Pagan Lover Page 7

  ‘What is this?’ he demanded sharply. ‘Are you still thinking that you will run from me?’

  ‘I’d be a poor specimen of womanhood if I were to accept this bondage you’re holding me in. Of course I shall try to escape!’

  For a moment it seemed that he would lose his temper, but to her surprise the tightness went from his mouth and the glint from his eyes.

  ‘I’ve already assured you that you will thank me one day,’ he said. ‘We shall probably have a child before very long—there might even be one on the way now— and then perhaps you will become resigned to your lot.’

  Tara’s teeth came together. A child on the way! Strange that through several nights of passion the idea had not once come to her. Oh, God, please don’t let that happen to me! she thought. Could she ever hope to escape if that did happen? Leon would never allow her to take his child from him, and she felt sure she could never leave it.

  ‘I only pray I shall be spared that,’ she told him quiveringly. ‘You seem to have forgotten that I love another man! You’ve made me your wife, but you’ll regret it! I swear to you you’ll regret it!’

  ‘So, if you did escape you’d go to the police? Is that what you are telling me?’ Ice edged his voice and his eyes took on a matching glacier hardness.

  ‘I would,’ she stated firmly, undaunted by the severity of his face. ‘I wouldn’t have done if you’d let me go when I first begged you to, but now I shall! And that criminal of a priest will go to jail along with you!’

  ‘What did he do? You never even made a murmur when he was marrying us.’

  ‘Because of what you threatened me with,’ she returned chokingly. ‘But he must have known there was something phoney about the marriage — he possesses average intelligence, surely?’

  ‘He did nothing illegal,’ persisted Leon. ‘You’ll leave his name out of it.., if ever you do manage to escape.’

  ‘So you don’t regard escape as an impossibility? That’s encouraging. Thank you very much for giving me hope!’

  He looked out to the island and was silent for a moment before turning back to her and saying,

  ‘If my hopes materialise you will have a child before very long, and then, I can be sure you won’t leave me.’

  She turned away, tears starting to her eyes. Up till now all his plans had come to fruition, so why should she be optimistic enough to hope that this one would go away?

  ‘As I said,’ she quivered at last, ‘I pray I shall never have a child of yours.’

  There is nothing wrong with either of us,’ was his quiet rejoinder, ‘so it’s reasonable to assume that you will have my child within the year.’ She said nothing and he turned her face to him, his cruel fingers gripping her chin so hard that she knew there would be bruises within a minute or two. ‘I shall make you have my child, Tara. Do you understand? I’m your master; from now on I control your life. You will have as many children as I decide you shall have.’

  ‘I’m to be your chattel, then’ she flashed, a conflagration of fury stemming from the humiliation of having to listen to his arrogant assertion. ‘A slave! Oh, but I shall get away one day! You’re a fool if you think you can keep me a prisoner for ever!’

  He turned away from her and she put a trembling hand to her chin. Tears sparkled on her lashes, tears of misery and despair. For he knew his strength, and her weakness, was confident that if she did have a child she could never leave him.

  She saw him walking away, arrogance even in the strides he took and the way his head was held. Proud aristocrat that he was, he could not change the vile traits he had inherited along with that pride! For a moment she found herself dwelling on that temporary change that had come over him on the first night aboard the boat. That he had intended taking her seemed at one time a certainty, but for some reason her tears and pleading had softened him and he had amazed her by leaving the cabin. His voice and manner had been gentle, and it did seem that he was concerned about her. During the days that followed he had kept to his intention of living in harmony with her, but the rift had been opened again when he said they were nearing Corfu and that the priest would marry him. The finality of his words had wrenched every vestige of hope from her heart, she recalled. The rift had widened still more on their wedding night, simply because she had fought him with every ounce of her strength. He had completely mastered her, brought her to heel, as he termed it, and although she never after that showed any physical aversion, he had sensed with that over-perceptive mind of his that she was fighting mentally, standing out against total surrender to his will.

