His Virgin Mistress Part 6

Joanna had told him nothing beyond the fact that his fa ther was weary, thought Demetri impatiently, resenting anew this feeling of being excluded from his father's affairs. But he had no intention of telling Philip that.

'She may have said something,' he said now, hiding his real feelings. Then, determinedly, 'Is he awake?'

'I do not know, kirie.' Philip wasn't a fool and he had detected Demetri's unwillingness to confide in a servant. 'Perhaps you should ask Kiria Manning.'

Demetri's dark eyes bored into the old man's. 'You said she was not here.'

'She is not here.' Philip could be awkward, too. 'I merely meant-'

'I think I know what you meant. Philip,' Demetri inter rupted him drily, 'I am disappointed in you. I would have expected you to inform me of any deterioration in my fa ther's condition, not Kiria Manning.'

Philip gave him a wounded look, but before either of them could act on their feelings the door to Constantine's bedroom opened and the man himself appeared in the ap erture.

'What is going on here?' he demanded, and Demetri was overwhelmingly relieved to see that his father was appar ently capable of standing up for himself. 'Demetri? What are you doing here? I asked Joanna to tell you I would see you later.'

Demetri stared at the old man in some frustration. Was it only his imagination, or perhaps the white towelling of his bathrobe that gave his thin face an unnatural pallor? Whatever, now was not the time to take umbrage at anything he said and.

forcing a tight smile, he gave a slight bow of his head.

'I was concerned that you could not keep our appoint ment, Papa,' he replied evenly. 'That is all.'

'But Joanna-'

'Mrs Manning explained that you were-exhausted-af ter your journey,' Demetri agreed, realising how much eas ier this would be if 'Joanna' did not continually come be tween them. 'But I am your son. Do I not deserve the same courtesy as-as your friend?'

Constantine's features seemed to hollow and weariness etched every line of his face. 'Of course,' he said, and now Demetri noticed he was supporting himself with one hand against the frame of the door. 'I am sorry, mi yos. Please.' He glanced over his shoulder into the room behind him. 'Come in.'

Demetri exchanged a look with Philip. ' Poli kalo. If you are sure?'

Constantine's thin lips twitched. 'As you say, Demetri, you are my son. My successor, okhi! How can I deny you a few minutes of my time?'

Demetri hesitated, but then, after asking Philip to bring them some refreshment, he followed his father into the bed room. His bedroom? he wondered, his tension mounting as the old man climbed with evident relief back onto the wide bed. Or theirs? He felt impatience grip him. No, dammit, he would not think of that now. Joanna Manning had her own apartments. He should know.

Wasn't that where he had found them together?

'So, Demetri...' Constantine's expression had eased a lit tle now that he was resting more comfortably. 'As you can see, I am not yet as strong as I would wish to be. But it will come. Given time.'

Demetri positioned himself at the end of the bed. 'We are all praying for that day, Papa.' he said huskily 'And, if it is of any comfort to you, Kastro International is in safe hands, whatever Nikolas Poros says.'

'I am sure.' His father gave a rueful smile, 'I have great faith in you. Demetri. I know you will never do anything to let me or-or your sisters down.'

Demetri blew out a breath, 'I am glad to hear it.'

'Did you doubt it?'

'Well...'

Demetri hesitated. He could hardly say that since Joanna Manning had come on the scene he was finding it increas ingly difficult to be sure of anything.

'Oh, I know it has not always been easy for you, Demetri,' his father went on, evidently misunderstanding his silence. 'And had things been different you would have had a brother-brothers-to share the burden with you. But...' He sighed. 'Regrettably, your mother was not strong, and having Alexandra was simply too much for her.'

'I know that, Papa.' Demetri felt uneasy suddenly. It was as if Constantine was already preparing him for the day when he wouldn't be around to share the burden himself, 'I just wanted you to know-'

The sound of the door opening across the room allowed him a moment to collect his thoughts, but when he turned his head he saw it wasn't Philip who had interrupted them. Joanna had paused in the doorway. Her face flushed with anger or concern, he couldn't be sure which, and she ad vanced swiftly into the room. She gave him a glowering look before halting beside the bed and taking one of his father's hands between both of hers.

