Man Without a Heart Page 8

  They went into a shop and came out with two silver pendants and some hand-embroidered handkerchiefs. 'I'd have liked to buy more, but funds won't allow,' Gilbert admitted ruefully.

  They stayed out late, stopping at another charming little cafe for a meal before returning to the town, where Jill got a taxi to take her home.

  As she expected, Adam was still up, sitting alone on-the patio, a drink in front of him on the small rattan table. In the darkness she saw only the outline of his figure, not his expression, but she did notice that he had not changed into a formal evening shirt and jacket, as he always had when she dined with him. And as she approached, drawn by some magnetic force to join him on the patio, she felt a little lump rise in her throat at the idea that he might have been lonely. They had had such pleasant evenings before the arrival of Gilbert on the scene, she recalled, with a profound sense of loss. And at the memory a sigh escaped her and she decided to go straight into the house, but Adam called to her, and she went to him, seraphic in the moonlight, her hair a glorious halo for her face.

  A suffusion of colour added to her beauty as she drew near and saw his eyes wandering over her, seeming to pick out every seductive curve, lingering on her breasts and slowly narrowing, while a nerve pulsated in his strong brown throat. He rose as she reached him, and already she was affected by the superlative maleness of him, the impression of a godlike being who was far above her-remote, unapproachable. A smile fluttered at her thoughts, and he asked softly, reaching out to take her hand, 'What is it that amuses you, Jill?' He drew her to him, his hand shaped round the back of her head.

  'Just a thought,' she answered, resisting the urge to press close, to put her arms about his waist. 'Tell me,' he said imperiously, as he tilted her face up with a finger beneath her chin.

  She tried to shake her head, but his hand closed about her chin, preventing her from moving.

  'You—you seemed unapproachable,' she confess ed with shy hesitancy. 'Sort of...remote.'

  'I'm far from remote at this moment, Jill. No wonder you were smiling.' The alien voice vibrated, and the eyes on hers were intensely dark with the embers of latent passion.

  'Where have you been until this l ate hour? I've been waiting for you.'

  'We took a tour of some of the island's beauty spots. We stopped for lunch at a cafeneion, and then again, on the way back, for a late meal.'

  'What else did you do?' He held her from him and his mouth was suddenly compressed. 'He kissed you, I suppose?'

  'Of course-naturally he did,' she lied, and heard him grit his teeth.

  'You can let one man kiss you while knowing another is_ soon to make love to you?'

  'That isn't of my choosing,' Jill reminded him quietly, but she had flinched at his words for all that.

  'You have no regrets, though,' he asserted confidently. There was a distinct challenge in his words, but, unable to lie, Jill remained silent, and after a moment his arms enclosed her, crushing her tender frame to the whipcord hardness of his, and she felt sure that he must be aware of the wild leap of her heart, the mad racing of her pulse. His mouth was hard and demanding on her lips, his body sensuous and compelling in its rhythm; soon she was returning his passion, her moist lips responding, her supple body arched in obedience to the masterful pressure of his hands sliding downward along her spine.

  Her arms came about his neck, her fingers with butterfly lightness caressed his nape and behind his ears, then slid down to undo the buttons of his shirt and venture inside, plunging themselves into the mass of wiry black hair.

  She was conscious of his ragged breathing, the violence of his heartbeats, the brutality o f his hands as they crushed her tender flesh as an outlet for the passion consuming him.

  'Jill,' he breathed hoarsely, 'we must go inside.'

  She nodded dreamily, clinging to him, her whole body weakened by the violence of his passion.

  But neither made a move; they stood there, very close, their senses hypnotised by the moon-glow and starlight, by soft balmy air perfumed with flowers and freshened by the breeze drifting in from the sea. Sounds invaded the air —cicidas in the olive trees and crickets in dark places, the call of a night bird, the melancholy strains of bouzouki music drifting up over the hills from some small hamlet where the caf eneion was still open.

