His Virgin Mistress Part 13

'Kiria! Kiria Manning!' called Philip's anxious tones, and Joanna stiffened. 'Kirie Constantine calls for you, kiria. I am afraid he is not well.'

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Demetri stood beside his father's bed, watching the old man sleep. The private hospital on the outskirts of Athens was not where he wished his father to be. Not where he wished to be, if it came to that. But so long as Constantine's health was a cause for concern it was the only place he could be.

And his father was much better. Despite the tubes and wires to which he was still attached, the doctors had a.s.sured him that the old man's condition was stable. As stable as it could be, bearing in mind that his father was dying from terminal cancer.

Demetri's stomach hollowed. He knew now that the op- eration his father had had performed in the London hospital had not been the success he'd told his family it was. Indeed, Constantine had only had the operation in London because he'd been warned by his doctors in Athens that it was al ready too late for invasive surgery. The stomach cancer had spread to his other organs. Only in a foreign hospital could he hope to keep his condition from his children. And he'd wanted to do that because of Alex. Because he'd had no intention of being the spectre at his youngest daughter's wedding feast.

Demetri expelled a weary breath. He'd believed him, he thought incredulously. When he'd visited him in London his father had always been unfailingly upbeat about his treat ment.

Even the doctor in charge of his case had apparently been warned not to relay any unpleasant details to the family until after Alex's wedding. As far as they'd been concerned, the treatment he'd received had been successful. After the usual period of convalescence Constantine would be cured.

Demetri's jaw compressed. He realised now why his fa ther had brought Joanna with him when he'd returned to the island.

He'd guessed that, without her distracting presence, his children might have been more inclined to question his recovery. It was only because he'd behaved like a besotted old man that they'd overlooked the inconsistencies of his condition. The fact that he'd apparently felt well enough to entertain a much younger woman had blinded them to the truth. They'd believed what he'd wanted them to believe, Demetri conceded heavily. They'd been totally deceived, and that had been Constantine's intention all along.

But Demetri knew the truth now. Shaking his head, he moved to the windows that looked out onto the formal gar dens that surrounded the hospital. Beyond manicured lawns, the blue-grey waters of the Aegean surged constantly. It had been raining earlier in the day. and the sea below the cliffs upon which the hospital was situated was still shrouded in mist. Somewhere out there was Theapolis, Demetri mused grimly. How long was it going to be before his father could return to the island? Before he could do the same? How long before they could both go home?

His fists clenched at his sides. He needed to go home, he thought impatiently. However painful it was going to be, he needed to talk to Joanna again. Whatever else, he needed to see her. G.o.d alone knew, he owed her that much.

It had been three long days and three even longer nights since he and his father had flown from Agios Antonis to Athens. Daniil Tsikas had accompanied them. The island doctor, whom Demetri had summoned as soon as he'd seen his father and realised the old man was having difficulty in breathing, had lost no time in contacting the hospital in Athens and arranging for his patient's emergency admission.

Constantine had been conscious when the arrangements were being made and he'd expressed his objections. He'd insisted he only needed his medication, but Demetri hadn't listened to him.

He'd needed a professional opinion, a spe cialist's opinion, and when he'd learned how ill his father really was he'd realised why the old man had tried to stop him.

Stubborn old fool, Demetri thought now, fighting the un- welcome p.r.i.c.k of tears behind his eyes. Dammit, he could have told him; he should have told him. He was his father's only son; his heir. He had the right to know what was going on.

Joanna had known. His mouth tightened as he accepted the fact that Joanna had known all along. She had been in his father's confidence. He couldn't have done it without her. And that was something Demetri was finding incredibly hard to swallow.

Yet how could he blame her for something that had been his father's decision? It wasn't her fault that Constantine had chosen to pretend he'd recovered. The fact that she'd gone along with it was surely incidental. But what had she got out of it? What did she expect to get out of it? She hadn't even shared his father's bed.

Thank G.o.d!

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He wondered what she was thinking now. Would she be pleased to see him again?

He thrust his fists into the pockets of his leather jacket.

Somehow he doubted it. He couldn't help remem bering the expression on her face when she'd heard his fa ther's old manservant calling to her from the sitting room of her apartments. There'd been regret there, and remorse. And a certain bitterness. Whatever she'd been thinking, she hadn't said a word. She'd simply fought her way free of him, s.n.a.t.c.hed up her robe and pulled it on before leaving the room.

Of course since then he'd had time to consider the reasons for her behaviour. It was possible that she'd wanted to save him any embarra.s.sment. It was true that by leaving the bed room she'd prevented Philip from seeing him. It had been a simple matter for him to throw on his clothes and follow her. Philip had accepted his appearance in his father's bed room without any suspicion. But then, they'd all been too concerned about Constantine's condition to care about any thing else.

It wasn't until much later that Demetri had had the chance to wonder what would have happened if Philip hadn't in terrupted them. The whole experience had been eclipsed by what had come after, and although there'd been times when he'd told himself it was all for the best, that what had hap pened had been the result of over-stimulated emotions and too much champagne, it didn't always work.

