Second-Best Bride Read online

  Unfortunately, as Nikos, the manservant who had been sent to meet her, had haltingly explained, conditions throughout the islands could be as unpredictable as the nature of the Greek himself, which was why the sun was sulking behind a cloud, the sea tossed with temper and darkly frowning.

  As he threaded the craft past many small islands that loomed in the distance and then quickly faded into mists astern, Nikos cast anxious glances at the pale-faced Anghlika who seemed oblivious to sporting dolphins and to the shoals of fish streaking silver through a wine-dark sea. Merci­fully, she also seemed immune to waves so rough they had been known to force spicy oaths and hasty prayers from the lips of land-loving peasants.

  Unaware of his speculative eyes, Angie sat hugged in misery, painfully aware, as a patient becomes aware of the slowly receding effects of anaesthetic, that she had been manipulated. The speed with which she had been coaxed, cajoled, then finally hustled on her way to Karios had left her no time for argument, no opportunity to air her doubts about the wisdom of presenting herself before Terzan Helios as a mediator in place of the fiancée he was expecting.

  She had been a fool to allow herself to be forced into coming! Yet Cilla had left her with no alternative. Was it really only two days since the dreadful row that had threatened to tear her small family apart?

  Even now she could hear her father's voice, ringing unfamiliar in anger, indicting Cilla with selfishness, frivolity, and utter disregard for the feelings of others. At first Cilla had reacted with defiance, had even threatened to leave home for good unless she were allowed to live her life as she wanted to and not in accordance with the wishes of her father's parishioners. Only his cold reminder that she had no talent for work, no means of sup­porting herself, had seemed to bring her to her senses.

  Angie had suspected, then immediately wiped the uncharitable thought from her mind, that Cilla's sudden capitulation had not been motivated by remorse but had been a bid for time, time to enable David Montgomery to propose, to trans­plant her from poverty to luxury, from the obscurity of a country vicarage into the realms of titled society.

  Her father, however, had been completely won over by eyes of tearful blue that had pleaded; mutely for forgiveness, and by the sobs that had racked her slender frame when she had flung her­self into his arms and begged, 'I will behave in future, Father! I promise! Everything you've said is true, I've been selfishly unfair to you and Angie, but I'll try as hard as I know how to make up for my thoughtlessness.' At the sight of his dawning smile she had glistened as if suddenly inspired. 'I have an idea! Only this afternoon Angie was tell­ing me how much she yearned to be able to take a holiday, to escape the ties of the parish and enjoy a first taste of freedom—let her go, Father, and let me take over her duties, that way I can discharge my debt to both of you and might even manage to mollify the feelings of any parishioners I may have offended!'

  Angie winced as she recalled the look of hurt surprise her father had cast across Cilla's shoulder. He would never know what it had cost her to bite back hot words of denial that had sprung to her lips, or to simulate delighted astonishment when the very next day Cilla had triumphantly an­nounced that by telephoning influential friends she had managed to reserve a seat on a plane leaving for Greece that very night.

  'Is the young Anghlika not feeling well?'

  When Nikos' swarthy features swam into focus she realised with a start that the boat had been moored alongside a jetty centred within a wild, romantic bay ringed with boulder-strewn cliffs upon which cypresses stood sentinel-stiff and vivid poppies ran like streams of lava towards the sea.

  ‘I'm fine, thank you.' Her apprehensive eyes ran the length of the cliff. 'Just a little tired. Have we much farther to go?'

  Laughter boomed from the burly Greek manser­vant who, even on such short acquaintance, had impressed her with his air of uncalculating kind­ness.

  'You are thinking you will need the stamina of a mountain goat to scale that cliff, eh?' His dark head nodded upwards. 'Don't worry,' he grinned, 'in less than five minutes you will be in the pres­ence of the kirios.'

  Though his voice, whenever he spoke of his boss, echoed with pride and affection, her dread increased as he led her towards a lift built into the cliffside, then demonstrated with the press of a button how wealth could smooth a path through even the most rugged terrain.

