catch of the century!”
Amusement glinted suddenly in the dark eyes. “You have a turn of phrase that does little credit to the English language at times. I’d be grateful if you took pains not to pass on such terms to my son tomorrow.”
“He speaks English at five?”
“The early years are the best time of all to learn. When I’m home, he and I speak English together regularly. The tutor he’s to have at the end of the summer will be bilingual too.” Nikos paused, shaking his head as if the subject was not one he had intended discussing. “Are we to take our walk?”
Chelsea caught herself up, storing the snippets of background material away for future use. She was still a long way from the goalpost.
“Why not?” she said.
Stretching away on both sides of the house, the gardens proved extensive, with the Italian influence very much in evidence here too. Horticulturally illiterate, even back home, Chelsea had no idea what any of the myriad shrubs and plants were.
“It really is lovely,” she remarked, feeling bound to make some comment, however unimaginative, after strolling in silence along the paved paths for several minutes. “So beautifully laid out.”
“Selene likes order in every aspect of her life,” confirmed Nikos.
“Mistress of the moon,” Chelsea murmured, drawing a speculative glance from the man at her side.
“You know something of our mythology?”
“I enjoy dipping into it,” she said truthfully. “If memory serves me right, Selene was usurped by Artemis, who killed her lover, Orion, because she thought he was playing around with Eos.”
“A generalised interpretation, but not wholly inaccurate. The gods were no more exempt from the desire for vengeance when deceived than we mortals.”
Chelsea pulled a leaf from a nearby aromatic shrub, crushing it between her fingers and bringing it to her nose to sniff. “You’re saying you might be moved to act the same way under similar circumstances?”
“To kill, no. There are other forms of retribution.”
The matter-of-fact statement sent a sudden shiver down her back. Of a different kind, maybe, but what she was doing could still be classed as deception.
Darkness had fallen, the fireflies flickering in the trees like so many fairylights. Cicadas filled the air with their incessant song.
“Shouldn’t we be getting back?” she asked. “It must be almost nine.”
“There are still several minutes.” Nikos paused at a stone seat set beneath an archway. “We’ll sit here for a moment or two and watch the stars emerge.”
Other than walking on without him, Chelsea had little choice but to take the seat indicated, feeling the brush of his arm against hers as he sat down beside her. He was too close—too assertively masculine for comfort. Her stomach muscles ached with tension.
“Your hair is luminous in the moonlight,” he said softly. “A river of silver!”
“Very poetic,” she commented, doing her best to keep her voice steady.
Nikos gave a low laugh. “I appear to be making you nervous.”
“You’re confusing me,” she admitted. “When I arrived on the island you looked at me as if I were some kind of cheap pick-up, then you accused me of making up to Dion with an eye to future prospects, and now…”
“Now?” he prompted as she let the words trail away.
“You tell me,” she challenged.
The smile was slow. “Attack is often the best means of defence.”
“Against what?”
He made no verbal answer, sliding an arm about her waist to turn her to him, his other hand coming up to circle her nape beneath the heavy fall of hair, eyes glinting as he lowered his head to find her mouth with his.
The kiss left her breathless. He’d made no attempt to do more than just kiss her, yet she’d felt as if every part of her body was under seige.
“Why?” she got out, and saw his lips curve ironically.
“Because I wanted to.”
“And you always do exactly as you want to, of course.”
“Not always, but some things one cannot deny oneself.” His fingers moved caressingly at her nape, bringing her tinglingly alive again. “You have a mouth made for kissing—a body made for loving. Dion could never satisfy you.”
Chelsea fought to retain some semblance of control against her treacherous inclinations. If he kissed her again she was going to lose all sense of proportion. “I told you, we don’t have that kind of relationship,” she said through her teeth. “Just stop this, will you? I’m not available to either of you!”
“I think perhaps you may be, should I care to pursue the matter,” Nikos responded, but he let go of her, watching her struggle to contain the involuntary regret with amusement in his eyes. “The flesh is more than willing.”
He wasn’t far wrong. The desires he had aroused in her were unprecedented. Face burning, she got to her feet, wishing the damned moon would disappear behind a cloud.
“You read a great deal too much into too little,” she declared with asperity. “We’re going to be late for dinner.”
“They will wait.”
“I imagine Florina is well used to it where you’re concerned,” she flashed without pause for reflection, breath catching as the humour was wiped from his face. “I had no right to say that,” she mumbled.
“No, you did not,” he agreed on a curt note. He rose himself, looming over her. “What has Dion been telling you?”
There was no way out, Chelsea acknowledged ruefully; she had dropped them both right in it.
“Nothing,” she said, making the attempt on Dion’s behalf at least. “Just something I sensed, that’s all. Call it feminine intuition.”
“A finely tuned faculty indeed.” The satire withered her where she stood. “And what exactly was it that this intuition of yours suggested?”
“Can’t we just leave it at that?” she pleaded. “I’m probably completely wrong, anyway.”
There was a moment when she thought he was going to insist, then he inclined his head in mocking acknowledgement. “Doubtless. You’d be wise to keep a rein on your imagination.”
He turned to start along the path, leaving her to follow in his wake like some reprimanded schoolgirl. To hell with that! she thought, and caught him up, falling into step at his side.
“My stomach’s beginning to think my throat’s been cut!” she remarked brightly.
Nikos
