His Virgin Mistress Part 7

'There is no question of that,' retorted Demetri harshly, stung into an involuntary oath. ' Theos, Livvy, what do you take me for?'

'I take you for a hot-blooded man who is deliberately putting himself in the way of an unscrupulous woman,' re plied Olivia heatedly. 'Demetri, you are not going to tell me that you do not find her physically attractive, at least. The woman is s.e.x on two legs. You must have noticed.'

'I-' Demetri was incapable of an outright lie, but he was determined not to allow Olivia to have the last word. Push ing himself away from the vehicle, he swore as the hot metal burned his palm. 'You are crazy,' he said, by way of a distraction. 'Be careful, Livvy, or I shall begin to think you are jealous.'

'Jealous! Of her!' At last he had caught her on the raw, and she gazed at him with fury in her eyes. 'I am not jealous of that creature! But I do worry about the influence she may be having on our father. He is a sick man, Demetri. Who knows what he might agree to in his weak state?'

'Like what?' Demetri was impatient, not least because he was being forced to defend Joanna.

'I do not know, do I?' Olivia sighed. 'We know she is a gold-digger. Go figure.'

Demetri's jaw compressed, but before he could say any thing more a woman appeared in the entrance to the villa. It was Joanna, her glorious hair swept back from her face and secured in one of those tight knots she had been wearing the first time he'd seen her. She was still wearing the linen pants and waistcoat, he noticed, but now the vest was open over a tight black tee shirt that successfully hid most of her throat and upper arms.

So much for s.e.x on legs, he thought drily, despising the momentary disappointment he felt. Surely Olivia couldn't complain about her appearance today.

His sister had noticed his distraction, however, and she swung round irritably, biting back the exclamation that sprang to her lips. Then, after giving her brother a con temptuous look, she immediately strode away towards the villa, pa.s.sing the other woman without even acknowledging her, her whole demeanour one of outraged indignation.

Demetri saw Joanna glance after her with a puzzled look on her face and, stifling his own misgivings, he strolled with contrived casualness towards her. 'Ready?' he asked, as she came down the two shallow steps towards him. He saw the floppy straw hat she was trying to conceal beside her leg. 'I see you took my advice.'

Her eyes widened, and he wondered if she realised how innocent they made her look. But of course she did, he told himself disgustedly. Livvy was right. He was in danger of becoming infatuated with her. And that was not going to happen.

'The hat,' he pointed out shortly now, and then, forcing himself to look anywhere than at her, he added, 'I thought we could take the Jeep. The terrain inland can be pretty rough.'

Joanna nodded. 'This is an ideal place for an open-topped vehicle,' she said, squashing any hope he might have had that she'd baulk at getting windswept. 'I'm looking forward to it.'

Just who was kidding who? thought Demetri, pretending not to notice the struggle she had to open the door of the vehicle.

But the idea ot taking her arm, of helping her into the front seat, was not an option. He was doing his father a favour, he told himself grimly. That was all. And if, in the process, he was able to learn a bit more about their rela tionship, then Livvy should applaud him, not bite his head off.

As he swung himself up beside Joanna a faintly sensual perfume a.s.sailed his nostrils, and he realised he might have another reason for being glad that they were not to be con fined in a closed cabin. Her nearness was enough of a prov ocation in itself, without being a.s.saulted by the delicate fra grance of her skin.

Spiro came out onto the steps of the villa as he was driv ing away and his a.s.sistant raised a laconic hand in farewell. Demetri wondered if Olivia had sent him. Perhaps she'd hoped he'd ask the other man to join them. And perhaps he should have, he acknowledged. But it was too late now.

Theapolis was one of the larger islands in a group that lay about a hundred miles off the coast of mainland Greece. Most of the islands were rocky and arid, and depended on tourism for their livelihood, but Theapolis wasn't one of them. Oh, it had its share of tourists: island-hoppers, for the most part, who came one day and left the next, with the occasional artist or hiker thrown in for good measure. But its main source of income came from its citrus orchards and olive groves that terraced the southern half of the island with wooded slopes and lush valleys.

The Kastro estate was situated at the south-western corner of the island, just a short distance from the village of Rythmos. The main port of Agios Antonis was at the other side of the island, and ferries docked there most weekdays during the summer months.

Demetri regaled Joanna with this information as they drove inland, the roads becoming increasingly rugged as they left the cultivated coastal area behind. The land was scrubby here, coa.r.s.e and primitive, with only a few goats eking out a living on the inhospitable slopes. Craggy cliffs and isolated outcrops of rock marked a barren landscape, but the views more than made up for its splendid isolation. From here, it was possible to see the whole of the island spread out below them, and although Joanna was clinging to her seat as they negotiated the track up to the ruined temple she was evidently impressed.