Then, in a voice that was filled with an emotion he didn't care to identify, she said. 'What's going on, Constantine? Is-is Demetri sup posed to be here?'

Demetri's indignation was instantaneous. 'What are you implying, Mrs Manning?' he exclaimed, forgetting that ear lier in the day he had practically demanded that they use one another's first names. 'I would do nothing to endanger my father's health.'

'Siopi, siopi!' Quiet, quiet! Constantine heaved a weary sigh.

'Joanna, my dear, there is no need for you to defend me so diligently. And-' he turned to Demetri '-you must forgive Joanna, mi ghios. She has only my best interests at heart.'

'As do we all, Papa.' said Demetri fiercely, resenting hav ing to say it yet again. His shoulders stiffened. 'Would you like me to go?'

'No, no.' His father lifted his free hand and then let it fall again. 'Not like this.' He looked at the woman who had now eased her hip onto the bed beside him. 'Joanna, I want you and Demetri to be friends. Not enemies. Please.' Demetri saw the veins in his wrist stand out in stark relief as he squeezed her hand. 'For my sake.'

Demetri said nothing as Joanna turned to look at him again, but he guessed she hid her own resentment from the old man.

'Um-Demetri and I are not enemies, Constantine,' she a.s.sured him, squeezing his hand in her turn. Her slim arms were faintly tinged with red and Demetri guessed she had spent at least part of the afternoon on her balcony. He also noticed that she did not say that they were friends. That would have been too much, even for her.

'I am glad.' his father said now, but Demetri could see he was visibly weakening. How long was it since he had had any sustenance? He wished he could remember what the old man had eaten at dinner the night before, but he had been so incensed by Joanna's presence that he had paid little attention to details like that.

'I think we should go,' he said abruptly, and once again Joanna turned a cool gaze in his direction.

'Yes, you should.' she agreed, her deep blue eyes calm and dismissive. 'Your father needs to rest.'

'You are not his nurse, Joanna,' he responded, keeping his temper with an effort. 'I think we should both leave my father to Philip's ministrations, ne?'

Joanna hesitated. She was obviously torn by the desire to find out what he and his father had been talking about and the knowledge that for once he might have a point.

With an obvious effort she got up from the bed, still re taining her hold on his father's hand as she said, 'Is that what you want, Constantine?'

'It might be for the best, agapi mou,' he conceded gently, but as Demetri started for the door his father's voice de tained him.

'Avrio,' he said. 'Tomorrow, if I am still-what can I say?

Incapacitated, no?-will you look after Joanna?'

'There's no need,' she began at once, but Constantine was looking at his son and Demetri didn't have the heart to re fuse him.

'Veveha, Papa.' Of course. Demetri inclined his head, his lips twisting with reluctant irony. 'It will be my pleasure.'

To her relief, Philip informed Joanna the next morning that his employer had swallowed a little soup at suppertime. According to the old man Constantine had had a reasonably good night, and she began to hope that the fears she had entertained the day before might be only that: fears. After all, Constantine's doctors would not have allowed him to return to Theapolis if they had suspected the journey would be too much for him.

Joanna, herself, had spent a less than peaceful night. De spite the fact that Demetri had been painfully polite to her during and after the dinner she had been obliged to share with him and his family the evening before, the prospect of spending any time in his company was daunting. Had she even suspected Constantine might deputise his son to act as his proxy, she would have made sure he knew exactly how she felt about it. As it was, he'd sprung the request on both of them, and she doubted Demetri was any more pleased by the arrangement than she was.

Not that she really knew what Demetri thought about any- thing. He was far too clever at hiding his feelings for that. Just occasionally, when he looked at her, she had the sense that what he felt towards her was more than just dislike. Did he hate her?

Did he hate the fact that his father cared about her? Or did he simply hate what he thought she was? Whatever, she wasn't looking forward to having him as an unwilling companion.

