Man Without a Heart (7 page)

He had said that life was a strain for them both, meaning, of course, that he, being a healthy virile male, needed satisfaction. She had given for love, he for relief. She shivered, feeling as if sharp icicles were torturing her, piercing her heart. A tear glistened on her lashes, and she brushed it away, determinedly turning her thoughts to Gilbert and the relationship that had been developing so smoothly, with both of them conscious of pleasurable enjoyment of the present and,
perhaps, of the future as well. With Adam there was no future; their marriage had been planned to last until his mother died, and would certainly last no longer. Surely she was entitled to one friend on whom to rely?

Adam was on the verandah when she entered the breakfast room, and he turned, his eyes hooded lazily as they wandered over her in a long appraisal. She was wearing a white linen sundress, short and crisp, with midnight-blue embroidery at the waist and hem.

'Good morning, Jill,' he greeted. 'You look very smart.' There seemed to be a veiled quality in his words, and Jill looked inquiringly at him as she stepped from the room to the verandah, to stand a short distance from him. 'Thank you,' she returned briefly, her appreciative eyes taking in his immaculate appearance, for although he was in denims and an open-necked shirt, he looked inordinately distinguished and handsome. He bore that air of confidence and authority which had impressed her at first and which had now become familiar.

'Are you going to spend a few hours with Mother this morning?' His dark brown eyes moved to her hair, gleaming like chestnuts in the sunlight. She looked squarely at him.

'I usually visit her for an hour or so in the afternoon. However, I shan't be going today.'

Adam's eyes narrowed. 'And what do you propose to do this morning?'

She now understood the veiled quality she had heard in his voice. He had known she was dressed to meet Gilbert, and was annoyed about it.

'Why the sudden interest?' she heard herself asking, depression sweeping over her at the idea of friction building up between them after the rapturous harmony of last night. True, it was only physical, but there had been no room for disunity between them then.

'Don't ask absurd questions,' he admonished. 'You know very well that I'm not going to allow you to spend all your time with this man Gilbert. You're bound to be seen, and it's inevitable that my mother will hear of it. She's going to be made even more unhappy than she was before.'

Jill's chin had lifted at the word 'allow'; anger had surged up in
her, and the rest of what he said had scarcely registered. 'Adam, please don't adopt the domineering-husband attitude with me. You and I made a pact-which has been broken in part....' She coloured painfully, lowering her lashes and falling silent for a second or two. 'The rest of the promises are obviously still in force, each of us having to keep to them.' Her voice was cool and steady, but in her heart there was pain. Why should she be standing here arguing when all she wanted was to go to him and put her arms around him, to kiss away his anger? Yet this stand was in the nature of self-preservation; she needed to go out with Gilbert, for if she stayed here at the villa, she would spend the entire day brooding over her unhappy state.

It struck her that she was using Gilbert in a way that was not quite fair, yet on the other hand, she knew that at the back of her mind there was hope that by some miracle what she felt for Adam would fade, that somewhere along the line her head would begin to rule her heart and guide her safely across the obstacle which her love for Adam presented as she strove for happiness.

'You have obligations, Jill.' Adam's voice recalled her, and she looked at him, noting the rigid profile, the thin line of his mouth. 'When I made the pact with you, this kind of situation never occurred to me.'

'If it had, you'd have inserted conditions?' Jill's voice was tart in spite of herself. 'Of course.'

'But I could still have gone back on my word.'

'I'd not have let you!'

'But you went back on yours, Adam,' she reminded him quietly, but if she hoped to disconcert him, she was disappointed. His voice held no apology as he said, 'As to that, Jill, you enjoyed it equally as much as I ... and you're not only resigned to the change in our relationship but you're quite happy about it.' In his voice there was a satirical challenge which was reflected in his expression as his dark eyes settled on her flushed face. 'Don't deny it, Jill,' he advised, 'because I'll know you're lying.'

Her colour heightened even more, and she turned from him, her eyes falling automatically to the hand that rested on the verandah rail-her left hand-with the plain gold band gleaming in the sunlight. She frowned and looked away to where the trailing
bougainvillaea vines wove themselves through the trellis to scramble over the roof supports of the verandah, providing welcome shade while flaunting their glorious shades of crimson, orange and magenta.

In other parts of the immaculate gardens the bougainvillaea trailed along ornamental walls, or mingled with the flaring hibiscus blossoms which formed a long hedge separating the formal garden from the perivoli, where the fruits of lemons and clementines shone like Christmas lanterns nestling in polished green foliage. A little quivering sigh escaped her, for, profoundly appreciative of the beauty surrounding her, she could not help feeling deep regret at the thought of leaving it.