  In the distance, silhouetted against the deep purple sky, rose the fretted summits of the one mountain range, on top of which stood, in stark outline, the ruins of a Venetian castle. All was magic, with that soporific gentleness in the atmosphere found only on a Greek island. A deep sigh escaped her and she turned to her husband, lifting her face, touching his with a finger, shyly, impulsively, and he smiled down at her and bent his head to take her softly parted lips beneath his own, and his manner with her was infinitely gentle. 'Let's go in,' he said again, his arm coming about her waist. 'It's very late and I'm sure you're as tired as I'

  'Tired?' The word escaped before she could suppress it, and she coloured on hearing him say, 'Don't worry, my wife, I will never be too tired to make love to you.'

  It was after they had made love and were lying close, the room bathed in the warm glow from the bedside lamp, that Adam asked her if she had e ver been to a village wedding. 'No,' she replied. 'Working in Athens, I never got to know any villagers.'

  'On Saturday, I want you to come to a wedding with me. Mother will be there, and so you must come, too. We'll be there for two days.'

  Jill turned her head, dragging her mind back from the sensuous languor into which it had floated after its wild, tempestuous flight to the boundless heights of paradise. 'Who's getting married? Two days, did you say?' she added, as the fact registered.

  'We're invited for the previous day's activities as well. The bride used to work for Mother as a maid, and we'll be expected to attend.' He paused, and his features hardened perceptibly. 'Tell me, do you and your Gilbert have plans?'

  'I was going out with him—'

  'You won't be, not on those two days,' broke in Adam inexorably. 'You'll have to put him off.'

  'But ... two days.' She frowned. In fact, she was overjoyed at the prospect of two days with Adam, but she could hardly let him see how she felt.

  'Most village weddings last for three, as you probably know. Often we go just for the day of the ceremony, but for this one we're invited for the previous day too.' Something in his voice convinced her that he had manoeuvered it, and that they could have attended just for the actual wedding ceremony and the reception afterward.

  'So there's no way out of it?'

  His face hardened. 'Do you want to get out of it?'

  She paused, vitally aware of the long hard length of his frame against her naked body, and the hand curled round her arm.

  'No, Adam,' she said, 'I don't want to get out of it.'

  'Then you'll make your excuses to Gilbert?'

  'I shall have to.... ' Her voice trailed away to a frowning silence, because it was all wrong to speak of Gilbert after the glorious rapture of her interlude with Adam; her love for him was overflowing, and she hated to let anything or anyone intrude on her consciousness of it. With a little murmur of pleasure she turned to bend her body more closely to his, and her arm came around him.

  His warm hands roved over her soft white flesh, from her face and throat to the tender curves of her breasts and tiny waist, moving to her stomach and lower, his fingers tantalising all the time, featherlight, then masterfully cruel, bringing her alive again to his physical magnetism, to the invincible power he had over her senses. Her breathing became erratic; his mouth was moist against her breast, the sensuous lips open wide to take their fill, the roughness of his tongue a scorching friction on the nipple.

  The possessive exploration of his hands was the stimulating heat that sent the blood drumming in her head, dancing through her veins. Rapture spread gently, gaining power until spasms of ecstasy shuddered through her body as her stormy surrender became her own fulfillment. On Saturday morning they set out, intending to pick Ad
am's mother up on the way, but they arrived at her home only to learn that she had decided not to attend the preliminary celebrations; but would go only to the actual wedding on the following day.

  'So we're on our own?' Jill said when they were back in the car. 'You still want me with you?'

  He slanted her a glance as he let in the clutch. 'Of course. What makes you ask?' His voice was overcrisp, as though her query annoyed him. Jill thought it might be that he'd misconstrued her question, believing that she would have preferred to be with Gilbert, which was certainly not so. On the contrary, she was eagerly and excitedly looking forward to a whole day with Adam, being glad, in one way, that her motherin-law had changed her mind about accompanying them.

  'I ask because, originally, the idea of my coming with you was for your mother's benefit,' she offered at length. 'That was the original idea,' he agreed, but went on to point out that his wife would be expected to accompany him anyway. 'Many of the people there know me, and would consider it very strange indeed if I arrived without my wife.' She nodded, settling back in the car with the intention of making the most of the drive, which was initially along the coast road, with the Mediterranean spread out on their left in a gleaming, unrippled expanse of aquamarine that met the contrasting blue of a sapphire sky.