They hadn't had too much champagne that day at the temple, and he couldn't deny that he'd wanted her then, too. Indeed, if he was honest, he would have to admit that he'd wanted her ever since she'd first challenged him with those incredibly s.e.xy eyes.

Seeing her with his father, believing they were lovers, had torn him to pieces. So much so that he'd been prepared to betray the old man if he could have her himself.

Which was something he couldn't forgive.

Couldn't forgive himself, anyway, he amended. Joanna had done nothing wrong. Not really. Apart from exposing the charade of her supposed affair with his father, she'd committed no crime. Whereas he...

He turned back to the bed and gazed at Constantine's drawn face with a terrible feeling of remorse in his soul. What kind of a son was he to do such a thing? How could he live with himself, knowing that if Joanna had been his father's mistress he'd have broken the old man's heart.

So why did he want to see Joanna again? What did he think could be achieved by talking to her? No doubt she despised him, too. That would explain her reaction when Philip had come crying for her help.

She'd phoned every day since Constantine had been ad mitted to the hospital. Demetri hadn't spoken to her, but the nurses, who were all thrilled to have such an important pa tient in the hospital, were always eager to convey every concerned enquiry to either himself or Olivia.

His sister was here, of course. Olivia had arrived the morning after their father's emergency admission, chiding Demetri for not waking her and telling her that the old man had been taken ill in the night. She'd berated Joanna, too, for being the undoubted cause of their father's relapse. Even hearing the facts of Constantine's condition from the con sultant oncologist hadn't altered her opinion that the de mands Joanna had made must have precipitated his collapse. And Demetri hadn't been able to contradict her without in volving himself.

He couldn't do that. Not without betraying his father again.

So long as the old man wanted them to believe that Joanna really was his mistress he couldn't do anything to refute his claim.

Okay, maybe he had his own reasons for not wanting to admit what a b.a.s.t.a.r.d he really was, but that was only a temporary reprieve. Sooner or later he was going to have to confess his sins to the family.

Yet why? he asked himself bitterly. What would his con- fession achieve? Olivia would despise him and even Alex would find it hard to forgive him. It wasn't as if Joanna was going to feel any pride in him baring his soul. The fact that she'd made no attempt to come to the hospital proved that she had no desire to see him again.

His father stirred, and, leaving the window, Demetri ap- proached the bed. The old man looked so frail, he thought uneasily. Makarios, the consultant in charge of his father's case, had admitted that he couldn't give them any guaran tees of how much longer he might have. Constantine was already living on borrowed time.

'Demetri?'

His voice was frail, too, and Demetri had to stifle the oath of frustration that sprang to his lips. If only money could buy his father a little more time, he thought despairingly. He'd gladly sacrifice the whole Kastro fortune in his cause.

'I am here, Papa,' he said now, moving closer. 'How are you feeling?'

'Much better,' said Constantine firmly, even though his son knew that couldn't possibly be true, 'Is Joanna outside?'

It wasn't the first time his father had asked for Joanna, but so far Olivia had been able to put him off with excuses as to why she wasn't there. His sister absolutely refused to allow Joanna to be treated as part of the family, and Demetri was now obliged to continue the deception.

'I am sure she would like to be,' he said, knowing as he spoke that his father would put his own interpretation on her absence.

'The weather has been bad since you left the island. Roussos has not been willing to take the helicopter up in such conditions.'

'In other words, you have not permitted her to come,'

declared Constantine wearily, and Demetri thought it was par for the course that he should be the one to take the blame. His father hadn't accused Olivia. Only him.

'That is not true,' he insisted. Then, defensively, 'There are other methods of transportation. Ferries, for example.'

He was tempted to go on and say that if she'd really wanted to come she'd have made her own way to Athens, but that would have been too cruel. But it was true, he reflected broodingly.

Joanna didn't know that Olivia had taken up guard outside their father's room.

Constantine was not to be put off, however. 'Do not pre tend that you would welcome her here,' he exclaimed, and Demetri was alarmed to see the sudden hectic colour that filled the old man's cheeks. 'Nurse Delos tells me she has phoned many times.

Is it so hard for you to understand that I want to see her?'

'No.' Demetri conceded the point, aware that his own pulse-rate had quickened at the thought of seeing her again. But his feelings were not important. 'I will see what I can do.'

'Good. Good.' To his relief his father seemed satisfied with his reply. He licked his dry lips, 'I need a drink.'

Demetri stepped forward and lifted a gla.s.s from the bed side cabinet, inserting the straw it held into his father's mouth. The old man sucked and a little of the liquid dis appeared. 'Thank you.'

Demetri returned the gla.s.s to the cabinet and forced a smile.

'I will leave you to rest,' he said, realising that even this brief conversation had tired him. 'I will come back later.'

'I suppose you think I should have told you that I am dying.'