She had taken off her hat as they drove into the hills, the cooler air moderating the heat of the sun, but now she put up a nervous hand to check the damage. She must be aware that the breeze had played havoc with her chignon, and Demetri tried not to feel pleased with the result. There was no way she could restore it without a mirror and, as if she'd realised this, too, she tugged the rest of the hairpins out of the knot and shook her head.

Her hair tumbled down about her shoulders in glorious profusion, softening her expression and making Demetri's fingers itch to bury themselves in its silky coils. The wind lifted several strands to blow them about her face, and she attempted to twist them back behind her ears without much success.

'd.a.m.n,' she said, as he brought the Jeep to a halt on the pebbly plateau beside the ruins of the temple. She grimaced and, picking up her hat, she jammed it down onto the unruly ma.s.s.

'That will have to do.'

Leave it, Demetri wanted to say, but he didn't. Instead, controlling the urge to s.n.a.t.c.h the hat away again, he switched off the engine and vaulted out of the vehicle before temptation got the better of him. Then, walking to the edge of the plateau, he stood gazing out at the view, struggling to contain emotions that were as unwelcome as they were unfamiliar.

The door opened behind him. He heard it. Heard her can- vas-booted feet land on the gravelled sweep of the plateau and then the silence as she looked about her. What was she thinking?

he wondered. It was a fair bet that she wasn't fighting an unwanted desire to pull him down onto the rough gra.s.s beside the ruin's walls and tear his clothes from him. Why had he ever thought that black tee shirt was a conces sion to modesty?

Khristo, she wasn't even wearing a bra.

The silence went on too long. He'd expected her to say something, maybe even come and look at the view. He had the feeling she was as eager to stay away from him as he was from her, though for different reasons. Still, he had to know what she was doing, and, glancing behind him, he found that she was waiting for him to make the next move.

Expelling a breath, he turned and walked back to the Jeep, pocketing the keys before nodding towards the windswept site of the temple. 'Do you want to look around?'

Joanna shrugged. 'Why not?' she said evenly. 'Is there much to see?'

Demetri's lips twisted, 'I suppose that depends on your point of view,' he remarked drily, 'I should tell you that any valuable artefacts have been moved to an archaeological museum in Athens, as Theapolis does not have a museum of its own. But the sacrificial altar is still here. Despite the fact that the island was converted to Christianity in the sec ond century A.D.'

Joanna looked at him. 'You know quite a lot about the island's history, don't you?' she asked, is that because you have a personal interest in antiquities, like your father?'

Demetri's expression hardened. 'I am nothing like my father, Joanna,' he said tersely, brushing past her to stride over the crumbling wall that marked the boundary of the ruins, 'If you will follow me...'

He thought for a moment that she wasn't going to go with him. Looking back, he saw that her cheeks were pink, and from her appearance he guessed she was fighting the urge to tell him to go to h.e.l.l. But did she have to bring his father's name into their conversation? Didn't she understand that he was only here on sufferance? That the last thing he needed was to be reminded of who-and what-she was.

After a few moments she seemed to come to a decision, however, and, wrapping the strap of the small haversack she was carrying around her wrist, she stepped over the wall. Then, throwing back her shoulders, she tramped across to where he was waiting, meeting his wary gaze with cool, appraising eyes.

'I'm here,' she said unnecessarily. 'Shall we get this fi asco over with?'

Demetri sighed. 'I am sorry if I have offended you,' he said politely, but she wasn't having that.

'No, you're not,' she said, looking past him to where the crumbling columns of what had been the sanctuary guarded the stone altar. 'Why pretend? We both know how you re ally feel.'

'I doubt that,' murmured Demetri, aware that she had no idea how he really felt. 'But I apologise if I have given you the wrong impression.'

Her brows arched mockingly. 'Is that possible?' she coun- tered. But then, as if she was not entirely sure of her ground, she added, 'Did people actually live up here?'

'I do not think so.' Demetri decided to take his lead from her.

'But, naturally, the temple was erected on the highest point of the island. It emphasised the differences between G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses and the commoners like ourselves.'

'How things have changed,' remarked Joanna in a low voice, but Demetri heard her.

'Your point being?' he prompted.

'Oh-nothing.' She moved away from him, going to wards the inner courtyard, 'It's amazing that anything has survived.'