  The sun was hot and fierce, setting the mountain summits aglow, lighting up the greys and duns of the gullies, filtering through the olive orchards that occupied the foothills. All was tranquil and exotic, with oleanders and hibiscus gleaming in the hedgerows, bright butterflies among their showy blossoms.

  'Are you enjoying it?' Adam's deep, resonant voice was fringed with anxiety, and Jill wondered why. 'Yes, I'm enjoying it very much.'

  After following the coast for a short while, Adam steered the car into a narrow road and they were soon winding their way through the tree-lined streets of neat cubic houses whose gardens overflowed with flowers-manna lilies and hollyhocks, scented star jasmines, marigolds and geraniums, and as many varieties of roses as would be found in any old-fashioned English garden. A dry, meandering watercourse could be located by the delicate pink and white oleanders lining its banks. Whiteness predominated, the quaint little houses gleaming in the Grecian sun, their bright blue shutters closed against the brittle fierceness of its midday heat. In one village that they passed through, a gigantic statue of Christ stood guard over the square where, in the cafeneion, a number of stocky, brown-faced men sprawled beside the pavement tables, drinking ouzo and playing tavli, while others stood behind their chairs and watched, twirling and clicking worry beads and smoking endless cigarettes. 'I can never understand why so many Greek men seem to be doing nothing with their time,' Jill commented when the village was being left behind. 'How do they make a living?' Her husband cast her a quizzical glance as he replied, 'Their wives do all the work. You must have seen them in the fields, or tending the goats and sheep on the hills?'

  'Yes-but surely the men work as well?'

  'The Greek peasants are still very primitive Jill, especially in the island villages where the influence of the West has not yet made itself felt. Women work while men idle their time away in the fashion you've just seen.'

  'It makes my blood boil!'

  He laughed as he slanted her a glance and her heart seemed to turn a somersault at the sheer attractiveness of him. He was something, this husband of hers, and it would be devastating for her when the time came for them to part. Today was now, though, and she intended to enjoy every minute of it, for Adam was hers and hers alone, and Julia was a nebulous figure dwelling somewhere a million miles away. 'If you were born to the life, Jill,' he said, 'you'd not complain, simply because it's traditional; you wouldn't expect it to be any different.'

  'The girl we're going to see,' she began, 'Marita. Will she be resigned to a life of slavery, do you think?'

  'She'll know what's in store for h er, yes,' he replied matter-of—factly. He slowed down to a crawl as two black-bearded priests started to cross the road.

  'Kalimera,' they said together, lifting their hands as if in blessing.

  'Kalimera sas,' returned Adam unsmilingly, and although he felt that Jill would understand the added word, he mentioned that it was a sign of respect which priests always got. 'Yes, I know,' she said.

  A minute later an audible sigh of contentment escaped her, for she felt very happy and contented sitting here in the luxurious car, by her husband's side, and as her thoughts wandered, she went right back to where it all began, with her sister's folly and impetuosity in becoming engaged to Adam. How long ago it seemed since that night of fear when she had been kidnapped by two men who she truly believed were intending to murder her. And then the drive in the car and then the yacht, which she had been on only once since, the drive to the villa, the name 'Adam,' which had given her the clue to it all, to the mistake that had been made by the two men engaged to abduct Susie. They had recently been given full charge of the yacht, Jill had learned, and wondered what their reaction would be if and when she met them again. Propelled by a little imp of mischief, she said, turning to her husband, 'Could we take a trip on your yacht sometime, Adam?' Swiftly he turned, and it seemed that his whole manner had changed, that life suddenly entered eyes that had been brooding and dull.

  'You'd like that?' Undoubtedly his voice was eager, and she answered without a second's hesitation, a happy note in her voice, 'I'd love it, Adam.'

  'And what,' he said after a pause, 'about your ... young man?' Gilbert! She had completely forgotten his existence! 'Er. ... well, I meant when he has gone, of course,' she stammered.

  A silence followed, with a surge of dejection intruding into her happiness of a few short moments ago.

  'In another five weeks' time.' His voice was edged with irony, the cause of which was beyond Jill's comprehension.