Perhaps she should have asked him to send Spiro in his place, she reflected, checking her appearance in the long mirrors in her dressing room. Not that she knew him any better, but she suspected he might be easier to get along with. As it was, having seen Constantine and a.s.sured herself that he was feeling much better this morning, she'd been forced to accept that he was still not well enough to look after her himself. She was therefore committed to spending the morning with a man she neither liked nor trusted, and she wished she had something in her wardrobes that didn't proclaim her s.e.x quite so blatantly.

Still, she couldn't deny that it was good to wear attractive clothes again, and although the cream linen pants clung to the feminine curve of her hip and thigh, at least her legs were covered. But at what expense? Would Demetri under stand that the b.u.t.toned waistcoat top that went with the trou sers was meant to expose an inch or two of lightly tanned midriff every time she moved, or would he imagine she had chosen the most suggestive outfit she could find?

Either way, she refused to worry about that now.

Constantine had suggested she should eat breakfast down stairs this morning, instead of skulking in her room. Of course he hadn't used those words, but Joanna knew what he'd meant. He was trying to integrate her into the life of the household, and, however she might feel about it, she owed it to him to go along with his wishes.

To her relief, the terrace was deserted. If Constantine's son and daughter had had breakfast there they were long gone, and only a few crumbs in the centre of the white cloth betrayed that a basket of bread had sat there. A place had been laid at the table overlooking the gardens that fell away towards the beach, and, although Joanna's appet.i.te hardly warranted such a formal arrangement, she pulled out the chair and sat down.

Almost immediately the maid, Pilar, arrived to serve her, and by means of the odd word and quite a lot of sign lan guage Joanna managed to convey her needs to her. The coffee was easy enough; everyone apparently had coffee at breakfast. But the milk and cornflakes were harder. How did you mime the difference between a bowl of muesli and the world's most famous brand of cereal?

'She understands English, you know,' remarked a lazy voice Joanna was beginning to recognise only too well as Pilar sauntered away. Demetri, who had apparently been watching her from the wide gla.s.s doors that opened onto the terrace, now strolled towards her. 'Do not be surprised if you get offered porridge instead.'

Joanna pursed her lips. 'If you knew that, why didn't you say so?' she demanded sharply, and then struggled to con tain her anger. 'That is-how long have you been standing there, watching me?'

'Long enough,' remarked Demetri indifferently, moving past her to prop his hips against the low wall that edged the terrace.

'How are you this morning? How is my father?'

'Don't you know?'

Once again Joanna found it difficult to be civil with him.

Whatever he said, whatever he did, seemed inclined to rub her up the wrong way, and she was fairly sure it was delib erate.

'Obviously not,' he responded mildly now. 'You are his mistress, Joanna. Do you not know?'

'I'm not-' Joanna had to bite her tongue to prevent her anger from betraying her. She licked her lips and began again. 'I'm not-an expert,' she improvised. 'But I think he's a little better.'

'I am relieved to hear it.'

Demetri accepted her reply at face value, lifting one can- vas-shod foot to rest vertically against the low wall. It drew her attention to the fact that he was wearing dark blue shorts this morning, and she hated herself for noticing the powerful length of muscular leg that they displayed. Legs that were lightly covered with the same night-dark hair that sprang from the open neck of his collarless cotton shirt and framed the narrow gold watch that circled his wrist. Much against her will, she found herself speculating about the rest of his body, imagining how his skin would feel beneath her-oh, G.o.d!-sweating palms.

'So what would you like to do?'

'To do?' With an effort Joanna dragged her thoughts back from the precipice of her imagination and gazed at him blankly, 'I don't know what you-'

'This morning?' prompted Demetri. 'I thought you might like to take a drive around the island.' He pushed his hands into the pockets of his shorts, drawing the cloth taut across his thighs. 'I could show you the ruins of the temple of Athena that dates back to the fourth century B.C.'

'A temple?' Joanna surrept.i.tiously dried her hands on the knees of her trousers and concentrated on the logo on his shirt.