  This fact was further demonstrated when she stepped out of the lift just as the sun broke through cloud, giving an impression of stepping into another world, a world of closely-shaven lawns kept fresh and green with the aid of lazily turning sprinklers; of flowering shrubs, showers of mimosa; clumps of waist-high geraniums, tall marguerites, lilies, tulips, and masses of blue cam­panula festooning low rocky walls. Sun-baked paths fanned in the direction of a white-walled villa, its red tiled roof overlapping to form a ter­race trap of welcoming shade.

  'You like?' Nikos beamed. 'Inside, we have central heating, running water, and many beautiful bathrooms.'

  Angie smiled, and for the first time found the courage to seek an answer to the question that had been worrying her ever since Nikos had met her at the airport. He had been instructed to pick up Miss Rose, to act as her escort for the remainder of the journey, yet his expression had remained impassive when she had appeared, even though he must have been expecting Cilla.

  'Why didn't your employer come to the airport himself? After all, he was expecting the arrival of his fiancée.'

  A shadow clouded Nikos' face. He hesitated, then shrugged. 'There are days when the kirios feels no inclination to travel.' The admission i seemed dragged past his lips.

  'Are you saying that he couldn't be bothered?’ she queried indignantly.

  Resentful colour rose high in his cheeks, for öne terrifying second he looked angry enough to bite, but then he mastered his emotions sufficiently to reply. 'I am saying that a man needs to cling fast to his pride. Unfortunately, 'his voice dropped to a puzzling whisper, 'the taller the bamboo, the lower it can be forced to bend.’

  As she followed Nikos towards the entrance to the villa Angie heard the strains of a bouzoukia in the far distance. Her footsteps faltered as some­thing deep inside her stirred in response to the haunting yet wildly passionate music being plucked from the heartstrings of the Greek violin. The sound, new and different to her ears, made her forcibly aware that she had been transplanted into alien soil; into a land whose sun-baked earth could shrivel tender roots, amongst people whose pride and passion were inherited from legendary ancestors—from Zeus, Lord of Heaven and Prince of Light; from Apollo, the sun-god who could de­stroy as well as give life; from Ares, the god who loved to go to war, and from Eros, the handsome, blindfolded god of desire and passion who was said to have whetted with blood the grindstone on which he sharpened his arrows.

  The interior of the villa seemed lined with marble, white, pink, black and veined, filling the shadowed hall with the cool atmosphere of a tomb. Angie shivered and tightened the belt around her waist to combat a sensation of icy fin­gertips stroking the length of her spine as she fol­lowed in Nikos' wake, her heels tapping, fast as her heartbeats, against the black marble floor and upon each tread of a milk-white staircase hewn from the same imposing stone.

  It was a relief, when Nikos flung open a door and stepped aside inviting her to enter, to discover that the room she had been given looked far less austere. Though the windows were shuttered to keep out the heat of the sun, shell pink drapes with a matching bedcover, lightwood furniture, and an expanse of creamy, curled-fleece rug bestowed an aura of feminine appeal.

  'I guessed that you would welcome an opportunity to freshen up before your meeting with the kirios,' the thoughtful Nikos grinned, depositing her one insignificant suitcase beside the bed. 'My wife, Crisulla, who acts as housekeeper, will send a girl to unpack for you, please inform her if there is anything you need. Meanwhile, I'll tell the kirios that you have arrived.'

  Even when the door had closed behind him she found it impossible to relax. Th
ough air-conditioned, the room was pleasantly warm, yet her fingers felt stiff with cold as she fumbled with the buttons on her coat before tossing it on to the bed. Behind a door that Nikos had indicated she found a bathroom, a sea green grotto with bath, basin and shower served by water that gushed from the mouths of gold-plated dolphins. Crystal jars filled with an assortment of oils and bath essences were arranged on a shelf next to a deep recess piled high with cream and green layers of luxurious bath towels. I

  She took a startled step backwards, thinking she had seen a ghost, then realised with a nervous giggle that it was her own frightened face she saw reflected in a mirror. Averting her eyes from the pale, pinched oval, she bent over the basin to bathe her face with cool water, then guiltily dabbed it dry on one corner of a pristine towel.

