The Goddess Read online

  He near drained his glass. “Tahlia will go to university in England.”

  “Right. She’ll be safe from boys there.”

  “I don’t want her to make a mistake.”

  “Like your uncle made a mistake?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Where’s your uncle now?”

  “Living in the States.”

  “Happily married?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Three cheers for love.”

  “Not when it costs a man his kingdom.”

  “I’m sure your uncle is happy with the kingdom he resides in now.”

  He sat back. Damn, this woman was like a dog with a bone.

  “We have three days left here,” he said. “Let’s pretend politics and family don’t exist.”

  A playful smile eased across her face. “So you’re just a regular guy taking some time off from the beat.”

  “Just a regular guy.”

  She raised her glass. “Well, here’s to boring obscurity.”

  But as they drank, for the first time in his life Darius truly wondered what it would be like to lead an ordinary existence, to set sail on an adventure as Helene had done—as his uncle had done, too—and have no real plans for ever coming back.

  “Darius, your mother liked to read.” Helene put down her glass. “Did she like to write?”

  “You mean like a journal or her own stories?” He thought back. “Not that I recall.”

  She nibbled the last of her cheese then set her plate aside. “I might go down to the stables later and try to clean up the rest of that paint.”

  “Hang on. Why did you want to know whether my mother wrote?”

  “No reason.”

  He reached over and caught her hand. “Sorry. Not convinced.”

  “Well, this morning, after I left you…I kind of broke something. Actually, I think it was already broken. Or maybe it was a hidden lid. Like a trap door in reverse.”

  “You’re not making sense.”

  “The wardrobe in my room. That shell I brought back rolled underneath, and when I tried to rake it out…” She pushed to her feet. “Why don’t I show you?”

  She led him through into her quarters and crossed to the window seat. Presenting a few sheets of yellowed paper, she sat down.

  “Read this.”

  The world had gone mad.

  Leandros slapped away hot ash that drifted from a ring of burning pyres then grabbed a man rushing past. Ahmet was a well-respected merchant who dealt in fine cloth. Today his gaze was wild and, his garments were stained with soot and blood. Fisting his hands into the older man’s shirtfront, Leandros spoke fervently to his eyes.

  “How long have they been gathered?”

  “Since the early hours.” Ahmet growled, a sound drenched in venom and disgust. “Our king has disgraced his ancestors. He will bring misery upon us all. None here will sit on their hands while he flouts our laws to satisfy the whims of his whore.”

  Ahmed spat at the dirt, shook himself free, and continued up Sangros Hill while pockets of chanting beat at the air like a drum.

  Nearby a young boy wept for his mama. Scooping up the child, shielding his tear-stained face from the ash, Leandros set his jaw and pushed on.

  Behind soaring walls and ornate gates, a regiment of the royal guard stood erect with white-gloved hands poised on sabres and their expressions set beneath military cap. More guards sat mounted on horses that snorted, shied, and danced around. Jostling and shoving, Leandros craned to see more over the palace’s turrets. Finger by finger, panic closed around his throat and squeezed.

  Where was the rest of the guard? Mutinied? Or perhaps inside the palace itself, a final bastion protecting lives they’d pledged to honor and defend. Greeks were superstitious. Their nature was to watch for signs to appease the gods—to sacrifice. In Tierenias, female sexuality in its purest form was revered but not when the power was abused.

  “There’s my boy!”

  A woman who took in laundry for a wage broke through the rabble and swept her child from Leandros’s arms.

  “Take him home,” he shouted over the din. “It isn’t safe.”

  “And who is safe in times such as these? We mustn’t cower. We must right the wrong, and quickly.”

  The boy pleaded, “Mama, please, home.”

  But the woman only glared at Leandros through wings of frazzled hair and eyes dark with hate. “Spain was first, then Russia and Turkey. Now it is our king’s turn to fall.”