Anything to avoid looking anywhere else. 'Well, I- you don't have to entertain me, you know.'

'I want to,' he said, straightening up from the wall. 'Ah, here is Pilar with your breakfast.'

Joanna turned her head to watch the maid's approach, convinced that she wouldn't be able to eat anything with Demetri looking over her shoulder-metaphorically speak ing. Her throat felt unpleasantly dry, and it wasn't just the fact that she hadn't had anything to drink yet. What did he really want? she wondered. Why was he being so nice to her? Was it just because his father had asked him to, or did he have some hidden agenda of his own?

Despite Joanna's fears. Pilar had evidently decided it would be unwise to pretend ignorance with Demetri on hand to take exception to any provocation on her part. On the tray she set down on the table were the milk and cornflakes Joanna had requested, along with a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice, a rack of toast, and a pot of coffee. And two cups. Joanna noted tensely. Apparently she was supposed to invite Demetri to join her.

'Ineh entaxi, kiria?' asked Pilar politely, and, despite Joanna's limited knowledge of Greek, she understood enough to know that the girl was asking for her approval.

'It's-fine. Thank you.' she said, reaching eagerly for the orange juice and pouring some into a gla.s.s. She took a grateful sip. 'Delicious.'

'Efkharistisi mou, kiria,' responded the maid, her dark eyes seeking Demetri's endors.e.m.e.nt, too. 'Tha itheles ti- poteh alo?'

'Nothing else,' responded Demetri briefly. 'You can go.'

Pilar's mouth turned down, but she turned obediently away and Joanna was left with the awkward dilemma of not knowing what to do for the best. If Demetri was being friendly for a change she would be unwise to oppose it. On the other hand, she was far too aware that he was a dan gerous man in more ways than one.

But to her relief the decision wasn't left to her. 'I will leave you to have your breakfast in peace.' he said, and she wondered with a sense of unease if he could read her thoughts. 'I suggest we meet again at-' he glanced at his watch '-half past nine, ne?'

Joanna licked a smear of orange juice from her lower lip. It didn't sound as if she was being given a lot of choice. 'I-all right,' she said, wishing she didn't sound so sub missive. 'Thank you.'

'There is no need for you to thank me, Joanna,' he replied, his dark eyes narrowed and impenetrable. 'I shall-look forward to it.'

Yeah, right.

Joanna forced herself not to watch him as he walked away.

She was such a fool, she thought irritably. He had virtually insulted her before the maid came back, and just because she had almost blown her cover she'd let him get away with it. Again!

She scowled, tearing open the individual carton of corn flakes and tipping them into the bowl Pilar had provided. She had to stop being so-impressionable. For heaven's sake, she might be inexperienced but she wasn't stupid. Constantine was expecting her to play her part and she would. Whatever it cost her.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

'You are doing what?'

Demetri scowled. 'I am taking her on a sightseeing tour of the island.'

Olivia stared at him. 'But-how can you?' She gave an exasperated little snort. 'Do you want her to think she is welcome here?'

'No.' Demetri felt the heat of the metal at his back burn ing into his pelvis but he didn't move away from the Jeep. It was important that he appeared as indifferent to his sis ter's complaints as possible, and lounging here in the sun light he looked-he hoped-totally at ease with the situa tion. 'What would you have me do with her? Take her sailing? Or perhaps enjoy a cosy morning beside the pool?'

'Why do you have to do anything with her?' demanded Olivia irritably. 'Let her entertain herself. She will soon get bored if she has to spend all her time in her room. Then perhaps she will leave.'

'I would not hold your breath,' retorted Demetri, keeping a wary eye on the open doors of the villa. 'Mrs Manning is far more intelligent than you might think.'

Olivia gave her brother a scornful look. 'You sound as if you are infatuated with the woman, too,' she declared coldly. 'Have a care, Demetri. Our father may appreciate your taking care of his-' She used a word that even he found offensive, before adding darkly, 'But he will not be happy if you decide to take advantage of his incapacity.'