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Sophie…
Everything about her seemed so vivid, so vital! Everything about her was imprinted on him. In every cell of his body. Emotion washed through him. Emotion that she aroused! Only she aroused. Only Sophie…
Only Sophie…
The car ate up the few miles as he closed the distance to Belledon. They did not talk—yet the silence spoke. His head was full—but not with words, not with thoughts.
As he wound down the long drive to the house, took the curve around to the back and drew up outside the entrance to her quarters, he could feel the emotion in him strengthening. What it was he did not know, could not name. Knew only that it was strong and growing stronger. More imperative. More powerful.
I should leave. Leave her and go. Get back to the inn and then, first thing, head back to London. The architect can wait. He’s not important. All that is important is for me to get back to London. Away.
Away from Sophie…
But even as the thought forced its way into his head he knew it for the lie it was.
He cut the engine and the silence pooled. With a jerky movement Nikos opened his door, strode out around the car to open the passenger seat door. She got out quickly, shutting the door herself. Nikos walked up to the back door, unlocking it with his own set of keys for the property. It took a moment to find the right key, but then it yielded, and he pushed the door back, holding it open for her.
He did not speak.
Dared not speak.
Dared not look at her.
She approached slowly. There was a sudden wariness in her step. A sudden slow thump of her heart. All around was nothing but silence. Then the mournful cry of an owl pierced it momentarily.
‘Sophie—’
The sound of his voice penetrated. Her eyes went to him as he stood in the dimness by the open door, waiting for her to go inside. Waiting to leave. To drive away. She paused. The air was chill now, after the warmth of the car, but it was not the night that chilled her.
Knowledge came to her.
I will never see Nikos again now.
He would drive away and she would never see him again.
She knew it with an absolute certainty. There would be no more accidental encounters, no more crossing of paths. No more.
A terrible yearning swept through her. A yearning for what had never been, for what never would be. What never could be.
With aching pain, she moved past him.
‘Sophie—’
She paused minutely. She could not say goodnight, could not speak anodyne words. It was all beyond her.
‘Sophie, I—’
She tilted her head—the barest acknowledgement. ‘Goodbye, Nikos.’
Her voice was low, faint. She had meant to say goodnight, but a truer word had come. She started forwards again, into the interior.
‘Sophie—’
Her name came from him again, but it was different now, and his hand was on her shoulder. Halting her. She turned.
He was so close to her. Standing there in the doorway, his hand on her shoulder, pressing through the material of her blouse. He said something in Greek. She did not know what. Knew only that in the darkness of the night his face was stark.
His eyes were burning suddenly, with a fire that came from deep within.
