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‘Oh!’ Dacia gave a little cry and lifted both hands up to her cheeks.
Theo could see how much she was trembling as she walked closer, to look at the paintings that had been done by her late husband—the love of her life. Her head was tipped to the side as she gazed at them, and suddenly he saw that tears were running down her face.
A strange lump tightened in his throat and he reached into his jacket pocket automatically for a clean handkerchief. He stepped nearer and offered it to her, and then, without thinking what he was doing—maybe because she was so like his mother—he put his arm around her thin shoulders and gave her a reassuring hug.
She jumped slightly, and turned to look up at him with startled eyes.
Theo cleared his throat gruffly and dropped his arm stiffly by his side.
‘Please excuse me,’ he said, stepping back awkwardly. ‘That was too forward of me.’
‘No. You must excuse me.’ Dacia looked up at him with sparkling eyes, shaking her head from side to side. ‘Thank you so much for doing this for me.’
‘It’s nothing.’ Theo brushed her thanks aside.
‘It is everything,’ Dacia said with feeling. ‘After the way I turned my back on you and refused all your offers of help I don’t deserve this.’
‘I am pleased to have found a way to put things right,’ Theo said. ‘It was because of my father that you lost so much.’
‘Because of your father—not because of you,’ Dacia said. ‘But I was so foolish I turned my back on my sister and on her boys. And now you’ve grown up to be such a wonderful, handsome man—I’m sorry that I missed so much of your life. That I threw my sister’s good intentions back in her face.’
Theo looked down at her, completely lost for words. He knew that Dacia and his mother had never been particularly close. They’d been very different people—Dacia had liked to lead a simple life, and his mother had relished the high-paced, fashion-orientated life that marriage to his father had brought her. But it was sad that they hadn’t overcome their differences before his mother had died.
‘I’m sorry that I never accepted all your offers of help,’ she said. ‘Especially the paintings I returned unopened—that was unforgivably small-minded of me after the trouble you must have gone through to get them. I was so determined not to accept anything from your family that I hurt myself—denied myself the chance to have something that would have brought me comfort.’
‘What made you change your mind now?’ Theo asked. ‘I was absolutely delighted when you accepted my call and agreed to come out here with me. But I must admit I was a little surprised to find you so willing.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Dacia said again. ‘I’m ashamed to say that if it hadn’t been for the elderly man who used to own this island contacting me and asking me to visit him in hospital, the chances are I still wouldn’t have come to my senses.’
‘What happened?’ Theo asked.
‘I went to see Drakon Notara. He told me that you were trying to buy his island so that I would be able to return to my old home,’ Dacia said. ‘I was shocked, and I think I would have walked away—but he is such an engaging old fellow. Once he started talking I found I didn’t want to leave any more.’
Theo looked at his aunt, feeling a touch of irritation towards Drakon. He’d been busy—he’d seen Kerry in the morning, then his aunt that afternoon, and then finally Theo on the following day.
‘What did he tell you?’ Theo asked, uncharacteristically uneasy about what Drakon might have told his aunt.
‘More or less his whole life story, I think.’ Dacia smiled. ‘About his dear wife and their love of nature. About how his greatest concern was to preserve the island as it was. He couldn’t bear the idea of modern development ruining it—and that was where his interest in me came in.’
She paused and smiled apologetically at Theo, as if to soften what she was about to say. ‘He wanted my assurances that I would keep you in check—make sure you kept to your word and didn’t start building hotels here.’
Theo raised his brows, startled to feel a burst of ironic humour rip through him. Drakon was such a character. The idea that his aunt, a woman Theo had never even met properly before, would be able to hold sway over him was absurd. He’d build a concrete jungle on the island if he wanted to—no one told Theo Diakos what to do.
But then he found himself feeling an unexpected amount of respect for Drakon. That cunning old man was no fool. In fact he had completely got Theo’s measure. He knew he had bought the island to mend bridges with his aunt, and that he would listen to what she had to say.
‘I won’t build any hotels,’ he said. ‘But you will have to decide what you want to do with the island. There are plenty of possibilities—from restarting the olive oil production to running small painting retreats like you used to.’ He paused, suddenly realising that suggesting something that would inevitably bring memories of her late husband might be too painful.
‘You don’t have to decide immediately,’ he continued. ‘Take as long as you need to think about it. And if you feel that the island is not the right home for you now—that’s all right too. We can still find a way to preserve what Drakon has started here.’
Dacia smiled, and turned to look back at the paintings hanging on the whi
tewashed wall.
‘I’d like to send you the other paintings now,’ Theo said, thinking about how they had caught Kerry’s eye and spiked her curiosity. It had taken him years to find and then acquire work by his uncle. Most of his paintings were in private collections, and it was very rare that they came onto the market.
‘Thank you.’ Dacia smiled up at him warmly. ‘But, you know, after all this time I realise that what I would love is the chance to get to know the people I foolishly shut out of my life.’
‘Of course,’ Theo said. ‘I know Corban would be delighted to introduce you to his family.’