  Although many believed the baby to be the fruit of another man’s loins, their king had nonetheless married and accepted his bride’s child as his own. Coffers had been stripped to fund the marriage ceremony’s gold-plated carriage as well as a ring studded with priceless jewels. Like ripples from a stone dropped mid-stream, rumors had spread, every minute growing louder.

  It was written that should a Tierenias king marry outside of appropriate pedigree, consequences would befall his house as well as the people of this Aegean twin-island state. There had not been the plagues or endless famine of which the laws spoke, but last week some unknown beast had slaughtered a flock of goats. Four days ago, three male infants had died of no apparent cause.

  Now as that woman and her child disappeared into the crowd, Leandros scanned the expressions of his friends, people he’d known all his life. With news of more global conflict adding fuel to this unrest, panic as well as indignation lined every face. Who had not lost in the Great War or in those wide-spread massacres in Asia Minor?

  And yet as the calls for blood rose louder, Leandros could think of only one life that mattered now—one soul with midnight hair and adoring crystalline eyes whom he cared for more than his own life. Over past months they’d met beneath the shroud of late evening to talk, to kiss, to pet. Three nights ago, they’d dropped their clothes upon the pebbles and had run into the waters of a secluded bay. Beneath the claw of a shiny new moon, they’d swirled in the cool, locked in each other’s arms as they’d whispered and laughed and all the while touched. When he’d bounced her up, her legs had latched around his back and, sighing, she’d pressed in dangerously close.

  By some miracle she remained a virgin still, although soon, Leandros vowed, he would have her, and for the rest of their lives. But not until he’d taken her far from here. Not until she was safe.

  Nearby, a youth—the fisherman Paulo’s son—shouted, “Look! On the balcony.”

  Leandros’s gaze flew up. High on a platform where kings addressed their subjects in times of celebration as well as despair, a shadowy figure opened the doors. Caught on the same sea breeze that fanned those pyre flames, sheer curtains billowed out and a woman appeared. She wore a simple white gown. A light veil covered her head.

  Desperate to see—hard bars eating into his temples, his cheeks—Leandros clung to the gate while a thudding pulse echoed in his ears. The air was hazy. She was far away. He couldn’t be sure. Was it her?

  Remembering the burning kisses and promises they’d shared, Leandros cursed himself a thousand ways. When he’d left to visit a neighboring island this morning, he ought to have taken her. They should have escaped together and—to hell with her royal duty—never come back.

  The woman seemed to float to the balcony’s farthest point before bowing her head, asking the mass to quiet down. When only the hiss and crackle from the pyres could be heard, the woman raised her arms to the churning smoke-filled sky. She held that pose for a long tense moment until the crowd breathed as one and Leandros’s splintered nerves began to break. When he couldn’t stand another second, when he was compelled to scale this gate and act, the woman removed her veil.

  Before he could catch the face, know for sure, she sent up a keening prayer then, toppling forward, threw herself off.

  Chapter Nine

  Helene had read along as Darius scoured the lines in silence. When he finished, he set the pages aside and ran a hand through his hair.

  “It’s about that rebellion
a hundred years ago,” she said and he nodded. “Is there a Leandros in your more recent history books?”

  “It’s a story, Helene.”

  “Based on a real event. Do you have any idea who wrote it?”

  “None.” His palm traced the top page lying between them on the seat. The only clue was two initials: D.D. “It was obviously some time ago. This room has been used by staff for as long as I can remember, but I don’t know who slept here fifty years ago. A hundred.” He glanced at the wardrobe. “Is there more?”

  “I poked around. Through the drawers, on the ledge. All through the room. I thought the rest might be hidden behind a skirting board.” She looked up. “Or the ceiling.”

  He grinned. “You want me to rip the room apart?”

  “I meant this might be all there is.”

  He slid a fingertip over the initials at the top of the page. “I guess D.D. will stay anonymous and his story unfinished.”

