

  She looked at him in the hotel's bright light, knowing what she ought to do and yet acutely conscious of what her soft heart was urging her to do—and the two were vastly different.

  'It isn't going to do any good,' she began when, to her consternation, he started to cry. 'All right,' she amended swiftly, 'I'll see you on Saturday.'

  'Here, at the Grosvenor, or would you like to go somewhere else for a change?'

  'Let's meet at the Adelphi in Liverpool. It's an excellent place to dine.'

  'It's such a long way for you to drive,' he protested.

  'No such thing—just about an hour even if the traffic's heavy.'

  And so it was arranged; they were to meet in the lobby of the Adelphi the following Saturday. This time Kim wore a rather slinky dress of turquoise satin with slits up both sides of the skirt. She had never liked the dress but decided she must get some wear out of it nevertheless. It made her appear older and more worldly, and when she looked at herself in the long mirror as she entered the hotel, she wished fervently she had worn something else.

  To her surprise Dendras was not there, but just as she was about to sit down to wait, he appeared. He was not alone.

  Walking beside him was a tall dark foreigner, lithe of frame and stern of feature, arrogance and good breeding in every majestic step he took. People turned their heads to follow his progress; he seemed to dominate the entire scene, and Kim, knowing instinctively who he was, likened him to some powerful Greek god, even the great Zeus himself.

  'Kim, meet Vidas!' Dendras's words came swiftly; he was shy, unsure of himself in his brother's presence, and Kim could very well understand why. Vidas Christou was the most impressive, and at the same time forbidding, man she had ever set eyes on. Well over six feet in height, he had the gait and form of an athlete in his prime. His dark aquiline features seemed to stamp themselves on her mind even before she had time to examine them. She was fascin
ated by his eyes; they were almost black and hooded, which gave them a lazy expression, while, conversely, they were piercing and shrewd, eyes that would miss nothing. His skin was clear and brown, tightly stretched above facial hollows so that the high cheekbones were accentuated, as were the rigid jawline and outthrust chin. His mouth was thin and yet sensuous, his nose straight, with fine nostrils that appeared to be flaring as he stared down at Kim, one lean brown hand extended, ready to grip hers. Contempt was spread over his face, and it was plain that he disliked her on sight—just as she disliked him, intensely. He seemed rather older than his thirty-five years, and Kim spitefully put this down to his amorous exploits.

  'How do you do?' he said in a deep foreign voice. 'So you have been keeping company with my brother?' The dark eyes slid in almost insolent examination from her face to the low neckline of the dress and down to where one of the slits revealed a shapely leg from the ankle to the thigh. She went hot all over, lowering her eyes against the undisguised scorn in his. But she remained conscious of those dark eyes burning into her bare shoulders, then settling on the seductive valley between her barely covered breasts. Dendras was shifting uncomfortably on his feet, and when at last his voice was heard, it was cracked and urgent.

  'Vidas arrived unexpectedly this morning, so I—I asked him to come along and meet you—' His eyes roamed over her figure, puzzlement and censure in their depths. 'He's dining with us, Kim. I've booked a table for three instead of two.'

  'I see.' She was enveloped in guilt without knowing why; all she did know was that never in her life had she felt so small and cheap, so totally lacking in self-assurance. This man, with his air of severe austerity, was deliberately disconcerting her; she was sure of it even before he said, in a voice rather less accented than his brother's, 'I expected to meet someone much younger. Do you mind telling me your age?'

  Her eyes glinted, anger surging within her. 'I would rather not,' she answered shortly.

  The hooded Greek eyes fixed hers in a narrowed humorless stare. 'I suspect you are at least eight years older than my brother.'

  Kim's temper flared. She might look older than her years at this moment, but she was sure she did not appear to be approaching thirty! 'You can suggest what you like,' she seethed, conscious even in her anger of the man's attractions, his noble features, his superlative physique… plus a strange magnetism that drew and held her even in the face of her profound dislike of him.

  'Vidas didn't mean anything insulting,' Dendras interposed unhappily. 'Shall we have a drink?' Imploring eyes sought those of his brother, who stared at him inscrutably without replying. 'It's not much fun just standing here, is it?'

  Vidas nodded, then smiled unexpectedly. 'You're quite right,' he agreed. 'Let us go into the lounge.'

  It was inevitable that the meal would be a failure, for neither Kim nor Dendras was at ease. Vidas spoke a great deal, mainly to ask Kim about herself and her family. She answered, fully aware that he was baiting her, having been given the wrong impression by Dendras. He wanted to know all about her, believing she wanted to marry his brother. And while the kind and obvious course would have been to disillusion him, some imp of mischief, born of her dislike, impelled her to remain silent about her intentions regarding his brother. Let him worry! She hoped he'd lie awake all night!

  'Why did he come over?' she asked Dendras when, for a short while, they were alone, Vidas having left them as they all moved from the restaurant to the lounge where the coffee was being served.

  'He had some business to do in London and decided to fly up here to see me. At least, that's what he said.'

  'Why did you let him believe we were serious?'

  'I was flustered when I saw him there, at the university, in my room, and it seemed silly to tell him I was dining with a girl who'd thrown me over, especially as it was the girl I'd hoped to marry. So I let him believe it was serious.'