Constantine's words startled him, and Demetri, who had started for the door, turned back. 'Papa-'

'Do not deny it, Demetri.' His father's chest rose and fell with the force of his agitation. 'But do not blame Joanna because I did not.'

Demetri shook his head. This was the first occasion that Constantine had mentioned his illness and he didn't know how to answer him. Until now his father had been too ill to indulge in any serious discussion of his condition, and he didn't want to say anything to upset him.

'I do not blame her,' he replied at last, coming back to the bed. 'I-accept that you had your reasons for doing what you did.'

Constantine's parched lips twitched. 'You are very un- derstanding. That is not like you, Demetri. Do not let this momentary relapse fool you. I will be up and about again before very long and you may wish you had been more honest with me.'

Demetri gave a small smile, 'I think you should rest, Papa.'

'And I will.' Constantine groped towards him and nodded in satisfaction when his son put his hand into his. 'When you a.s.sure me that you will make your peace with Joanna.'

'Make my peace with-'

Demetri was confused, but his father wasn't finished. 'You know what I am talking about, mi yos. I saw the way you looked at her the night I was taken ill. You thought I would not notice-' Demetri stiffened '-but I could see that you disliked her being there, disliked the role that she was playing. Do you resent her, Demetri? If so, that is a pity, because I had hoped that you two would become friends.'

Friends! Demetri felt a constriction in his chest. If only that were true.

'Papa-' he began, but once again his father forestalled him.

'She has not had an easy life, Demetri,' he said, closing his eyes as if the effort of talking exhausted him. 'Her hus- band-ex-husband-was totally unsuitable. I cannot go into personal details except to say that he made her very un happy.'

Demetri inclined his head. 'I understand.'

'I doubt you do.' Constantine held up a trembling hand. 'He hurt and humiliated her, Demetri. He took away every shred of self-respect she had. When I first got to know her she was shy and uncommunicative. She had lost all confi dence in herself as an attractive woman.' He paused and opened his eyes again. 'I like to think I changed all that. Slowly, but surely, she opened up to me. We became friends, and when I was first advised of the terminality of my illness it was she I could talk to, she who offered the comfort I could not ask of my own family.'

Demetri sighed. 'Papa-'

'No. Hear me out, Demetri. She is not what you think.' He expelled a weary breath. 'She is a decent woman, Demetri. And I care about her.' He looked at his son with heavy-lidded eyes. 'Do you understand? I care about her.'

Demetri was very still. 'Why are you telling me this, Papa?'

Dear G.o.d, was the old man saying he wanted to marry her?

'Because I love her, Demetri,' Constantine replied. Be cause she is dear to me. Because when I am dead I want you to promise me that you will see that she never wants for anything again.'

'No! No, I will not allow it!'

Olivia faced her brother in the ante-room that adjoined their father's suite, her face flushed with anger. Demetri thought it was just as well that all the rooms in the hospital were soundproofed.

He could be fairly certain that Constantine wouldn't hear what was going on.

Nevertheless, her obstinacy infuriated him. 'Keep your voice down,' he snapped. 'Do you want everybody to hear that we are already quarrelling over his wishes? It is our father's desire that Joanna should be brought to the hospital. That is all there is to it.'

Olivia snorted. 'His desire, yes. We know all about our father's desires, do we not?'

'Olivia-'

'No, do not attempt to justify this. Demetri.' She wrapped her arms about her waist and stared at him with bitter eyes. 'Why did you not tell him she has gone back to England? Why did you let him think that she is waiting at the villa, antic.i.p.ating the day when he will return to Theapolis?'

Demetri schooled his features before replying. 'Just be cause you do not like her-'

Olivia caught her breath. 'Are you saying that you do?'

Off-guard. Demetri was more outspoken than he should have been. 'She is not as bad as you think.' he said sharply. 'At least she cares about the old man.'

'I do not believe this.' Olivia's eyes narrowed. 'She has bewitched you as well as Papa.' She shook her head. 'I warned you what she was like, but you wouldn't listen.'

'You are imagining things,' retorted Demetri, hoping against hope that it was true. 'All I am saying is that you should give her the benefit of the doubt, Olivia. Or do you think our father is such a poor judge of character?'

Olivia wasn't having that. 'I do not think a man in his condition is capable of making rational judgements,' she declared.

'I always wondered why she had taken up with him. Well, now I know. She knew he was ill. She knew exactly how long she would have to play her part.'

'Siopi!' Be quiet! Demetri had had quite enough of her vitriolic comments. 'It was not like that. Joanna has known our father for a number of years. Long before-long before he discovered he had a tumour.'

'You believe that?'

'It is the truth.'

'Because she told you so?'

'No, because he did,' Demetri replied heavily. 'Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to ring the villa and arrange for Joanna's transportation to Athens.'

Olivia took a resentful breath. And then she said care lessly, 'She is not there.'

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, and Demetri had to force himself to say, 'What do you mean? She is not there?'