  She looked longingly at the pages. What happened to Leandros? Who was the woman who had plunged to her death?

  The distant bray of a wild donkey filtered in and she glanced out the window over the sun-drenched landscape at the same time Darius found his feet. “Given we can’t solve that mystery, I vote we go.”

  “Go where?”

  “For a swim.”

  She glanced around the room again. Rummaging through the same places wouldn’t make more pages suddenly appear. And a swim with Darius did sound appealing. She stood, too.

  “I’ll get my bikini.”

  “You won’t need one.”

  Before she could object, he grabbed her hand, and they scampered down to the bay.

  They’d made love only hours ago. He’d seen her naked—every inch. And she’d sure as hell seen him. A warm breeze combing his hair, he shucked off his shirt and stepped out of his trousers, but she hesitated to remove her clothes. He closed the distance between them and, holding her gaze with his, helped her undress like he’d done that morning, only this time it was at a less frantic pace. Then, like the couple in those pages, they moved into the water, letting the coolness swirl around them as their mouths and bodies slid against one another.

  When she turned so that he could wind his arms under her breasts and nuzzle her neck from behind, his erection rubbed her back. He didn’t take it further. They couldn’t take back what happened earlier, but they wouldn’t follow this morning’s mishap with another. They weren’t protected.

  Beneath the water, his hands ran over her belly while overhead swallows darted and played. After a delicious few moments, he spoke against her hair.

  “I’ve been thinking about the figurine. It’s overkill taking her in and out of the safe all the time. If that cave hadn’t fallen in, she’d still be there, balanced on that ledge.”

  If he was thinking about letting her out of that safe and into the light, Helene was all for it.

  “I thought I could leave her out,” he said.

  “In your room?”

  “In the study, just off the main room. In three days,” he went on as water lapped around her breasts, “she’ll be packed up soundly and on her way back to the main island.”

  “This week’s going fast.” Helene snuggled back into him. Only three more days…

  “Alexio will be missing you at his taverna.”

  “I’m sure he’s happy it’s all worked out.”

  She hadn’t phoned or texted Alexio since the day she’d met Darius. Through his communication with the palace, Darius had assured her that Alexio knew about this arrangement. Somehow she didn’t think Darius or his office would condone a private discussion between Alexio and her about the prince’s decision to bend the rules and keep her on, which would explain why he hadn’t texted her back. Alexio wouldn’t want to get any more involved on that front.

  Darius’s palm ran up the side of her throat. His cheek grazed her temple as he asked, “When you get back, do you plan to stay on at the main island?”

  “That first day when we met, after the trouble I put you through, I thought I’d need to leave on the first boat out.”

  That boat would take her to Athens. Once there, she’d take a plane back to the States; her return trip fare was already covered.

  “And now?”

  Letting her eyes drift shut and allowing his strength and heat to burrow into her, she reached back and twined one arm around his neck. “I’m thinking I should leave Tierenias on a high note.” After her time here was through.

  He hummed an agreement her ear. “I thought the same.”

  Remembering the way they’d made love that morning, knowing the way he held her now…

  Her chest tightened and her arm slid down. He was gearing up to forget her already? But, hell, what had she expected? A proposal of marriage?

  She had thought he’d at least have wanted to keep her around long enough to be sure he wasn’t going to be a father. Or maybe that was it. Maybe he didn’t want to know.

  Gathering herself, she injected a light tone into her voice. She wouldn’t let him know that he’d hurt her.

  “So, it’s settled,” she said. “After this week, my extended vacation is over, and it’s back to getting on with my life.”

  “Helene, when I agreed you should leave on a high note, I meant after a stay at the palace.” He rotated her around to face him. “With me.”

  She coughed out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re inviting me…?” To what exactly?

  “To stay a couple more weeks—knowing, of course, that I’ll have to go into the office most days, and you’ll have to cope with Tahlia.”

