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Or what she’d thought was for good, she reflected, preceding Stefan through the sliding doors. Now there was so much confusion inside her, she didn’t know what she thought.
Thankfully the terrace held no such horrors. Italian tiles, vine-hung trellises, marble steps leading down to a huge circular pool. They bypassed the steps and the cedar-wood cabins that housed both showers and a sauna, following a path that led between lawns that were presently being watered by an efficient sprinkler system. The lawns were edged with bushes of flowering cactus, the path paved and immaculately free of any weeds.
It was all very lush, very beautiful, but also incredibly hot. Jane, who hadn’t thought about buying sunscreen when she’d packed her bag, hoped she wouldn’t get burned. But nothing about this trip was turning out as she’d anticipated and she had to seriously revise her expectations.
There was a welcome breeze blowing when they stepped onto the sand and Jane kicked off her sandals and carried them by their straps. The sand wasn’t yet hot enough to burn her feet and she walked purposefully towards the water.
‘Eh! Pio arga! Slow down,’ exclaimed Stefan, hurrying after her. ‘We have all morning.’
You may have, thought Jane drily, but she didn’t say it. Nevertheless, she had to wonder why Stefan was content to laze his days away here on the island when it seemed obvious his father was doing very little work at the moment.
The waves curled about her bare feet, their initial coldness giving way to a delicious warmth. This was the best time of the day to swim, she remembered ruefully. Before the sun could burn you even through the water.
‘You have to learn to relax, Jane,’ Stefan said, puffing a little as he came up beside her. ‘You are not in England now.’
‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ Jane kept her eyes on her feet, watching as the sand slid away beneath them. Then she shrugged and looked up at him. ‘What are you doing here, Stefan? Have you been sent to keep an eye on me?’
Stefan gave her a wounded look. ‘Do you think I would agree to that?’
Jane arched a mocking brow. ‘I’ll take that as a yes, shall I?’
‘No!’ He was indignant. ‘I thought you might be glad of some company, is all.’
Jane regarded him intently for a few seconds and then she turned away. ‘OK.’ She started to walk along the sand, her feet in the shallows. ‘So tell me what you’ve been doing. Don’t you work for your father any more?’
Stefan’s mouth compressed. ‘I’m sure you’re not interested in my problems, Jane. But I am intrigued by your relationship with Demetri. Are you aware he’s going to marry Ariadne as soon as his divorce is absolute?’
‘Yes, he told me.’
‘And did he tell you why?’
Jane sighed. ‘Is this relevant, Stefan? Demetri wants a divorce. End of story.’
‘No, it’s not the end of the story,’ retorted Stefan shortly. ‘There was no need for Demetri to get a divorce, not unless he chose to do so, of course.’
Jane frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean I was perfectly willing to give our father the grandchild he so desperately craves. But I was not good enough. My relationship with Phillippe is not good enough, despite the fact that we have been together for over six years.’
Jane halted to stare at him in disbelief. ‘You mean, you and Phillippe Martin are—are—’
‘A couple?Yes.’ Stefan raised dark brows. ‘Of course, you met him, did you not? Didn’t Demetri tell you we lived together?’
‘He said you were—friends,’ said Jane, feeling enormously stupid. Even when Demetri had told her Stefan wasn’t interested in women, she still hadn’t put two and two together.
‘Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised.’ Stefan was walking on now, kicking the water into a spray ahead of him. ‘Demetri is our father’s heir. The eldest son. The golden boy! No one else’s child is good enough.’
Jane shook her head. Did Demetri know this? Had he any idea how Stefan felt? Or course, he must do. The situation was too raw not to have been discussed between Demetri and his father at some point.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, knowing that was inadequate but not knowing what else to say, and Stefan gave her a reluctant smile.
‘Then pirazi,’ he said philosophically. It doesn’t matter. ‘Shall we go a little further?’
They walked about a quarter of a mile along the beach and then turned back. To Jane’s relief, their conversation had shifted to less personal things and she was so busy trying to avoid any controversial topics that she completely forgot how hot it was.
