His Virgin Mistress Part 10

And he had. He'd kept Joanna at his side, of course, de spite the many disapproving looks from his older daughter. It was the only intimation Joanna had had that perhaps he didn't feel as confident of his stamina as he pretended. But, apart from that, he'd behaved like any other father, proud of his daughter and eager to demonstrate his approval of her choice of husband to the world.

Thankfully, it was all over now. Joanna could feel her own tension easing as she trod across the still warm sand. Constantine had achieved his objective, and there'd been no doubt of his grat.i.tude towards her as she'd helped him out of his jacket and shirt and replaced them with a silk dressing robe.

Subsiding with evident relief onto his bed, he'd clung to her hand for a moment longer than was necessary, saying weakly, 'You do not think anyone suspected, do you, agapi mou?' and Joanna had a.s.sured him that he'd done as he'd intended.

'Alex suspected nothing,' she'd a.s.sured him. 'Demetri...' She'd hesitated. 'Demetri was concerned that you might be over-taxing your strength, but none of them guessed the truth. However...'

She paused again. 'You've got to tell them now, Constantine. It's only fair.'

Constantine's nod of understanding had hardly been a promise, but Joanna had had to be content with it. The old man had already been drifting into unconsciousness, and she'd left his room feeling that she'd done all she could for the present.

She took a deep breath of the salt-laden air. It had been a good day, she told herself determinedly. Constantine had enjoyed it; everyone had enjoyed it. Even she'd felt a twinge of emotion when Alex had appeared, slim and enchanting in the wedding gown that a famous designer had made es pecially for her. She'd been forced to admit that not every body's wedding day was doomed to end in disappointment and humiliation. Costas loved Alex; anyone could see that. And she had only to look at them to know that the intimacy they shared was real, not imagined.

It had all been so different from her own wedding day. Oh, she had been just as eager, just as excited, but she hadn't had any idea that the day would end in the way it had. She'd never dreamt that the reason Richard had re frained from making love to her before their marriage was because he couldn't; that the man she'd thought was his friend was in fact his lover.

If only Richard could have been honest with her; honest with his parents. Goodness knew, being h.o.m.os.e.xual was not something to be ashamed of. Why couldn't he have faced his real ident.i.ty instead of involving her? Was it only, as he'd said, because she'd been so trusting? Or rather because she'd been so incredibly easy to deceive?

She felt a lump come into her throat at the memory. She had been trusting, and naive. Aunt Ruth had seen to that. She'd treated her niece like a servant. No wonder Joanna had been so eager to escape to a better life.

The holiday in Sardinia had been her first chance to act like a real woman. An attractive woman, moreover. One capable of appealing to a sophisticated man like Richard. Meeting him had seemed like a dream come true. He'd been so charming; so handsome. So kind that she'd fallen head long in love with him almost on their first date.

Of course she hadn't been looking for his faults. And in the beginning she'd felt only grat.i.tude when he'd expected so little from her. She'd had no experience with men. No experience at all except the admiration of boys when she'd been at school. The prospect of getting married had been a big step for her. It had been enough to be going on with.

Richard's parents had been kind to her, too. A much older couple than her own parents would have been, they'd virtually given up all hope of having a child of their own when Richard was born.

Naturally, they doted on him. Nothing was too good for him.

He could do no wrong. Afterwards Joanna had had to acknowledge that his parents were partly to blame for what had happened. They'd expected so much of him. If they'd been younger, more worldly-wise, Richard might have found the courage to tell them the truth.

Perhaps they had suspected, Joanna reflected now. But if so they had never voiced their suspicions to her. They'd let her go ahead with the wedding, insisting on paying for ev erything in spite of her protests. It was the least they could do, they'd insisted, for the woman who was going to make Richard such a wonderful wife.

The day itself had gone remarkably smoothly. Richard's cousin had been best man, and much later Joanna had real ised why he'd seemed so detached from the ceremony. She guessed he knew the truth and had tried to reason with Richard himself.

But, for whatever misguided reasons, Richard had been determined to go through with it. Nothing was going to stop him from being the son his parents thought he was.

They'd spent the first night of their honeymoon at a hotel at Gatwick Airport. They were to spend their honeymoon in Antigua, compliments of the older Mannings, but their flight hadn't been until the next morning.

In consequence, it had been comparatively early in the evening when they'd gone to bed. Joanna had been wearing a white lace nightgown, she remembered, bought especially for the occasion. When she'd emerged from the bathroom and found Richard apparently already asleep she'd stifled her own disappointment and got obediently into bed beside him.

