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‘Why don’t you get your wife a drink, Demetri?’ his father suggested half maliciously, and, although Demetri resented the familiarity, at least it gave him a reason to tear his eyes away from her.
‘Ouzo?’ he offered with what he considered was admirable tolerance, but Jane shook her head.
‘Just orange juice, please,’ she said, and he noticed she was avoiding his eyes, too. Then she turned to smile at his younger brother, who was lounging near by. ‘Hey, Stefan, I forgot to thank you for taking me into Kalithi this morning. I do appreciate it.’
Stefan made some easy deprecatory comment, but Demetri could feel his hackles rising at the thought of Jane and his younger brother together. Chesta, Stefan wasn’t supposed to care for the company of women. What the hell was he doing taking Jane into town? She could drive, couldn’t she? Why didn’t she just take herself?
In consequence, he made the mistake of looking at her when he brought the glass of orange juice she’d requested and was rewarded by a decidedly provocative stare in return. ‘Thanks,’ she said. Then, as if she cared, ‘Aren’t you drinking this evening?’
Demetri’s jaw tightened. ‘I’m not in the mood,’ he said, thinking privately that getting drunk might be precisely the right thing to do in his present state of mind. He arched a sardonic brow. ‘So what did you buy in Kalithi? If I’d known you needed something, I could have arranged to bring it back from Athens.’
‘Don’t you know that a woman doesn’t have to need anything to enjoy shopping?’ Stefan interposed lightly. ‘And you a married man and all.’
‘Not for much longer,’ put in Ariadne swiftly, not to be outdone. ‘Isn’t that right, darling?’ She tucked her arm through Demetri’s. ‘You can’t wait to be free.’
Demetri saw Jane press her lips together at this blatant piece of propaganda, but it was Stefan who answered for her. ‘Then it’s just as well I’m here to act as Jane’s protector,’ he remarked, slipping an arm about her waist and drawing her closer. ‘We get along famously, don’t we, darling?’
Jane’s smile appeared again. ‘Well, I must admit you’ve looked after me very well,’ she agreed, and Demetri found himself wanting to push his fist into his brother’s smug face.
‘So why didn’t you drive into town yourself?’ he asked tersely, releasing himself from Ariadne’s clinging hold. ‘Your car’s still in the garage, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, your mother’s given the little Porsche to me, Demetri.’ Ariadne tried to capture his arm again, but he shook her off. ‘And Jane doesn’t live here any more—’
‘My mother had no right to give that car to anyone,’ retorted Demetri furiously, and even Stefan looked surprised at his vehemence.
‘It’s not as if it was a new car,’ he ventured, but one look at his brother’s face made him bite his tongue.
‘The car belongs to Jane,’ insisted Demetri harshly, and now even Ariadne looked put out. ‘Hristo, why wasn’t I consulted about this?’
Maria Souvakis had heard the raised voices and now she turned to look disapprovingly at her eldest son. ‘For heaven’s sake, Demetri, it’s just a car, you know. Not the crown jewels!’
‘And you couldn’t wait to humiliate Jane, could you?’ he snapped angrily. He turned to look at Ariadne. ‘Don’t tell me you went to pick her up from the ferry in the Porsche!’
‘Of course I did.’ It was obvious Ariadne didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. ‘As your mother says, it is only a car, Demetri.’
‘It’s Jane’s car, not yours,’ he returned bleakly, and now Jane knew she had to intervene before he said or did something he would definitely regret after she’d gone.
‘I don’t want it,’ she said, meeting his incensed gaze with cool deliberation. ‘Ariadne’s welcome to it.’ Her lips twisted. ‘It goes with the territory.’
‘If you think—’
Jane had no idea what Demetri might have said then had not his father called a halt to the argument. ‘Dinner is served,’ he told them all severely. ‘Angelena has been trying to attract our attention for the past five minutes.’ He gave Demetri a warning look. ‘Shall we go in?’
The meal itself was something of an anticlimax. Grilled aubergines were followed by a Greek salad with psaria as the main course. The latter was a whole fish, baked with vegetables and served in a tomato, fennel and olive-oil sauce. It was very spicy, and probably delicious, but Jane, whose uncertain constitution hadn’t been improved by the earlier altercation, found it all rather rich for her taste. She was grateful when the plates were removed and the dessert was served. The sweet flaky pastries were much more to her liking.