  He had taunted her with assertions that her resistance was nil against his technique, that she craved his lovemaking, enjoying the fulfilment just as much as he. She squirmed under the knowledge that it was true, every word he said. And even when he arrogantly stated that David could never have taken her to the heights to which he was transporting her, she again had to admit that he spoke the truth. David with his gentle, restrained approach would not even know how to begin the kind of lovemaking at which Leon was so practised.

  The island was coming closer as the crew brought the Catana towards the harbour. Tara, determinedly transferring her attention to the sights that met her eyes, noticed the brightly-coloured caiques and white-sailed yachts, swaying gently against the breeze. High above the harbour rose the impressive mass of Mount Prophet Elias, rocky and barren against the pearl- mauve glow of the darkening sky. In spite of her misery Tara could not help appreciating the beauty that was spread out before her eyes. The mansions rose one above another on the tree-clad plateau in the cliffs, while the humbler blue and white cubic houses nestled on the lower slopes or were strung out along the waterfront, a tall, white campanile telling of the presence of the church. There were no roads on the island which could take traffic—just tracks up the mountainside trodden by donkeys, and steps used by the occupiers of the houses. Tara had supposed this to be unique, but Leon had told her that there were a number of Greek islands which were so mountainous that it was impossible to have traffic on them.

  ‘Our house is there.’ He had come to stand beside her again, with that cat-like stealth which had earlier caused her to compare him with a jungle beast. He was pointing to a magnificent mansion standing on a large plateau facing the harbour and the blue sea of the Saronic Gulf beyond.

  ‘It must have a wonderful view,’ was all she said, and thought that if she were coming to a place like this with the man she loved she would have felt herself to be the most fortunate woman in the world.

  ‘I hope you will find it all to your liking, Tara. It’s to be your permanent home from now on, so it will be better if you try to adapt yourself to the life you will be living.’

  ‘I’m to be kept a prisoner, of course. It’s puzzled me how you’ll manage that, but I expect you have a plan, and that your plan will work—just as your others have.’ she ended bitterly.

  ‘My servants will be told that you suffer from a nervous disorder which has the effect of making you want to wander off all by yourself. I am naturally most perturbed, and anxious that you shall come to no harm, so I expect them to keep an eye on you all the time. I have two gardeners who will watch you when you’re outside, and Pelayia, who will be your personal maid as well as having other tasks to do, will keep an eye on you when you are in the house—watching that you don’t go any further than the grounds.’

  Tara stared at him, anger bringing colour to her face. And yet, conversely, she was compelled to extend him a certain degree of admiration.

  ‘How very clever of you! And what if I tell them it’s all a pack of lies?’

  A sardonic expression entered his eyes.

  ‘Do you suppose they’ll take your word before that of the man they have known for years? Do you imagine that any one of them is going to risk his or her job by allowing you to stray away?’

  She looked at him through narrowed eyes.

  ‘Do they really take your word?’ she queried with intent interest in his expressio
n. ‘What you’re really saying is that when you give them an order they obey it, blindly—not bothering to ask themselves what’s at the root of the order?’

  He inclined his head in a gesture of assent.

  ‘They are paid by me. Work on this island is not easy to come by, which tends to make people hold on tenaciously to the jobs they have. I am confident, Tara, that you will be well cared for. No one is going to let you stray away.’

  She drew a deep breath.

  ‘You believe you can have a watch kept upon me for twenty-four hours of every day?’

  The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile of amusement.

  ‘I myself shall be keeping a watch on you for a good portion of that time,’ he drawled. ‘From dinner time every day till after breakfast the next morning you will be my companion.’

  She shot him a venomous glance as embarrassed colour mounted her cheeks.

  ‘My chief jailer, eh!’

  ‘Be careful,’ he advised in a very soft voice. ‘Don’t go too far. Your husband is not a patient man.’ Without giving her an opportunity of saying anything to that he walked away again. She turned her attention once more to the harbour and the boats lying in its shelter. But soon her erratic thoughts were wandering and she was wondering what David was doing at this moment. Was his agonised imagination creating pictures of what might have happened to her—rape, torture, and even death? Was he waiting in unbearable torment for news that her body had been found in a field or ditch? He would naturally fear the worst, losing hope with each day that passed. And over a fortnight had gone by since that fateful day.