'I see that you have no intention of denying it.' Adam's voice cut into her reverie, and she turned with a frown, his easy, urbane manner riling her. 'I see now that I ought to have taken you sooner,' he went on when she did not speak. 'You might not then have turned to this other man.'

'I didn't turn to him for anything other than companionship!' she retorted angrily. 'But you've admitted that the affair's serious.'

'It is serious, but that doesn't mean that we've ... we've ... Oh, let's not discuss Gilbert and me! We're spending the day together, and that's final!'

For a moment it did seem that he would lose his temper, but to Jill's surprise he turned away, and her mind carried the conviction that he was suppressing an urge to dictate to her, to adopt a proprietorial attitude, and she thought with a little flush of dejection that it would have been the most natural thing for her to accept it if only he loved her. Fleetingly, painfully, her mind wandered to Julia, and she wondered if, when she and Adam were married, they would eventually fall in love with each other. Jill could not conceive of any girl living with Adam and remaining immune to his attractions as a man.

He had everything, even that certain degree of arrogance
which is an essential facet of supreme masculinity.

'You're determined to flout my wishes?' Adam's question came
at last, and Jill guessed at his reluctance to admit defeat, to
accept his inability to dictate her actions.

'As regards my association with Gilbert, yes.'

He seemed to grit his teeth, but his voice was quietly controlled
as he said, 'Then all I ask is that you be discreet. Ke
ep well away from this
area. Where are you meeting him?'

'He's coming here-at least, I'm to meet him at the entrance
gates.'

'I'm not having it,' he declared, looking fixedly at her. 'You have obligations, and you'll observe them!' She nodded, unwilling to argue with him on this particular matter simply because she fully appreciated his anxiety. 'Very well, Adam, I'll do as you say. I'll phone Gilbert after breakfast and arrange to meet him in a quiet car park we know of in town. It's at the back of a hotel. I expect I can get a bus
—
'

'There's no need,' he broke in tersely. 'I happen to be going into town, and I'll drop you there
.
'

She explained, and he nodded understandingly. 'We shall have to be very careful, then.' He was at the wheel of the hired car, his alert eyes on the road ahead, where three donkeys were ambling along, tied together by a rope held by their owner, a bent old man wearing black vraga, which, Jill noticed as the car came close behind him, were thick with ochre-coloured dust collected from the unpaved road. It was an idyllic morning with a bright azure sky and dazzling sunshine, and in the hedgerows flowers smouldered-oleanders and hibiscus and the lovely golden cassias. Leaving the man and his donkeys behind, they climbed into the hills, where the scenery was wilder and the streams more swift-flowing, their crystal waters tumbling over rocks or dancing round deep dark potholes ground into the riverbed by the wearing activities of pebbles over countless aeons of time.

They stopped at a little roadside cafeneion and Gilbert parked the car under the shade of a carob tree. The cafe tables were on a vine-covered patio and they lingered there, drinking coffee and chatting.

'Are you enjoying it?' Gilbert seemed faintly anxious, she thought, and she smiled at once to reassure him. 'Very much, Gilbert. It's such a lovely day.' She spoke the truth when she said she was enjoying it, but her undisciplined mind kept on wandering, to her husband, and to the drama of last night, and she wondered what Gilbert would have to say if she were to reveal to him the fact that Adam had insisted that their relationship become normal.

She felt he would be both shocked and upset, that he might feel cheated simply because he had been assured that the marriage was nothing more than a business contract between two people who had nothing in common. She supposed that if the affair between her and Gilbert did become serious to the point that they decided to marry, then she would tell him, but not before. Better to cross her bridges as she came to them, seeing that there was nothing to be gained in doing otherwise.

'Do you want to buy anything?' he asked later, when they arrived at a small town where there were shops and a tavern where they could have a lunch of local food.

'No, nothing,' she answered
, smiling. 'But what about you?
Have you any souvenirs to buy?'

'Yes, for my sisters, but I haven't any ideas.'

He looked at her with a wry expression on his good-humoured face. 'Can you suggest anything, Jill?'

'It just depends on whether you favour the local products or those imported especially for the tourist trade.'

'Local, I think.'

They went into a shop and came out with two silver pendants and some hand-embroidered handkerchiefs. 'I'd have liked to buy more, but funds won't allow,' Gilbert admitted ruefully.

They stayed out late, stopping at another charming little cafe for a meal before returning to the town, where Jill got a taxi to take her home.