  'And how are you intending to get out of it?'

  'I'll have to think—' He stopped as Vidas rejoined them and sat down, his every movement as lithe as a jungle cat's, his features set, carved in the way that the forces of nature carve rock. Strange, unfathomable man, thought Kim. Did he ever unbend? Was he human?

  It was a relief when the time came for them to leave the hotel. Dendras, looking exceedingly unhappy, bade her a rather stiff good night when, after he and Vidas had walked with her to her car, he stood for a moment looking at her in the light from the hotel. 'When shall I see you again?'

  'I'll give you a ring,' she promised, and after unlocking the door and sliding behind the wheel, was soon driving away, a sigh of relief on her lips.

  Chapter Two

  Her parents were still up when she arrived home, a circumstance which instantly set Kim wondering if something was wrong. They were in the habit of retiring early ever since her father was stricken with the heart attack that left him in such bad health that he had been forced to give up his work. Before that they had been comfortably off—Kim, her parents, and Stephen, a cousin whom her parents had adopted when his own parents were killed in a car accident. A year younger than Kim, he was something of a worry to them all. He had recently fallen in with a bad crowd and at times would not come home at night; on one occasion he was away for three days, and when questioned, refused to say where he had been.

  The moment she entered the living room, Kim knew her fears were well founded, for her mother's eyes were swollen from weeping and her father lay on the couch, his face mottled, his lips ominously tinged with a blue that matched the knotted veins at his temples.

  'What's wrong?' Kim's voice quivered, and in her heart there was dread. 'Father's had another attack?'

  Her mother nodded. How old she looked these days, thought Kim sadly. And yet she was only in her early fifties, so she ought not to be looking as if she were ten years older.

  'Yes, and the doctor says that if he has another, it could be fatal.' Kim frowned heavily as her glance slid from one parent to the other. 'It's all right,' her mother said. 'Your father knows the worst. He insisted that the doctor be frank with him.' A small pause followed, and then, 'Stephen's caused it—oh, Kim, he's done a terrible thing! And it looks as if the police will soon catch him even though he's in hiding.'

  'In hiding?' Kim faltered, shock widening her eyes. 'What has he done?'

  'It was robbery with violence—' She stopped, choked by sobs rising from the very depths of her being. Kim went to her swiftly, encircling her shuddering body with strong young arms. She herself was crying, her eyes on her father's inert figure on the couch. Anger forced its way through her pity and anxiety. To think that her parents had adopted Stephen only to be paid for their kindness in this way. She felt she hated her adopted brother with a black venom, and would be glad if he were caught and punished… glad if it were not for her parents and what his arrest would do to them. They had always been devoted to each other; theirs was the perfect example of what a happy marriage should be. They had been in love since the day they met, and they would be in love until death parted them. Death… She stared at her father and a great wave of despair swept over her, for she could only fear the worst.

  'Is there nothing that can be done?' She felt the question to be superfluous but she had to say something. To her surprise she heard her mother say, in a voice muffled against her breast, 'Your father thinks that if only we could get away from here before the arrest and trial—right away, he meant, so that the disgrace wouldn't touch us—then he'd have a chance of a few more years. You see, darling, we're respected here, owing to your father's brilliant career as an accountant, and we both know without any doubt at all that the scandal would break us.'

  'Move from here… ?' Kim eased her mother's head away so that she could look at her. The tear-stained face was more than she could bear, and for a few tender moments she used her handkerchief to dry her mother's eyes!

  'Can we get away, darling?' her mother said and there was a hopeless little catch to her voice. 'The house had to be mortgaged w
hen your father left work, so we won't get much for ourselves if we do sell it.'

  Another thing against moving was, of course, that Kim would have to throw up her job, and as Stephen had not been working for some time, her money was the mainstay of the family.

  'No, we can't get away,' her mother despairingly said. 'We shall have to stay and face the scandal…' Her voice became muffled as she again pressed her face to Kim's soft breast. But eventually she managed to pull herself together and Kim suggested they all go to bed. They would feel much fresher in the morning and better able to discuss the situation to see if there was any way in which the move could be made. Yet even as she spoke, hopelessness enveloped her, for it was impossible these days to make a move such as her mother suggested without money.

  Kim lay awake far into the night, her thoughts flitting from one thing to another in her attempt to find a way of prolonging her father's life. Just before she had said good night, her mother had confided that, for some time now, her love for Stephen—and her husband's love for him—had been on the wane; immune to all pleading and distress, he had treated them diabolically, and the fact of his not working had increased their bitterness. It made Kim bitter too, since she had been forced to give up her spending money in order to help her mother to use as little as possible of their capital. Kim felt she would not care if she never saw Stephen again. She recalled vividly the words of an aunt—now dead—when Stephen was only ten years old.

  'Your mum and dad made a bad move when they took that boy into their home, Kim. He'll bring them heartache aplenty—just you mark my words.'

  She rose at dawn, having slept only fitfully after several hours of wakefulness. She moved about the house in silence, tidying up after making herself some tea. She had not even bothered to comb her hair, and at half past eight when she happened to glance in the mirror over the sink, she frowned darkly at her appearance. In addition to her hair being all awry, she had black rings under her eyes and her face was drawn and pallid; even her lips were colourless.