  Would David ever find out that she was married? If she escaped, yes, and the marriage would be annulled, while Leon served his prison sentence. It was a pity that the days of hard labour had gone, she thought spitefully. And it would do him the world of good to be fed on bread and water! She saw him returning and could willingly have done him a physical injury. She visualised pushing him overboard, and watching him drown.

  Coming up to her again he said casually,

  ‘You’re very thoughtful, Tara.’

  She nodded and said in response,

  ‘Yes, I was thinking that I’d enjoy seeing you down there in the water, being attacked by a shark.’

  ‘I don’t believe you’re as bloodthirsty as that,’ he returned with a laugh, then added that there were no sharks in these waters.

  ‘My day will come,’ Tara warned him darkly.

  ‘We shall see, my child. I’d take bets that within a month you’ll have become so attached to me that you will take back those words.’

  Pompous, self-opinionated creature! She turned her back on him, hoping the action would rid her of his presence. But she was gripped by the shoulders and jerked round to face him. His features were harsh, ruthless in their twisted, pagan expression; she saw the quiver of a thin nostril, the compression of his mouth and the unmistakable threat in those fierce black eyes. It seemed that a violent shudder passed through every part of her body, affecting every nerve. Shades of fear and distress darkened her eyes and her mouth twisted convulsively.

  ‘Don’t you ever turn your back on me again!’ he snarled, shaking her mercilessly. ‘You’ll learn respect, my girl—or else!’

  Tara swallowed over and over again, attempting to rid herself of this fearsome sensation of being in the power of Satan himself. Her mind was so numbed by fear that it was losing its hold on clear thought.

  ‘Let me go,’ she begged. ‘You’re hurting my shoulders!

  ‘There’ll be more than your shoulders hurt if you treat me like that again!

  Tears glistened on her lashes as she looked at him; he released her, but his glowering expression remained. She thought he would make her apologise and knew she would have to obey him if he made the order. But to her intense relief he remained silent, staring out towards the island, where lights were gaining strength as the sun sank lower, leaving its pale gold glow behind it, a glow that illuminated the drifting curls of gossamer cloud that fluttered across the sky. Darkness fell swiftly in this part of the world, her husband had told her, as there was no long-drawn-out period between the end of a full daylight and the onset of night. Already stars could be seen, and the suggestion of a crescent moon in the gathering mauve-pearl shades of dusk.

  The boat was drawing close to the old-world harbour, and Tara could see the mansions more clearly—one-time homes of pirate traders who had acquired great wealth and entertained lavishly on the strength of it. In contrast to these patrician-like houses the small cubic villas with their white walls and bright blue shutters looked almost humble, yet even the humblest of them boasted hibiscus hedges, and beds of crotons and poinsettias. Tumbling over walls and trellises were masses of mauve and magenta bougainvillaeas, and in every garden there seemed to be citrus fruit trees.

  When the boat docked darkness had fallen; there was no one about at all, and any hopes that Tara had retained were crushed as her husband, having taken her arm in a tight grip, told her that if she so much as made a sound he would take her back on the boat, lock her in her cabin and leave her there until the early hours of the morning when everyone would be in bed and asleep. It was no idle threat, and added to that there was the presence of three strong men besides the one who held her. She was led from the waterfront up a narrow rocky path, dark and steep. There was no chance of making a dash for it, she thought—and just as if he guessed what had crossed her mind Leon said unpleasantly,

  ‘Try anything on, Tara, and I’ll make sure you smart for a week or more.’

  ‘I hate you!’ she seethed, glancing back to see if his men were following. They were still on the boat; she could dimly discern their shadowy figures moving about. ‘They’re bringing the luggage,’ said Leon. ‘I collected you quite a wardrobe at the various ports we called at. However, you’ll need a lot more. I’m anxious for you to wear some of our models.’ By that he meant models created by the House of Hera, and it dawned on Tara that he was thinking of making her an advertisement for his clothes.