As she expected, Adam was still up, sitting alone on-the patio, a drink in front of him on the small rattan table. In the darkness she saw only the outline of his figure, not his expression, but she did notice that he had not changed into a formal evening shirt and jacket, as he always had when she dined with him. And as she approached, drawn by some magnetic force to join him on the patio, she felt a little lump rise in her throat at the idea that he might have been lonely. They had had such pleasant evenings before the arrival of Gilbert on the scene, she recalled, with a profound sense of loss. And at the memory a sigh escaped her and she decided to go straight into the house, but Adam called to her, and she went to him, seraphic in the moonlight, her hair a glorious halo for her face.

A suffusion of colour added to her beauty as she drew near and saw his eyes wandering over her, seeming to pick out every seductive curve, lingering on her breasts and slowly narrowing, while a nerve pulsated in his strong brown throat. He rose as she reached him, and already she was affected by the superlative maleness of him, the impression of a godlike being who was far above her-remote, unapproachable. A smile fluttered at her thoughts, and he asked softly, reaching out to take her hand, 'What is it that amuses you, Jill?' He drew her to him, his hand shaped round the back of her head.

'Just a thought,' she answered, resisting the urge to press close, to put her arms about his waist. 'Tell me,' he said imperiously, as he tilted her face up with a finger beneath her chin.

She tried to shake her head, but his hand closed about her chin, preventing her from moving.

'You
—
you seemed unapproachable,' she confess ed with shy hesitancy. 'Sort of.
..remote.'

'I'm far from remote at this moment, Jill. No wonder you were smiling.' The alien voice vibrated, and the eyes on hers were intensely dark with the embers of latent passion.

'Where have you been until this l ate hour? I've been waiting for you.'

'We took a tour of some of the island's beauty spots. We stopped for lunch at a cafeneion, and then again, on the way back, for a late meal.'

'What else did you do?' He held her from him and his mouth was suddenly compressed. 'He kissed you, I suppose?'

'Of course-naturally he did,' she lied, and heard him grit his teeth.

'You can let one man kiss you while knowing another is_ soon to make love to you?'

'That isn't of my choosing,' Jill reminded him quietly, but she had flinched at his words for all that.

'You have no regrets, though,' he asserted confidently. There was a distinct challenge in his words, but, unable to lie, Jill remained silent, and after a moment his arms enclosed her, crushing her tender frame to the whipcord hardness of his, and she felt sure that he must be aware of the wild leap of her heart, the mad racing of her pulse. His mouth was hard and demanding on her lips, his body sensuous and compelling in its rhythm; soon she was returning his passion, her moist lips responding, her supple body arched in obedience to the masterful pressure of his hands sliding downward along her spine.

Her arms came about his neck, her fingers with butterfly lightness caressed his nape and behind his ears, then slid down to undo the buttons of his shirt and venture inside, plunging themselves into the mass of wiry black hair.

She was conscious of his ragged breathing, the violence of his heartbeats, the brutality o f his hands as they crushed her tender flesh as an outlet for the passion consuming him.

'Jill,' he breathed hoarsely, 'we must go inside.'

She nodded dreamily, clinging to him, her whole body weakened by the violence of his passion.

But neither made a move; they stood there, very close, their senses hypnotised by the moon-glow and starlight, by soft balmy air perfumed with flowers and freshened by the breeze drifting in from the sea. Sounds invaded the air —cicidas in the olive trees and crickets in dark places, the call of a night bird, the melancholy strains of bouzouki music drifting up over the hills from some small hamlet where the caf eneion was still open.

In the distance, silhouetted against the deep purple sky, rose the fretted summits of the one mountain range, on top of which stood, in stark outline, the ruins of a Venetian castle. All was magic, with that soporific gentleness in the atmosphere found only on a Greek island. A deep sigh escaped her and she turned to her husband, lifting her face, touching his with a finger, shyly, impulsively, and he smiled down at her and bent his head to take her softly parted lips beneath his own, and his manner with her was infinitely gentle. 'Let's go in,' he said again, his arm coming about her waist. 'It's very late and I'm sure you're as tired as I'

'Tired?' The word escaped before she could suppress it, and she coloured on hearing him say, 'Don't worry, my wife, I will never be too tired to make love to you.'

It was after they had made love and were lying close, the room bathed in the warm glow from the bedside lamp, that Adam asked her if she had e ver been to a village wedding.
'No,' she replied. 'Working in Athens, I never got to know any villagers.'

'On Saturday, I want you to come to a wedding with me.
Mother will be there, and so you must come, too. We'll be there for two days.'

Jill turned her head, dragging her mind back from the sensuous languor into which it had floated after its wild, tempestuous flight to the boundless heights of paradise. 'Who's getting married? Two days, did you say?' she added, as the fact registered.

