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‘Anyway,’ said Laura, with a brightly cheerful smile, even though the thought of the future terrified her, ‘you’ll be coming back to Livinos lots…to see your daddy. And he’ll be coming to England to take you out. You’ll…well, you’ll have the best of both worlds, really, Alex!’
Alex bit his lip, as if he couldn’t bring himself to agree with this. ‘Can I go swimming with Stavros, please?’
Laura felt her heart threaten to break as she saw his pinched little face. ‘Of course you can,’ she whispered. ‘But you’ve only got a couple of hours. The helicopter will be leaving straight after lunch, and we mustn’t be late.’
He didn’t say another word as she took him outside to find the affable Greek student, and Laura stood there, watching the two of them heading towards the pool area, her eyes full of rogue tears which she fiercely blinked back.
Returning to her room, she finished packing—folding her cheap clothes into neat piles and then stuffing them into the equally cheap suitcase. For a brief moment her fingers strayed towards the costly gowns Constantine had bought her, and then strayed back again. Because what was the point of taking them back to England? They had been purchased with the sole purpose of making her look like a Karantinos woman—and she wasn’t one and never would be. She had no right to wear the exquisite garments and they had no place in her life—where on earth could she possibly wear them in Milmouth?
Packing up Alex’s stuff was harder—because here she really was tempted to take some of the wonderful toys and books Constantine had provided for him. But even if they took a whole load back—where on earth would they find room to accommodate them in their tiny apartment? And besides, they would always be here for him when he visited.
Laura swallowed the sudden acrid taste of fear. Because wasn’t that an additional cause of her fretting heart? The fact that Alex would have his wonderful little world kept intact here—a world of toys and swimming pools, boats and planes, and the growing knowledge that he was heir to the fabulous Karantinos fortune…not simply the son of a struggling single mother. Would the day come when he chose to live out the Greek side of his heritage—rejecting her and the country of his birth?
Alex wouldn’t do that, she told herself desperately—but still the fear ate away at her.
Their packing completed, Laura stole a glance at her watch. She had already said a brief and upsetting farewell to Constantine’s father, and to Demetra, too. Goodbyes were awful at the best of times, but these felt a million times worse—loaded down with the terrible and aching significance of all that she was leaving behind. And most upsetting of all was the thought of leaving Constantine.
Was she being crazy? Wouldn’t it make more sense if she gritted her teeth and accepted the fact that, while he didn’t love her, Constantine would provide a secure childhood for Alex?
But not a loving childhood, she reminded herself. And she knew that this was about far more than her ego being bruised because Constantine didn’t love her. Why, he couldn’t even forgive his father. How could she let Alex exist in an emotionally cold world like that?
Laura glanced at her watch. The time was ticking away, and her stomach was churning with the kind of slow dread she got before an exam. What the hell was she going to do between now and the arrival of the helicopter, which would whisk them to Athens to catch the private jet which this time she had been unable to refuse? Maybe she would take one last lingering tour of the beautiful grounds which surrounded the Karantinos property.
Slipping out of the villa into the dappled sunlight, Laura thought how strange the atmosphere around the place seemed today. Was it because Constantine was nowhere to be seen? Or maybe it was just her.
She could hear the distant splash of Alex and Stavros larking around in the pool, and she could see a sleek white yacht down on the sapphire waters of the sea—but none of it seemed real. She felt as if she was insubstantial; a ghost of a woman who walked through the fruit orchards and tried to focus on the scent of the pine trees rather than the tearing ache in her heart.
Walking further across the property than she had ever ventured before, she came across a small bougainvillaeatumbled grove. It was a scented, secret sort of place, reached through a dusty tract of olive trees and shaded from the glaring heat of the sun by tumbling blooms, and she sank down on a stone bench, wishing that she’d drunk some water before leaving the house.
For a while she sat there, trying to decide about what she would do when she got back to Milmouth. Maybe she’d think about selling more local produce in the shop—asking villagers if they wanted to shift any leftover crops from large gluts of home-grown vegetables. That would benefit everyone in the community, wouldn’t it? But the question seemed to have no real relevance in her life. Please help me to feel part of that community again, she prayed. And not like some sad woman who’s left her heart and her soul behind in this paradise.
‘Hiding away, are you, Laura?’
A deep and familiar voice shattered the silence, and Laura’s heart leapt as Constantine stepped into the grove—his hard face shuttered, the dappled light casting shadows over the high slash of his cheekbones. She looked up into his eyes, but met nothing but cool curiosity in their ebony depths.
‘Why would I be hiding?’ she questioned, her voice sounding light in contrast to the hard thundering of her heart.
He shrugged as he sat down beside her. ‘This isn’t a place you usually frequent.’
‘Then how did you know I was here?’
There was a pause. ‘I followed you.’
Another pause. Longer this time. And now her heart was beating so hard and so fast that Laura could barely stumble the words out. ‘Wh-why would you do that?’
His eyes rested on the lightly tanned length of her slender thighs, their shape clearly outlined by the thin cotton dress s
he wore. Why, indeed? Because she continued to mesmerise him—even though he had vowed not to let her? Constantine’s mouth twisted as he felt the slow throb of blood to his pulse points. How many times had he told himself that she exerted an allure simply because she had refused him—because she had done the inexplicable and turned down his offer of marriage for a second time?
He met the wide grey eyes which were observing him so guardedly, and noted the fall of fine blonde hair which was hanging around her narrow shoulders like a pale cloud. Had she read one of those books which advised holding out in order to increase her worth as a woman? He felt the stab of desire jerking insistently at his groin. Well, she would learn soon enough that he would not be played with—not any more. She had had her chance and that chance would not return. But in the meantime he would have her one last time!
‘Why, Constantine?’ she persisted. ‘Why did you follow me?’
He picked up her unresisting hand and studied it. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Running the pad of this thumb questingly over the centre of her palm, he felt her shiver. ‘Any ideas?’
Laura felt her already dry throat grow completely parched. His touch. His proximity. The sudden glint from his eyes. All those things were making her feel weak and helpless.
She told herself to pull her hand away. To move. To distract him.
