to fight her desire for him—since no good could come out of their renewing a sexual relationship?
‘Do you live near the sea?’ piped up Alex.
‘No place on the island is far from it,’ answered Constantine. ‘And if you’re very lucky you might see one of the Karantinos ships sailing by.’
Alex failed to keep the sense of wonder from his voice. ‘You mean real ships?’
Constantine laughed. ‘Yes. Very real. And very big.’
‘I’d love that,’ said Alex wistfully, and then bit his lip in the way he’d unconsciously picked up from his mother. ‘But Mum will be working, won’t she? And she says I’m not to get in anyone’s way.’
There was an awful silence, and if there had been a dark corner nearby then Laura would have gone away and crawled into it. She had never felt sorry for herself—ever. She had always embraced hard work and considered it a part and parcel of bringing up a child out of wedlock. But Alex’s words prompted a deep dislike of her predicament—and of what it was doing to her son.
His words had set them apart. Making him sound like some servant’s child from a different century—almost as if he was going to be sent up the chimney and asked to sweep it! And Constantine clearly felt it, too—because once more he caught her gaze in the driving mirror, but this time the look was not remotely sensual, it was spitting with a slow, burning anger. As if it was an insult to his honour to hear his son speaking in such a way.
‘You must not worry about your mother’s working hours,’ he said abruptly. ‘Since I know that she will be happy for you to enjoy yourself.’
‘I just don’t want her to feel left out,’ said Alex loyally, and Laura could have wept. It was supposed to be her protecting him, and not the other way round.
‘Of course you must let Constantine show you all his ships,’ said Laura, as if she discussed the ownership of ships every day of her life.
‘I used to live here when I was about your age,’ said Constantine conversationally.
‘Oh, wow!’ Alex sighed. ‘Lucky you.’
Something in the boy’s wistfulness made a rush of unwilling memories come flooding back—and for once Constantine could not block them out. In many ways it had been a textbook and idyllic upbringing—with none of the stresses surrounding life spent in the city. The beauty of Livinos, and the ability to swim and to fish and to climb trees without fear—those were gifts which every other child on the island had experienced. He hadn’t needed to be the son of a wealthy man to enjoy the carefree freedoms of childhood in this part of Greece.
But, essentially, it had been a lonely time for Constantine. Materially rich but emotionally neglected by a mother who had never been there—even when she had been physically present. His beautiful, fragile mother, who had captivated his father like a moth to a flame—who had consumed all those around her but given little back. Who had not known—nor been able to learn—how to love the strong-minded baby she had given birth to.
‘Look out of the window, Alex,’ said Constantine gently. ‘As well as some of the most wonderful beaches you will ever see, we have mountains, and forests of cedar, oak and pine. And mines of silver and gold.’
‘Gold?’ spluttered Alex. ‘Not really?’
‘Yes, really. It was first discovered by the Parians, who came from the island of Paros.’
This time Laura sent Constantine a silent message. Stop it, her eyes appealed. Stop painting for him the kind of pictures he has only ever seen in films or books before. Please don’t make his life in England fade into pale and boring insignificance.
And Constantine read the appeal perfectly, deliberately choosing to ignore it. Did she really expect him to play his heritage down, when it was his son’s heritage, too? His expression didn’t alter.
‘We have white marble, too,’ he continued. ‘Which is exported all over the world. And there are all the other components which are an essential part of Greek life—fruit and honey and olives. Now, look closely as we drive up this road, Alex, and you will see my father’s house.’
House, he had said, noted Laura suddenly, her quibble forgotten as she gazed curiously out of the window. Not home. Did that have any significance? But then she peered out through the window and her breath caught in her throat as the most beautiful place she had ever seen suddenly came into view.
Surrounded by orange and lemon trees, the villa was large and imposing, dominating the landscape while somehow managing to blend into it. It stood almost at the top of the mountain, and the views around it were panoramic. Dark sapphire brush-strokes of a sea threw off a brilliant light, and as Laura opened the car door she could smell the scent of pine and citrus and hear the unfamiliar sound of beautiful birdsong.
‘We’re here,’ said Constantine, as he held his hand out to help Alex down. The boy took it as naturally as breathing.
How easily Alex is learning to trust him, thought Laura—knowing that she should be glad for her son’s sake, and yet unable to prevent the strange spike of envy which tugged at her stomach.
The huge front door opened and a middle-aged woman wearing a floral pinafore dress came out immediately to meet them—as if she had been standing waiting for their arrival.
‘I’ll introduce you to Demetra,’ Constantine said, an odd glint in his eyes. ‘She’s in charge of the staff here—so you’ll be directly answerable to her. Oh, and don’t worry—she speaks excellent English, so you won’t have any problems understanding her instructions, Laura.’
Instructions. Answerable. His words brought Laura tumbling back down to earth with a crash. And with a shock she realised that all the privileges she had been enjoying up until that moment were now about to evaporate. She was to become one of the domestic staff. But that’s what you wanted, she reminded herself painfully. That’s what you insisted on.
At least she had spent the last few evenings poring over a phrasebook—but her usual slowness with reading coupled with the difficulty of the complex Greek language meant that she had retained only a few words. Still, now was the time to start using them.
‘Kalimera,’ she said, with a nervous smile at the older woman.
Demetra’s eyes swept over Laura in rapid assessment, and she said something in Greek to Constantine, to which he made a drawled reply. It seemed to satisfy her, for she nodded and returned the smile.
‘Kalimera, Laura. You are very welcome at Villa Thavmassios.’ Her eyes crinkled fondly as she stared at Alex’s dark curls. ‘And this your boy?’
‘Yes, this is Alex.’ Laura gave a Alex a little push, and to her relief he stepped forward and shook the Greek woman’s hand, just the way she’d taught him to. Demetra gave a delighted exclamation before enfolding him in a bear-hug, and Laura bit back a smile as she saw Alex send her a horrified look of appeal.
‘We bring children from the village to play with you, Alex,’ said Demetra. ‘And my own son is home from university—he is a very fine sports student. He teach you to swim and to fish. You would like that?’
‘Yes, please,’ said Alex shyly, as Demetra finally let him go. She said something else to Constantine, but he shook his head.
‘Ochi,’ he said in negation, and then smiled. ‘Shall I show you to your room now, Alex?’ Then he turned to Laura, almost as if it was an afterthought. ‘And I might as well show you yours,’ he added softly.
Laura tried to tell herself not to react to the unmistakable provocation in those dark eyes—telling herself that nothing was going to happen because she didn’t want anything to happen. But even as she made the silent vow she had to fight to suppress the glimmer of longing which had begun to whisper its way over her skin.
Liar. You know that