'We're invited for the previous day's activities as well. The bride used to work for Mother as a maid, and we'll be expected to attend.' He paused, and his features hardened perceptibly. 'Tell me, do you and your Gilbert have plans?'

'I was going out with him
—'

'You won't be, not on those two days,' broke in Adam inexorably. 'You'll have to put him off.'

'But ... two days.' She frowned. In fact, she was overjoyed at the prospect of two days with Adam, but she could hardly let him see how she felt.

'Most village weddings last for three, as you probably know.
Often we go just for the day of the ceremony, but for this one we're invited for the previous day too.' Something in his voice convinced her that he had manoeuvered it, and that they could have attended just for the actual wedding ceremony and the reception afterward.

'So there's no way out of it?'

His face hardened. 'Do you want to get out of it?'

She paused, vitally aware of the long hard length of his frame against her naked body, and the hand curled round her arm.

'No, Adam,' she said, 'I don't want to get out of it.'

'Then you'll make your excuses to Gilbert?'

'I shall have to.... ' Her voice trailed away to a frowning silence, because it was all wrong to speak of Gilbert after the glorious rapture of her interlude with Adam; her love for him was overflowing, and she hated to let anything or anyone intrude on her consciousness of it. With a little murmur of pleasure she turned to bend her body more closely to his, and her arm came around him.

His warm hands roved over her soft white flesh, from her face and throat to the tender curves of her breasts and tiny waist, moving to her stomach and lower, his fingers tantalising all the time, featherlight, then masterfully cruel, bringing her alive again to his physical magnetism, to the invincible power he had over her senses. Her breathing became erratic; his mouth was moist against her breast, the sensuous lips open wide to take their fill, the roughness of his tongue a scorching friction on the nipple.

The possessive exploration of his hands was the stimulating heat that sent the blood drumming in her head, dancing through her veins. Rapture spread gently, gaining power until spasms of ecstasy shuddered through her body as her stormy surrender became her own fulfillment. On Saturday morning they set out, intending to pick Adam's mother up on the way, but they arrived at her home only to learn that she had decided not to attend the preliminary celebrations; but would go only to the actual wedding on the following day.

'So we're on our own?' Jill said when they were back in the car. 'You still want me with you?'

He slanted her a glance as he let in the clutch. 'Of course. What makes you ask?' His voice was overcrisp, as though her query annoyed him. Jill thought it might be that he'd misconstrued her question, believing that she would have preferred to be with Gilbert, which was certainly not so. On the contrary, she was eagerly and excitedly looking forward to a whole day with Adam, being glad, in one way, that her motherin-law had changed her mind about accompanying them.

'I ask because, originally, the idea of my coming with you was for your mother's benefit,' she offered at length. 'That was the original idea,' he agreed, but went on to point out that his wife would be expected to accompany him anyway. 'Many of the people there know me, and would consider it very strange indeed if I arrived without my wife.' She nodded, settling back in the car with the intention of making the most of the drive, which was initially along the coast road, with the Mediterranean spread out on their left in a gleaming, unrippled expanse of aquamarine that met the contrasting blue of a sapphire sky.

The sun was hot and fierce, setting the mountain summits aglow, lighting up the greys and duns of the gullies, filtering through the olive orchards that occupied the foothills. All was tranquil and exotic, with oleanders and hibiscus gleaming in the hedgerows, bright butterflies among their showy blossoms.

'Are you enjoying it?' Adam's deep, resonant voice was fringed with anxiety, and Jill wondered why. 'Yes, I'm enjoying it very much.'

After following the coast for a short while, Adam steered the car into a narrow road and they were soon winding their way through the tree-lined streets of neat cubic houses whose gardens overflowed with flowers-manna lilies and hollyhocks, scented star jasmines, marigolds and geraniums, and as many varieties of roses as would be found in any old-fashioned English garden. A dry, meandering watercourse could be located by the delicate pink and white oleanders lining its banks. Whiteness predominated, the quaint little houses gleaming in the Grecian sun, their bright blue shutters closed against the brittle fierceness of its midday heat. In one village that they passed through, a gigantic statue of Christ stood guard over the square where, in the cafeneion, a number of stocky, brown-faced men sprawled beside the pavement tables, drinking ouzo and playing tavli, while others stood behind their chairs and watched, twirling and clicking worry beads and smoking endless cigarettes. 'I can never understand why so many Greek men seem to be doing nothing with their time,' Jill commented when the village was being left behind. 'How do they make a living?' Her husband cast her a quizzical glance as he replied, 'Their wives do all the work. You must have seen them in the fields, or tending the goats and sheep on the hills?'