'It has not exactly been overrun in recent years,' observed Demetri, going after her. Then, 'What were you implying just now?'

She shrugged, not looking at him. 'About what?'

'You know,' he insisted, resisting the temptation to put his hand on her shoulder and swing her about to face him. 'You have a problem with me calling myself a commoner?'

'Did you?' she countered, 'I didn't notice.'

Like h.e.l.l!

Demetri took a deep breath. 'Not in so many words, per haps,'

he conceded flatly. 'Look, can we stop all this spar ring? If I had wanted a fight, I would have gone to the gymnasium.'

Joanna shrugged again, mounting the steps and stopping to admire the remains of a moulded pediment. 'I didn't start it.'

'But you are determined to finish it, ne?' suggested Demetri in exasperation. ' Theos, Joanna, let us call a truce.'

'Another one?' she enquired at once, and then, as if ac- knowledging his argument, 'Tell me about Athena. Who was she?'

Demetri drew a deep breath. Then, levelly, 'She was the daughter of Zeus. His favourite, I believe. She is said to have been seated at her father's right hand in the council of the G.o.ds, etsi ki alios.'

Joanna glanced back at him. 'Impressive.'

'Yes.' But Demetri wasn't at all sure what she was referring to. 'She is also reputed to have invented the olive, the plough and the rake, and taught men how to build ships for peace as well as war.'

Joanna frowned. 'Wasn't she a G.o.ddess of war, or some- thing?' she asked. 'Or was that someone else?'

'No, she was that also.' Demetri spoke tolerantly. 'She apparently inherited the weapons of thunder and lightning from her father and she is said to have used them. Against him, too, on occasion.' He gave a wry smile. 'A very for midable lady.'

Joanna smiled now. 'You don't approve?'

Demetri merely shook his head, moving past her, picking his way across the uneven ground, where the remains of marble slabs and broken friezes were half hidden in the gra.s.s. He was finding himself increasingly intrigued by her candour and he didn't trust himself to exchange this teasing banter with her.

Somehow she had got beneath his guard, and his attraction to her was no longer just a physical thing.

He heard her following him, heard the sound of the wind whistling round the stunted columns, and wondered how he could have been such a fool as to bring her here. Away from the villa it was fatally easy to forget her relationship with his father, fatally easy to pretend that they were just a man and a woman spending time together, enjoying each other's company.

He swore under his breath. Where the h.e.l.l had that come from? He couldn't possibly get any joy out of being with her. She was his father's mistress; at best an opportunist, at worst a gold-digger. Olivia was right. He was being reck less. He should take her back, right now.

'Your sister doesn't like me, does she?'

Joanna's voice came from right behind him, and he turned to find she was squatting down, examining some words she had found carved on a slab of marble propped against a pillar.

'I-she-''

Demetri was annoyed to find her words had disconcerted him. It was as if she'd instinctively sensed what he'd been thinking, and for a moment he was at a loss for a reply.

'What does this say?' she asked, changing the subject, 'Is it ancient Greek?'

Demetri's nostrils flared, and he was tempted to say, What else? But he realised in time that it wasn't wise to provoke her.

Provocation led to stimulation and stimulation led to an arousal he didn't want to feel. So, instead of mak ing some slick remark, he squatted down beside her to read the inscription on the plaque. His education had given him some knowledge of cla.s.sical languages and, without emo tion, he said, 'It is a dedication to Athena. It was probably part of the pediment that formed the portico of the temple.' He studied it for a moment, before adding, 'It extols the virtues of the virgin mother G.o.ddess.'

Joanna's head swung round to face him. 'The virgin mother G.o.ddess?' she echoed disbelievingly. 'Isn't-isn't that a contradiction in terms?'

Demetri found himself gazing into wide blue eyes, dark lashes-probably mascaraed, he chided himself scorn- fully-casting delicate shadows on her cheeks. Cheeks whose colour deepened to a rich crimson as he stared at her.

She was obviously as startled by his nearness as he was by hers, and before he could think of a satisfactory answer to her question she attempted to get to her feet. But she had acted without taking the unevenness of the ground into con sideration and would have stumbled had he not lunged for ward and grabbed her arm.

His action unbalanced him, however. With a feeling of helplessness he felt himself falling, and moments later he found himself on a rough bed of gravel with Joanna on top of him.

He didn't know which of them was the most dismayed by what had happened. Judging by the horrified look on Joanna's face as she endeavoured to struggle off him, she had to be in the running. But, h.e.l.l, he was shocked, too. His spine had taken quite a beating, and it irritated him enormously that she probably thought he was to blame for the whole incident.