  Eventually they reached the house, and the door was opened by a manservant who was obviously ready to welcome his master with a smile. But the smile faded as dark Greek eyes lit on Tara.

  ‘Meet my wife, Kleanthes. Tara, one of my servants.’ The man gaped, and said impulsively,

  ‘Your wife, Kirie Leon! But what about Miss—’ And then he managed to stop, a sort of horror on his face as he realised what he had said. Tara, slanting her husband a glance, saw his mouth compress, his eyes glimmer with anger. ‘Welcome—Kiria Leon—Mrs Leon,’ stammered Kleanthes, looking fearfully at his employer. He’d be in trouble over that slip, concluded Tara, wondering who this woman was, and if she would be cast off now that Leon had a wife. Perhaps he was not averse to having more than one woman at a time. She would not put it past the hateful beast! Kleanthes was speaking again as he stood aside for them to enter the high wide hall with its flowers and tapestry, its lovely antique furniture and Persian rugs scattered about the mosaic floor. ‘Everyone will be very happy at Kirios Leon is having a wife at last! There will be plenty many sons—ochi!’

  ‘Go to the devil!’ returned Tara with an onrush of anger.

  ‘To the devil—?’ The man threw out his hands, looking to Leon for explanation. ‘What is this—this go to the devil?’

  ‘Mrs Leon is tired. Fetch Pelayia; she will show her to the bedroom.’

  ‘Very good, Mr Leon! I go this minute!’

  Turning, he almost ran—going to the kitchen, thought Tara, to relate the astounding news that Leon had brought home a wife.

  ‘You had better learn to hold your tongue,’ snapped Leon when the man was out of earshot. ‘I’ve warned you about that before!’

  ‘I’m not having a servant talking to me about sons!’ she flared. ‘Do you suppose I’ve no pride?’

  ‘It’s natural in my country to connect marriage with the coming of sons. You’ll get used to the outspokenness of the Greeks.’

  �
��The men?’ with a glint in her eye. ‘The women, I expect are dumb—kept under by their dictatorial husbands.’

  ‘By God, you ask for it!’ he gritted. ‘I’d box your ears this very minute if I’d not sent for Pelayia!’

  Tara sighed, making no comment as she looked around, deliberately attempting to calm her ruffled nerves by concentrating on something else. She noticed the old paintings on the walls, and the ikons, but then Pelayia was there, and within a few minutes Tara was standing in a massive, high-ceilinged room decorated in white and gold. The curtains were sun-gold in colour, with matching bedspread and carpet. The velvet headboard and furniture were upholstered in leaf-green; all the walls were white. The whole aspect was delightful to the eye, giving an impression of good taste characterised by restraint. In the bathroom she had found thick silky towels, bath foam and talc—everything a woman would want—and she wondered how many women Leon had brought here to stay with him.

  Her eyes strayed, slowly, reluctantly, to the door between this room and the one beyond. She listened for a sound, but apparently her husband was not in there—of if he was he made so sound. A sigh that was almost a sob rose from the very heart of her. To be imprisoned like this, yearning for the man she loved but forced to endure the attentions of her abductor!

  Endure.... It was dishonest to pretend that she did not enjoy Leon’s lovemaking. He drew her by some powerful force, tempted her by his subtle approach and conquered her by his mastery. What kind of a woman was she? So many times since she had met this foreigner who was now her husband she had asked herself this question. Once she had been shy, avoiding any man who might prove to he too amorous for her. David had come along and she had known from the first that he was the one for her.

  And yet she could enjoy the savage pagan lovemaking of another man.

  It was all too baffling for her, and in, any case she found herself stiffening and staring with widening eyes at the handle of the communicating door. It was turning, slowly, silently. The man was not human, she thought, managing to do things as silently as he. But the door was locked and he had to use the key.