She hadn't gone to sleep, however. The excitement of the day and her own unsatisfied expectations had kept her awake. That had been why, when Richard had got out of bed at about half past eleven to go to the bathroom, she'd spoken to him. She'd caught his hand as he'd crept around the bed, and discovered that he wasn't at all pleased that she was awake.

She'd excused his irritation on the grounds of over- tiredness, but when he'd climbed back into bed she'd moved towards him eagerly. His pyjamas had been a little off- putting, but she'd consoled herself with the thought that he'd soon feel differently when he'd kissed her.

But Richard hadn't wanted to kiss her. To her intense humiliation he'd told her that he just wanted to go to sleep. He wasn't a physical person, he'd added, when he'd sensed her mortification. There'd be plenty of time for them to get to know one another in that way once they reached the Caribbean.

It hadn't happened. Oh, Richard had tried to make love to her on several occasions, but even Joanna, innocent as she was, had been able to see that he simply wasn't inter ested in her. He'd apologised, of course. Made excuses about the heat and various other irritations, which she didn't want to remember now. And still she hadn't realised what was really wrong. That her woman's body repelled him, just as another woman's body would have repelled her.

With the honeymoon over, life had returned to normal, or as near normal as possible in the circ.u.mstances. Richard had gone back to work and Joanna had managed to get a job at Bartholomew's. To all intents and purposes-cer tainly so far as Richard's parents had been concerned- they'd had a happy marriage.

Until Joanna had come home early from work one day and found Richard with John Powers, the young man with whom he'd been on holiday in Sardinia.

G.o.d, she thought now. How could she have been so stu pid for so long? How long would she have gone on believ ing that Richard was simply not a physical person, as he'd said? She liked to think she'd have found out eventually, but she'd been so busy convincing herself and everyone else that he was a wonderful husband that she might well have overlooked the most obvious explanation.

With his exposure, Richard had taken another tack. She mustn't leave him, he'd insisted. He'd be devastated if she walked out on their marriage now. And if his parents found out... The threat had been implicit in his words. He hadn't actually said that he would do something desperate, but even Joanna had been able to understand how awful that would be.

So she'd stayed. For a little while, at least. Until the day Richard had suggested she should find herself a lover and get pregnant. It was the only way, he'd insisted. She'd been amazed at his insensitivity. His parents had already started asking when they were going to start a family, he'd contin ued, and she wanted children, didn't she? He'd paused then, before adding that he could always fix her up with some body he knew if finding a partner would be too difficult for her...

'Where is my father?'

Joanna started violently. She'd been so absorbed with the painful content of her thoughts that she'd been unaware that she was no longer alone. But she realised now that Demetri had come up beside her, his tread keeping pace with her bare feet, his suede boots already stained with seawater.

'You're ruining your boots,' she said without answering him.

'You should have taken them off.'

Demetri's stare was almost palpable. 'Has he retired for the night?' he asked harshly, ignoring her words, and she was reminded that she had spent the days since his return from Athens avoiding any personal contact with him. In fact, apart from a compulsory greeting now and then, voiced for his father's benefit, she had had no conversation with Demetri at all since their visit to the mined temple.

'He's having an early night, yes,' she replied at last, not looking at him. 'Do you want me to give him a message?'

'No. No, I do not,' he retorted shortly, and she guessed he resented her for asking.

But why should she care? It wasn't as if it mattered what Demetri thought of her. In a few days, a week at most, she'd be leaving the island and she'd never see him again.

Oh, G.o.d!

Her stomach hollowed and she pressed a nervous hand to her midriff. It was what she and Constantine had planned, she reminded herself. What she wanted. But her stay on Theapolis had proved far more devastating than she could have imagined.

'How is he?'

Demetri seemed determined to pursue this conversation and Joanna expelled an unsteady breath. She wished he would go away, back to the women of his own nationality, many of whom had shown their willingness to share his company. Young and old alike, all had seemed to blossom in his presence, faces flushed and excited lips parted in an tic.i.p.ation. ready to agree with him whatever he chose to say.

It had sickened Joanna. She hated to admit the fact that she'd noticed, but, seated at Constantine's side for most of the day, she'd found it impossible to avoid seeing that Demetri attracted women like a magnet. And she was just like them, she acknowledged bitterly. She was just as gul lible. Despite her experience with Richard, she couldn't deny that Demetri had stripped away her defences and shown her she was just as vulnerable as anybody else.