  “Your sister?” Her brain lurched and caught up. “Of course I can cope with her. I feel as if I already know her.”

  She felt so stunned, so happy, she wanted to throw her arms around his neck and jump up and down.

  And she was suddenly so hungry for him. Those glittering dark eyes made her heart beat fast. His hard bronzed body and hands could create such a firestorm in her blood.

  Threading her arms around his neck, she pressed her mouth to his. His chest inflated as he breathed in through his nose, then the strong band of his arms brought her closer, and his tongue pushed past her lips. That erratic pulse began to beat between her legs, and the heat in her veins shot up several degrees.

  When his mouth left hers, his lidded gaze remained on her lips. His palms slid up and down her back, and below the water his engorged length dug into her belly.

  “We should get back,” he said in a husky drawl. “Don’t bother getting dressed.”

  “I can do a skinny dip but I’m not walking naked around the place like it’s the Garden of Eden.” Even if it felt more than a little like that today.

  “You won’t have to walk.”

  He scooped her up and, wading through the cool waters, headed for shore.

  …

  The next morning, their second to last on the island, Darius wandered off for another of his solitary walks. For the first time since staying at the villa, Helene felt restless.

  Usually she had no trouble keeping busy. Now as she tidied around the place, her mind kept wandering back to yesterday’s lovemaking. She kept telling herself there probably wasn’t anything to worry about. But those doubts kept creeping in.

  What if I’m pregnant?

  Had Darius asked her to return to the palace so that he could make sure she hadn’t conceived before they said farewell for good? Of course she would let him know when her cycle started and they were in the clear. Two weeks ought to do it, if she didn’t go crazy thinking about it in the meantime.

  Later, putting the finishing touches to lunch and still feeling restless, she wanted to do something a little different. When she’d gone through the bookshelves in the study earlier in the week, she’d admired a set of goblets in a cabinet. Since watching Darius set the figurine up in an alcove in that room yesterday, as he’d said he would, those doors had remained closed. Although he hadn’t expressly forbidden her to go in, Helene didn
’t feel she should.

  However, the cabinet with the goblets was clear on the other side of the room near an old desk. She didn’t need to go anywhere near the figurine—if something bad happened to the artifact while she was around, Helene would never forgive herself.

  She went to the balcony and looked over the paths. Darius wasn’t anywhere close by. Good. She’d just duck in and out. She crossed to the study doors. A shiver chased up her spine before she moved inside.

  Helene took a moment to assure herself the figure was where she ought to be—safe in her alcove—before crossing to the cabinet. She’d retrieved two goblets from behind the glass and was heading out when her pace slowed. As her gaze drifted over to where the figurine sat, that shiver gripped her again. She could barely believe she’d actually held that amazing piece of history in her own two hands. When she’d lifted the goddess out of her cave, the figurine had felt so smooth and heavy, but easy to…

  A sound echoed into the room, the click of a lock—the front door. A hot rush swept from her feet to her crown. Spinning on her heel, she hurried to move out of the room, but her grip on one of the goblets slipped. Before she could catch it, it fell and smashed on the floor.

  As she stared down, she told herself to run, find a broom, but she couldn’t move. Through the study doorway, she saw Darius pass. He paused and, catching sight of her, threw a dubious look her way. He blinked before his gaze lowered to the shards at her feet. Then his head jerked toward the figurine. Her heart hammered when he edged forward.

  “You’ve had an accident,” he said.

  “I thought I’d use different glasses for lunch today. I’d noticed these. I fumbled one.” She took in the mess again and, feeling nauseated, apologized. “I’ll pay for it.”

  He held her gaze for a long tense moment. Then he crossed over and folded her free hand in his.

  “Were they an excuse to come in here to see the figurine again? You should have just asked. I’d have shown her to you.”

  She wanted to defend herself. She hadn’t gone anywhere near her. Instead, sick to her stomach, she looked down. “I’ll sweep up this mess.”