  'It's only four weeks now,' she corrected him.

  'A month,' he said impassively, an d fell silent, concentrating on the bends in the road, the car climbing all the time. A few houses straggled along the hillsides, the well-tended gardens including a perivoli where figs and citrus fruits were cultivated. In the hedges wild roses flourished, their heady perfume drifting in through the open windows of the car, mingling with the intoxicating smell of rain-watered countryside, sharp and tangible. As they went higher, the vegetation became more sparse but the air was still heady with the fragrance of wild thyme, citrus, lavender and pine. Above the tree line, the rocky summits of the high massif which formed the watershed between the north and south of the island rose in stark outline. The awesome peaks, contorted by the fire that gave them birth, towered in rugged nakedness against the sapphire sky, but on the foothills below the tree line all was lush and green and breathtakingly colourful, with elegant cypresses, pencil—slim against the sky, olives with their silver-backed leaves fluttering in the breeze. Adam swung to his right and they were no longer climbing but cautiously negotiating a road that had been cut into the mountainside to link the several villages that nestled there. Every garden flaunted a luxuriant colour pattern, the pillars of their wide verandahs veiled with bougainvillaea vines, climbing passionflowers and honeysuckle. 'This is wonderful,' breathed Jill, and wished it could go on forever.

  On their eventual arrival at the little mountain village of Ayios Andreas, they were immediately greeted by the bride herself, her parents, Ulysses and Thoula, her five brothers and two sisters, ranging in age from seven years to nineteen years, and about twenty aunts, uncles and cousins. 'Come for some refreshments!' invited Ulysses, grinning widely. 'We have something special for Kyrie and Kyria Adamandios!' He led the way through an army of villagers engaged in all kinds of activities in preparation for the next day's celebrations.

  Some women were preparing spits and outdoor ovens, some sweeping paths, others coming and going from the shops, their arms laden with baskets and bags.

  'I never dreamed it would be like this!' exclaimed Jill as she and Adam followed their host to a low cubical house with gleaming white walls and b
right, newly painted shutters. Inside, all was strangely quiet, and after being invited to sit down, Jill found herself presented with som e sticky black objects, a long—handled fork and a glass of water. Adam and Ulysses were conversing in Greek, and while she waited, not having any idea what to do with the refreshment that had been put before her, she let her eyes wander around in an interested and avid examination of a room that bore no resemblance whatsoever to any room either in her husband's house or in his mother's. The shutters had been closed against the hot sun, and so the room was dim, with a clutter of bric-a-brac and flattened cushions, religious pictures massed on every wall, and on the high, ponderous sideboard stood a row of ancient icons with small candles burning beside them. All was so different and intriguing; Jill had had no idea what the inside of one of the peasant houses looked like until now.

  'You not know what to do with these nuts?' Marita, small and dainty and very tanned, smiled shyly as she struggled with her English.

  They're Brazil nuts preserved in syrup-shells as well as kernels,' explained Adam as, picking up the fork, he stuck it into one of them, dipped it into the water to get rid of the excess syrup and handed it to her. 'You'll find it's delicious,' he assured her, and he was right.

  After the refreshments, Jill and Adam were left to wander about the village. In the square the bridegroom's koumbari -his best men-had the mattress which they had taken from the bride's home, and were carrying it on their shoulders, laughing and cracking jokes. Other men were dancing and singing while, blaring in loud abandon over it all, was bouzouki music coming from several loudspeakers in the trees, where coloured lights were also fixed.

  'The whole village seems to be one gay carnival!' Jill stopped and watched the activities of the men with the bed; they were laying it down on some grass, and then came the bridesmaids-eighteen in number on this occasion-who began to embellish the mattress with flowers and ribbons and other decorations which were stitched onto the sides and the corners. 'It's pagan,' she asserted, and Adam laughed. 'There are over a thousand guests,' he told her, changing the subject, then went on to explain that perhaps half of them would be related in some way to the bride. He and Jill were standing alone, watching the activities from beneath the shade of a carob tree in the orchard where the wedding feast would take place and which was, in fact, part of the prika supplied by Marita's father, along with a house and several other plots of land.