Which wasn't true, he thought frustratedly. It wasn't his fault that she hadn't taken care where she put her feet. The outraged expression she was wearing only increased his ag gravation, and he couldn't understand why she was looking so annoyed.

'Will you let go of me?' she snapped, and it was only then that he realised he was still gripping her forearm. Dur ing the fall he must have held on to her, and now she was behaving as if it was all his fault.

'I did not instigate this, you know!' he exclaimed, feeling a particularly sharp stone digging into his hip. 'I was trying to save you from falling flat on your face.'

'Really?' Patently, she didn't believe him. 'Well, why don't you let me go and we'l say no more about it?'

Demetri's lips parted. Her insolence infuriated him. She was behaving as if he had engineered the whole thing. What did she expect him to get out of it, for G.o.d's sake? What pleasure did she think he got from acting as a cushion for her not inconsiderable weight?

The answer came as a treacherous stirring in his groin.

Beneath her flailing arms and legs, his unwanted arousal hardened to a throbbing shaft. Thick and muscular, it thrust against the thin confinement of his shorts, an unmistakable stiffness against the softness of her stomach.

He knew the moment she felt it, too. Like a rabbit caught in the glare of headlights, she froze to an unmoving stillness, her eyes wider yet filled with a revulsion he neither knew nor understood. Theos, she wasn't a child. She knew some thing like this could happen. What did she expect when he could feel the pebble-hard pressure of her nipples against his chest?

The most sensible thing would be to push her away from him, to let her get up and hope against hope she didn't tell his father what he had done. He was fairly sure that Constantine, not to mention Olivia, would find his explanation somehow lacking in conviction, but the quicker he dealt with the situation, the less d.a.m.ning it would be.

Yet the panic he could see in her eyes was getting to him.

Dammit, he wasn't a monster, he thought angrily. He was just a man-an attractive man, if what most women told him was true-and not someone of whom she need be afraid. He knew that somehow, some way, he had to con vince her-convince himself!-that he was not to blame for what had happened. And, ignoring both her resistance and his own misgivings, he raised his arm and ran the back of his hand down her cheek.

Her skin was hot; so hot. Even the casual brush of his fingers left a livid whiteness on her flesh. A whiteness that was soon overtaken again by the heated blush that was so unexpected. But her skin was soft; so soft. It was like the smoothest satin he'd ever touched.

She didn't move. She seemed incapable of doing so now, or perhaps she was afraid of what else her unguarded actions might provoke. His arousal hadn't subsided; on the contrary, it felt as if it had increased. His whole body ached for ful filment, his erection pulsing heavily against her hip.

Theos, he had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted her, he realised incredulously. The vision he had had earlier, of pulling her down to the ground and tearing the clothes from her, was still with him. But now it had been reinforced with an urgent desire to make love to her. To bury himself inside her and teach her how desirable it could be.

But he wanted her to want him, too. The thought of her wrapping those long, long legs about his hips, arching up beneath him, of him spilling his seed in her tight sheath, was enough to drive him almost to the edge. And why? Because he wanted to show his father what a faithless b.i.t.c.h she was? Or because he wanted to prove to himself that she couldn't prefer the older man?

That suspicion sickened him. What was he doing, for pity's sake? How could he even think of making love with Joanna Manning and profess to love his father as a son should? It was unforgivable. He was unforgivable. He should have taken Olivia's advice and avoided any chance of something like this happening.

Olivia had been right. He was a hot-blooded man, and Joanna was just as unscrupu lous as Olivia had said.

Or was she?

He stared up at her and then, hardly knowing what he was doing, he gripped her face between both hands and brought that soft, luscious mouth to his. Just one kiss, he told himself, rolling onto his side and taking her with him. If she kissed him back he'd know he'd been right all along. With her flat on the gra.s.s at his side he felt infinitely more in control of the situation, and, just for good measure, he traced the curve of her lips with his tongue.

Theos! His breath caught in his throat and, almost invol- untarily, he deepened the kiss. Her lips parted and his tongue dipped irresistibly between her teeth. Heat and sweetness; warmth and wetness; she tasted as delicious as he'd antic.i.p.ated.

And, instead of sobering, Demetri's head swam at the first hint that she was kissing him back.

He struggled to hold onto his sanity. But when her arms rose to circle his neck he felt his control slipping away. With a little moan of submission Joanna abandoned herself to his lovemaking, surging up against him, her tongue tangling with his, her fingers curling into the hair at his nape.