was eaten under shaded ceiling lights, with candles on the table and flowers beautifully arranged in an ornate silver urn. Music floated, softly, and from the open window scents and sounds of the Grecian night drifted romantically in. Had some amorous lover arranged it all it could not have been more perfect, more seductive ...
more nerve-activating than this. She was in a strange world of unreality, and when for a fleeting moment the face of Ricky intruded into her vision it was frowningly thrust out, incongruous in so faultless a setting.
'Tara, my dear, you're not taking your soup.' Soft as falling snow on a drowsy hill the tone, the accented first word breathed almost silently, but caressing. She swallowed as emotion surged.
'I was - was thinking,' she mumbled, picking up her spoon.
'Of what?' he wanted to know, smiling at her.
'Nothing in particular....'
He seemed amused all at once.
'Why, I do believe you're shy — just because we're dining alone. How utterly refreshing to discover a shy young lady these days.' She made no comment and he said, his soup spoon poised, 'Have you had a young man before Paul?'
Inwardly she started, recalling that here in Greece engagements are not broken. But then it had not been her fault, so surely Leon would consider her blameless. Yet she hesitated just a second longer, loath to see this most attractive expression change to one of condemnation.
'Not a s-serious one,' she faltered, popping a small piece of bread in her mouth the instant she had told the lie.
'At twenty-five I should have thought you'd have had many admirers.
You're very lovely, Tara - but I expect you know that.'
She glanced up, flushing daintily. His eyes glimmered oddly and he swallowed hard.
'Thank you, Leon. Quite frankly, I haven't had many admirers. You see, I used to go about a lot with Mum and Dad until - until ... '
'Yes?'
'Until they went abroad,' she said quickly, averting her head.
Savvas entered with the second course and silence fell on the room until he had left.
'A girl who goes about with Mum and Dad,' he mused, his eyes fixed on her bent head. 'In other words, an old-fashioned girl.'
Tara's colour spread ; she wished already that the lie had not been told. But Leon chatted on and the situation eased for her. It was a meal she would never forget as long as she lived. Of all the meals she had taken with Ricky, none had been so pleasurably exciting as this.
She felt she was on the verge of some momentous event, that the evening could not end without a great change taking place in her life.
Paul faded; he did ncrt matter anyway. Her brother and Joan, her parents - none seemed real; only this was tangible, yet unreal too in many ways. To be dining in so romantic a setting with a handsome Greek whose manner was, to say the least, much more than friendly, whose voice was capable of sending exciting tremors through her body, whose black eyes, looking at her with something akin to tenderness, set her senses tingling in the most delicious kind of way.
Inevitably she recalled her grudging admission that he was attractive
... and she remembered also that she had wondered how a woman would fare, should he decide to tempt her.
Thoughts such as these brought colour fluctuating delicately, and because he was watching her she lowered her long lashes, unaware of the lovely picture she made, with the colour taking on a peach tint in the reflected light from above, and the soft shadows mingling with it thrown on to her cheeks by her eyelashes. Her wide generous mouth parted slightly, as if pleading for a kiss.
She heard his intake of breath, saw his fingers tighten on the handle of his knife. She glanced up and he smiled, but in his pagan eyes there glowed the unmistakable embers of desire. She automatically touched her breast, for her heart had jerked almost painfully. This balancing on a knife-edge was too dangerous a position by far. Her nerves quickened, stimulated by the chord of expectation
more nerve-activating than this. She was in a strange world of unreality, and when for a fleeting moment the face of Ricky intruded into her vision it was frowningly thrust out, incongruous in so faultless a setting.
'Tara, my dear, you're not taking your soup.' Soft as falling snow on a drowsy hill the tone, the accented first word breathed almost silently, but caressing. She swallowed as emotion surged.
'I was - was thinking,' she mumbled, picking up her spoon.
'Of what?' he wanted to know, smiling at her.
'Nothing in particular....'
He seemed amused all at once.
'Why, I do believe you're shy — just because we're dining alone. How utterly refreshing to discover a shy young lady these days.' She made no comment and he said, his soup spoon poised, 'Have you had a young man before Paul?'
Inwardly she started, recalling that here in Greece engagements are not broken. But then it had not been her fault, so surely Leon would consider her blameless. Yet she hesitated just a second longer, loath to see this most attractive expression change to one of condemnation.
'Not a s-serious one,' she faltered, popping a small piece of bread in her mouth the instant she had told the lie.
'At twenty-five I should have thought you'd have had many admirers.
You're very lovely, Tara - but I expect you know that.'
She glanced up, flushing daintily. His eyes glimmered oddly and he swallowed hard.
'Thank you, Leon. Quite frankly, I haven't had many admirers. You see, I used to go about a lot with Mum and Dad until - until ... '
'Yes?'
'Until they went abroad,' she said quickly, averting her head.
Savvas entered with the second course and silence fell on the room until he had left.
'A girl who goes about with Mum and Dad,' he mused, his eyes fixed on her bent head. 'In other words, an old-fashioned girl.'
Tara's colour spread ; she wished already that the lie had not been told. But Leon chatted on and the situation eased for her. It was a meal she would never forget as long as she lived. Of all the meals she had taken with Ricky, none had been so pleasurably exciting as this.
She felt she was on the verge of some momentous event, that the evening could not end without a great change taking place in her life.
Paul faded; he did ncrt matter anyway. Her brother and Joan, her parents - none seemed real; only this was tangible, yet unreal too in many ways. To be dining in so romantic a setting with a handsome Greek whose manner was, to say the least, much more than friendly, whose voice was capable of sending exciting tremors through her body, whose black eyes, looking at her with something akin to tenderness, set her senses tingling in the most delicious kind of way.
Inevitably she recalled her grudging admission that he was attractive
... and she remembered also that she had wondered how a woman would fare, should he decide to tempt her.
Thoughts such as these brought colour fluctuating delicately, and because he was watching her she lowered her long lashes, unaware of the lovely picture she made, with the colour taking on a peach tint in the reflected light from above, and the soft shadows mingling with it thrown on to her cheeks by her eyelashes. Her wide generous mouth parted slightly, as if pleading for a kiss.
She heard his intake of breath, saw his fingers tighten on the handle of his knife. She glanced up and he smiled, but in his pagan eyes there glowed the unmistakable embers of desire. She automatically touched her breast, for her heart had jerked almost painfully. This balancing on a knife-edge was too dangerous a position by far. Her nerves quickened, stimulated by the chord of expectation
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