... and something akin to recklessness.
Their coffee and liqueurs were served in the same room, on a small table by the open window. The music from the record player had stopped, but the trill of cicadas could still be heard and, more faintly, the sound of waves lapping the shore. Lights twinkled on the hillsides; and the summits of the mountains, enveloped in a lustrous moon-flushed radiance, stood out like silver silhouettes against the star-spangled Grecian sky.
Leon took hold of the chair which Savvas had put to one side of the table, and brought it close to where Tara sat. Reaching up, he snapped off the light, leaving just a small lamp shining from the verandah outside. It was rose-shaded and, throwing its subtle glow on to the climbing vines and bougainvillaeas, it turned the entire immediate scene into a fairyland of magic and warmth. A tightness caught at Tara's throat. Escape seemed urgent - but escape from what? And how was she to remove herself without her host adopting an attitude of astonishment at her action? After all, he hadn't done anything.
'So silent,' murmured Leon at last as he picked up his glass.
'Thoughtful, and - still a little shy?' His dark head was cocked, his voice edged with amusement She thrilled to this teasing mood, wondering if she would ever feel the same after an evening such as this.
'I'm not shy,' she returned, a smile fluttering.
'You are, my dear. And very unsure of yourself. Are you afraid of something?'
Swiftly she shook her head - too swiftly.
'Why should I be afraid?'
He shrugged his shoulders.
'There's no reason. After all, you're with the man who eventually is to become your brother-in-law, aren't you?' She looked dumbly at him; her hand lay on the table and suddenly it was covered with his own.
'Tara,' he whispered hoarsely, then broke off. The clasp of her hand caused her to cry out and he apologized, but absently. He seemed gripped by indecision and at last he put his glass to his mouth and drank deeply. She said, because she just had to cut into this silence,
'Yes, Leon, I'm with the man who is eventually to be my brother-in-law.'
At that he seemed to take on a satanic look. She peered into those black eyes and was scared.
'You really want to marry him?' he asked her harshly. 'You're as much in love with him as you would have me believe?'
'I-I-'
'Answer me! He's a mere boy. How can you be in love with him—?'
He stopped, and his shoulders sagged. 'I'm sorry,' he said in tones bitter-edged. 'Forgive me.'
A hush fell on the room after this until, their drinks finished, he said, calmly now and with nothing more to his voice than would be expected from the man whose brother she was intending to marry,
'I usually take a stroll before going to bed. As Paul isn't here perhaps you'll accompany me?'
'Of course.' The answer came spontaneously, for she had no wish to put an end to the scene at this stage. For as she sat there, at the dinner-table, in that magic setting, she had allowed the truth to emerge from where it had lain, suppressed, in her subconscious. It had not burst in upon her, staggering her or leaving her dazed and disbelieving. No, it made a gende entry into her conscious strands of thought and, once established, it seemed as if it had always been there, since the beginning of time. With Ricky, love - or what they both believed was love - had come with a flourish. Across the dance hall their eyes had met and a sudden upsurge of emotion had caught Tara in what she thought was an inescapable vortex which was to enclose her for life.
After the break-up she had sworn to finish with men for ever, but here she was, in love with this dark arid rather frightening Greek who was under the impression that she loved his brother and was going to marry him. And Leon .. .? At this stage she dared not ask herself if he was beginning to care, simply because it seemed impossible that he could care deeply for any woman. He was too hard and unfeeling, she had already
Their coffee and liqueurs were served in the same room, on a small table by the open window. The music from the record player had stopped, but the trill of cicadas could still be heard and, more faintly, the sound of waves lapping the shore. Lights twinkled on the hillsides; and the summits of the mountains, enveloped in a lustrous moon-flushed radiance, stood out like silver silhouettes against the star-spangled Grecian sky.
Leon took hold of the chair which Savvas had put to one side of the table, and brought it close to where Tara sat. Reaching up, he snapped off the light, leaving just a small lamp shining from the verandah outside. It was rose-shaded and, throwing its subtle glow on to the climbing vines and bougainvillaeas, it turned the entire immediate scene into a fairyland of magic and warmth. A tightness caught at Tara's throat. Escape seemed urgent - but escape from what? And how was she to remove herself without her host adopting an attitude of astonishment at her action? After all, he hadn't done anything.
'So silent,' murmured Leon at last as he picked up his glass.
'Thoughtful, and - still a little shy?' His dark head was cocked, his voice edged with amusement She thrilled to this teasing mood, wondering if she would ever feel the same after an evening such as this.
'I'm not shy,' she returned, a smile fluttering.
'You are, my dear. And very unsure of yourself. Are you afraid of something?'
Swiftly she shook her head - too swiftly.
'Why should I be afraid?'
He shrugged his shoulders.
'There's no reason. After all, you're with the man who eventually is to become your brother-in-law, aren't you?' She looked dumbly at him; her hand lay on the table and suddenly it was covered with his own.
'Tara,' he whispered hoarsely, then broke off. The clasp of her hand caused her to cry out and he apologized, but absently. He seemed gripped by indecision and at last he put his glass to his mouth and drank deeply. She said, because she just had to cut into this silence,
'Yes, Leon, I'm with the man who is eventually to be my brother-in-law.'
At that he seemed to take on a satanic look. She peered into those black eyes and was scared.
'You really want to marry him?' he asked her harshly. 'You're as much in love with him as you would have me believe?'
'I-I-'
'Answer me! He's a mere boy. How can you be in love with him—?'
He stopped, and his shoulders sagged. 'I'm sorry,' he said in tones bitter-edged. 'Forgive me.'
A hush fell on the room after this until, their drinks finished, he said, calmly now and with nothing more to his voice than would be expected from the man whose brother she was intending to marry,
'I usually take a stroll before going to bed. As Paul isn't here perhaps you'll accompany me?'
'Of course.' The answer came spontaneously, for she had no wish to put an end to the scene at this stage. For as she sat there, at the dinner-table, in that magic setting, she had allowed the truth to emerge from where it had lain, suppressed, in her subconscious. It had not burst in upon her, staggering her or leaving her dazed and disbelieving. No, it made a gende entry into her conscious strands of thought and, once established, it seemed as if it had always been there, since the beginning of time. With Ricky, love - or what they both believed was love - had come with a flourish. Across the dance hall their eyes had met and a sudden upsurge of emotion had caught Tara in what she thought was an inescapable vortex which was to enclose her for life.
After the break-up she had sworn to finish with men for ever, but here she was, in love with this dark arid rather frightening Greek who was under the impression that she loved his brother and was going to marry him. And Leon .. .? At this stage she dared not ask herself if he was beginning to care, simply because it seemed impossible that he could care deeply for any woman. He was too hard and unfeeling, she had already
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