  She was trying, without much success, to flatten the worst of the creases in her skirt when a rap upon the door warned her that Nikos had returned to escort her into the presence of his boss.

  'Just a second!' she quavered, rushing to the dressing table to run a comb through her hair, but her hands were trembling so much she threw down the comb in despair before berating her mirrored image.

  'You're merely here to deliver a message, re­member! Not a pleasant message, admittedly, nevertheless there's no need to be so ridiculously scared, for however violently the Greek may react you have the consolation of knowing that by this time tomorrow you'll be on your way home.'

  Looking unflappable as a schoolmarm in her neat woollen skirt and prim white blouse, she stepped outside into the passageway, steeled to carry out the most unpleasant task she had ever been called upon to perform. Nikos smiled ap­proval, then, obviously anxious not to keep his boss waiting, he guided her along the passageway, down the staircase, then across the width of black marble floor. He halted outside a door at the far end of the hall, tapped once upon its panel, then, in response to a command from within, he opened the door and stood back, indicating that she should go~ inside.

  After a deep, steadying breath she obeyed, then felt deserted, stranded upon a sea of carpet, when the door closed with a thud behind her.

  The darkness inside the room, and also through­out the villa, seemed markedly contradictory to the nature of the sun-loving Greeks and as she groped her way forward she wondered at its owner's obvious aversion to rays of sunshine dammed up outside of tightly-closed shutters.

  'Priscilla ...?' Her sister's name, uttered in a slightly accented voice traced with enquiry, brought her to a sudden halt. As she sensed movement, her eyes swivelled in the direction of an armchair and saw a figure uncoiling from its depths to stand magnificently erect—broad shoul­ders tapering towards narrow hips; lean thighs, and long legs set astride, in a manner that un­earthed from her memory a quotation from her schooldays.

  'He doth bestride the narrow world.

  Like a Colossus.'

  'I did you an injustice, agape mou? he con­tinued, his lips twisted into a slightly bitter smile, 'I did not believe for one moment that you would come.'

  Angie stared speechless at the tall Greek whose eyes lurked, unreadable, behind dark glasses. But

  his shock of black hair, the lean planes of his face—deeply tanned, yet in some indefinable way lacking Nikos' bloom of vitality—his tight, snarl-edged smile, his chiselled profile, fitted her pre-conceived image perfectly—except for the omission of the horns.

  'Well, why don't you speak?' His voice de­veloped a sudden edge. 'We have been parted too long-, have you no welcoming kiss for your fiancé?'

  She stifled a small gasp of amazement, then real­ised immediately that the dimness of the room, together with her superficial likeness to Cilla, could account for his mistaking her identity.

  'Cilla—Priscilla couldn't come,' she husked, daring a tentative step forward, 'so she sent me to deliver her explanation.'

  'Who are you?'

  She cowered from his anger, reminded more than ever of a powerful Colossus.

  ‘I'm Angie—Angelina—Priscilla's sister,' she gasped, despising her own cowardice yet unable for the life of her to control her trembling. She imagined she could feel his stare boring through dense glasses and winced from the understandable anger that exploded into his words.

  'How very appropriate,' he sneered. 'As Pri­scilla's talents are purely physical, I must assume that it was pure chance rather than deliberate design that prompted her to choose as her go-be­tween one who shares her name with angels who carried messages to man from God. Very well, Angelina,' he grated, 'though I've already guessed its content, you had better do your duty by de­livering whatever message you bring from the goddess Priscilla.'

  Distaste for her task increased a thousandfold as she recognised heartache and disappointment behind his bitter sarcasm. He had not moved a muscle from the moment she had made herself known, had not led her to a seat nor made any of the polite gestures a visitor is entitled to expect of a host, yet she had been prepared to overlook these omissions until he shocked her by resuming his seat, leaving her standing humble as a servant awaiting the instructions of her master.

  'The man's an uncivilised boor,' she fumed, 'totally devoid of social graces. Cilla's well rid of him;

  The knowledge gave her courage and steadied her tone to the point of coolness.