And why now? she asked herself depressingly. Why after all these barren years was she attracted to a man whose only emotion was contempt? Was this her fate? Was this destiny? Was she the kind of woman who must always be a victim?

'He's tired,' she said at last, forcing herself to continue walking along the sh.o.r.eline. At least her feet were cool, she thought, even if the rest of her body was burning up. 'Surely you expected that?'

'I expect nothing, Joanna,' he responded coldly. 'Then I am not disappointed.' He paused. 'How about you? Did the day live up to your expectations?'

'Like you, I have no expectations.' Joanna answered him just as coldly, convinced there was a hidden meaning behind his words. Then, because she felt too brittle to indulge in any kind of infighting with him, she added. 'Why don't you go back to your guests? I'm sure at least half of them must be suffering withdrawal symptoms by now.'

She heard his swift intake of breath. 'Jealous?'

Pain filled her. 'Yeah, right,' she managed, with just enough irony in her voice. She quickened her step to get away from him.

'Grow up, Demetri!'

He came after her. His breathing matched hers in pace, but she doubted his heart was palpitating in his chest. All the same, when he gripped her upper arm to halt her, and swung her round to face him, she was surprised by the sud den anguish in his expression.

'Oh, yes,' he said, his tone harsh and unforgiving. 'I had forgotten. You prefer your men to be older-much older. Why?

Can you not-what is the word?- hack it with some one of your own age, ne?'

Joanna pressed her lips together so that he shouldn't see how his words had upset her. 'Well, there's no fear of that with you, is there, Demetri?' she countered scornfully, not caring what she said, just so long as she hurt him as he was hurting her. 'Young or old; they're all alike. They can't wait for the heir to the Kastro fortune to put his hand up their skirts!'

She had shocked him. Dear Lord, she had shocked her self.

What she had said was unforgivable, and his face briefly mirrored his disbelief. Then, with an oath, he lifted his hand, and she winced in antic.i.p.ation of the blow that she was sure was to come.

But he didn't hit her. Instead, his hand settled heavily on the back of her neck and, drawing her towards him, he ground his forehead against hers in a helpless gesture of what she suspected was frustration.

Yet when he spoke, his words sounded tortured. 'Why do we do this?' he demanded, his voice low and impa.s.sioned. 'I know you want me, and heaven knows I want you.'

Joanna didn't know what to say, how to answer him. She was afraid this was just another attempt to prove he was right about her, to humiliate her, to satisfy himself that she was as unprincipled as his accusations implied.

But before she could say anything a light laugh disturbed them. 'Demetri?' came a teasing voice. Ti tha kanateh?'

Joanna felt Demetri's hand tighten convulsively for a mo- ment, and then she was free. With admirable self-a.s.surance, he'd turned to confront the woman-what else? Joanna de rided herself bitterly-who had interrupted them. Speaking in his own language, he evidently gave some explanation for what he had been doing, and the woman's smile thinned only briefly before returning as confidently as before.

Joanna recognised her now. Even in the fading light it was impossible not to remember her. Her name was Athenee.

Athenee Sama. Her father, Aristotle Sama, was a friend of the Kastros, and Constantine had confided to her that he and Athenee's father had had high hopes that their offspring might make a match of it.

She was certainly beautiful, thought Joanna, feeling a pang of envy. She didn't see how Demetri could fail to be attracted to her. The woman was gazing at him with such a look of admiration in her eyes that for all Demetri had said he wanted her, Joanna felt sure she must have misunder stood him. Beside Athenee's sweep of night-dark hair and vivid complexion, she felt pale and insignificant. A not- unfamiliar emotion for her, she conceded dully, but not one she had experienced since Constantine became her friend.

She would have escaped then. Taking several careful steps, she tried to slip away without being noticed, but Demetri had other plans. She wasn't sure whether he'd heard her-her feet had sunk into the damp sand-or he'd just remembered she was there. Whatever, his hand shot out and captured her wrist, imprisoning her beside him. Then, with casual courtesy, he asked her if she and Athenee had been introduced.

'But naturally.' It was Athenee who answered him, and the eyes she turned on Joanna weren't half as friendly. 'She is your father's-um-confidante, ne?' She made it sound like a dirty word. 'Constantine introduced us himself. He is, I think, very enamoured of her, is he not?'

