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CHAPTER FIVE
ANN WAS SITTING sandwiched between Tina and one of Sam’s colleagues, and as she realised what was happening she felt her stomach hollow.
It was the last thing she had expected. The last thing she had been prepared for.
What is he doing here?
The question ricocheted through her like an assassin’s bullet shot out of nowhere. Then something else fired straight through her. Far worse than shock. She could feel it in every nerve-ending in her skin, every synapse in her wine-inflamed brain. It was a quickening of her breath, her pulse, making her instantly, totally aware of him as if everyone else in the taverna had ceased to exist. Dismay washed through her, but it was too late—far too late. All she could do was gaze helplessly at him, as he raised a hand in casual greeting to Sam and the others and made some remark in Greek to the taverna owner. The latter smiled vigorously, and gestured Nikos further in. The honoured guest murmured his thanks, casually deposited his sweater on a spare chair, and took his place in the row of men.
The music started again.
The hypnotic thrum of the music started to reverberate through the room, and very slowly the line of men, shoulder to shoulder, started to weave to the soft, but intensely rhythmic music. Hypnotically, the music started to quicken, becoming insistent, mesmerising. Overpowering.
Ann watched, feeling her heart swelling. Even without the presence of Nikos Theakis she would have been riveted by the unconscious grace, the intense dignity, the suffused sensuality of the dancers. These men dancing were real men. Every one of them. Masculinity and virility radiated from each of them, from the oldest white-haired elder to the youngest teenage grandson. As their interlinked bodies stepped with flawless unison through the paces Ann could feel the tension mount, excitement thrum in the air.
It was a magnificent sight. And none so magnificent than that of Nikos Theakis, dancing like one of his own ancestors, binding the stones of Greece to the wine-dark sea of Homer, grace and power and sensuality personified.
In the subdued light his white shirt gleamed like a sail, its open collar exposing the powerful column of his throat and his raised arms, embracing the shoulder of the man next to him in the line stretching the material over his muscled torso. The way his dark head turned, the way his long legs flexed and stepped—Ann felt her stomach clench. He was stunningly, overpoweringly beautiful. Heat flowed through her body. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Not for a moment, not for a second. She didn’t care if people saw her looking. Didn’t care if Nikos Theakis saw her watching him. And if his eyes met hers, held them completely, totally, never letting her go, as if she were their captive…
It was as if he were dancing for her, displaying his prowess, his masculinity, for her alone…
She felt dazed—dazzled and aware.
Responding to him. Weakening to him.
As the music and the dance reached its rampant finale to a volley of applause and vociferous appreciation by its audience, she dropped her head, shaken with what she was feeling. Yet there was still that quickening in her veins that seemed to make the whole world more vivid.
She lifted her head again, and her eyes clashed straight into his.
He had joined the party at the table, finding a space, somehow, immediately opposite her. For a moment—how long or brief it was she could not tell—he simply held her gaze.
Then he was accepting a glass of brandy from the taverna owner, exchanging something with him in Greek which brought a comment from Sam in the same language. Nikos made an airy gesture with his free hand, lounging back in his seat.
‘It is my pleasure—a token of appreciation for all the hard work you and your team put in on the excavation,’ he said smoothly, and Ann gathered that he’d picked up the tab for the evening.
It brought back the question that had originally struck her when he’d strolled in. Why was he here? Why wasn’t he with the elegant, chic Elena Constantis? And where was she? She would not have relinquished her prize easily. And why should Nikos have relinquished her?
He wasn’t looking at her now, and she was grateful. He was talking across the table to Sam and a couple of his colleagues, asking them about progress on the dig. She dragged her eyes away, occupying herself with drinking her coffee until the party finally broke up. Outside, after the warmth of the t
averna, the night air struck chill. But Ann was glad of it. There was enough heat in her body.
Her blood.
Yet the fresh air seemed to bring on an increase in the effects of her evening’s consumption of wine. Where was Tina? She looked around, but Tina was standing beside Sam, who had his arm around her.
‘I’ve told Tina she can stay here with Sam,’ said a deep, accented voice behind her.
She turned abruptly. Nikos was draping his sweater casually around his shoulders. ‘I’ll see you back to Sospiris,’ he said to her.
Where her stomach had been, a hollow opened up. Dismay filled it. And something else. Something she really, really didn’t want—
Her hands clutched at her bag. ‘No, really—that’s quite unnecessary,’ she began, flustered.
But her protest was ignored. Nikos was saying something to the taverna-owner again. And when she looked pleadingly at Tina the other girl was grinning delightedly up at Sam. Ann felt the words die on her lips. Of course Tina would be pleased that her boss had given her the night off! How selfish would it be to expect her to give that up? And it was only a short journey across on the launch. She could survive that.
But why was Nikos Theakis coming back to Sospiris anyway? Why wasn’t he with Elena Constantis?
Mentally, she shook herself. Who cares? What does it matter? It’s nothing to do with me! I’ve just got to tough it out and get to the other side, that’s all.