  'My sister has changed her mind, she has no wish to come to Karios because she has fallen in love with someone else. Indeed, she is expecting to be married very shortly,' she told him with an utter lack of compunction, in the circumstances, she would be grateful if you would kindly stop pestering— threatening—her with visits that would be embarrassing to you both. She also asked me to return this.' She thrust forward a hand with the huge diamond glistening in her palm, but to her surprise he made no effort to take it, did not react at all, not even when she waved it under his nose.

  'Please have the courtesy to accept my sister's decision as final,' in spite of herself she began to plead, I know you feel resentful that she didn't come in person to explain her feelings, but you more than anyone must know how tender-hearted she is, how reluctant to inflict hurt. This ring belongs to you—please take it ...'

  Violently, he jerked forward so that her hand came in contact with his chest, sending the ring spinning to the floor.

  'Now look what you've done!' she flared. 'Well, you'll have to search for it yourself, because I've certainly no intention of scrabbling on the floor!'

  Then it must remain where it is, Miss Rose,' he clenched, 'for I think the sister whom you hold in such high esteem must have omitted to inform you that I am blind.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  'The kirios's blindness is the result of an accident,' Nikos replied to Angie's frantic query, long after Terzan Helios had dismissed her from his pres­ence. He had kicked her out, metaphorically speaking, but not until after he had made plain the contempt he felt for Cilla and his dislike of herself.

  The great love of his life was motor racing,' Nikos continued mournfully, 'it was his antidote against the restrictions imposed upon his freedom by the endless board meetings that are an integral part of big business. But once he was seated behind the wheel of a powerful racing car, compet­ing against professionals whose skill was no grea­ter than his own, he became carefree and relaxed, each race acting upon him like a tonic, so phy­sically and mentally rejuvenating that he was able to return with enthusiasm to the business arena.'

  'How did the accident happen?' She shivered, chilled to the bone since Terzan's shock announce­ment.

  He shrugged angrily. 'In the manner that such accidents usually happen in that dangerous sport,' he almost spat. 'It is not enough for a man to be a skilled driver, to have nerves of steel, to have the finest car that money can buy, because invariably it is one of the lesser skilled, driving a machine that is less than perfect, who is the source of trouble—as was so in this case. A car driven by a young, inexperienced driver spun out of control causing a pile-up. The kirios was not involved, but he jumped from his car to go to the assistance of t
he young man who was trapped. When he was mere yards away from it the car exploded. The miracle is that he was not killed, that the only damage he suffered was to his sight. If only he had listened to my warnings!' Nikos's misery was such he sank down into a chair and buried his face in his hands. 'That blindness should be inflicted upon anyone is bad enough, but the world cannot afford to lose the talents of a man such as the kirios!’

  Angie's pity was so great she wanted to join in his weeping, but one important question remained to be asked, one traitorous doubt that had to be erased from her mind.

  'When ... when did the accident occur? Was it before or after my sister's arrival in Karios?'

  'Why, afterwards, of course!' He raised his head, his expression bewildered. 'It was widely reported in the press because of the human interest angle, I suppose, the added poignancy of the blinded driver having just recently become betrothed.'

  Shock turned into frozen horror. Long after Nikos had left her Angie remained huddled in a chair staring sightlessly out of a window, wrestling with the enormity of Cilla's selfishness, the lack of conscience that had allowed her to use her sister as a buffer between herself and a man's justifiable anger, the utter callousness with which she had deserted her fiancé at the time when he needed her most.

  At intervals during her trance tears intruded, tears of shame on Cilla's behalf, tears of pity for the virile, ambitious man trapped inside a cage of blindness, a man who faltered where once he had strode; who fumbled for what once he had snatched; who had to accept help when it had been his custom to give, who was used to roaming the world, but who was now incarcerated inside a villa where the sun could not aggravate the eyes of a hunter—now hunted.

  She reacted with a start to the sound of a tap upon her door.

  'Come in!' she husked, then cleared her throat and called again, a little louder.