Her meaning was obvious, and Demetri wasn't indifferent to the implication, Joanna saw at once. His hand dropped from her arm and she was left with an unwarranted feeling of isolation.

And of being despised on all sides, she thought. Athenee didn't like her; that was apparent. And she had no doubt that, if he heard of it, Constantine wouldn't approve of the strangely clandestine relationship Joanna was having with his son.

'It is getting dark.' said Demetri abruptly, without an swering her question. 'Come.' He included Joanna in the invitation.

'People are leaving. We should get back to the villa.'

'I'd rather stay here,' Joanna declared, determined not to lay herself open to any more insults from his girlfriend. 'You go.' Her lips twisted. 'Both of you.'

Demetri's eyes darkened. 'Joanna-'

'I'll see you in the morning,' she said, turning away.

'Goodnight.'

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

It was after midnight before Demetri went to his own apart- ments.

He told himself it was because there'd been a lot of clear ing up to do after the guests who were leaving had departed, but in all honesty his father's staff were more than capable of dealing with the aftermath of the wedding party. Indeed, they'd probably seen his presence as something of an en c.u.mbrance. No doubt they'd wished he would just go away and leave them to it.

But the truth was, Demetri dreaded going to bed. So long as he was with other people he could put the turmoil of his thoughts to the back of his mind. He couldn't forget them, but he could ignore them, and that was almost as good. However, he knew that once he lay down and closed his eyes he'd have no defence against their torment.

Of course it needn't have been that way. Athenee, the woman he'd once believed he desired above all others, had shown him quite clearly that she wanted to renew their re lationship. She would have been happy to stay on at the villa. Her father had had to get back to Athens; his helicop ter had left earlier in the evening. But Athenee hadn't wanted to go with him. If Demetri had said the word she'd have been waiting for him now, the ideal antidote to what was wrong with him.

Yet Demetri had offered no invitation. After leaving Joanna on the beach, he and Athenee had walked back to the villa in total silence. He doubted if he'd have spoken to her at all if she hadn't caught his arm as they were crossing the terrace, and even then he'd left her in no doubt of his irritation at her interference.

'Yes?'

No warmth there, and Athenee had responded to it in her own arrogant way. 'You cannot have her, Demetri,' she'd said carelessly, and he'd known a moment's panic that his feelings were on display for all to see. But then her next words had rea.s.sured him. 'You were going to kiss her just now. I know it.

But I interrupted you.' Her lips twisted. 'Be grateful to me, Demetri. Do you want your father to cut you off without a cent?'

'I do not know what you are talking about, Athenee,' he'd replied swiftly, glad of the fading light to hide the dark colour that had flooded his cheeks. 'And if this is an attempt to persuade me that you are here to console me for imagined temptations, then I regret to say that I must disappoint you.'

'Are you sure?' Athenee's eyes had flashed angrily.

'I am sure,' he'd told her. 'Nice try, Athenee, but you are wasting your time.'

'As are you, agapitos,' she'd retorted, determined to have the last word. 'Constantine would kill you if he ever found out.'

Would he?

Demetri posed the question to himself now, and then dis- missed it. He had no intention of finding out so it didn't matter either way. But Athenee was right about one thing. He had been going to kiss Joanna, would have done so if Athenee hadn't interrupted them. He wouldn't have been able to prevent himself from tasting that sweet tempting mouth again. And how sensible was that?

Throwing off his jacket and tie, he raked frustrated fingers through his hair. Dammit, what was wrong with him? Had it been so long since he'd had a woman that he was willing to do anything, no matter how reckless, to get laid? But if that were the case why hadn't he taken up any of the invi tations he'd been offered today? He wasn't a conceited man, but he knew when women were coming on to him. Yet he'd blanked them all.

Including Athenee.

He scowled, and, unlatching the gla.s.s doors, stepped out onto the balcony.

It was a beautiful night. An arc of stars wheeled overhead.

Although sometimes the days at this time of the year could be uncomfortably hot, the nights were infinitely more invit ing. Even the insects seemed to have taken a breather and the air was overwhelmingly sensual.

Sensual.

He stifled a groan. The word reminded him of the first time he'd met Joanna. He was trying not to think about her, but just a word like that brought a stream of images pouring into his head.

It was the way she'd described the heat on Theapolis, he remembered. Sensual, she'd called it, challenging him with those deep blue eyes that seemed capable of seeing right into his soul.